Read Online State of Grace (Resurrection) by Elizabeth Davies - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Davies
Ads: Link
walls. The stairs themselves were wide on the one edge, narrowing into nothing on the other and they were very uneven. The middle part of each step was worn smooth as if it had endured hundreds of feet trampling over its surface. The glow was coming from below me, and as above me was in darkness, I chose to descend slowly and carefully and as quietly as I could. Although the night usually held no fears for me, this was a whole new ball game and I wanted to learn the rules before I decided to play.
I padded gingerly downwards, holding both hands out to steady myself. The stair case reminded me of the steps to the top of Worcester Cathedral tower: they had the same feel ing of solidity and age and I wondered if I could be in a castle or the bell tower of a church.
The light grew brighter as I continued turning the never-ending corner until I eventually came across its source: a thick candle jammed into a niche in the wall. Rivulets of solidified wax ran down the stone underneath signifying the niche’s long usage. The flame was small and hissed quietly and I could smell acrid, burning fat which stung my nose. There was a brighter light further on and I slowly inched my way down until I turned a final corner and stopped in surprise. I rapidly backed up a couple of steps, then peered cautiously around the narrow passage.
A huge room , murky with smoke, opened up in front of me. On the left hand wall was a massive hearth where the remains of a large fire smouldered. The walls were unplastered, bare blocks of stone, a dull grey in the dim light, and were adorned with hanging tapestries. Small shuttered windows ran down the length of the right hand side wall and I guessed even when they were uncovered they would not let much light into the room. There were tables and benches running in two parallel lines down the length of the rectangular space towards a raised platform at the far end, which also had a long table and chairs on it. Candles and burning torches provided the only illumination, but what had caught my attention, though, were the bodies strewn everywhere; slumped over the tables, sprawled across the benches, lying on the floor, wrapped like giant chrysalises in their cloaks. At least thirty people were sleeping in the room, and several large dogs. One, a huge shaggy hound, raised its head curiously, ears pricked, before sinking its muzzle back down onto its paws. The sound of snoring and snuffling reached my ears. Through the gloom I made out bowls and plates scattered on the tables and the smell of cooked food hung heavily in the air, to join the wood smoke and burnt fat, and the reek of unwashed bodies and damp dog.
I looked longingly at the nearest figure, a man I assumed. He was sitting on one of the low benches, slumped forwards with his arms and head on the table, and underneath his head was a balled up wedge of fabric. I had no idea what it was, but I wanted it anyway. For one insane second I considered creeping over to him and stealing it, but common sense prevailed and I dismissed the idea. I would have to find some clothes elsewhere – I would stand next to no chance of sneaking into this crowded hall and nicking something without one of the sleeping people waking up and seeing me buck naked. That would not be good.
I inched back as quietly as I could and began to retreat up the steps. There must be rooms further up I reasoned, and I could either find something to wear or I could hide until the hallucination was over. I was so busy looking at where I was placing my feet on those slippery narrow stairs it was a shock when I ran into a wall. In the moment it took me to understand the wall was a person, a hand had clamped over my mouth and a vice-like arm whipped around me, holding me in a firm grip tightly against a hard muscular chest.
I let out a muffled shriek of fear and outrage, and was roughly shaken for my trouble , his hands digging painfully into my upper arms. My teeth
I padded gingerly downwards, holding both hands out to steady myself. The stair case reminded me of the steps to the top of Worcester Cathedral tower: they had the same feel ing of solidity and age and I wondered if I could be in a castle or the bell tower of a church.
The light grew brighter as I continued turning the never-ending corner until I eventually came across its source: a thick candle jammed into a niche in the wall. Rivulets of solidified wax ran down the stone underneath signifying the niche’s long usage. The flame was small and hissed quietly and I could smell acrid, burning fat which stung my nose. There was a brighter light further on and I slowly inched my way down until I turned a final corner and stopped in surprise. I rapidly backed up a couple of steps, then peered cautiously around the narrow passage.
A huge room , murky with smoke, opened up in front of me. On the left hand wall was a massive hearth where the remains of a large fire smouldered. The walls were unplastered, bare blocks of stone, a dull grey in the dim light, and were adorned with hanging tapestries. Small shuttered windows ran down the length of the right hand side wall and I guessed even when they were uncovered they would not let much light into the room. There were tables and benches running in two parallel lines down the length of the rectangular space towards a raised platform at the far end, which also had a long table and chairs on it. Candles and burning torches provided the only illumination, but what had caught my attention, though, were the bodies strewn everywhere; slumped over the tables, sprawled across the benches, lying on the floor, wrapped like giant chrysalises in their cloaks. At least thirty people were sleeping in the room, and several large dogs. One, a huge shaggy hound, raised its head curiously, ears pricked, before sinking its muzzle back down onto its paws. The sound of snoring and snuffling reached my ears. Through the gloom I made out bowls and plates scattered on the tables and the smell of cooked food hung heavily in the air, to join the wood smoke and burnt fat, and the reek of unwashed bodies and damp dog.
I looked longingly at the nearest figure, a man I assumed. He was sitting on one of the low benches, slumped forwards with his arms and head on the table, and underneath his head was a balled up wedge of fabric. I had no idea what it was, but I wanted it anyway. For one insane second I considered creeping over to him and stealing it, but common sense prevailed and I dismissed the idea. I would have to find some clothes elsewhere – I would stand next to no chance of sneaking into this crowded hall and nicking something without one of the sleeping people waking up and seeing me buck naked. That would not be good.
I inched back as quietly as I could and began to retreat up the steps. There must be rooms further up I reasoned, and I could either find something to wear or I could hide until the hallucination was over. I was so busy looking at where I was placing my feet on those slippery narrow stairs it was a shock when I ran into a wall. In the moment it took me to understand the wall was a person, a hand had clamped over my mouth and a vice-like arm whipped around me, holding me in a firm grip tightly against a hard muscular chest.
I let out a muffled shriek of fear and outrage, and was roughly shaken for my trouble , his hands digging painfully into my upper arms. My teeth
Similar Books
