2
“Spies, eh?” the man said in an unpleasant tone. There was a nasty glint in his eye.
“What shall we do with them, my Lord Rochefort?”
“We’re not spies…” Edward protested.
“Silence young cur!” the man who had grabbed him yelled and gave him a kick.
“We can’t have spies here, can we now,” Lord Rochefort said. He was a middle aged man with black hair and grey eyes. The pale skin of his face showed that, unlike many of the other men in the camp, he seldom ventured outdoors.
He looked at the three children in contempt and said “Take them to the castle. We’ll deal with them later. There are more important matters at hand.”
Lord Rochefort turned away from them and two rough looking men put metal cuffs round the children’s necks that were connected to each other with chains. The chains were heavy and made the cuffs rub hard against their necks. The children looked around gloomily.
“This is like being a slave,” Geetu complained.
“And who had the brilliant idea to rescue a thousand slaves?” Anthony asked sarcastically.
“That’s not fair!” Geetu protested. “I only…”
A man yanked the chain and shouted “Shut up or I’ll give you all a taste of my whip!”
He was a strong man who was wearing an old leather jacket and ragged trousers. In his hand he held a whip threateningly and the keen look in his eye showed that he was all too willing to hit anyone with it who crossed him. The children wisely decided to keep quiet.
The man fastened the end of the chain to a horse and mounted it. For the next four hours the children were forced to follow the horse in silence. Fortunately it was a cloudy day and not too hot. Finally they reached the coast and not far from them, on the other side of a small bay, stood a mighty castle. They walked past ships anchored in the bay and here and there some people gazed at them curiously or laughed at them. The children felt humiliated, yet there was nothing they could do. The chain relentlessly pulled them towards the castle and before long they crossed the drawbridge and passed the outer gate and the portcullis. Their guard rode through several more gates within the castle until they entered a small yard. There he descended from the horse and unhooked the chain which he held in one hand while he took his whip threateningly in the other hand. The sight of the whip kept the children quiet and their guard pulled them into a building where they descended a spiral staircase into the cellar. They came to a wooden door that was reinforced with iron plating. The guard banged against it with his fist and when the door was opened he pushed them through and laughed “And here’s your new home, you vile curs. Enjoy your stay in the dungeon!”
Anthony looked around the small dank cell they were in despondently. The only light they had was from a narrow slit in the wall about ten feet up. It was only enough to let them know whether it was night or day and what little light came in during the day was barely enough to fill the cell in a dark gloomy grey. The walls were made of solid stone as was the floor and the only way in and out was a stout wooden door that led to the dungeon’s main corridor.
“This must be the worst jam we’ve ever been in,” Anthony said. “How are we ever going to get out again?”
“So whose idea was it to sneak up on those men under the wagon?” Geetu said testily.
“And whose idea was this silly dare?” Anthony retorted.
“Oh stop bickering,” Edward said feeling vexed. “We’ve been here for almost a week. All we get is some chunks of stale dry bread and dirty water, we have to sleep on a hard stone floor, our only toilet is a pile of straw in a corner so that it stinks like hell, and there’s no way out of here unless Lord Rochefort remembers us and wants to let us out. Isn’t that bad enough? Do we have to make things even worse by arguing? Blaming each other won’t help. We should stick together no matter what.”
Anthony and Geetu let their heads hang feeling embarrassed. After a few moments Geetu put her hand on Anthony’s arm.
“I’m sorry, Anthony,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean it. It’s just so frustrating being cooped up here.”
Before Anthony could say anything the door to their cell burst open.
“Right, you lot,” a gruff voice called that belonged to a brutish looking guard. “Get out.”
For a moment they were in shock, but then they rushed out through the door as fast as they could. The corridor was dimly lit by a single torch and right in the middle two soldiers blocked the way. The children stopped in their tracks and almost bumped into the soldiers.
“In a hurry to get out?” the guard laughed. “And get out you shall, God willing. Only down here there ain’t no God!” And with that he laughed loudly as though he had made the best joke in the world.
The guard led them through several narrow corridors and up and down staircases until they came to a black door.
The children all felt a sense of foreboding. What lay behind the door? Was it a torture chamber where unimaginable pains would be inflicted on them?
Their faces turned white and this did not escape the guard who laughed and said “In you go then.” He swung the door back and the soldiers pushed the children through the doorway into the room that lay behind. The children gasped. It was sunny and richly decorated. There were precious carpets, golden candle sticks and beautiful paintings that gave the room an opulent look. In the middle stood a table laden with fruits, meats and drinks, and sitting at the table was none other than Lord Rochefort with a chicken leg in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
He looked up when they entered and smiled. “Well, well, If it ain’t our three little spies,” he laughed. “But do come and eat.”
The children rushed to the table and hungrily stuffed as much of the delicious food and drinks into their mouths as they could.
Lord Rochefort watched them for a while looking amused. When he saw their eating slowed he lent forward and smiled gently.
“Now then,” he said, “let’s talk about what you were doing in our camp…”
Edward and Geetu stopped eating and looked up. They suddenly had a heavy feeling in their stomachs and it wasn’t from the food. Only Anthony didn’t notice anything. He took a big juicy grape from the table and was about to put it in his mouth when he realized that he was too full already. Not sure what to do with the grape he squeezed it. A jet of juice shot out from the grape, flew across the table and hit Lord Rochefort right in the eye.
Surprised Anthony looked up and saw that Lord Rochefort’s face had turned bright red.
“Sorry,” Anthony said and smiled charmingly. “It’s just the grape.”
Lord Rochefort opened and closed his mouth several times as if he wanted to say something but no sound came out. No one in all his life had ever treated him like this.
Anthony laughed. “Look at the funny man! He looks like a fish with his mouth going open and shut like that.”
“Be quiet, Anthony!” Edward hissed in his ear, “or he’ll have us sent back to that dungeon.”
Anthony’s good mood quickly changed and his face betrayed his fear.
Lord Rochefort glared across the table fighting hard to regain his composure. He clenched his fists and banged the table so hard that it made the dishes on it jump.
“Spies,” he growled angrily. “You’re spies and from now on you’re working for me. I am Lord Rochefort, and I hold your lives in my hands.” He stood up from the table and drew himself up to his full height.
“Of course,” he said with a sinister smile, “there always is a choice. If you don’t want to work for me I’ll have you killed as enemy spies right away. Now what’s your answer?”
“We’ll do it,” the children said meekly.