Marysvale (40 page)

The soldier snapped his heals together,
gave a salute, and retreated through the door.

We waited, but not for long. A moment
later, the soldier returned, followed by an elegantly dressed,
older gentleman. The man wasted no time announcing, in a most flat
and bored sounding voice, “Lord Wright.”

Out strode the lord.

“
Ah, John, how good of you
to come.” He stopped, and his eyes fell on my bound wrists and then
moved onto the rest of the company. He looked at the various
wounded men with their scratches, bruises, and broken arm. He
hesitated a bit longer on one soldier in particular, not entirely
able to figure out what was wrong with him. His pallor was pale
green, and he perpetually shifted in his saddle on account of
Jane’s kick.

Finally, he asked Lyman, with a bit of
amusement, “Have a little trouble did we?”

“
Nothing I couldn’t handle,”
replied an irritated Lyman.

“
Clearly,” said Lord Wright.
“You and a half dozen of your finest is all it took.”

A few of the men winced at the rebuke.
Lyman simply looked sour.

“
Well, don’t sit there like
idiots; get him off that horse,” ordered the lord.

Two of the more mobile men slid off
their mounts and unceremoniously drug me off mine and onto my
feet.

Lord Wright walked over to Lyman and
motioned for him to hand over the jewel-encrusted dagger sheathed
in his belt.

Lyman withdrew it and gave it to
him.

Taking it in his hands, Lord Wright
played with it for a moment and tested its sharpness with his
thumb. “I do hope your restraints are no longer needed?” he asked
questioningly, his sharp eyes studying my face.

It was pointless to resist, there was
nowhere to go, and making trouble would only cause me, or the
girls, harm.

I shook my head.

“
Good.” Then walking around
to my back, he cut the cords binding me.

The blood rushed back into my hands and
created a tingling sensation. I rubbed my sore wrists, trying to
get feeling to return.

Lord Wright, with an impatient wave to
the soldiers, said, “That will be all.”

They started to turn.

“
Not you, Lyman,” he called.
“Our other guests will be arriving shortly. You will make yourself
presentable and greet them as they come.” He then gave him a
dismissive wave, too.

“
Yes, my lord,” said Lyman,
looking disgruntled. He slid off his saddle, snapped his fingers
for one of the door guards to take his horse, and then disappeared
into the castle.

When Lyman was gone, Wright smiled at
me in his feigned, fatherly way. However, his cold eyes betrayed
the monster lying in wait.

“
Walk with me.”

He turned, and I followed, keeping a
respectful half-step behind. We ascended the stone steps and
entered the magnificent castle. Lyman was nowhere to be
seen.

The inside entrance was huge. The walls
were smooth and the floor even smoother, with a polished shine. I
could see no mortar anywhere—every stone had been cut to perfection
and laid upon each other. The ceiling rose up higher than any I’d
seen before; and I wondered how many cottages you could fit into
this one room alone—easily six or seven long, if they were the same
size as my last one in Syre, and more if you could stack them. At
the very top were fixed stained glass windows that let in light.
Along the walls hung unlit lamps mounted in iron brackets. Off to
the right and left stretched wide arched corridors; and in front of
us loomed a massive door.

“
Come,” said Wright. “We
shall wait on the balcony while my other guests arrive.”

“
There are others coming?” I
inquired, as we pushed open the great door and walked through
another arched passageway. Several tall and wide portals lined the
hall; and staircases, leading to the upper regions of the castle,
twisted off every so often.

“
Oh, yes. I do hope you will
oblige. You see, it is so rare a treat that we get strangers and
news of the outside world here. I know the others will be as
fascinated to hear your tale as I.”

“
Do all new arrivals get the
same reception?” I asked, unsure what his reaction would
be.

He laughed condescendingly, “My dear
boy, we are always interested in outsiders.”

There was no further explanation and I
didn’t press.

We continued to walk along corridors
until we pushed through a door at the far end of the castle and
emerged into a spacious sitting room. It was about half the size as
the entryway. Unlike the entrance and passageways that bore no
decorations, this one boasted large tapestries and paintings on its
walls. Beautiful rugs adorned the floor. A huge fireplace, with an
ornate stone mantle, was located to our left; and a fire burned
brightly in the cavernous opening. It warmed the room, dissipating
the cool dampness that filled the rest of the building. Large,
comfortable chairs were dispersed all around it. A beautiful desk
and a bookcase full of manuscripts were positioned not far away.
Tall, thick windows lined the back wall. Lord Wright stretched his
arms wide and asked, “Well, what do you think?”

He was obviously pleased with his
creation; and I had to admit it was very impressive.

“
I’ve never seen anything
quite like it before. It’s very comfortable and warm for a room
this size.”

“
Ah, that is my own special
design. The room is warm because of the iron work in the chimney
and walls. Once hot, it radiates heat throughout the room, even
after the fire is extinguished,” he explained with pride. “And for
the finest part, at least when it is warm enough to enjoy it…” He
walked over to the windows and unlatched a small iron bar. Two of
the panes swung inward on a wooden frame, giving access to the
balcony beyond.

He stepped through and I
followed.

The terrace was grand and semicircular
in shape. An ornate stone banister extended up nearly waist high
and ran around the edge. Stone columns supported an arched roof,
which protected the balcony from the sun and weather. A few benches
completed the decor.

The view was spectacular. Walking over
to the banister, I looked out over the woods which stretched beyond
the hills and valleys as far as the eye could see. It also revealed
why the town wall ran up the middle of the hill and why the rear
rampart of the garrison was only about chest high. The back half of
the entire hill was missing. Gone were the trees, ground, rocks,
everything. Only a cliff remained. And right on the edge of the
bluff was the fortress wall. Jutting out, on its own little
precipice, was this castle. I imagined that, to a bird, the whole
fortress, including the grounds, the wall, and this castle, looked
a bit like a flat, upside-down Q.

Lord Wright, following my eyes,
explained, “This hill is nothing but a very large rock. As you can
see, below are the remains of a quarry where the necessary stone to
build our defenses was extracted. As we dug up the hill and built
the city, we gained skill in masonry. You can clearly see the
craftsmanship, most notably in the wall, is progressively superior
as you start at the bottom of the town and work your way up. The
garrison was built last and is a culmination of that
expertise.”

“
Was there any part of the
town on the other side of the hill?” I asked.

“
Yes, but it became evident
that those citizens would have to be moved.”

“
And the displaced townsfolk
were agreeable?”

“
Not all of them; but it was
for the greater good.”

“
Mmm,” I said
absentmindedly.

“
You don’t agree? And what,
pray tell, would you have done differently?” he asked, attempting
to sound friendly, though there was a noticeable edge to his
voice.

The similarities between him and Lyman
were striking. However, there were differences. For one, he was
sharp. Nothing escaped his critical eye. Every facial expression
was analyzed, no voice inflection was lost. And, unlike his son, he
had gained control of his emotions, at least on the
surface.

Deciding not to antagonize him, I
replied, “I suppose I would have done the same.”

And truly, I couldn’t think of another
solution.

Fortunately, I was spared from any
further conversation. The elegant, older gentleman entered the
balcony and announced, “My lord, the others are
arriving.”

“
Excellent,” replied Lord
Wright. “They appear as eager as I am to get started. I shall go
and greet them. Please show this guest where he may freshen up.”
Then, addressing me, he added, “Make yourself comfortable. I will
send for you when we are ready.”

He swept through the sitting room and
out the door.

After he was gone, the older gentleman
said, “Right this way, if you please.”

We walked back into the room and, with
a sweeping arm, he gestured toward a narrow door in the wall
opposite the fireplace.

“
Thank you,” I
said.

He returned an impersonal formal smile
and, with a slight bow, he left the room.

Opening the door, I stepped into a
small room. On a table sat a stone basin filled with water, a
silver mirror, a brush, and clean linen cloths.

Looking into the mirror, I discovered
some dried blood from my nose and abrasions where Lyman had beaten
my head against the floor. My face was beginning to show signs of
bruising, but hadn’t turned black yet. My hair, of course, was also
a mess. However, on the bright side, with a bit of dusting, my
clothes looked respectable again.

After washing, I retired to the sitting
room and waited.

The late afternoon grew unnaturally
dark as I watched the storm clouds progress. Great sheets of rain
swept across the forest and on toward Marysvale.

I waited by the fireplace as dread
churned in the pit of my stomach.

Soon, rain began to fall outside in
great, heavy drops. As the day slipped into blackness, the only
light in the room was that of the fire.

The wait continued with its unnerving
effect. I felt sure it was a purposeful attempt to wear down my
defenses.

Finally, the gentleman
returned.

“
They are ready, if you
please,” he said, and, with another slight bow, waited for me to
follow.

We traversed torch-lit passageways.
After what seemed to be a long walk, we arrived at two large,
wooden doors.

“
Your name please,” he
asked.

“
John,” I
replied.

“
I must have your surname as
well,” he pressed.

“
Oh, it’s Casey. John
Casey.”

“
Please wait here until I
have finished announcing your name, then you may enter.”

I nodded to show I
understood.

He pushed the door open and slipped
inside. With a loud voice, so everyone could hear, he announced,
“John Casey.

Feeling somewhat anxious, I took a deep
breath and entered.

I found myself in a sprawling dining
room. Two large, square, iron chandeliers, holding small oil-lit
lamps, were suspended by chains from the ceiling. They illuminated
a long, wooden table. Around it, sitting in wide, high-backed
chairs, sat twelve men, including Lord Wright and Lyman. All were
clad in fancy, elegant clothing. I felt extremely
underdressed.

More lamps were mounted to the walls,
illuminating servants standing patiently near tables that held all
kinds of food. Despite the intimidating nature of the setting, the
sight made my mouth water.

At the far end of the room, on opposite
walls, were two other doors. I surmised that the one to my left,
nearest the food, opened into the kitchen; but I couldn’t begin to
guess where the other led to.

Enormous chairs stood at each end of
the great table; both were unoccupied. A servant gracefully walked
over to the one nearest me and slid it out, motioning for me to
take my seat.