Read Online In Service Of The King (Book 2) by Steven Styles - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steven Styles
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boy tried to speak but could not; with a shaking hand he pointed towards the back of the building. Grabbing the young guard’s arm, Tyrus led him forward.
“Show us,” he ordered. “Or suffer your master’s fate.”
The boy stumbled as he hurried down the passage and into the secret cell. He lifted the lid of the bed as Chamberlain had done and pointed downward.
“The caves,” he stuttered. “I’venever been down there, but they always send the prisoners there. Only the guards come back up.” Tyrus drew his sword and pointed it down the dark steps.
“You can lead the way,” he commanded. “Dunner… a torch.”
Only the gatekeeper occupied the stone chamber. Tyrus held onto the youth’s arm as Hezekiah and Dunner approached the table. Seeing Joseph’s vest and shirt--sticking partially out of the trunk--Dunner gave a cry and pulled them out.
“What have you done with the lad?!” he growled.The murderous look in his eye seemed to bring life to the gatekeepers face.He stood up partially, his hand on his dagger. Before the man could draw a breath, however, the tip of a sword was at his throat.
“Open the gate, if you value your life,” Tyrus told him. The gravity of his tone belied the anger present in the man’s eyes.
Without a word, the gatekeeper stumbled towards the stone door in flickering torchlight.
FIVE
As Joseph threaded his way back through the cavern, he caught sight of the thin worker who had warned him, working by one of the forges. The massive timber structure towered over them, and no one seemed to know what had gone on in the passage.
Coming up to the thin man, Joseph nodded and picked up a piece of ore.
“What is your name, friend?” he asked, quietly, glancing around. He placed the ore in the wheelked barrow and continued working.
“William Jensen,” the man answered him hoarsely. He slowly bent down and gathered more ore. Several thin, red scars criss-crossed the man’s back.
“I am Joseph of Rishown village. How long have you been here?”
“More than six months, by my reckoning, which is longer than most my age last.”
“How did you get put in this place?
“I’m a farmer near Pauldosus; I was in Hoggen going to Fehale for market day. The magistrate’s men took me outside the innn that night. I only pray that my wife and children are well.” At this he broke down weeping, letting his load of ore fall into the barrow.
Joseph watched the far passage door; no one, or thing, had emerged from it, yet.
“Is there another way out of this cursed place?” he asked the farmer. Collecting himself, Jensen looked puzzled by the question.
“I heard there’s a back shaft, that goes to the surface,” he said, slowly resuming his work. “The bishop uses it and I have heard his servants complain it is not wide enough… but I have never seen it, myself.”
“The bishop is dead,” Joseph told the man. “If we are to escape, now is the time. Are there any trustworthy here?”
The thin prisoner stared at Joseph. The younger man’s intense eyes held no falsehood. After a moment Jensen put down his piece of ore.
“There are only four of us left whom have not eaten the cursed meat,” he whispered, his sunken eyes glancing towards the forges. “The rest become meat themselves.”
“Get them,” Joseph told them. “Do it quietly. We must go, and quickly.” Jensen nodded once and scuttled away through the forges, out of sight. Pushing Jensen’s cart of ore, Joseph directed it by the nearest forge.
Nearby a strong, hairy blacksmith shoved wood into a blazing fire built under one of the smelting cauldrons.
“Put that in the pile and get to work crushing the ore!” the hairy man ordered. His teeth flashed as he spoke. He pumped the bellows harder, sending the flames shooting up around the blackened cauldron.
Spying a large, heavy hammer with a long handle Joseph hoisted it above his shoulder and began swinging it down upon the ore; as he broke the rock, he kept
“Show us,” he ordered. “Or suffer your master’s fate.”
The boy stumbled as he hurried down the passage and into the secret cell. He lifted the lid of the bed as Chamberlain had done and pointed downward.
“The caves,” he stuttered. “I’venever been down there, but they always send the prisoners there. Only the guards come back up.” Tyrus drew his sword and pointed it down the dark steps.
“You can lead the way,” he commanded. “Dunner… a torch.”
Only the gatekeeper occupied the stone chamber. Tyrus held onto the youth’s arm as Hezekiah and Dunner approached the table. Seeing Joseph’s vest and shirt--sticking partially out of the trunk--Dunner gave a cry and pulled them out.
“What have you done with the lad?!” he growled.The murderous look in his eye seemed to bring life to the gatekeepers face.He stood up partially, his hand on his dagger. Before the man could draw a breath, however, the tip of a sword was at his throat.
“Open the gate, if you value your life,” Tyrus told him. The gravity of his tone belied the anger present in the man’s eyes.
Without a word, the gatekeeper stumbled towards the stone door in flickering torchlight.
FIVE
As Joseph threaded his way back through the cavern, he caught sight of the thin worker who had warned him, working by one of the forges. The massive timber structure towered over them, and no one seemed to know what had gone on in the passage.
Coming up to the thin man, Joseph nodded and picked up a piece of ore.
“What is your name, friend?” he asked, quietly, glancing around. He placed the ore in the wheelked barrow and continued working.
“William Jensen,” the man answered him hoarsely. He slowly bent down and gathered more ore. Several thin, red scars criss-crossed the man’s back.
“I am Joseph of Rishown village. How long have you been here?”
“More than six months, by my reckoning, which is longer than most my age last.”
“How did you get put in this place?
“I’m a farmer near Pauldosus; I was in Hoggen going to Fehale for market day. The magistrate’s men took me outside the innn that night. I only pray that my wife and children are well.” At this he broke down weeping, letting his load of ore fall into the barrow.
Joseph watched the far passage door; no one, or thing, had emerged from it, yet.
“Is there another way out of this cursed place?” he asked the farmer. Collecting himself, Jensen looked puzzled by the question.
“I heard there’s a back shaft, that goes to the surface,” he said, slowly resuming his work. “The bishop uses it and I have heard his servants complain it is not wide enough… but I have never seen it, myself.”
“The bishop is dead,” Joseph told the man. “If we are to escape, now is the time. Are there any trustworthy here?”
The thin prisoner stared at Joseph. The younger man’s intense eyes held no falsehood. After a moment Jensen put down his piece of ore.
“There are only four of us left whom have not eaten the cursed meat,” he whispered, his sunken eyes glancing towards the forges. “The rest become meat themselves.”
“Get them,” Joseph told them. “Do it quietly. We must go, and quickly.” Jensen nodded once and scuttled away through the forges, out of sight. Pushing Jensen’s cart of ore, Joseph directed it by the nearest forge.
Nearby a strong, hairy blacksmith shoved wood into a blazing fire built under one of the smelting cauldrons.
“Put that in the pile and get to work crushing the ore!” the hairy man ordered. His teeth flashed as he spoke. He pumped the bellows harder, sending the flames shooting up around the blackened cauldron.
Spying a large, heavy hammer with a long handle Joseph hoisted it above his shoulder and began swinging it down upon the ore; as he broke the rock, he kept
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