Chapter Twelve: A Foolhardy Endeavour
“Come away, Kiya?” She felt her aunt’s arm go around her waist and she was pulled back into hiding. “A young girl should not witness such things.”
They heard Huy give a shouted command followed by the sound of a chariot leaving. There was a long silence and then the horrified murmurings of the villagers.
Laylos peered around the corner of the building. “It’s safe to come out now,” she said to Kiya. “You go home, I have a purchase to make.”
Home? There was no way Kiya was going home - she was desperate to tell Dennu what had happened. “I can’t go home yet, Laylos,” she said. “I will join you as soon as I can.”
“Why, what are you going to do?”
Kiya looked to where the villagers had gathered around the pressing. “If Massui could do that to a donkey thief, then what will he do to Dennu? I must get word to him and explain that it wasn’t my fault the donkey was found. I did my best to hide it.”
“Are you mad? Massui will arrive at the palace long before you can get there.”
“But I swore to destroy the donkey. Dennu took a risk for me and I must do the same for him. I cannot bear him to think badly of me.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I will feel guilty forever if I don’t try. I promise to stay safe, Laylos. I know a secret way into Massui’s palace and I will remain hidden.”
Laylos was angry. “If you are not back by the time I am ready, I will leave without you.”
“Yes, I will catch you up.”
Her frown deepened. “Foolish child. Can I say nothing to dissuade you?”
“Nothing,” Kiya said. “I will be fine. Trust me.” Not waiting for further protests, she circled around the scene of torture and hurried away.
Kiya walked rapidly, her mind full of hopes and plans as she tried to block the memory of the pressing. She made faster progress than the day before, when she had been the unwilling captive of fishermen. Then, it had been midday and the sun had sapped the energy of them all. Now, the sun was low, and the road busy with people bringing their wares to Ankhis. Kiya was passed by a donkey laden with wheat and barley and people carrying baskets of vegetables and fruit.
A man, holding four dead ducks strung to a pole, put out a hand to stop her. “Hey, girl! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” She dodged around him, without answering, and hurried onwards, anxious to reach her goal.
When at last Kiya arrived at the garden, she spent precious minutes searching through the long grass for the hidden entrance. With increasing urgency she tore at the tussocks until she felt a hard edge and pulled the trap door open.
The darkness that awaited her made her hesitate. Complete blackness was alien to her - even at night her world was lit by the moon and stars. She took a deep breath and climbed down into the tunnel, feeling for the rungs of the ladder beneath her feet. Reaching up, she closed the door behind her and stood still, listening to the thud of her own heartbeat. Then she crept forwards, one hand in front and the other touching the roughly-hewn side of the passageway. Without Dennu to follow, the darkness was like a blanket, pressing down and stifling her.
The wall veered around a corner and she followed, hoping she was heading towards the confinement room. If Dennu was there, imprisoned and awaiting punishment, she would have a chance to apologise. What if he was not? What if she became lost in a maze of corridors? She fought down panic and continued forwards until she saw a beam of daylight, as thin as a finger, crossing the corridor ahead of her. She put her eye to the hole through which it emerged, and recognised the small room, with its high window and narrow bed. She had found the right place, but any hopes of meeting Dennu evaporated. The room was empty. She knew she should give up and make her escape, but Kiya dreaded facing the terrors of the dark once more. She thrust against the door, willing it to open, but it held firm. Then she remembered that the bolts were on her side. She felt with her fingertips, found them, pulled them back and gently pushed the door ajar.
The sound of voices came from the courtyard. Kiya emerged from the passage, crept across the room and pressed her ear to the gap between the leather hinges of the door. Dennu was speaking. “Forgive me, Father. The girl commanded to me set her free and I was powerless to refuse.”
“Are you saying that Kiya is a witch?" Massui sounded disdainful. "What nonsense! When my soldiers capture her, we will see whether she is a witch or not.”
Kiya peered through the narrow gap and could see Dennu. He knelt in supplication, wearing just a loin cloth and a gold armlet.
Kiya had to strain to hear his words. “Father, I beg of you. Let her be. She is just an ordinary girl and unworthy of your interest.”
"Unworthy is the word. What made you think she would show any gratitude for your treachery?” Massui sneered. “She left the donkey where all could find it. You betrayed me to help the lowest of peasants."
“I’ve not betrayed you, Father. I merely freed a girl of no account. You can easily find another sacrifice to send to Crocopolis.”
“Of course I can find another sacrifice, but where can I find another son? Death is the rightful punishment for a man who rebels against his father.”
Death? Kiya gasped. She could see so little through the gap that she dragged the bed across the floor and stood on it, to look through the small window above the door.
Behind Dennu were two soldiers, standing guard. Before him was Massui, his arms folded as if to form a barrier between them.
“Have mercy, Father. I love you.” Dennu’s distress would melt a heart of stone.
Massui was unmoved. “I assure you, your punishment will be nothing compared to the girl’s. My spies have already located her whereabouts.”
“No!” Dennu’s voice echoed Kiya’s horror.
Massui frowned. “She would be here now, but for the curiosity of Lord Seth. He will not allow me to move against her until he has made enquiries. You have no such protection and must face your punishment. Beat him.”
This last was directed at the two guards, who stepped forwards. One bound Dennu’s wrists in front of him and led him towards a wooden post, which was as tall as a man and as thick as a tree-trunk. The other flexed a long, leather whip. Kiya’ thoughts were like a torrent divided by rock. One part of her mind was impressed by the boy’s dignity. He held his head high and did not struggle against the rough handling of the soldier. The other part was mulling over the implications of her delayed arrest. Why was Seth curious? How long would his protection last? Was Laylos also covered by this temporary reprieve?
Her attention once more concentrated upon Dennu. The guard holding the rope slid it over the top of the post, so Dennu’s arms were on either side. Then he pulled on it, pressing Dennu against the wood until his back was stretched to receive the beating.
Kiya closed her eyes as the whip hit Dennu. She heard the sound of leather against flesh and, when she looked again, she saw a red line disfigure Dennu’s back. Again the whip struck, bruising and tearing his skin, and a ripple of pain spread across his body. The boy never said a word, although after the fifth stroke his legs were buckling, and by the sixth he lay slumped against the post. The guard lowered his whip.
“Untie him,” said Massui, “and fetch me some beer.”
At last he is showing some mercy, thought Kiya. She watched the guards cut through Dennu’s rope and drag him from the post. When the drink came, Massui took a packet from his waist pouch and poured powder into the goblet. With horror, Kiya realised that she was witnessing Dennu's death sentence.
“Hold up his head and open his mouth,” commanded Massui. The guard, who supported Dennu, obeyed and Massui poured beer between his son’s parted lips. The boy spluttered, coughed and swallowed the poisoned liquid. Massui repeated his actions until the goblet was empty. “Now lock him in the confinement room.”
Kiya leapt down from the bed and pushed it back into position, She heard the approaching men as she ran into the
passage. Just in time, she closed the door behind her and listened to the guards drag Dennu into the room. Through the eye hole she watched them lay him across the bed.
“Poor bastard,” said one.
The other grunted in agreement and they left, locking the door behind them.