Chapter 19

With the departure of the guests came a greater freedom to move through the castle undetected. So, as soon as she was able to get away two days later, she headed to the chapel. It was late and most of the servants had retired for the night, exhausted after two weeks of preparation and the aftermath of Eliam and Livea's house party. Daelia herself stifled a yawn and tried to ignore her aching body as she made her way quickly through the kitchen. It had been three days since she had last been able to bring Rouen food; his supplies were certainly running low. She knew for sure that his firewood had run out at least a day ago. It frustrated her that he was in the same building as she, yet it was difficult to get him what he needed regularly.

Well, she reminded herself, that wasn't the only problem, nor the most important. She still had to figure out a way to get him out of the castle.

She mulled briefly over whether to take a leftover chunk of venison or roasted goose, but finally took both off the platter and wrapped them in a clean cloth. On the way out of the cool cellar she also seized several current-honey cakes off of a covered tray. They had been made especially for the governor's spoiled son, but now they could be enjoyed by someone who actually deserved them. Daelia tried to stop the uncharitable--well, that was putting it nicely--feelings that sprang to mind at the thought of Aurelian Severus's smug face. Briden's earlier suggestion that someone ought to do away with both father and son sprang to mind and she smiled a little. In truth, he was no different than the other men who had sat around the feasting tables night after night. Well...he was, perhaps, a little more handsome than the others. She shook her head. That was beside the point.

But he did rescue you, came the small voice.

Yes, but probably with the idea of keeping me for himself.

But he hadn't, nor had he punished her for her disrespect.

He's still a pig. And remember what his father is doing to people like Briden's family.

Daelia sighed. The internal argument wasn't making the matter any clearer to her. Aurelian had rescued her from an awful situation, but that hardly made up for his many other faults--of which his parentage was, indeed, his chief offense.

It wasn't as if he could help who his father was. But he's not exactly doing anything in opposition to his father is he? She sighed again, unhappy that her thoughts lingered on someone who irked her so much. A loaf of bread, some cheese, two meat pies, and three pears joined the other items in the basket she carried under one arm. As quietly as possible, she crossed into the laundry room and added a clean blanket and linens to the load, then slipped out the door into the courtyard.

To her utter dismay, there was a guard standing directly in front of the door which led to the castle's wood supply. Quickly weighing her options, she decided not to attempt it--Rouen would simply have to do without for now. She couldn't risk drawing attention to herself--out after hours--nor to the basket of goods she clutched with whitle knuckles. Careful to remain in the shadows, Daelia tip-toed across the yard to the doorway of the North Hall.

"Who's there?" the guard's voice echoed through the dark. Daelia froze, flattened herself against the wooden door, and prayed. Don't let him see me, don't let him see me, please, please, please--she could hear him moving closer, his boots making squishing noises in the mud--make me invisible. He was almost to the doorway now. Just then there was a sound on the far side of the courtyard, like metal hitting stone, and the guard spun on his heels and started back the way he had come. Heart beating wildly, Daelia couldn't move for several seconds. She waited until the sound of the guard's boots had disappeared before lifting the heavy latch and slipping inside the castle. With weak legs she hurried up the stairs, down the empty hallway, through the door, and down the steps to the quiet chapel.

"Is that you, Daelia?" Rouen called from his place beside the fire; he was stacking pieces of wood against the wall. Daelia stared at the wood and roaring fire in confusion, forgetting to answer. Rouen stood up straight "Daelia?" he asked again, sounding alarmed.

"Yes. Sorry. It's just me." Rouen relaxed and went on with his work. Daelia looked around in the flickering light and noticed that several of the wooden benches were missing, while another lay sideways on the floor, partially dismantled. "I see you found wood," she commented ruefully, setting the basket on the floor.

"Yes, and almost broke my other leg acquiring it." He was equally rueful as he pulled up his trouser leg to reveal his injured shin, black, blue, and slightly swollen. "I really should look where I walk." Daelia laughed when she saw the grin and realized that he was making light of his own blindness. It was good to see him smile. "Sit down and let me see it."

He sat obediently on the bed while she examined the area. As she had suspected, it was mostly bruised; a mild scrape ran the length of his shin. "You'll heal just fine," she assured him, rolling the trouser carefully back over the wound, "Did you hit yourself with a plank of wood or with the hammer?"

"No, I stepped in a hole. I almost fell in, but managed to catch myself--this leg caught the edge of the floor going down."

"Hole? What hole? This floor is solid stone!"

"I'll show you," he replied, walking towards the front of the chapel, hand outstretched for each pillar as he went. She followed closely behind. The altar had been moved several feet to the right, revealing a large dark cavity in the floor. At first glance it appeared that one of the large stones was simply missing, but as she walked closer, the remains of a wooden trap door about eight inches down became visible. "I was at first going to use the altar for firewood, " Rouen remarked from where he stood several feet behind her, "But since I didn't know how deep the hole may be, I just left it there and took some of the benches from the back instead. Can you see what's down there?"

"No," she replied, peering into the darkness, "There was a door on it at one time, but very little remains beside the hinges."

"The altar has been in the place for my whole life, and probably much longer. I had no idea!"

Daelia took a sliver of wood from the stack and lit the end in the fireplace. Returning to the edge of the mysterious hole, she got down on hands and knees and dropped the crude torch into the void. The flame fell through the air and landed on a stone floor about ten feet below the chapel floor. Rouen waited impatiently, arms folded across his chest, leaning against a stone pillar, "Can you see anything? Is it deep?"

"It isn't very deep at all. Actually, I think there may be a room or tunnel down there." On one side of the square opening a wall ran all the way down from the floor above to the floor below, while rectangular stones jutted out of the wall to form a crude ladder. Unfortunately, the bottom of the shaft was damp--the moss and slime glistened in the brief firelight--and the torch soon began to sputter, then died, leaving the hole once again in inky blackness. "Well, I have no idea what you have uncovered, Rouen," she stood, brushing her hands on her skirt, "but I think it would be worth exploring further."

"Does it appear to lead towards the outer wall of the castle? If so, it could be a tunnel leading out, under the wall. We may have found our means of escape!" Rouen was becoming excited, "I cannot believe that, after the years I have spent in this cursed place, I have walked circles around it every day!"

Daelia tried to visualize which direction the underground room seemed to lead. Yes, it appeared to go in the direction of the outer wall, though until she could actually go down into the space, she couldn't be sure. Her heart leaped at the prospect of an alternative route out of the castle. "I will try to come back sometime in the next couple of days, Rouen, and I'll bring a proper torch so I can try to go down into the tunnel. If there really is a secret passage, we need to know where it leads."

"Could you come back tomorrow?"

Daelia almost replied that she would try, but something stopped her. "I can't promise anything. I will be back as soon as I am able." Seeing the look on Rouen's face, she added, "And please don't try to go down there alone--the last thing we need is for you to break your neck."

Rouen snorted, "I know my own limitations--every day is a constant reminder. I've waited this long, I can wait a few more days if necessary."

"I was just making sure. You've acted rashly before, remember."

"I do remember, thank you for mentioning it," he responded in mock annoyance, "You sound like my mother."

"I'm sorry; I suppose it's a habit from twenty-three years of being the eldest daughter. I know I can be overbearing at times."

"Don't be sorry; it's nice to have someone care about my well-being for once."

As she walked back to the spot where she had left the basket of food, Daelia considered Rouen's words. She did care--cared a great deal. Rouen and she had become good friends; she was his only friend and, except for Briden, he was hers. The thought of something further happening to him, and the thought of losing him before he came to terms with his disappointment in Deus, kept her determined in their quest for freedom. Reaching into the basket, she took out a few items and set them on the pew that Rouen had placed before the fire. As he ate what she had laid out for him, Daelia unfolded the blanket and linens from the basket and silently began replacing the coverings on his bed. She had no idea when they had last been cleaned, but if the color and smell of them was any indication, it had indeed been a long time. Which brought her to another matter. "Next time I come I will be bringing soap, a razor, and shears; the Master of Caerlock appears more as a beggar on the street than a Lord."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing that I am not the Master of Caerlock then," he retorted, but didn't argue with her general assessment. The chapel had a plentiful supply of water from the trickling font on the eastern wall, though it would be a cold way to bathe, and it was obvious that Rouen had long opted for warmth over cleanliness. This brought a brief smile to her face--nagging and threats had often been necessary to get her brothers to clean themselves after days spent hunting and cleaning game. "You will have to made do with this one blanket for now, Rouen. I will take your old one for Briden to wash, but I'm afraid I will be burning the rest."

Rouen nodded in acknowledgment of both points, "Thank you for this. I hope you know how much I appreciate everything you have done to help me. I feel a bit like a child who has to be looked after, but one day, when we are away from here, I swear to you that the debt shall be repaid."

"You owe me nothing, I assure you. Your company has done much for raising my spirits. I don't doubt that I was meant to be here for this season of time, but my year in Parsaena has not been a joyful one. When I'm here in the chapel," she gazed over at the crucifix sitting atop the altar, "I don't feel so far from home."

She suspected that he might ask her more about her home, but his face had turned solemn, and his head was turned away. The remaining food lay on the bench forgotten as Rouen stared into the flames intently. "I can see the fire you know," he said abruptly after sitting silent for some time. "Well...not exactly; I can see the orange glow fading in and out. And sometimes, when the sun shines through the windows very brightly in the morning I can see a light."

Daelia wasn't sure how she ought to respond, so she said nothing. "At times I stand under the window and look up at it. If the sun is bright enough, I can almost make ou the shape of the window - black," he traced the shape of the pointed arch window in the air with his hands, "and yellow."

"When did you lose your sight?" She wasn't sure why she hadn't asked before and she wasn't sure that he would want to talk about it now.

But he didn't hesitate to answer, "About a month after I was left in here I fell into a deep depression - I just lay on my bed as my leg healed, cursing Deus, wondering why He didn't free me. I didn't eat or sleep for days and soon became ill with a bad fever. Serina the chamber maid brought me food and water, but no doctor was sent for. I eventually began to recover on my own, but the longer I lay there, the worse my sight became. By the time my strength was almost fully returned, I could see nothing but the brightest light. Since that day I have neither prayed, nor believed, nor hoped." He stopped and turned his head towards her. "Not until the day you appeared, that is. For the first time in years I am allowing myself to hope, to think that the future may hold something different, something good. I can feel the old fire beginning to burn again and the old concerns consume my thoughts daily."

"Concerns about your brother?"

"Responsibility, duty, opportunity lost. I was someone - the eldest son of one of the most important families in Parsaena." His voice was anguished, "There are thousands in this city who know nothing but the tyranny and oppression of Severus and his predecessors - and the ruthless, gluttonous greed of my class, my family. The nobles continue to enable the governor and the people are too ignorant and disheartened to join forces against them."

"But why? Why is everyone so willing to be enslaved"

Rouen paused before answering; it was a question he had asked himself many times before. "Because they have forgotten. The more time that goes by, the more history is lost and the precepts of the city's forefathers disappear - as does their identity as a people. What is not convenient to tend is easily neglected."

Daelia understood what he was saying, but she also recognized the inconsistency in his words.

"So, you believe in the morals and basic principles as taught and practiced by the Beata, but not in the God upon whom those principles are based."

"I don't deny His existence, only his relevance. My conclusion is that He has very few dealings with our world. It is up the the morally superior among humanity to ensure that order and virtue is maintained."

"And so, in your opinion, the troubles in Parsaena are strictly physical, not spiritual - a matter of insufficient education about the Beata's history?"

"That may be a bit too simplistic of an explaination, but yes, that is the only rational answer I have been able to formulate."

Rouen's theory was incomplete, but Daelia knew that it would be useless to try at that moment to convince him of the reality of the spiritual disease consuming the city and its people. Not could she persuade him that Deus was not an absentee landlord, viewing his land from afar, caring too little to intercede on his people's distress. He would have to learn the truth for himself.