A Bit of Heaven on Earth (5 page)

Gavin slapped Robert on the back. He probably would have already gone mad if not for the company of his friend. Being enclosed in the single, tiny space for so long made him restless. He prayed again that the ransom would arrive soon. He didn’t know how much more he could take of such confinement.

A light knock sounded at the door, followed by the turning key. Father Janus appeared in the doorway, as thin as ever. Gavin thought the man might blow away on a strong wind.

“Have you ever thought about stealing a bite now and then from the food you bring us?” he asked.

The priest looked up in surprise. “Steal? Why, I have taken a vow of poverty, my boy.”

Gavin shook his head as Robert coughed politely into his hand. Something was lost in the translation. Mayhap he could remedy that.

“Would you care to join us, Father, and dine with us?”

The cleric thought it over a moment. “No, I have much yet to do. But I thank you for the invitation.” He pulled a large loaf of bread from his sack and placed it on the table. Next came a round of cheese and a portion of fish.

“You are good to us, Father,” Gavin told him as he broke off a bite of the bread.

“Only God is good, my son. We are simply placed upon the earth to try and imitate his goodness.” He brightened. “Your boredom may be coming to an end.”

Both he and Robert looked up expectantly.

The priest laughed heartily. “A letter arrived with a seal of blood red, embossed with a—”

“—lion,” finished Robert. “So my father received the ransom note.”

“Yes. You are to be set free come the morn. I must go now, but I wanted to share such good news with you.” He pulled a parchment from his bag. “A letter from your father, my boy. Enjoy reading it.”

“Thank you.” Robert took the old priest’s hand and dropped to his knees before him. “Thank you for caring so well for us.”

“My pleasure,” Father Janus replied. He looked at Gavin with raised brows. “I did not take a vow to give up pleasure.”

As he left, Gavin realized he might have many more weeks before his freedom came. Robert must have known the same thing.

“I’ll stay with you, Gavin, till your ransom arrives.”

He saw the depths of sincerity in Robert’s warm gaze. “I thank you, but I won’t keep you from your simple farm. ‘Tis sure that the pigs need slopping and the cows milking. I would not want to keep you from such enjoyable endeavors.”

In the end the two men sat up all night, talking of their homes and their dreams for the future. Robert had improvements he wanted to make around Fondren, pending his father’s approval. Gavin wanted to try a new strain of cattle at Ashgrove.

“I pledge my eternal friendship to you, Gavin,” Robert told him as dawn broke and a thin shaft of light made its way into the room. “There’s nothing I would not do for you. Know that.”

The two men embraced and remained silent until Robert left. When the time came, all words had been spoken between them, so Gavin raised a hand in farewell. Robert nodded and left the room without a backward glance.

The day dragged as slow as poured honey with only himself for company. Robert always had an interesting story, a tale from his youth or one he’d heard a minstrel perform. Gavin realized just how keenly he would miss his friend.

When he awoke on the seventeenth day after Robert left, it was to the rattling of the key in the lock. Gavin sat up expectantly. Finally, his time was at hand. He sensed it in his bones.

It was not Father Janus, though. Gavin had expected it to be the priest that brought him his good news. Instead, an overweight guard with fewer teeth than a babe thrust a missive in his hand.

Gavin fingered the broken seal lovingly, his first connection with Ashgrove in such a long time. Gingerly, he opened the letter and scanned its brief contents.

He read it again. Panic made his heart thunder. Then, thinking hearing it aloud would change its contents, he quietly mumbled, “The answer is no. No ransom from Ashgrove will be forthcoming. Do with your prisoner as you see fit.”

It was signed by his father’s hand.

CHAPTER 4

Gavin awoke to another day in hell. The rodent-infested cell remained dank, dark, and dirty. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before that. Just like it would be tomorrow.

He fought the bitterness that blanketed him every waking moment. He thought about his mother. She would never recognize him. His once fine battle wear now hung in rags about him. His black hair was greasy, matted, and full of lice. A thick beard covered his face.

For the thousand and one time, he wondered why his father had refused to ransom him once he’d received the demand from his French captors. He couldn’t fathom why it happened. Why he was left to rot in prison. He ran through the list he composed on a daily basis, which only served to torture him.
Had Berwyn actually received his missive? Had he sent the gold, only to have it intercepted by brigands?

Yet Gavin saw with his own eyes the note delivered from Ashgrove. The seal broken, his father’s handwriting within. Why such a betrayal? Why such malice?

As always, interminable questions—and no answers.

His thoughts turned back to his mother. Was Gillian in good health? Or had she died? She’d always been on the sickly side. Would that incident have driven his father mad with grief, even to the point where he didn’t know what he did and refused to bring his own son home? He doubted it. He’d never witnessed any affection, much less love, between his parents, only a veiled politeness.

And he knew of his father’s many mistresses. Berwyn was not one to be without a woman, especially since his wife spent far too much time in the drafty chapel on her knees in long hours of prayer, day after day, happy to be with her God.

Gavin had about given up on there being a God. Why would He leave him here to rot for two long years? Every day alive was hell on earth, all hours awake spent miserably in the cold and damp. Gavin looked forward to the small bits of food, only to be disappointed every time it arrived. When it came, that is.

He let his mind take him away to a feast at Ashgrove. They proved even bigger and better than those he’d witnessed while fostering under Aldred at Kentwood. Gavin noticed how Berwyn had started many of the same traditions as Aldred, only turning them more magnificent and costly. If he ever escaped, Gavin would never take any feast, or any morsel of food, for granted again.

Often, he wondered what Aldred would do in this situation. Survival would be paramount, of course. The warrior had instilled in Gavin from his youth that he could do anything. He trained him not only physically but toughened him mentally.

He had tried to escape. It was his duty to king and country. He had more than a half-dozen failed attempts behind him. One resulted in injuring three guards. He’d almost made it to daylight that time.

How sweet ‘twould be to see a sunrise! To have the warmth of the summer sun upon his face once again. All the little things, the small freedoms and odd moments taken for granted, he’d now come to savor while in captivity.

He bore the scars of his efforts. He supposed by now his back was a collage from the multiple beatings. They’d slammed his hand in something once. He couldn’t remember now, but the little finger on his left hand had never healed properly. It now jutted out at an odd angle. As punishment, they shackled him to the wall for months. At least he could move about some now, for which he gave thanks.

The most severe beating had left permanent damage. So many heavy blows about his head, the blood pouring freely from his ear. A ringing that lasted for days upon end . . . then . . . silence. He no longer could hear from his left ear.

He tried to stay strong, despite the meager diet provided. He worked his muscles each day, which proved difficult at times. The cell, though fairly large, held several men within it at any given point. He learned to have no qualms about taking food from those so ill they would never eat again. Better him than the rats. Anything to stay strong and be ready for the day he would break the shackles of this place.

He waited and watched for opportunity. Gavin knew the guards’ names. Their routines. The ones that seemed fair. The ones who abused their limited authority. He would be ready when the next time came.

It would be the last time, for if he failed in his attempt, he would go mad. Dying would be preferable.

He heard someone coming. He lifted his good ear toward the noise. He recognized Gustave’s voice, which meant he brought Father Janus with him. Gustave was the only one who would call for the priest whenever last rites needed to be delivered. He looked over at the man whose breath rattled noisily in his chest. He no longer learned the names of new prisoners. They didn’t matter.

The guard and priest turned the corner. Gavin was grateful for the nominal friendship he had with the cleric. On more than one occasion, Father Janus had palmed a bread crust to him, sometimes even a piece of hard cheese. Once, upon Christmas, he’d even smuggled him a fistful of precious meat.

As he entered the cell today, he gave Gavin the familiar, comforting smile. Gavin found a smile now held the same value to him as a well-trained destrier or a large bag of gold. Little things held true measure of worth. He might have been vain before, enjoying fine clothes and a grand manor, but he’d discovered there was so much more to life. A man’s good name, the small kindnesses he bestowed upon others, a rainbow after a summer shower—all these proved priceless to him.

Father Janus pulled his cowl away. Immediately, it struck Gavin how sunken the priest’s eyes were. Where the priest had always been tall and forever thin, he now appeared gaunt beyond measure. When had Gavin last seen him? Had it been a month? Two?

The holy man signaled for him to come close, even as Gustave motioned the prisoner needing to receive the last rites was in the far back corner. Gavin followed as Gustave left. The stench here proved even worse. Foul smells and piles of vomit surrounded what was left of the man’s living body. Even after so long a time here, it was hard for Gavin to face the squalid conditions.

Others in the cell wasted away, too. Many slept. No one paid attention as Gavin touched the priest’s shoulder, wondering what he wanted.

“I’m dying,” the old man told him, his voice just above a whisper. “I feel it in my bones. I can’t eat anymore. Days have gone by without my holding down even the simplest crust of bread.”

Gavin ached as the priest shared this news with him. He feared once Father Janus passed, then no one from the outside would ever come again to this prison. The man of God had been his link for so long. He’d become his only friend, and a lifeline that held the fragile bit of Gavin’s sanity in place. He dreaded what might happen when the priest was gone.

“Even water will not stay down,” the cleric continued. “Aches in my joints, to my very bones. I awoke and somehow knew this was my last day on earth.”

Gavin watched as the priest slid down the wall he leaned against and sighed. “God will welcome me into His loving arms, but He wishes me to do one last act of mercy.” He reached up and took Gavin’s hand. “I am to help you, my son, before I leave this earth.”

Father Janus began intoning the Latin words of the last rites over the dying prisoner, words which even now soothed Gavin in some odd way. Aldred forced him to learn Latin and Greek as a boy. They had worked on some German, but he found it harder to understand such a guttural language.

Suddenly, the words ceased. The priest whispered, “Do you know Latin? Can you imitate me?”

He nodded, a little unsure since it had been so long. The priest started off, and he followed his lead, taking over. Gavin didn’t know the entire ritual, but he thought he could fake it. Who would know? The guards were uneducated, and none were even in sight.

Father Janus stood and took off his cloak, then began to shed his garments. He indicated for Gavin to do the same. As Gavin murmured the Latin words, they switched clothing and re-dressed themselves. Gavin was in shock. He didn’t think they could pull off such a deception.

He switched to passages from Homer. He figured it was close enough, and he was much more familiar with it since it had been a boyhood favorite of his. As he spoke, the priest whispered to him and instructed him on exactly what to do.

CHAPTER 5

Gustave appeared. Gavin’s knees quaked. The guard unlocked the cell door, though, not even passing a cursory glance in his direction. He simply motioned him out.

Gavin tried to move slowly, as if he were the elderly priest. He in no way wanted to tip his hand to the Frenchman. As he began to shuffle along in Father Janus’s familiar gait, he realized he didn’t know the way out from this prison.

He’d been brought here unconscious from the place he and Robert had originally been kept when they were hostages to be ransomed. Gavin had fought the guards that came to remove him from that long-ago place of simple comfort, not knowing if he went to his death.

So how would he find the direction he should take?

As he moved along the dark hallway, lit only by a few torches, he saw a staircase in front of him. He’d never made it this far before in his escape attempts. Excitement rushed through him. He could hear the pounding of blood in his right ear. He quelled the tremble in his limbs and followed Gustave up the stairs.

At the top, the guard unlocked the door and pushed it open. Gavin, his head bowed, stepped through without pausing. Behind him the clang of metal and the grinding of a lock echoed. It was the sound of locking steel that almost unnerved him. His knees buckled, and he stumbled. He threw out a hand and clutched at the wall. No one saw him, though. The long passageway before him was empty.

He followed it to daylight.
The sun!
How long had it been since he’d seen it? He kept his joy in check, though, and continued in a slow shuffle. The dark cowl pulled over his head remained close, his face all but invisible, as he counted each step.

Then he was free. Gavin stepped through an unlocked door. Outside, a crisp wind blew in the open courtyard. Clasping the worn robe tightly about him, he looked simply as if he prepared to face the elements. He harnessed in the feelings of exultation, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to call attention to himself in any way. At the gate a guard called out to him.