Michael Spradlin - Trail of Fate

Eleanor stood up and paced along the wooden platform. Sir Hugh clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

“Shut your mouth, squire,” he spat.

Eleanor watched the exchange with a new curiosity, but said nothing.

“Interesting,” I said. “You should ask him. .”

Sir Hugh shot forward and backhanded me across the face. The blow staggered me, and I fell backward, my legs tucked awkwardly beneath me. I struggled to rise, but Sir Hugh stood over me and raised his fist to strike me again. “I’ll teach you proper respect if it’s the last thing. .,” he growled.

“Hugh! Cease!” Eleanor’s sharp command stayed his fist in midair. He stood up, straightening his tunic. I struggled to right myself and finally found my balance again, resting my hands on my thighs as I knelt there, feeling the anger rise, tasting blood on my lip. I had been raised by gentle men with no violence in their hearts, but rage grew inside me. At that instant I wanted only to strike Sir Hugh down.

He returned to his spot by Eleanor’s throne, but his face betrayed his emotions. Once again he had what he most desired within his grasp, but the powerful Queen Mother stood in his way. If she discovered his true intent, she would undoubtedly relieve him of the Grail.

“How does it feel to always be finishing second, Sir Hugh?” I taunted him. “You couldn’t command your own regimento. Sir Thomas was the one the men followed. You wouldn’t stand up to the Marshal in Tyre and couldn’t defeat a group of peasants at Montsegur. Now the Queen Mother pulls your strings. It must be a sad life being such a puppet.”

Sir Hugh moved toward me again, but this time Eleanor stood between us.

“He has the same tart tongue as well as the looks,” she said. “No wonder Richard sent word to me right away.” Again her words only confused me. I had met Richard only twice in passing, not counting saving him on the battlefield. Had Sir Hugh told her of my encounters with her son? Seeing the look of bewilderment on my face, it was as if she read my mind.

“Oh yes, young squire. I know quite a lot about you,” she said. She clasped her hands in front of her and steepled her fingers. “Quite a lot indeed. And I’m sure you must have many questions.”

I hesitated. The Grail was my only advantage here. If I told her of its existence, I could thwart Sir Hugh, but giving it to her might be worse. I waited.

“Questions, squire? I can see them on your face. Don’t you wish to know? About your past?”

It felt as if she had punched me in the stomach. Trying not to show any interest, I straightened and threw my shoulders back. Of course I wished to know. But I would never give her the satisfaction. Not while she held my friends in her dungeon. Not ever. Besides, this had to be about the Grail. If Sir Hugh had told her I was an orphan, of my encounters with her son, then I was certain she was taking some perverse delight in tormenting me. Maybe, just maybe, she was the one who wanted the Grail and had sent Sir Hugh to find it, promising him something he desired when he delivered it to her. Sir Thomas’ warnings about the greed and madness of those who had dedicated their lives to finding it floated through my mind. I told myself there was nothing she could do to me that would cause me to break my vow to my knight or my friends.

She only laughed at me, in her ridiculous high-pitched cackle. Witch.

“Captain, take him to the dungeon with his friends,” she commanded. “Sir Hugh and I have much to discuss.”

The guards pulled me to my feet.

“If it pleases my lady, I will accompany the guards to ensure he is safely locked away,” Sir Hugh said.

The Queen Mother waved him away with her hand. “Fine. Do so, but return here at once. And I mean immediately, Hugh.”

We left the room, walking down a long passageway that ended at a heavy wooden door. It creaked open, and a stone stairway led us down to a single cell that had been dug out of the ground. The door opened and I was unceremoniously pushed in. There was only one flickering torch lighting the cavern, and I could barely make out Robard and Maryam sitting slumped against the wall, their hands and feet shackled in chains. The iron door slammed behind me and I heard the key turn. Before I could step back, Sir Hugh reached through the bars, grabbing hold of my tunic, and slammed me forward so my face was only inches away from his.

He lowered his voice and hissed, “Where is it, squire?”

“Why should I tell you now? You’re going to kill me anyway.” I spoke loudly, hoping the Captain and his guards would hear me and wonder what Sir Hugh was talking about.

Sir Hugh smirked and released me.

“Captain, where are their belongings?” he asked.

“Still in the wagon, sire,” the Captain replied.

“Bring them to me at once,” he barked. He released his grip on me and left, nearly racing up the few steps. The Captain and his guards followed, and we heard the wooden door slam and lock.

They hadn’t even put me in chains. Robard and Maryam both stood. Their hands were bound and locked in front of them, and a long chain ran between the shackles on their hands to their feet, but they could stand and move about a bit. Luckily the walls of the dungeon were just dirt and they were not chained to the wall.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Robard asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

I gave the cell door a shake, but it was locked securely.

Up above us a single barred window let in fresh air.

“Does anyone have any ideas?” I begged. Robard and Maryam were silent.

Then I heard a scratching sound at the window above. We looked up and the three of us were startled to see Angel’s face poking through the bars of the window. In her mouth she clutched Robard’s belt, on which he carried a small knife. She let go of the belt and it tumbled to the floor at our feet.

Then she yipped happily.

Despite our desperate situation, the three of us were so overjoyed to see the dog that we all laughed out loud. Robard in particular was beside himself, whistling and praising her repeatedly. For a moment I wondered if he might have taken too many blows to the head in his struggles with the King’s Guards.

With the knife, I tried unlocking Robard and Maryam’s wrist shackles and leg irons. The locks’ chains were too thick and rusty for me to have any success. It would require a hammer and chisel to release them.

Having no luck with the chains, I tried inserting the knife into the lock on the cell door to see if I could work it open. Slowly, I twisted and turned the knife for several minutes but to no avail. I pounded on the bar nearest me in frustration. How could I get us out of here?

The dog answered with a quiet bark and dug at the base of one of the bars in the window. Not understanding her meaning, I stood there stupidly at first. She barked again and continued digging, whining and growling as she did so.

Then it came to me.

“Robard, Maryam, you’re going to have to boost me up,” I said, crossing to the window. They shuffled over and made a platform for my feet with their hands. I stepped onto it, and they hoisted me up until I was level with the opening.

There was almost no light to work with, as the flame from the torch outside the cell barely reached here. But Angel whined again, digging around the bar, and feeling there with my fingers, I found that the mortar had worked loose. While I attacked it with the knife, she sat back to watch me work.

“Keep an eye out, girl,” I said. “Let me know if anyone comes this way.”

I worked the knife into the soft mortar around the iron bar. It was tough going, but little by little, small chunks fell away. After a few minutes the bar began to twist in my hand, cracking and loosening more mortar. When a big piece came loose at the bottom, I lay down the knife and grabbed it with both hands, pulling and twisting at the bar until the bottom snapped out and I yanked it free. Ha!