Thomas spoke earnestly. “Melzar, if you don’t have time, let me remove the dead from among the living.”
“I cannot allow that.” Melzar’s face grew stern. “You would need to leave the temple, and I would forfeit my life.”
“Is there not a room within the temple we could devote strictly to the dead?”
Melzar considered in silence as they continued passing out their morsels of bread. Again and again they passed hands that no longer reached for the crusts of life. They finished their labor and fled to the fresher air of the hallway.
Melzar hesitated. “There is a room …” he began, his face pale and his eyes darting nervously about the hallway. “I will show you the way.”
Thomas followed his keeper down many flights of stairs into the very bowels of the earth. Here the stench of rotting flesh was almost unbearable. Melzar stopped his descent and turned to Thomas. “I cannot do what you ask. I fear for myself, and I fear for you. This is the realm of the forgotten.”
Thomas fought to control his churning stomach, and he held his nose. “Lead on, my friend. Our heavenly Father will give us strength.”
Melzar frowned but turned and slowly descended two more flights of stairs. The air was ripe, and the stench of decay burned their eyes and noses. Even the torchlight dimmed in the pall of this terrible place.
An iron door stood at the bottom of the stairs. With a trembling hand, Melzar searched through his keys and selected one. Holding the key up for Thomas’s inspection, he said, “This is the key to the oubliette, the land of the forgotten.” With that he slipped the key in the lock and opened the door.
Melzar had given Thomas permission to remove the dead from the dungeon as long as he brought them to the oubliette. This room at the very deepest level of the dungeon was never visited by the prison guards, and once people passed through the door, they were never seen again.
It was appalling work, but Thomas was given broad freedoms and a wide assortment of keys to access many areas of the dungeon he otherwise would never have had. Each day he would open a new cell, remove the dead from the walls, and carry them to the oubliette. When he closed and locked the door at night, he sealed the living from the dead.
“Don’t let any part of your body cross the threshold,” Melzar warned Thomas, “for no one knows exactly what is on the other side. No one who has crossed that threshold has ever returned.”
Torches flickered and barely lit the steps leading down to the iron door. One by one Thomas carried dead bodies to the door, laid them on the threshold, and used a long pole to push them into the darkness on the other side.
There must be a ledge about three feet inside the door, Thomas reasoned, but he could see nothing beyond the threshold. He wondered if some dark magic kept light from penetrating the darkness. Even a burning torch would disappear from view in the inky darkness of the oubliette. Though I can’t see what’s inside, Thomas considered, there must be a deep abyss. I have to push the bodies some distance before they slip over the edge, but I never hear them hit the bottom.
He once again turned to climb the stairs. Several cells had been cleansed, he thought with some satisfaction. Did he dare start another? He suddenly noticed a door in the dungeon that he had not noticed before. A human skull hung upon a peg beside the door.
Is this where men are brought to die? he mused. What are their crimes? Did they oppose the Goddess or refuse her service?
On impulse, he withdrew the ring of keys Melzar had loaned him. Trying key after key, one finally slid into the lock upon the door. Turning the key and lifting the latch, the door swung wide. The reek of decay assailed his nostrils.
Skeletons hung in chains from the walls. A few gaunt men raised sunken eyes to view the intruder. Thomas cried out in horror. “Haven’t you been fed?” These men were not facing execution by gallows, sword, or fire. They were being starved!
“Master,” a hoarse whisper met his ears. He searched for the owner of the voice and found a shell of a man, wasted to skin and bone.
The man stirred, and Thomas leaned near, hoping to catch any word he might utter, but the poor man’s throat was so dry he could not rasp another word.
“I’ll get you water,” Thomas said, rising quickly. There was a fountain near the guard station. Washing his hands in the basin, Thomas looked for a cup. Not seeing one, and not wishing to attract attention, he cupped his hands, filled them with water and hurried back to the cell.
The old man’s tightly drawn features did not move, and Thomas feared he was too late. “I have water for you,” he said softly.
The old man’s eyes flickered, and Thomas poured water into his parted lips a little at a time. Weakened as he was, the old man tried to stand. “Save your strength, my good man,” Thomas encouraged.
“Master, Thomas,” the man croaked hoarsely.
Thomas was shocked. “You know me?” he managed to whisper.
“I always believed I would be rescued, but I never dreamed it would be the son of my lord who would come to this dreadful place. I am Helberg Stanley, a loyal servant to your father.”
Thomas stared in disbelief. Stanley was not a ruler, but on the Western Slope, many men looked to him for guidance and leadership.
“How is it you came here, my lord?” Thomas asked.
“It’s a long story,” Stanley whispered. “But don’t speak so openly. The walls have ears. Even one’s thoughts become public knowledge here.”
“Why should I be afraid of revealing my heart to you?”
“We are not alone. Amity is hated here—and much more so its prince.”
“I can’t leave you here. You’ve not eaten, and I’ve given you only a drop of water.”
“Show me no favors, for I am not liked here.”
“Why? What have you done to deserve this?”
“Hush. Get water for all,” the old man whispered.
Thomas rose to obey and surveyed the room. How was he to get water to those yet alive in this dreadful place? Then he remembered. Other cells had a bucket and ladle. In short order, he returned and began to offer each man the water of life.
The men in this cell responded differently from those in the other cells. In most cells, Thomas was viewed as an attendant doing an unpleasant task. But the men in this cell were supposed to die, and they were not given food or water. Some saw Thomas as an angel of mercy, others viewed him with suspicion.
One man asked, “What have you to do with us?” His speech was broken and heavy with accent, but he spoke the common tongue well enough for Thomas to understand.
“I came to remove the dead from among you,” Thomas said simply.
“We are all dead men! Do you give water and hope only to prolong our suffering? Leave me alone and let me die.”
The man had willingly taken the water offered moments before, so Thomas was gentle in his response. “I’ll not force anything upon you. You are free to choose life or death.”
Thomas’s work continued in the days that followed as one body after another disappeared through the door at the bottom of the stairs. He had cleansed the cell where he’d found Helberg Stanley as well as many others. But the labor was beginning to take its toll. He grew weary as he climbed the stairs again, and stumbling, he lay prone on the steps. One by one, the torches in the stairwells began to flicker and go out. Darkness enshrouded him, and a terror slowly spread up the dungeon stairs. With growing menace, it numbed his heart and quelled his spirit.
“I need to close that door,” he whispered. His mind had grown dull, but he could imagine spirits of the dead creeping up the staircase toward the place where he lay. Thomas knew he was being irrational, but still the thought preyed on his mind.
Then he heard the soft scurry of padded feet. His heart pounded in his chest, and he struggled to choke back his fear. Something furry brushed his leg. Sweat beaded on his brow.
His eye caught a movement. “Rats.” He sighed. “I should have known.”
Though his fear abated with the knowledge, an unearthly presence still lingered in the air. At the bottom of the stairs, he found only the gaping doorway and darkness—nothing else. Giving the door a shove, he heard the satisfying click of the lock as it banged shut.
Maria’s knuckles were white as she yanked a brush viciously through her hair. Nothing was going right! Samoth had been there last night, but there had been no pleasure in his embrace. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her preoccupation.
“That bungling Melzar!” she stormed.
All Melzar had said when she’d questioned him about the prisoner was, “He isn’t healing as fast as he should. Each day he becomes covered with a deathlike smell, and each night his clothes have to be burned with fire.”
Her brow furrowed. I should have that old man executed! she thought vengefully. She managed a few more swipes at her hair. She was in such a foul mood that she had refused help in preparing for bed.
“The prisoner did not appear about to die!” she raged. “What is Melzar doing? Making him ill?” Suddenly she paused. “I’ll simply order the prisoner to be brought after he is properly cleaned tomorrow. That will put an end to this delay.”
She stopped and looked in the mirror. “But I can’t be defiled! Full moon is only two nights from now.”
Normally the thought of worship under the moon made her giddy with anticipation. Tonight it made her realize that she would have to wait several more days to see the one of her dreams.
“Well, I can wait. I don’t want to anger the gods.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, it gives me extra time to prepare.”
With that settled, she walked to her gown room. “Now, what should I wear?” Her eyes fell upon one of her most revealing garments. A slow smile spread across her lips. “Shame on you,” she whispered.
Melzar had managed to keep Thomas away from the Goddess of the Moon for several weeks. During that time, Thomas had cleansed much of the dungeon, and life had become easier for Melzar. Most cells were clean and tidy, and everything was in order. The smell in the dungeon had improved dramatically.
Thomas had recruited help from several cells and had persuaded Melzar to release these men into his care. Stanley was the first among the men Melzar approved to work about the prison with Thomas. Just this morning, Melzar had seen several men carrying pails of water to scrub a holding cell. True, the guards weren’t too happy about so many people roaming the halls, but even they had to admit that the odor was better, and nothing had happened yet. Just the same, they remained wary.
Days quickly ran together. One day as Thomas was making his rounds delivering bread and water to the prisoners, he noticed a man holding his thumb across his forefinger in the sign of a cross. It was the secret sign from the old stories. Stanley had remembered the sign and started its use after Thomas had gotten him released to a work crew. That sign let Thomas know who was safe to talk to and who wasn’t.
Thomas’s eyes met those of the prisoner making the sign, and he nodded. Carefully he dipped his ladle in the bucket and held the water near the man’s lips. Hidden by Thomas’s body and the ladle, the man whispered softly, “Beware the third man down, my lord. I think he suspects who you are.”
“Why would he want to harm someone who brings him food and water, cleans his cell, and eases his discomfort?” Thomas asked.
“He is devoted to ‘the Lady’ and loves her greatly. Word has reached us that she sent for you and you refused. There are those who think people who deny the Lady should be put to death.”
“Do they know Melzar is the reason for the delay?”
“It is suspected. Everyone knows his workload is less and conditions are better. If you remain here, it may go hard on him as well.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the prisoner in question began to yell, “Hey, what’s going on there? Don’t give him all the water.”
Thomas nodded his thanks, offered the water, and moved on down the line.
Thomas finished his duties in the cells and returned to Melzar’s quarters. He found Melzar reclining on his cot. “May I have a word, Melzar?”
“Certainly.” Melzar sat up and waved for Thomas to enter. “Is there something you need?”
“I need you to send me to the Ravenna,” Thomas said.
Melzar turned very pale. Glancing nervously around, he motioned Thomas closer. “My son,” he said, “if you reject the service of the Lady again, she will order your execution. You have become very special to me, and I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”
Thomas nodded. “You’ve told me that before, but there is talk in the cells that you are refusing to send me to her. If that becomes well known, your life will be forfeit. You must let me go to her before you are in danger.”
“A woman spurned is a fearful thing,” Melzar warned.
“You have not said exactly what it is she expects of me, yet you have said enough to make me wary.”
“I am frightened for you, my son. Have I not told you that all who cross her die a horrible death?”
“You have warned me,” Thomas replied.
“Yet you consider opposing her?”
“I must live with my conscience.”
“Then you are determined to go?” Melzar asked.
“Yes,” Thomas answered.
“Then you must be presentable,” Melzar said. “You must take a bath, and I will pick out the clothes you must wear.”
An hour later, the two men stepped into a corridor, and Melzar remained silent as he led Thomas past the guard station. Once they had traversed a long hall, his steps slowed as if he was reluctant to leave his charge. His eyes darted about, searching for listening ears. “The Lady desires men as a spider hungers for flies. She will devour you and reduce you to nothing. Look at the guards. They are mindless slaves, obeying her every command, lusting for her favors. At random, she gives them just enough to keep them wanting more.”
Thomas smiled at the man he’d come to love. “Melzar, I want to thank you for this warning.”
The old man began to tremble. “I shall be slain if the walls should repeat my words.”
“I would have learned the truth eventually, from others if not from you. Our heavenly Father reveals the truth to every man’s heart.”
Melzar frowned as they proceeded slowly down the long corridor. “Your words frighten me, my son. Who is this god who reveals secrets to men’s hearts?”
“He is the Lord Almighty,” Thomas said, “the creator of heaven and earth.”
“What kind of god is he?”
“Our Lord is gracious and merciful, giving freely and expecting nothing in return. He knows man is but dust.”
“How do you worship a god who expects nothing of you?”
“Religion tries to make man right with God. It offers penance and punishment, hoping to appease God. However, the Lord will not accept such human payment, for our righteousness is as dirty rags to Him, and our offerings are unholy. But the Lord sent His Son as a holy sacrifice, that whoever believes in Him should never perish but have everlasting life.”
“Tell me more!” Melzar demanded, excitement growing in his eyes.
“The Lord became flesh and dwelt among us. Completely divine, yet all man.”
“Like the Goddess of the Moon?” Melzar interrupted excitedly.
“No!” Thomas said firmly. “She is trying to build an empire on this earth by feigning deity, but Jesus left the wonders of heaven to become a servant. He took our sin upon Himself and suffered in our place. He came not to lord it over us but to give us life!”
Melzar stood quietly, try
ing to digest this information. “But I ask you again, how do you worship a god like that?”
“Our Lord became a servant, and we follow his example. When we humble ourselves to serve one another, we experience freedom from our selfishness. This is the highest praise and worship we can offer.”
“So, service is your sacrifice? That is what is required of you?”
“We serve not to purchase our salvation; rather we serve out of gratitude for the salvation Jesus has already given.”
“My heart is troubled!” Melzar said frankly. “The words you speak move me, but I do not know how to respond.”
“Yield to the conviction of the Holy Spirit. Accept what Jesus has already done. Cling to Jesus’s death and resurrection. Our heavenly Father will accept all who come to Jesus in faith. Salvation is a free gift to all who believe. Simply take the Lord at His word.”
The fear in Melzar’s eyes was replaced with wonder and amazement. “You mean I can be right with God, without the rituals of the Goddess?”
“Yes!” Thomas responded. “The rituals of religion only glorify and gratify the flesh. You cannot please our heavenly Father by participating in their practice.”
“Were you worshipping your God by cleaning the prison cells?”
“Yes, in part. You see, I believe the Lord has sent me here. I know you think Samoth brought me, and he did, but the Lord allowed it to happen. I have been able to share the Divine One’s love with many people here, but my time may be nearly over.”
Wonder grew in the old man’s eyes. “Can I have this same calmness of spirit that you possess?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “Place your trust in Jesus Christ, and He will give you peace.”
They had reached the top floor of the temple. The next flight of stairs led to the roof. Melzar touched Thomas’s arm. “We have spoken openly, but we can do so no longer. The Lady’s chamber is just down the hall, with guards about the door. Your time of testing is at hand. I will now bid you farewell, for I cannot do so at the door.”
They faced each other with eyes of admiration and deep respect. Melzar trembled as he spoke. “I hope your God is with you.” The men grasped each other’s shoulders.
Beyond the Fire Page 25