Chapter 34
A New Friend
Rosemarie found little comfort during her time locked in the palace. All that there was for her to do was eat, sleep, and dream of her love. Other than that, the only solace that she found was in the small conversation that she made with a timid, simple-minded Guard by the name of Collin Cumber, who for some reason seemed much different than the rest, though he wore the same gray uniform.
Every day, like clock-work, Collin would deliver to Rosemarie her morning brunch, consisting of various fruits and vegetables (including, of course, arugula), and then later her dinner. Each time Collin would do so, he would also make certain to ask Rosemarie how she was faring, to which she would respond by saying how awful she felt, and How would he feel in such a situation?, and What does he care anyway?, and so on and so forth. These points Collin never argued; he rather, in fact, to Rosemarie’s surprise, actually seemed somewhat sympathetic to them. But, as I said, he was a simple man, almost a boy you might say, and knew not how to reply to such pleadings. And so he would just bow his head, mutter that he was “sorry,” and make a quick exit.
This continued for some time, until finally Rosemarie stopped him one day.
“Wait a moment,” she said, “why are you off so fast?”
The timid fellow turned round to face her, his lip trembling ever so slightly.
“Y-Y-Y-Yes?” he said, rather obsequiously she thought.
“Come hither,” Rosemarie said.
“Sssssssshhh!” Collin cried, his forefinger to his lips. “You know that we are not supposed to talk.”
“Well, then,” said Rosemarie, “I suppose we’re breaking the rules.”
“Yes,” Collin answered, “and if the Dark Duke found out, he’d have me killed.”
“Don’t you mean ‘His Highness’?”
“Whatever!” Collin said, waving his hand at the notion. “Call him as you wish.”
“Ah,” said Rosemarie, “then I am right in suspecting that you do not revere your master?”
“The Dark Duke does not live on admiration,” said the young man. “You’d be a fool not to see that. He lives on fear, and he has found it in me.”
“So then why do you work for him, if you fear him so?”
“Because,” Collin explained, “I do not wish my mother and my sisters to starve like the others in this horrid land. And who are you to ask questions?”
“Even,” said Rosemarie, ignoring his inquiry, “if you must support them by strengthening the very power of the man who has made their lives harsh in the first place?”
The young Guard stepped closer.
“Listen here,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I would never lift a finger in defense of the Dark Duke, but I am paid well to pretend that I would, and that enables my family to eat. And that is all there is to it, understand?”
“Yes,” Rosemarie replied, “I understand it quite too well. You are paid from the funds raised by an oppressed people.”
Collin rubbed his hand over face.
“Yes, well, if I were not here then surely somebody else would be.”
“Probably,” Rosemarie said. “And that somebody would probably be just as timid and just as wrong as you are.”
Collin held down his head in shame. The problem had confounded him, and now this woman, this lady, confounded him as well. He turned in a breath, and again tried to make his exit, but again Rosemarie stopped him.
“Wait!” she cried.
“Ssssssssssshhhh!” Collin hissed, turning about. “What now?”
“Do you have access to the Tower Dungeon, where my family and friends are being kept?” she asked daringly.
“That I cannot say,” Collin whispered.
“But you will say,” said Rosemarie. “You will, I tell you.”
Collin gave a heavy sigh and glanced up toward the ceiling.
“Very well,” he replied. “I do. Now, is that all?”
“No,” Rosemarie said. “I have a favor to ask of you as well.”
“A favor?”
“Yes. I want you to deliver to me each day only a single apple and a glass of water. The rest of my rations are to be snuck into the Tower and given to my family and friends, the villagers captured some days ago.”
She stared at him, refusing to let his eyes escape their contrition.
“If they catch me,” he said at last, “then surely they will kill me. You do understand this?”
“I do.”
Again Collin sighed. He folded his arms over his chest and peered out the window.
“Fine, then,” he said, letting his chin fall to his chest. “I will do the best I can – though it may in fact be the death of me. There is paper and ink atop this bureau; if you write the names, I will collect them on my next delivery.”
Then, wishing in no way to catch Rosemarie’s eye once again, the young Guard shifted round in his heels and made his exit, thankful that he was not called back once again. The door closed and bolted behind him, and a moment later Rosemarie could hear footsteps, slow and timid, echoing down the corridor.
…………………………………………..
Collin kept to his word.
The next day, as said, he made his way toward the Tower, his stomach appearing somewhat larger than the day previous. He kept his hands to his belly, trying desperately to keep hold of an orange that was attempting to escape from beneath his shirt, his eyes darting back and forth in search of any suspicious Guardsman that might be passing. When he got to the Tower, he smiled and nodded graciously at the four Guards that stood at its front, nervously wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Ah, good day to ya,” he said. “Any deaths yet? I hope not! More fun to watch’m die! Here for the King’s work. Can’t wait t’get in there n’ do some bad! – Ha ha ha!” Thankfully, they paid him little attention. He waved his hand, grinned some more, and a moment later he was in, darting through the Tower corridor as if he were a prisoner darting out.
The inside was dark and gloomy, as if the torches lining the walls did not wish to shine their light upon such a horrid place. Collin could hear moans of agony, men being whipped and beaten, women crying out in pain: “Oh, God, where is my baby! Why do they blind me so?” He advanced, each step a trial for his heart, which seemed to be racing in the other direction. “Is that you, master? I’m sorry, m’lord. Oh!, how I am sorry!” The stones below him made his footsteps echo down the passageway, mixing with the wails of those inside, a symphonic orchestra of pain and insanity.
“Fifty rupiks. Fifty rupiks. Just fifty! What I wouldn’t give for fifty rupiks! Fifty-five? No, no. No, no. Maybe fifty-five. Where is she? Tell me! Tell me where she is! A-hu-hu-hu-hooo!”
Two Guards came up on the other side, talking as if in any palace courtyard, and Collin turned to examine the wall. He looked back to make certain that they had passed, then continued on, his mind as uncertain as his feet.
He knew that most of the villagers that Rosemarie spoke of had been brought to the second floor, where they had been chained to the wall and left for the rats. It was the largest party ever to arrive at the Tower at one time, and many of the Guards talked of it as if it were nothing but Sunday brunch. At the time, Collin found the matter rather disturbing, and had made himself think no more about until he was at last forced to do so by the persistent prisoner of the palace, who right now he wished he had never listened to.
He crept his way to the stairs, refusing to look to either side. At the bottom was a frail old woman, chained like the rest, her eyes nearly popping from her head. “Are you the gods?” she asked. “Are you the angels? Have you come to take me from this place?” Collin shook his head No, and she turned away to the darkness. Slowly, he started up the steps, his body pressed to the wall. His footsteps were soft, though he knew not why he lingered so. It was as if a black hand were holding him back, shielding his eyes from dark horrors.
In a spiral he climbed, his knees be
ginning to buckle as the agony from the upstairs made its way down. He was rising to it – rising to the screams and the tears – rising to the next level of insanity. This time he could swear that he had heard children – young children! – their tiny voices melting in with that of the adults. Another Guard sauntered by, eying Collin for a moment before filing past him to the downstairs. Collin tried to look comfortable, stable – as if it were nothing more than a walk in the park – but the fragments of pain echoing through the chambers made his efforts futile. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, he could feel his stomach beginning to churn.
He checked the right corridor first, stooping next to a man with one arm cut from the elbow.
“Don’t hurt me!” the man cried. “Please, no more! Please!”
He was trembling in fear, his eyes, small and bally, quickly coming to tears.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Collin said, glancing cautiously over both shoulders.
“But please! Please!”
“Sssh!” Collin cried. “Shush! I will not hurt you. Are you one of the villagers that they brought in just the other day?”
The man shook his head No.
“I’ve been here for over two years,” he said. “All because I did not clap at the King’s entrance. I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t! Oh, please don’t hurt me! Please!”
“I am not going to hurt you!” Collin said. “Just tell me where they are.”
“I don’t know,” pleaded the man. “Oh, I swear I don’t know! I couldn’t see. I tell ya, I didn’t see!” Collin rose. “It’s the truth!” cried the man. “Please! No! Don’t hurt me! Please!”
Collin reached in his shirt and pulled out an apple. He brought it to the man’s mouth and, glancing quickly round once again, told him to take a bite. The man hesitated for a moment, but then bit into it with starved vigor, chomping on it as if he had never had a meal so extraordinary in all his life. When it was finished, Collin patted the man compassionately on the head, and made off for the left corridor.
This room seemed even darker than the last, and Collin could just make out the starved figures of men, women, and children that lined the walls, moaning in utter despair, crying out for food and water and light. A rat passed over his feet, and for a moment he jolted in terror. It squeaked off into a corner, where a dilapidated figure lay unconscious. Three Guards were passing through with a cart, hurling buckets of water at the hanging tongues that lined the side, scoffing at their cries for more, more, more! It took them mere minutes to canvass the entire room, a hundred and fifty tongues at least, and pass on to the next corridor, the prisoners wailing for their return. One of them bumped Collin on the way out, and had he not managed to keep his load in tow with quick hands, the game would have been up. But thankfully he did, and as soon as they were gone, he wasted no time in racing to a tall, shirtless prisoner with a ragged, grizzly beard and a pained, wandering eye, and kneeled down beside him.
The man was mumbling, shaking his head back and forth in senseless rambles. His hands, chained to the wall, looked as if they had been gnawed at by the rats; his chest was as black as soot.
“How long have you been here?” Collin asked him.
“If it were light, then we could race the horses. The horses, so brown, so beautiful. Where is Aunt Alma? Hello? Hello?”
“Three days now,” said the woman next to him. “He’s been rambling for the last two. I suppose he didn’t have the strongest constitution, otherwise he might have gone with the others.”
“What others?” Collin asked.
“I sense that you are here for good reason,” Soothie said, for indeed it was her, “but that I cannot tell you. We are the ones that you are searching for, and I trust that Rosemarie sent you. Have you brought us food?”
“Why, yes,” said Collin, much astonished. “How did you know?”
“Give that child over there some bread,” said Soothie, nodding with her head. “She is half starved already and weak. Then help the others. I can wait. Make sure to feed my niece and her husband. They are at the other end.”
“I will get them all,” Collin promised. “If I have to, I’ll make another trip.”
“But start now. Time is of the essence.”
Stepping away from the woman, Collin took to the other side and kneeled before the starving child. She looked at him, frightened for a moment, but when he placed two pieces of bread in her hands, her look turned to confusion.
“Eat it,” he said. “And don’t let anyone see.”
Then, stepping to the next person, a woman with a black eye and her head between her knees, he pulled an orange from his shirt. Down the aisle like this he continued, pausing every now and again to look over his shoulder, warning each prisoner not to let their food be seen. By the time he reached the end of that side, he was completely out of stock, and so he decided to go back to the palace and get some more. The next time that he entered, he wore a new pair of pants, designed with many pockets, and soon each prisoner was taking solace in his provisions. Soothie was the last, and when he handed her her apple, she thanked him graciously.
“You take great risk by doing this,” she said, “do you not?”
Collin sighed.
“I suppose,” he said.
The old woman nodded.
“I am Rosemarie’s aunt, you know?”
“I did not,” the young Guard replied.
“Take care of her for me. Look after her.”
“I will.”
“Good. Now be gone. The longer you linger, the greater the risk.”
Collin rose.
“I will return tomorrow,” he said. “Be certain.”
“I am,” said the woman. “I can see that you are a man of conscience. I hope that your mother and sisters eat well, for them you have given great sacrifice.”
The soldier hung his head.
“Go,” Soothie said. “Go, and do what is right. We will meet again tomorrow.”
Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, and Collin glanced at the echoes. Turning back, he could see a compassion in Soothie’s eye that made his guilt as heavy as an anvil. He nodded once more, then stole off.
Chapter 35
At The Dark Duke’s Table