Lords of Freedom 2 - Chapter 7
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Introduction
Lords of Freedom is an exciting trilogy that includes adventure, realistic action, surprising insights, and a touch of romance.
The serialization of Lords of Freedom book one is complete, with all 33 chapters published in the Gene Van Shaar Substack. Here is the link to all the chapters: Lords 1
The serialization of Lords of Freedom 2 (book 2 of the trilogy) is in progress. Lords of Freedom 2 includes many intriguing parallels with Joan of Arc, George Washington, Francis Marion (The Swamp Fox), Henry Knox, and the American Revolutionary War.
Lords Of Freedom 2 - Chapter 7 - In the Dungeon
The dungeon was dirty, dank, and cold, furnished with only a simple cot and a chamber pot. Rats were scurrying about as well as spiders, but Jayn was not bothered by the creatures. Isolated as she was, she passed the time watching them, finding the rats surprisingly smart and realizing they had a sort of social structure. The spiders snared unlucky flies in their webs, then deftly repaired or re-wove them after their feast.
It had taken two days from the mountain plateau to reach Vlad, and she had not been touched by any of the soldiers—unless you counted Caden, binding her wrists in his clever way. They’d camped in a clearing the second night and atop a gentle rise the third. Both nights had gone much the way the first had, aside from General Vicor’s tirade, since Calla wasn’t there.
Caden however, caught a bit of flack. The others felt he was being far too easy on her, maybe even charmed by her witchy wiles. Despite that, thanks to Mercedes’ influence, Caden remained in charge of her. Further, although each night lots were cast over Elihu’s rider the following day, by morning all of that was forgotten and Jayn rode the white stallion.
They’d arrived in the city the day before, and General Vicor had taken Elihu’s reins straight away, making a show of his success in capturing the Witch. The people gazed wide-eyed at Jayn as she passed and some even smiled and waved. She hadn’t returned the greetings, other than a slight nod here and there, fearing repercussion, not only for herself but for the affable citizens as well.
Others though spat and shouted insults, convinced as the general was of her evil nature and intent. That was when she noticed a few devils, goading the hostile folk and whispering lies in their ears. Chilled, she’d turned her gaze skyward in silent, fervent prayer.
Prince Nigel had been outside on a balcony overlooking the courtyard with Calla on a nearby perch. She’d cawed several times on Jayn’s arrival, which seemed a sort of greeting, although the falcon did not take flight.
Jayn would stand trial in a few days, Prince Nigel shouted down to her, and she’d wondered for what crime. She’d done nothing to warrant legal charges, especially during a war. She’d thought she’d been taken as a hostage, to manipulate Dauphin Percival to agree to certain terms, give some strategic ground, or perhaps trade some Vlad prisoners of war for her return.
She’d called back to Prince Nigel, demanding to know what charges she faced and declaring herself innocent of any crime.
Prince Nigel grasped the balcony rail and leaned forward, shouting: “Witchcraft is your crime and if convicted you’ll be burned at the stake!”
A gasp of horror escaped her: if she was convicted? She’d be convicted all right—she already was. The trial would be for show—to satisfy the letter of the law, nothing more.
Once in her cell, as the door clanged shut, Caden caught her eye and forced a smile. He looked grim though and she’d paced to the far corner of the cell, staring at a little ledge in the stone wall as the soldiers departed.
The angel Mercedes stood by her side, assuring her that help was coming. That fortified her faith and raised new hope in her heart, but she wondered how and from whom that help would come. Merecedes said no more, prompting Jayn to draw on her faith.
Now, after a day and a half in the dungeon, Jayn tensed, hearing the heavy outer door clang open. As heavy bootsteps drew near, she realized it must be lunchtime. She’d have to eat something now—yesterday they hadn’t provided lunch and she’d left her dinner tray untouched on principle. She had though, drunk the water provided.
She felt weak now and dizzy, with a nagging headache plaguing her. This was the first meal they’d offered today, but she was certain it was afternoon, making it well over twenty-four hours since she’d eaten. Worse than the hunger though was the lack of water; her throat was parched and painfully dry after so many hours.
The guard, a tall, gaunt man with a cruel gaze stopped in front of her cell and leered at her, making her grateful for the bars between them, although he no doubt had a key. He looked much like an animated skeleton, with wispy hair, a gaping mouth, and long bony fingers: all in all, a frightful figure.
Opening the hatch near the floor, he slid her tray in, along with a canteen. Seated on the cot, she clenched her hands into fists and began counting. She didn’t want to stand up to retrieve the food and water until he moved on.
He stood in place, waiting her out, his mirth obvious. She was about to concede the little game when a caw sounded in the corridor. The ghoulish man flailed his arms and cried out as Calla sailed past. Moments later the falcon reappeared, and the guard clamored back out of sight.
“Calla?” Jayn said as the falcon sailed through the bars into the cell.
Perching on the ledge in the wall, Calla regarded her through beady eyes.
Jayn stood from the cot and crossed the cell to retrieve first the canteen. She drank deeply and was instantly refreshed. As she replaced the cap, she saw the guard, back in view and watching her. She stood tall with a little sniff.
His eyes flicked from her to Calla and back; then he strode off muttering. She made out but one word: witch. With a sigh, she bent to pick up the tray of food.
Seated back on the cot, she lifted the lid to find a large roll, three chunks of cheese, an apple, and some beef strips. There were no utensils so she used her fingers, not caring that the roll was a bit stale and the apple slightly mushy. The cheese was excellent though, as were the beef strips.
Halfway through her meal, she tore a piece of meat from one of the strips and held it up. “Are you hungry?”
Calla chirruped and flapped down onto the cot. When Jayn dropped the meat, Calla snatched it up and launched back onto the ledge. Despite her own hunger, Jayn couldn’t resist giving the falcon a bit of cheese and a few more morsels of meat. She also managed to stroke the soft feathers on Calla’s breast with her finger before the falcon launched airborne and sailed back through the cell bars and out of sight.
“Come back soon,” Jayn said softly, uncapping the canteen.
*****
Late afternoon shadows stretched long over the rolling hills and Caden raced them astride Ash. His thoughts were in turmoil and his heart squeezed tight with grief; coming home had been one disgrace after another with nothing good so far at all.
Jayn was isolated in the dungeon and there was no hope for her. He’d been shocked at Prince Nigel’s declaration that she’d stand trial for witchcraft. When the ambush was set he’d assumed Jayn was being taken as a hostage or negotiation chip. She could be swapped for Vlad captives or used to gain ground, but that hadn’t been the plan at all. Caden didn’t believe in magic or witches, but even so, no one in their right mind would believe that of Jayn, not if they’d spent any time with her.
On their way out of the dungeon the day before, General Vicor had drawn him aside and escorted him to the throne room where Prince Nigel waited. They’d berated and demoted him for being so civil and affable while guarding Jayn. Prince Nigel had even conducted a test, to verify that Caden hadn’t been bewitched by her evil wiles.
Chief Advisor Morley had handed him a book of scripture and ordered him to read a dozen verses. Puzzled, Caden had not realized it was a witch test. Fortunately, he was a very good reader and familiar with the book; had he stumbled over any words or lost his place he would have failed the test. Had that happened, he likely would have found himself locked in the cell next to Jayn’s with his own trial looming. It was madness.
In addition to his demotion, he was tasked with the repair of an underground section of the castle, an unpleasant area infested with rats and spiders, where the kitchen trash was flushed, as well as the chamber pots.
Worst of all though, was the news that Uncle Jaron was dead—beheaded in the courtyard for desertion on the battlefield on Prince Nigel’s order. The last he’d heard, Uncle Jaron was stationed in the field with his brigade, so Caden hadn’t expected to see him when he returned home with the ambush team to deliver Jayn. Now he’d never see Uncle Jaron again.
His parents told him what had happened—that Uncle Jaron had indeed fled the battle with numerous of his comrades when Jayn and her guard took the field. All had been rounded up and executed in the courtyard, but Uncle Jaron had spoken up, claiming that Jayn was an angel and Vlad would never defeat her. This infuriated Prince Nigel, and Uncle Jaron had been the first man executed.
Pondering that, he wished fervently that he could have spoken with Uncle Jaron about Jayn—introduced them even. Jayn had demanded to know why she’d stand trial, shouting up to Prince Nigel, the same way Uncle Jaron had and Caden had a feeling the two would have had much in common. Now he was conflicted, loath to march and fight for Prince Nigel under General Vicor’s command, but still committed to his homeland, Vlad.
When he’d gone to visit Aunt Charity and his three young cousins, he’d found his grandmother there as well. Grandmother told him she and Aunt Charity had begged for mercy on Jaron, but Prince Nigel was not swayed, even with the three children looking on. Their pleas had angered him further, and he’d threatened them with execution if they didn’t silence themselves. It had been a painful reunion full of sorrow and tears.
He reined Ash in and slid off the piebald’s saddle, stroking the horse’s neck and muzzle, then leading him on a little way to a bubbling stream. Ash lowered his head at once to drink.
Caden dropped to one knee and cupped his hands in the clear water, slaking his thirst, then splashing his face and neck. When he straightened, Ash nuzzled his cheek.
“Hey,” Caden cried, wiping horse drool from his face with his sleeve.
He grinned though and patted Ash’s neck. Then he looked back the way they’d come, glowering at the castle spire. The unpleasant job of repairing the underground section awaited him first thing in the morning.
All at once an idea occurred; he began pacing, thinking it through. It could work…at the very least it couldn’t hurt and optimism set his heart to rights. Mounting up, he urged Ash into a gallop, back toward the castle.
*****
The day dragged on, and Jayn paced her cell restlessly. If only there was something to do or something to read; boredom might kill her before she stood trial. Even the rats were otherwise occupied and the spiders were dormant in their webs. She’d sung dozens of hymns and recited passages of scripture aloud, but having someone to talk to would have been a blessing. Perhaps Mercedes would return soon, she hoped.
“Jayn?”
She tensed at the masculine voice and turned in a slow circle. The heavy dungeon door hadn’t clanked open, and she wondered if another angel was somewhere near.
“Jayn, can you hear me?”
The voice was vaguely familiar, although there was a distorting echo...then realization dawned. “Caden? Where are you?”
She heard the bark of a laugh. “I’m in the castle sewer, basically. I thought this might work.”
Scanning the floor, she saw a grated drain and crossed the cell to crouch before it. “What are you doing in the sewer?”
Another laugh, then: “Talking to you.”
She laughed at that, but sobered quickly when Caden went on, telling her all that had happened and all that he’d learned since leaving her. It was horrible, and she couldn’t hold back tears, hearing the tremor in his voice and knowing he wept as well.
“I…just needed to talk to someone—to you,” he said, once finished. “I don’t know what to do…
“How are you though? It can’t be pleasant I know, but…no one has…hurt you, have they?” he said.
She swallowed hard, willing her voice to steady. “No one has laid a hand on me. Boredom is the real torture so far.”
“Have they fed you and given you water?”
“Yes, in fact, Calla swooped in for a visit and I fed her a bit of meat.”
A few moments’ silence passed then he said, “You’re kidding, right? I mean, how would a falcon get into the dungeon?”
“I’m serious. She came in with the guard who brought my meal. She flew back out of my cell after he left, so she must have some way in and out.”
“Yeah,” he conceded. “There are bars on the outer doors for ventilation, so if she flew through your cell bars she could fly through the outer ones—they’re spaced wider. I guess my real question is, why would she do that?”
“I’ve no idea; I’m just glad she did, and I’m hoping she comes back.”
A glow in her cell told Jayn that Mercedes was returning, and when the angel appeared she rushed into a warm embrace.
“They’re coming for you, child,” Mercedes said, stroking her hair. “You’re about to stand trial, but be of good cheer. The promised help is even now on the way. Just tell the truth and be brave; I will stand by your side throughout.”
Jayn drew back, feeling queasy and faint. She nodded at the angel though before returning to the drain.
“Caden, don’t say another word. You’ve got to leave now. They’re coming to take me to trial.”
A rattle echoed through the dungeon followed by the heavy clank of the outside door opening.
“So soon? How could you know that?” he called.
“Tell him all you know and to watch for a sign,” Mercedes said. “He will play a part in all of this.”
“The angel Mercedes warned me. Help is coming too, soon,” she replied. “Just watch for a sign—you’ll know what to do when you see it.”
“…That makes no sense, Jayn,” he said after a beat.
“It will, just trust your heart,” she whispered. “Now go—they’re here.”
On cue, General Vicor and two lieutenants stepped into view outside her cell.
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