BARELY BELIEVING I HAD PER-suaded John Aycliffe to do as I wished, I held the dagger in one hand even as I clutched the cross of lead in my other. By one or the other I was determined to succeed.
Pausing briefly to take up a candle from one of the wall sconces, the steward proceeded to go down the steps I had noticed in the corner of the great room. To my great relief, he left his sword where it lay on the floor.
The steps were very wide, winding down and around to the lower floor. Upon reaching the bottom we came into a large, enclosed room with many shelves and two large tables. In the dim light, it appeared to be some kind of pantry. There were stacks of flat breads, mazers, bowls, and jars in abundance.
Aycliffe continued into a hallway. In this place the walls were covered with great tapestries. Here too, for the first time, we came upon others. Who exactly they were, or what service they performed, I couldn’t tell. They lay stretched out on the floor, asleep.
Having never seen so large and magnificent a dwelling, it was all I could do to keep my eyes on Aycliffe as he passed through what appeared to be yet another pantry. In this place great quantities of food were stored, so much more than I had seen at the Green Man. We saw more servants too, but as before, they lay asleep, this time in a corner.
The steward went to another corner stairway, this one made of stone. These steps plunged down steeply. Whatever warmth there had been faded quickly The deeper we went, the colder and damper it became.
Sputtering, smoky torches had been set in wall holes every few feet. A few men were sitting on the steps, while others lay sprawled sleeping. No matter who they were, as soon the steward appeared they leaped up and saluted him.
Only when we reached the foot of the steps did Aycliffe pause. We had come to a large, almost round area constructed of stone from the floors to the low, vaulted ceilings.
Coming quickly to the fore was a man whom I recognized as one of those who had attacked me the night before. There was a puzzled look upon his face when he saw me, but he nevertheless bowed to Aycliffe.
“Sir—” he started to say.
Aycliffe interrupted. “Take me to where the red-bearded man is.”
The soldier took up a smoky torch and led the way.
We were now moving through cellar regions, through one narrow passage after another. The ceilings were soot-blackened. The air was close and foul. Puddles of stagnant water lay underfoot. The walls were streaked with green.
“He’s here, sir,” the soldier said. We had come to a small door set into the wall.
“Unlock it,” Aycliffe commanded.
The man produced a ring of keys, selected a large one, applied it to the lock and pulled the door open.
“You may enter,” he said to me.
I hesitated, thinking I’d be trapped inside.
Aycliffe seemed to understand my thoughts. “I’ve made my vow,” he said as though to rebuke me. “You’ll not be detained.”
I reached for the torch the man held. Before he released it he looked to the steward. When Aycliffe nodded, I was allowed to take the light.
Small as I was, I had to stoop to enter the room. It was small, dark, and stinking within. By the light of the torch I saw Bear. His great bulk had been stretched upright upon a ladderlike structure, arms bound high over his head, unshod feet bound below just as tightly. Almost naked, his bloodstained body was striped and welted as if it had been whipped. His head hung limp upon his chest, his beard spread like a rumpled napkin.
“Bear?” I said.
He made no response.
“Bear,” I called again, louder.
When he still made no answer I could only find the breath to say, “Bear, are you alive?”
When he gave no reply I drew closer, holding the torch near to him. Only then did I see the slight rise and fall of his chest.
Jamming the torch end into a crevice in the stone floor, I used my dagger to cut his bonds free, starting with his feet. By climbing the ladder, I released his hands, first one, then the other. Once free, he slid down to the floor, where he lay in a heap.
On my knees by his side, I took up one of his hands. It was cut and very raw. “Bear,” I said. “It’s me. Crispin. Crispin” I repeated even louder.
Gradually Bear lifted his head. His face was so bruised it took a moment for him to open his eyes. Or only one eye, for the other was swollen shut. At first he merely gazed at me, uncomprehending, repeatedly blinking.
“Crispin?” His broken lips managed a hoarse whisper.
“I’m here, Bear,” I said.
He continued to gaze at me as if not sure who I was.
Then he said, “Crispin … I do love you like a son. Did … did I betray you?”
“No, Bear, you didn’t. And now you’re to be set free.”
When he didn’t seem to understand, I took up his raw hand and gently pulled at it. “Can you come, Bear? Can you walk? We’re going to leave Great Wexly. The steward swore a sacred oath to let us go.”
He let out a deep sigh of exhaustion.
“Bear, you must come with me,” I urged as much as begged, pulling at him again.
“Have they caught you too?” he said between parched lips.
“I’m not caught, Bear. We’re both leaving. To go free. But you have to come. Now. You must move yourself.”
At last he seemed to understand. Letting forth a great sigh, he summoned enough strength to heave himself up to his hands and knees. Then he began to crawl after me toward the entryway.
I left the little room first. Bear followed. When he came out, he managed to only just squeeze through.
By the time we emerged a ring of soldiers had gathered and were looking on in hostile silence.
Aycliffe, I saw, had found a sword. It was in his hand.
I stood up. But when Bear remained on his hands and knees I knelt before him. “Can you stand?” I said, holding out my hand. He reached up, and grasped it.
“He needs help,” I said. “Get him some water.”
No one moved.
“Help him,” I commanded.
All eyes went to Aycliffe. He gave a small nod. Three of the men stepped forward, and reached out to Bear. But when they touched him, he reared back like a wounded beast, and with a spurt of energy struck away their hands.
“Crispin,” he called.
I went before him. He looked up—seemingly to make sure it was me—then lifted one of his long arms, and set it on my shoulder. By sheer strength of will, he began to pull himself up, leaning much of his weight on me. When he finally stood, I could see how cruelly battered he was. Yet he was still large enough so that some of those looking on stepped back in awe.
I was handed a jug of water, which I passed on to Bear. He clutched it in both hands, and drank from it deeply, then let the rest cascade over his head and body. That done he flung it away, letting the jug smash. The water helped him, though his breath was still labored. He stood somewhat taller. He had managed to open his other eye, if only partly.
“He needs some clothing,” I said.
Once again all eyes went to Aycliffe, who nodded.
One of the men came forward, offering me a cloak. I placed it around Bear’s shoulders.
“Put a hand on my shoulder,” I said to him. “We’re leaving.”
Bear, standing behind me, did as I bid. But before me, in a semicircle, stood the steward and some ten other men. All were armed.
I took a step forward. No one moved.
Heart hammering, I lifted my hand, the one that held the cross of lead. “Shall I read what is written here?” I said directly to Aycliffe.
Bear’s hand tightened slightly on my shoulder.
“Shall I?” I repeated.
For a moment there was no reply. Then the steward said, “You must give it to me.”
“You swore a vow to let us go first,” I said.
He said, “When you give it to me, you’ll go free.”
I shook my head. “Once we’re beyond the walls, you’ll have it.”
“I could kill you here,” he said. “Both of you.”
“This man made a sacred vow to let us go,” I said loudly. “He did so on this cross.”
With all looking at him, Aycliffe seemed unsure what to do.
Then I said, “Shall I tell them who I am?”
The steward didn’t reply. In the silence I was sure all could have heard my heart hammering.
Then Aycliffe said, “I’ll take them to the city gates.”
The men stepped to either side, allowing us a narrow passage.
Aycliffe took the lead. I followed. Bear, his hand still resting on my shoulder, shuffled right behind me. I turned to look at him but could not read his emotions.
Moving slowly, we made our way through the cellar regions, then to the steps. Once there, I offered myself as a crutch to Bear, which he accepted, though I sensed that he was regaining something of his old strength. Even so, the climb was slow and painful. When we reached the first level I could hear, if only dimly, church bells ringing. I wondered if they were tolling a call to arms or to prayer.
More soldiers were on guard at the front door. When they didn’t move, we all stopped.
“Give me the cross,” Aycliffe demanded.
“On your vow. Not until we’re safely past the city gates.”
“Open the doors,” he said angrily.
The soldiers pushed open the doors.
It was, as I had prayed, dawn.
As we stepped out from the palace, the town’s church bells were still ringing. Above the square, a whirl of agitated blackbirds circled through the air.
Before us, traders were setting up their wares in stalls and tables. Those closest to us stopped their work and stared.
Bear and I went forward. Aycliffe stayed with us as did an escort of some seven soldiers.
“Wait,” I cried. I ran to the side of the palace and took up Bear’s sack, then rejoined him.
“Take us to the gates,” I said to Aycliffe.
Though his look was full of hatred, the steward turned and began to move along the stone-paved road. We went slowly, a troop of soldiers all around us, while I wondered if they would truly let us go.