“The boots and shoes will have to go!” Melzar announced as he began wadding their clothing inside Samoth’s shirt.
“Oh,” Maria gasped, looking at her rolled-up dress. “You’ll wrinkle it.”
Melzar looked up. “Dear lady,” he said, “you will never see this dress again. Does it matter if it has some wrinkles?”
The stark reality of leaving her things struck home. Turning away, Maria fought to hold back her tears.
“Now, off with those boots and shoes,” Melzar demanded. “Slaves don’t have such a luxury.”
Like compliant children, they sat and removed their shoes, tossing them into the growing pile on the floor.
“Now for some dirt,” Melzar said, wiping his hands in the built-up grime along the floor. Starting with Samoth, Melzar began blackening his face, hands, and arms.
Maria laughed at Samoth’s faces, but when Melzar turned to her, her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said, horrified.
“Not if you’ll do it yourself,” Melzar said without emotion. He turned his attention back to Samoth. “Put on this cloak, and pull the hood over your head. Your hair is too much like a man’s.”
“That’s because I am a man,” Samoth growled.
“Oh, Highness,” Melzar said to Maria. “You will need to remove your hair ribbons and tangle your hair.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled as Maria gingerly dabbed dust from the floor upon her cheeks.
CHAPTER 35
The Road to Freedom
Seagood and those in his company had ridden hard all day. The shadows were long when they dropped into the green valley surrounding the river.
Wart was excited. He hoped to see his father during the crossing. He’d been afraid to ask whether everyone had survived the fire and the fight with Jabin’s men the night they’d brought Thomas out of Endor.
Few people in the Gray Lands seemed to know about the Watchers or their quiet deeds of heroism. They did not know about the battles fought or the people who placed their lives on the line daily for their country.
“That would be just like Dad,” Wart said without realizing he’d spoken aloud.
“What?” Rudy’s voice startled Wart. “Wart, are you all right?”
Blinking, Wart shook his head, “I’m fine, Rudy. I’ve just been thinking.”
“Out loud?” Rudy laughed.
“Why?” Wart wondered. “Did I say something?”
“You’ve been babbling on and off all day,” Rudy teased.
Wart could feel his ears growing hot, but he didn’t know whether to believe his friend or not. Sometimes Rudy could stretch the truth. Wart just grinned. “Did I give any secrets away?”
“Yes, you did!” Rudy said matter-of-factly. “It seems you don’t think the Watchers get enough credit in all of this.”
Wart turned bright-red. He had been speaking his mind.
“Well, I agree with you,” Rudy continued. “They protect everyone, but people act like they don’t even exist. But you must remember, Wart, the Watchers serve the king, and their reward is from him. They are not searching for accolades among the people. They serve the master, not the minstrels.”
Wart knew Rudy was right. He knew his father did not want his exploits mentioned in song. It bothered Wart that his own activities had been put to music, especially when his own deeds were nothing compared to those of his father.
Wart’s thoughts were interrupted when a lone rider crossed the party’s path and signaled them to stop. “Who are you?” the sentry called. “State your business.”
Seagood rode forward with Thomas to identify themselves to the sentinel. The man quickly dismounted and bowed deeply. “Forgive me, my lords.”
“You were just doing your job,” Seagood stated. “You were right to stop us.”
“My lord,” the man said, “have you told the entire nation your plans?”
“No,” Seagood said. “Why?”
“Today many people have come to the river seeking passage to the other side. They want to witness the fall of Endor. We expected you to come with an army, but all I see is this small group.”
“What have you done with those who have come?” Thomas asked.
“We ferried them across the river,” the young man said. “We didn’t know if they were part of your battle plan or not.”
“Are they equipped for battle?” Seagood asked.
“No, sir. Most carry staffs. I think they are shepherds,” the sentinel said.
“Good!” Thomas responded. “They may well be of use to us. We will join them.”
“Are you crazy?” Seagood exploded. “If we’re going to war, why didn’t you let me bring an army?”
“The battle we fight will not be with sword or bow,” Thomas said. “We are going to catch the hearts and dreams of the prisoners within Endor and play with Jabin’s mind enough to make him unsure of his next move. The Lord will deliver Endor into our hands without our firing a shot.”
Seagood ground his teeth in frustration but shouted to those behind him, “We will pass and join the others.”
Wart was among the last to cross the river. He had searched every nook and hollow for his father but all in vain. He was afraid to ask anyone about his father, for fear he would learn of his father’s death. He could not bear that! It seemed better to hope that his father was alive than to know he was dead.
The raft dipped dangerously in the water when he and his mount stepped onto its rough surface. Quietly he rubbed the horse’s muzzle and whispered soft words in its ears. He saw strong men in the shadows of the eastern shore laboring to pull the raft across the river.
They stepped ashore, and Wart led his horse toward a large gathering of people. Campfires flickered, and shadows danced among the trees and brush. Suddenly something grabbed him from the shadows. He whirled on his heels, fists up, ready for a fight.
“Well met, my son,” a voice spoke.
Wart did not lower his guard until the man stepped into the light. Benhada smiled and held out his arms. Wart nearly collapsed from relief. “Dad,” he whispered, “you’re alive.”
“Alive?” the older man questioned. “Did someone say I was not?”
“No one said anything,” Wart blurted. “The last time I saw you, you were fighting with Jabin’s men, the forest was on fire, and your backs were to the river. I didn’t see how you could survive.”
Benhada grew quiet. “It was touch and go for a while that night,” he admitted. “We were driven into the water, but rafts downstream managed to pluck everyone from the river.”
“What do you mean, ‘that night’?” Wart asked. “Have you had more battles?”
“For a while raiders came across the river almost every night,” Benhada said. “We have fought some terrible battles and have lost some good men.”
“But how can we camp on the east side of the river if there are attacks on the west?” Wart asked.
“I don’t know what is happening,” Benhada admitted, “but some great change has taken place. The forays onto our side of the river have stopped. Troops have been moving south, and nothing lies between here and the city of Endor.”
“I don’t understand,” Wart said.
“I don’t either, Son,” Benhada said. “Either the Lord is opening a path to Endor, or Jabin is setting a trap. Only time will tell.”
Stanley glanced both ways down the hall before lifting the latch to Melzar’s door. “Melzar,” he called as he entered the chief warden’s apartment. “There is rumor in the cells of a rebellion in the making.”
Melzar studied “Old Stanley,” who had become one of his closest advisors. Thomas had rescued Stanley from starvation in the dungeon and had brought him to Melzar as an aide and fellow believer. Stanley and others Melzar now knew as “brothers” had become a great comfort to him. Not only did they feed
and care for the other prisoners but they listened to everything that was said. No spoken word in the dungeon escaped Melzar’s ears.
“Rebellion?” Melzar asked. “What kind of rebellion?”
“Rumor of Maria’s flight has spread. There is anger in both the guardhouse and the cells at her deposition. You know that many view her as divine, even though they may be beaten or killed at her bidding.”
Melzar knew all too well the loyalty given the Lady of the Temple. “What exactly is being said?” he asked Stanley.
“That Jabin should be executed and the Lady placed on the throne,” the old man said.
“That is dangerous and foolish talk,” Melzar huffed. “The entire temple guard could not withstand one hour of an attack from the palace. This kind of talk will endanger the Lady’s life even more.”
There was a sudden rapping at the door, and someone whispered, “Melzar.”
“Come in,” Melzar answered.
Mandra slipped quietly through the door and closed it behind him. “He’s coming,” he whispered.
“Who?” asked Melzar.
“Jabin and a group of very drunken men,” said Mandra.
Melzar took a deep breath and studied the men before him. “All right,” he said. “Both of you go to the lower levels. Prepare the others for what might happen. If things get ugly, release the prisoners.”
“But—” Stanley began.
“If Jabin begins a killing spree, he will not stop for a cell door. I will not have those under my care butchered while chained to a wall. Release them and allow them to flee or fight as they choose,” Melzar said.
“What about you?” Stanley asked.
“I am in no great danger,” Melzar lied. “Jabin will come here when he cannot find his daughter.”
“But you can’t face him alone,” Stanley argued. “Let me stay with you.”
“You will not!” Melzar said firmly. “You are more important to me down below with the prisoners.”
“But how will we know if we should release the prisoners?” Mandra asked.
“Watch and listen,” Melzar said. “If the killing begins, you will know. Now, hurry out the back door, both of you.”
“This place stinks,” Samoth hissed.
“Hush,” Maria whispered. “You will wake everyone.”
“I’m still hungry, and I don’t like pretending to be a woman. Why didn’t Melzar dress you up as a man?” Samoth grumbled.
“Melzar told us the men are shackled when they leave the castle, but the women are not,” Maria whispered.
“Well, let’s just hope they don’t decide to keep us inside the city tomorrow,” Samoth said.
Maria swallowed hard. What would happen if they could not escape? Trying to remain calm, she whispered, “Yes, let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
They were cramped in a dark, narrow corridor where the smell of unwashed bodies filled the air. There was no privacy, as the cots were jammed tightly together.
A voice spoke from somewhere in the room. “Quiet, you two! Do you want the guards to come in here?”
Maria and Samoth remained quiet for what seemed like ages, but finally Samoth asked, “How am I going to shave?”
Maria was startled. She had not thought of this, and she guessed Melzar hadn’t either. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Why are you asking me? I don’t have the answers.”
A voice in the room broke in. “Hey, since you two want to talk all night, here’s the latest news. Word has it that if Jabin starts to kill prisoners, the guards will set us free.”
Frightening thoughts formed in Maria’s mind. “But why would Fa—” She caught herself. “But why would Jabin want to kill his own people?”
“The rebellion,” the voice said. “Where have you kids been? The Lady and Samoth have gone into hiding. The guards want to kill Jabin and put the Lady on the throne. I’m all for it. She’s got to be better than that old tyrant.”
Maria remained silent, but not Samoth. In his most feminine whisper, he asked, “Hey, lady, where are you getting your information?”
“Through the network,” the voice answered.
“What network?” Samoth asked.
“We have people on the outside too,” the woman said. “Hey, where have you two been?”
“Ah …” Samoth began.
“We’ve been confined to the upper quarters,” Maria broke in. “We’ve heard nothing of the network.”
The ensuing silence made Maria wonder if the woman believed her story. However, she finally said, “You probably don’t hear much news up there. You’re probably all right, but I wouldn’t put it past Jabin to plant spies in here.”
“So, who’s behind the order to free the prisoners?” Samoth persisted.
“Melzar, of course.”
CHAPTER 36
Plans Unravel
“Melzzzzar,” Jabin bellowed as he staggered down the hall.
Melzar swung the door to his apartment wide and bowed low before the Master of Endor. “My Lord Jabin,” he said politely. “Please, come in.”
Only five of the many men with Jabin entered the jailer’s tiny apartment. Two men held Jabin upright, for he was terribly drunk. “Whearsh my dauster?” he slurred.
“I imagine she is in her quarters, sir,” Melzar said crisply.
“No shesh snot,” Jabin roared, wagging a finger in Melzar’s face. “Snot all day. Dat fool boy wash her lash visitor. Now, whash do you knowsh, Melzzzar?”
“Oh my!” Melzar feigned concern. “What should we do?”
“Melzar,” Jabin seemed to sober quickly, and his voice became angry. “I haven’t kept you here for nothing! You hear everything. Nothing escapes your ears, old man, but you can tell me later. I’m here after a more important pigeon than my daughter. I’ve been told you have Stafford’s son—Thomas, I think he was called. I want him.”
“He was in my custody, sir, but he is no longer,” Melzar said quietly.
“What?” Jabin swore. “Where is he?”
“He lost the Lady’s favor,” Melzar said.
“So?”
“He was sent to the oubliette, sir,” Melzar said.
The color drained from the faces of the men with Jabin, and several backed from the room.
“Ha!” cried Jabin, a jolly tone returning to his voice. “She sent him there, did she? Good lass! How long ago was this, Melzar? It doesn’t matter. He’s still there. I still have my bargaining chip. I just won’t mention whether he’s dead or alive. Ha ha!”
Jabin’s mirth did not spread to his men, and Melzar stood speechless. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected.
“I’m sure,” Jabin continued, “that it is a small matter for my chief jailer to find this prisoner, isn’t it, Melzar?” His yellow teeth showed beneath his dark features.
“Sir?” Melzar asked.
“You heard me. I want you to retrieve his body from the pit!” Jabin scowled.
“But, sir …” Melzar began.
“You see,” Jabin said, turning to his companions, “my chief jailer understands me completely.” He laughed. His companions withdrew, hoping none of them would be chosen to accompany the unlucky Melzar.
“Now,” said Jabin, “we need to hurry. You’ll need a long rope and a torch. Come, Melzar!”
After collecting a few necessary items, Melzar and a small group of men began their long march to the bottom of the dungeon. The knot in Melzar’s stomach grew tighter with each descending step. He tried to remember the stories Mandra had told of Thomas going this same route. Thomas had survived his ordeal, or at least that was the story. Would he be so fortunate? Melzar thought of Stanley, Mandra, and the others. What would become of them? Would they come looking for him? “Lord,” he prayed, “watch over Your servant.”
“Hurry up!” Jabin
shouted from above.
He’s afraid too, thought Melzar. Will I have the courage to let myself into the pit like Thomas did? Melzar quailed at the thought.
According to Mandra, Thomas said there is a landing just inside the door, he thought. If I can stay there long enough, maybe someone will rescue me.
Hope grew as he neared the final flight of stairs. The men pushing him along slowed their pace. Melzar descended the final flight and stood alone before the door. He withdrew a large ring of keys and began to fumble for the right one. “Stand back,” he announced, but he had no need. There was no one beside him.
“Hurry up,” Jabin yelled from the landing above. “Get on with it!”
Time seemed to stand still. Melzar found the key and held it aloft. Inserting it in the lock, he twisted his wrist. There was an audible click, and the door swung open. A putrid smell poured into the staircase. Melzar coughed, and two of his captors wretched upon the stairs.
Melzar began tying the rope around his waist and then to the door. “I won’t be long,” he announced. “I might need some help when I find the body. Will anyone join me?”
Melzar did not expect an answer. His external calmness had unnerved everyone, and even Jabin made no response.
“Very well,” Melzar said with a flourish. “Here I go!” He grabbed the torch from the man nearest him and stepped into the darkness.
“Shut the door!” Jabin screamed. Two men grabbed the door and swung it shut with a resounding boom. Melzar was sealed in the land of the forgotten.
Fiendish laughter resounded in the stairwell, the echoes of a madman.
With no opposition, Seagood’s party was making good time walking their mounts up the river road. Eventually, Wart was called forward to converse with the lords. “You know what to say?” Thomas asked.
“I think so, sir,” Wart responded. “You want me to ask that Mandra and everyone from Amity or the Gray Lands be released to you.”
“That’s right,” Thomas agreed.
“But, sir, why would Jabin listen to us? Won’t he just ignore twelve men standing on his doorstep asking for the release of certain prisoners? We are no threat to him inside his fortress, and even if he does release the prisoners we ask for, what happens to everyone else? You should have seen those poor men marching off to the gardens. Do we just leave them here?”
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