“If ye stay closer and then yer light goes, ye can call me, and I’ll be there in the twitch of a lamb’s tail, that I will.”
The rats couldn’t abide light, and it was our only protection against their bloodthirstiness. If only Molly’s torch had lasted until we’d been able to dig her out of the rubble. At the sudden shadow on Curly’s face, I guessed he was thinking the same.
“How is Molly tonight?” I asked.
“She be sitting up and smiling.” His haunted eyes darkened as he glanced at the hut used as the infirmary. “So I can’t be complaining now, can I?”
Like most of the other slaves, Molly hadn’t deserved to be sent to the mines. She and her brother had been present when a group of peasants had rioted over new taxes. They’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and were rounded up with the dissidents and sent to the mines. I’d just arrived when her brother died of an infection. Still in the midst of grieving, Molly had taken me under her wing and taught me everything I needed to know to survive.
Curly held out a hand to assist me to my feet. “I take it ye left yer buckets behind, then?”
“We had no choice.”
“I’d be giving ye some of my rations, but I already divided it up.”
No doubt he’d given some of his supper to Molly, and only rightly so. “We shall be fine. Do not trouble yourself over us.”
We’d travailed all day, chiseling rock to fill our buckets, rock that was necessary to get our daily ration for meals. ’Twould be of no consequence now. The hatch would soon be battened down for the night to keep any rats from coming to the surface during the darkness. Anyone who remained in the mine would be trapped there for the night, and I couldn’t risk that.
A commotion at the bridge drew my attention. Someone was crossing the braided rope structure that stretched across a deep ravine separating the mine from civilization. The suspension bridge was the only way in and out, except most of the people who came to work in the mine as slaves never made it out.
I would be the exception. I didn’t know exactly how I would accomplish such a feat. All I knew was that I had to escape before Midsummer’s Eve, less than two months away.
“Jolly,” Curly muttered as he watched the bridge. “Just what we be needing. A fresh batch of slaves.”
New slaves meant more competition for finding the coveted gems that could be used to buy any number of luxuries from clothing to medicine to soap. The emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds were nearly impossible to locate now. After the past six months of living at the mine, I’d witnessed the discoveries diminishing from several veins a day to several a week. And now we were fortunate to find several in a month.
Most people believed that somehow the sun’s midsummer zenith helped the gems to grow and surface every year. Very few were aware of what really caused the precious jewels to reappear after Midsummer’s Eve. My father had been one of those few, and it cost him his life.
I was also one of those privy to the truth, although it had taken my father’s death to fully understand the depths of depravity Queen Margery had sunk to in order to ensure the gem production continued. Ever since learning of her vile practices, I had one burning goal—to end the evil and avenge my father’s death.
Still muttering, Curly strode away, gathering around him the gang of loyal slaves who followed and respected him. A good number of them were missing one limb or another to accidents or rat bites. They crossed over barren-land, which separated the village from the bridge. And they positioned themselves near the tower guardhouse that stood on the edge of Slave Town adjacent to the bridge. They would welcome the newcomers just as they always did—with a show of intimidation.
Although I didn’t agree with Curly’s methods, I couldn’t condemn him. Even though the truly dangerous criminals were locked away in the queen’s dungeons, desperation and despair oft led people to do things they wouldn’t normally consider. And Curly’s control prevented anarchy.
The overseers doled out our rations and made certain we followed all the rules. The armed guards ensured that we didn’t try to revolt. But neither the overseers nor guards went down into the mines if it could be helped, which made Curly’s leadership all the more important.
“Come,” I said gently to Alice as I knelt beside her and slid my arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home for the night.”
Home. The very word brought a painful lump to my throat. While I missed many things about Rockland, more than anything I missed my father. After he’d died, the grand castle with its many outbuildings didn’t feel like home anymore. Once the Duchess of Burgundy and her two daughters had arrived to oversee Rockland, I felt like a stranger there.
“Ah, my lady,” Alice replied as I lifted her to her feet, her breathing finally even again. “I ought to be helping you, not relying upon you for my daily needs.”
“Nonsense. We must lean upon each other. ’Tis the only way to truly survive.”
If only I’d never said anything to the duchess about my faithful servants. Instead, I’d beseeched her for their well-being, asked her to show them mercy. Rather than granting my request, she found twisted pleasure in hurting me even further by expelling Benedict and Alice from service and accusing them of stealing from Rockland’s coffers alongside me.
I berated myself every day since then for being so foolish, although I suspected my two faithful servants would have come with me anywhere, regardless of my protests. They’d been like grandparents, stepping in whenever my father traveled, bestowing upon me all the love I’d ever needed. And now they were suffering on my account.
“I’ll go see if I can find anything for us to eat.” Benedict wearily regarded the dozen or so thatched huts that made up our village at the top of Ruby Mountain. Only rotting stumps remained of the pine, hemlock, and firs that had once graced the level area. Now the surface was barren and rocky from all the crushed stone we brought topside every day in an effort to meet our daily quota of digging.
“Thank you, Benedict.” I suspected he’d come home empty-handed as he had the last time. Even if one of the other slaves had an extra piece of fish or bread they were willing to sell, we had naught to exchange in payment. We’d long since used up the few commodities of value we’d been allowed to bring into slavery, and we owned nothing anymore.
From the frustration etched into Benedict’s once-distinguished face, he realized the futility of his search as well. And yet, he cared too much about Alice and me not to try to find something for our meal. Perhaps he would pledge his own rations away as he’d done last time.
Alice hobbled next to me as I led her away from the mine entrance. Once I settled her in the hut we shared with several other slaves, I made my way through the growing darkness toward the infirmary. Without any medicine or pain relief, the best I could do for the sick was offer them water and what little food was available. Most of the time, I simply sat at their sides, held their hands, and sang to them. It wasn’t much, but kindness was oft the best remedy for an ailment.
Shouting from the overseers at the edge of town drew my attention. A man dangled from a broken slat in the bridge. More than half of the wooden step had vanished, having dropped into the ravine hundreds of feet below. And now the unfortunate newcomer was about to follow suit.