been
imprisoned and bid her to go back to my home and wait for me there. Can ye do
that, Jad? This is of utmost importance!” The force at the end of my sentence
echoed in the pot.
“Is
it the lady ye wished for at the tourney?” Jadorion questioned.
“It
is, Jad. Please tell me ye can do that.” I wished I could see his face.
A
groan came from below, “Uh, shorn I can. I gotta go now methinks the sewer’s
about to fill up but I’ll do as ye bid. Remember that the friar’s coming for
ye.” Jadorion’s voice got softer and I could tell from his voice he was
running. It touched me that I meant enough to him to wander the sewer.
A
familiar, yet not immediately recognized, voice came from the pile of hay in
the middle of the room. “She ain’t worth it.”
The
sound from the dark silage startled me and I jumped back against the cold wall.
If I would have had my sword it would probably be sticking from the throat of
whoever was holed in the prison with me. “Show thyself!”
“Oh
blazes, Tristen, it’s just me.” Sir Asher Funder appeared from the crafty
hiding place but remained seated under the hay. “Whatever woman has ye wrapped
around her finger just ain’t worth the fuss, buddy. A crazy dame is the reason
I’m here and let me tell ye what, sir, I would be better off alone!”
Air
filled my lungs again knowing that I didn’t have to strangle someone. I walked
toward Asher and sat next to him. He had moved his dazzling wife to the kingdom
to get her away from her life as a barmaid, then much to his upset, she
returned to the barmaid life at our tavern. I kept waiting for her to end up
“missing” but she appeared at work every day. Ash seemed more patient and
forgiving than most men I knew.
“Why
art thou here, Ash?” I picked up thin pieces of straw and threw them into the
air, watching them land in various places.
Asher
slammed his broad hands against the rock floor, “Because I stood up to yourn
father! Now I’m to be hanged at dawn. The man is a tyrant, my Lord!” Ash’s long
arms brought his fingers to his forehead. He ran the bony appendages through
his sandy brown colored hair, pulling it as he reached his scalp. He hadn’t
shaved for a few days; the beard was coming in thick and red. Asher was still
wearing his knight’s surcoat emblazoned with my family’s crest upon the front
and back. I assumed he wasn’t wearing it with the pride he had when I first
gave it to him.
I
touched the scratch on my hand and thought of beautiful Vivian and the chance
she had given me to escape this place. I felt hope so I tried to think of
something inspiring or hopeful for Asher but I knew he was right about my
father. Then I found words to encourage him, “We’re going to get out of here,
Sir Asher! And when we do we are going to disappear for good.”
He
looked at me like I was on fire and he didn’t know where water was then he lay
back on the ground. “Wake me when the miracle happens then. Otherwise, forget
about me.”
I
sat in the cold, dim room and decided to hum Vivian’s tune. The effect I had
hoped for just wasn’t there. Apparently I didn’t have a calming tone in my
voice like the woman did. Ash didn’t think so either indicated by the punch I
felt as his fist met my calf. I kicked him softly, just to remind him who was
boss.
I
softly hummed again just to prove to Sir Asher that he wouldn’t deter me from
what I wanted to do. I dozed off and was awoken by a slight knock at the cell
door.
“Dinner,”
the comforting voice of Chef Morgan cut through the gregarious snores of Sir
Asher. A moment later the old goat’s crumpled eye peered through the slatted
window in the middle of the door.
The
chef’s fleshy lips appeared in the hole. “Lord Tristen,” she whispered. “Are ye
there?” Then an eye appeared again; this time a colorless one. The woman had a
glass eye. Her real eye had been lost in a freak sword accident she had as a
child, or so that was her story. I
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