While we worked in the main tunnel near everyone, we remained outsiders, not yet having earned the trust and acceptance I hoped would come with time. I learned the redheaded leader was called Curly, and even though he was abrasive and quick-tempered, he seemed to have the best interests of the slaves at heart, solving disputes and keeping order.
I also learned none of the slaves condemned to the mines were hardened criminals. They were mostly ordinary citizens who’d been charged with insignificant offenses that were undeserving of hard labor as punishment. Had Queen Margery purposely tasked her officials with rounding up people on a regular basis in order to maintain the mines?
“Heard tell some of the rats be big as full-growed dogs.” Farthing leaned against the granite wall where he’d made little progress that day. The lad had recovered from the near-death experience on the bridge and had easily adjusted to life in the mine.
As I hammered the handle of my chisel and broke off another chunk of stone, my gaze touched on the closest torch, the long end wedged into a crack in the wall. Several more torches belonging to other slaves burned at intervals along the drift to keep rats at bay.
“Guess they have to be big if they’re a-tearing off arms and legs,” Farthing continued.
“The rats aren’t tearing them off,” responded Ernie, a portly, middle-aged man who’d worked as a cook in the royal palace in Kensington until he’d been accused of poisoning the food of one of the queen’s personal priests. “Apparently, they’re only biting. But the bite causes some kind of disease that can only be stopped by amputation.”
“Amputation?” Farthing tossed several rocks into the air in an attempt at juggling. He was more content to watch the work than participate, an attitude which likely contributed to his propensity to pick pockets for the farthings after which he’d been nicknamed. “What’s an amputation?”
“Cutting off the diseased limb.” Ernie mopped his perspiring brow and fanned his overheated face.
I’d expected the mine pits to be cold, and the temperature did decrease during the initial descent of a hundred or more feet. But at some point, the air grew warm again, making us too hot as we worked so that some of the slaves shed layers of clothing.
Farthing paused his juggling and seemed to contemplate the problem of lost limbs. He glanced in the direction of the nearest group of slaves. Of the six or so, two were missing body parts—one, a hand, and the second, half his leg. I admired their tenacity to prevail in the harsh conditions rather than giving up in despair.
“Maybe it’s not the rats,” Farthing continued. “What if it be the wraiths a-biting people?”
Ernie nodded and then launched into one of his stories about the wraiths deep in the mountains rousing as the tunnels drew closer to their resting spots.
At the sight of Curly climbing nimbly up a rock wall using the simple hand and foot holds that had been notched out of stone, I let my tools fall idle. He must be going once more to check on Lady Gabriella, who worked up a level with her servants, whose names I’d learned were Benedict and Alice.
I’d expected to see Lady Gabriella with the others down in the mine. But I’d learned her old maidservant couldn’t navigate the narrow shaft that led to the newest drift, so Lady Gabriella stayed with the couple. Curly had grumbled about the danger of the three working alone, but he made no effort to force them to labor with everyone else, though he’d threatened to do so.
I’d done as Curly instructed and kept my distance from Lady Gabriella. In fact, the morning after the accident, when she’d sought me at our hut, Ty had accepted her thanks, while I’d remained out of sight until she went on her way.
In spite of my resolve to stay far away from her, my curiosity grew, and I found I couldn’t ignore her—not when everyone adored her, including the overseers and guards. It was easy to see why, when she spent most of her evenings in the infirmary with the sick and maimed. When her sweet songs filtered through the town. When she offered words of encouragement everywhere she went.
Of course, it didn’t help that Farthing practically worshipped her for rescuing him and rambled on about her at least a dozen times a day. The lad claimed she was a saint. After watching her walk out onto the bridge to save Farthing without a moment of hesitation, I was easily persuaded to agree with the assessment.
Ernie finished his story and uncorked his leather drinking pouch. “Some even say the wraiths have the power to make the gems grow in the rocks every year.”
Farthing’s eyes widened. “So, if we find a wraith, we might find real gems?”
In the process of tilting the pouch to his lips, Ernie paused and glanced around before he lowered his voice. “Only after the priests come down into the mines and sprinkle the holy water. Then the wraiths start making the gems again.”
With a shake of my head, I returned my attention to the granite and tapped my hammer to the chisel. “Best get to working, Farthing,” I said with as much sternness as I could muster. “Or at dusk we may have to leave you to the rats and wraiths with your empty bucket.”
I could feel Ty watching me with his keen gaze, and as usual I sensed his judgment. Each night by the glow of the coals, he recorded the day’s events, including my every word and action no matter how insignificant. The rules of the Testing prohibited me from reading his journal or attempting to influence what he wrote there. Thus, I guarded my words and behavior carefully, wanting him to see and record only the very best so that when the king and the Lagting read his report, they’d be impressed by how I handled myself.
A faint scream echoed from the direction of the shaft where Curly had disappeared.
I paused and listened but then forced myself to keep tapping. Although Farthing claimed Curly had a woman, I still couldn’t shake the intuition that the redheaded leader was interested in more from Lady Gabriella than mere friendship.
At another scream, this one more distinct, the clanking of hammers and chisels died away to silence. All eyes turned toward the shaft, and faces grew taut with fear.
Though my rational side told me I needed to remain safe and away from any conflict, I couldn’t keep from thinking about Lady Gabriella’s courage the day she’d saved Farthing. If any plight had befallen her whatsoever, she deserved to have someone come to her aid.
As the pressure inside built, I tucked my hammer and chisel into my rope belt. What harm could come from checking on the lady? Surely a furtive peek wouldn’t cause any conflict with Curly.
Without another moment of hesitation, I headed to the shaft and began the climb.
“Take a torch.” Ty held out the flaming stick.
With a nod, I took it from him and continued my ascent. He would follow erelong since he took his role as my bodyguard as seriously as he did his scribe duties.
As I crawled up into the next level, I lifted the torch and listened carefully. At the distant sounds of scratching and squeaking from a tunnel to the west, my muscles stiffened. Though I’d yet to see one of the deadly rats, I wasn’t about to underestimate them. I unsheathed my seax from the sheath-like compartment in the sole of my boot and took off at a run.
The low, jagged ceiling and winding path slowed my pace. But as the noises grew louder, I pushed myself faster.
“They’re gaining on us!” Curly shouted.