I eased the lid back down and exhaled. Fleeting dreams of escape rushed on down the river to their demise. My eyelids fluttered and exhaustion thankfully overtook me as I stumbled across the floor to my makeshift bed. Happy to be alive, I slept soundly with the rats in my very own mound of rotting straw.
†††
The next day dawned dismal. At least, I assumed it was dawn. Seeing as how I had no window, the gentle rays of sun failed to awaken me. It was the moaning howls and terrified shrieks of my dungeon-mates that did their job instead. I pulled my aching frame from the pile of hay.
My leg had stiffened considerably overnight, and the crust of blood had proven to be a delicious snack to my furry cellmates. Fresh trails streaked scarlet down my leg and onto my bare foot. I hobbled to the door and pushed myself onto my tiptoes.
A pair of King Henry’s men, armed with steel blades and covered in armor, strode purposefully down the dank hall toward me, then slowed as they approached my cell.
“The traitor wench goes on trial this morning. We’ll take her the long way, through the torture chamber.”
I jumped back against the wall. My pulse drummed in my ears. They were coming for me.
An Unjustly Trial
“B
ridget, you should have tried escaping through the privy,” I admonished myself as the iron keys jangled in the lock. My hands, still sore and slightly discolored from being bound in the boat, trembled as I clutched my baby in my belly. We would have had a fighting chance that way. Now, we are as good as dead.
A growl came from the other side of the splintery door. “Dammit Langston, you’re still drunk. That’s the wrong key.”
Tears burned in the back of my throat. “I miss you, Jean. God be with you, beloved husband, wherever you are.”
A rogue thought burst to the forefront of my mind. The ancient rosary that the priest had gifted to me. Was it clutched in Jean’s hand in death somewhere on enemy English soil? Had his murderer stolen it and, being a heretic Protestant, desecrated it? Or, had his murderer been a Catholic and kept it for their own family? Had it even made the journey with him across the Strait? How I wish I had it now.
Without thought or preparation, I sank to my knees, eyes shut, despite the stabbing pain in my leg. All my worry about not remembering the sacred prayers of the rosary, the cornerstone of the faith of my mother, was for naught.
I imagined the beads in my hand, lending comfort and a divine peace to those forsaken and forgotten. Like me. The Apostle’s Creed rolled off my tongue, as sweet as honey.
I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth ...
“Damn it to hell, give me those keys. I’ll open the door.” One of the mystery voices oomphed, as though they’d been hit in the stomach. Keys jangled and I listened as the iron bolt slid out of the lock.
“Ow, Lyde.” The other voice grumbled. “It makes no sense to make such a fuss over a stupid wench so early in the morning. I would much rather be sleeping.”
“Sleeping it off, you mean.”
I clutched my belly and smiled as my baby kicked my hands. The door slammed open, and I heard men’s boots stomp into my dank cell. Rats squeaked and skittered back into the pile of rotten straw.
And in Jesus Christ his only begotten Son our Lord...
“On your feet, traitorous wretch.”
I opened my eyes. Fear didn’t consume me as I feared it would. Despite my smiling at him, the shorter of my two captors drew back his booted foot.
If he kicks the baby, the baby will die. I squeezed my eyes closed and curled around my stomach. An instant later, the whoosh of his swinging foot blew my hair. The squeak of the rat he stomped shrieked in my ears. On a normal day, I would cry over the rat. Today, I said a mental prayer of thanks.
Who was conceived of the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary...
I allowed them to pull me to my feet. “Now, the time has come to take your medicine. Walk now; walk faster!”
The clanking of their swords didn’t deter my spirit. I smiled despite of everything that had transpired. Even when the tips of their swords touched my back, the troublesome niggle of fear did not return. No matter the cost, no matter the way I came to meet Our Lord, I’d stayed true to my faith and didn’t marry a man for station or riches. I’d found love with Jean. We’d created a baby that I felt kicking within my belly. I could meet my Savior with a clean conscience and, with a little luck, Jean would be there waiting for me.
A woman’s howl from an unseen cell made me shiver. I remembered the woman, chained to the wall with her hands clasped in “the fiddle.” Perhaps it was her who made the noise? It spoke of agony, torment, and loneliness. Fear and hopelessness resonated in the long monotone cry, as well. What was her transgression?
Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.
“There now, that way.” The hallway branched. Down the lighted path were more cells and windows. Down the other—only darkness.
I turned and looked at the bigger of the two men. His sword touched my neck. Nothing on his chiseled, shadowed face bespoke friendliness.
“Which way, sir?”
He held the sword steady at my neck. His meaning was clear. He could dispatch me in a moment. I was completely at his mercy. Finally, he moved the tip of his blade and pointed into the darkness.
“There’s no light?”
“Down the stairs.”
“To the torture chamber,” the drunker of the pair added.
I chewed the inside of my cheek and nodded. The screams of those stuck in torment in their cells that lined the lighted hall echoed behind me as I glanced into the darkness.
I sucked in a deep breath and allowed my gaze to meet that of the taller guard. His face softened a scooch. “Careful, mind you. They be mighty steep.”
“Thank you.” My voice was a whisper. The wall was chilly and damp as I felt for a hand rail, but found none. I took one step, then another, careful to keep one hand on the wall and the other on my protruding stomach—my first steps on the walk no one ever returned from. Surprisingly, no more swords poked me as we descended the gloomy staircase, and no harsh voices rushed me.
When we reached the bottom, darkness shrouded us completely. The larger of my captors banged on the door in sharp succession.
