Consciousness brought Thomas no relief. Samoth had bound, gagged, and stuffed him into a box among the rest of the cargo. A hired man rode with Samoth as their wagon bounced along a rutted trail heading north. Thomas kicked at the box and only succeeded in cutting his wrists, as his feet and hands were tied together.
“I guess you didn’t kill him after all,” a muffled voice spoke.
“Shut up! Of course I didn’t kill him. We have to make one more checkpoint, and then the coast is clear.”
The creak of leather and the squawk of wheels on worn axles slowed and came to a stop.
“Who goes there?” a voice called.
“Samoth Devia.”
“What brings you out so early in the morning?” the sentry asked pleasantly.
“I have to work for a living.”
Choosing to ignore Samoth’s comment, the sentry stepped near the wagon and held his torch aloft. “Captain didn’t tell us you were coming. What are you carrying?”
Samoth bristled. He hated these checkpoints. “Emergency supplies,” he lied.
“Headed north? We could use them better than Jabin.”
“They aren’t for Jabin,” Samoth said slowly. “They are for a refugee camp some miles north.”
“You’ll never deliver them.” The sentry swept his hand across the western horizon where campfires glowed as far as the eye could see. “Jabin’s men will stop you and take your supplies, sure as anything.”
“You are wasting my time,” Samoth said, his voice becoming shrill. “I have no quarrel with Jabin. He lets me travel and trade anywhere I want.” Samoth studied the sentry with a knowing smile. “What quarrel do you have with Jabin? Wouldn’t you rather be at home with your family than out here patrolling a border you never saw before a year ago?”
The man hesitated, and Samoth knew he had struck a nerve. Continuing, he asked, “Tell me why you are opposed to Jabin. He is no threat to you.”
As if waking from a dream, the man shook himself. “I have never suffered personally, but Jabin’s works are well known. Lies and terror follow his every move. I am opposed to that!”
“You’re a fool. You could have all this world has to offer if you would just try to get along with both sides. Why should we even choose sides?”
The sentry rubbed his chin. “Well, the Good Book says you can’t serve two masters. Either you will love one and hate the other, or you will be obedient to one and despise the other.”
“Will you let me pass?” Samoth asked, trying to change the subject.
“What are you carrying?”
“Supplies!”
“I know that. What kind of supplies?”
“Flour, hardtack, biscuits … you know, things for the larder.”
“No weapons?”
“No, I don’t have any weapons!” Samoth said.
“What’s in the long box?” the sentry asked, holding his torch above the wagon to illuminate its contents.
“Those are wrapped cheeses,” Samoth said smoothly.
“Can I take a look?”
“I don’t want to break the seal,” Samoth said. “The cheese will spoil more quickly if we do.”
“All right,” the sentry said, turning away. “I suppose you will only feed the enemy another day. You may pass.”
Inside the long box, Thomas tried to shout, but the rag stuffed in his mouth muffled his voice. He tried kicking again, but each movement made the ropes cut more deeply into his flesh.
His heart sank as the wagon lurched into motion. Where was he headed?
Above the creak of the wagon, he heard Samoth mutter, “The road is free and clear from here on. James should train his sentries better.”
Thomas drifted in and out of consciousness. Voices spoke, but as if from another world. He did hear Samoth’s hired man ask, “Think we ought to let him out?”
“Why?”
“I need to stretch, and I thought maybe he did too. That is a mighty small box.”
“Are you getting soft on me?” Samoth asked with a snarl.
“Just asking,” the voice mumbled.
Thomas could hear nothing but the squeak of leather and the groan of wagon wheels on a rutted road. One bone-jarring bump melted into another. His aching body sought relief. Eventually he passed out, and oblivion brought the only comfort he could find.
Thomas awoke as the wagon rolled to a stop. Boots scraped on the wagon bed. The squawk of nails being ripped from lumber penetrated Thomas’s darkened mind.
When the lid was pried from Thomas’s confines, sunlight and fresh air flooded around him, giving him new hope. Blinded and dazed, Thomas heard a voice demand, “Get out!”
Rough hands jerked Thomas from his prison, slashed the rope that bound his hands to his feet, and stood him on the ground. His head felt light, and the world swirled before his eyes. Still bound and gagged, Thomas collapsed on the sod, helpless before his captors.
“He’s about done in,” someone said. Thomas tried to locate the man speaking.
“He’ll get worse if he doesn’t cater to the Lady,” Samoth said savagely. “I’ll see to it personally.”
“I thought you said you might need protection,” the man said. “Look at him. He’s too weak to stand up. I’ve wasted the trip.”
“We’re not inside Endor yet,” Samoth replied. “I don’t want him to escape. Once we get him to Endor, there will be no escape.”
“Why didn’t you just kill him?”
“I’ll take him to Maria. She likes to dominate the souls of men, and a corpse can do nothing to satisfy her. Besides, I would rather have Thomas suffer a haunting memory of his loss than obtain the instant forgetfulness of death. Someday he will see me on his father’s throne.”
The hired man stepped to where Thomas lay, drew his dagger, and with a deft movement cut the cords binding Thomas’s feet. “How about his hands?” he asked Samoth.
“Leave them tied.”
The man removed Thomas’s gag and then held a flask filled with dark liquid to Thomas’s lips. The liquid smelled putrid, and Thomas tried to pull away. Prying Thomas’s jaws apart, the man poured some liquid into Thomas’s mouth. At first it was cool, but quickly it began to burn. Liquid fire trickled down Thomas’s throat.
Thomas jerked violently, escaping his captor as he rolled across the grass.
“Ha!” the man laughed. “I didn’t think he had that much life left in him.”
Thomas turned, wild-eyed, to view his captors. A sour-faced man of huge stature accompanied Samoth. Both were laughing hard.
“Good!” Samoth roared. “See why I didn’t want his hands free? With that stuff in him, he might have fought us both.” He sat down on the cart, still laughing. “He’ll do all right now. We can get him into the city on his own feet.”
The hired man stooped to help Thomas to his feet, but Thomas went limp.
Samoth’s laughter died on his lips. “Is that the way you want to play?” he shouted. With one swift kick, his boot found its mark, and Thomas’s world went dark.
Stumbling forward, half-carried by Samoth and his companion, Thomas vaguely remembered the frowning entrance of Endor. He could hear laughter and jeers.
“What did you bring us today, Samoth? A comedian? He can’t even walk!”
“Good old Samoth,” someone shouted. “You never leave us without some entertainment.”
Not everyone mocked as Thomas staggered across Endor’s courtyard. There were those who eyed the newcomer with pity. He was one more soul entering their world of despair.
Thomas was taken to a massive building and dragged through many winding passages. When they came to a staircase, he was shoved down into the darkness. In the pale light of a flickering torch, Thomas watched a man unlock a door and swing it wide. A ghastly stench swept into the hall.
Thomas was pushed inside and hurled against the wall. Exhausted, he slumped to the floor. His bonds were cut, and his arms fell free. He heard a crack as if wood were striking bone. There was a flash of pain, and once again his world went dark.
Thomas awoke to the low moan of human misery. He did not know if he had uttered the sound or if others were near. Opening his eyes, he could see nothing. Have I gone blind? he wondered. In desperation he tried to rub his eyes, but his wrists were held to the wall by shackles.
Afraid and confused, he cried out, “Is anybody there?”
All sound ceased. Thomas was entombed in silence.
Slowly regaining his composure, Thomas became aware of a dull throbbing in his head. Leaning toward his right hand, he touched a large lump above his right ear. Gingerly his fingers explored the wound. Large as a goose egg, the top of the lump was open and oozed fluid.
“Keep quiet!” said a voice in the darkness.
Thomas jumped at the sound and asked, “Where are you?”
“Not so loud,” the man hissed. “Do you want the guard to come back?”
Thomas asked no more questions. If guards had put that lump on his head, he surely didn’t want to incur any more abuse from their hands. He sat silent in the darkness, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He could hear the ragged breathing of people and the soft scurry of mice along the floor.
Suddenly, every sound in the room ceased when a key scraped in the lock.
“I tried to warn you,” a voice whispered nearby.
The door squealed on rusty hinges, and torchlight flooded the cavern. Nearly naked men were chained to the walls on every side. Thomas shuddered.
“Which one does she want?”
“That one,” a man said, pointing toward Thomas.
“Why this one?” the first man asked, jabbing his staff savagely into Thomas’s stomach.
“Hey, no need for that!” the other man said sharply.
“What does it matter?”
“Watch what you say. Such a comment could put you on the rack.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m real worried.”
“Besides, she prefers them alive, not dead.”
“They’re all as good as dead in this stinking hole.”
The chains fell from Thomas’s wrists, and he doubled over in pain. The same staff came down hard on his back, “Get up, scum!”
Thomas staggered to his feet, wobbled on feeble legs, and tottered toward the door.
Somewhere behind him, he heard a voice jeer, “Lucky dog!”
A tower soared above the dungeon where Thomas was kept, and in this tower resided the beautiful princess of Endor, daughter of Jabin. She bore a title unlike any in the kingdom. She was known as the Goddess of the Moon. Each month at full moon, Maria led her people in worshipping the gods of fertility and love. She was surrounded by guards and loving admirers, like Samoth, who would do anything at her bidding. Today was no different.
Alone with Samoth, Maria twirled before him and brushed her fingers along his jaw. “My prophet,” she cooed. “Did you bring me a knight in shining armor?” Her voice was soft and sensuous.
“Just another toy, my lady,” Samoth said nonchalantly. He tossed his shirt over the dresser and began splashing water on his face from the wash basin.
Though the light was dim, he peered for some time into the brass mirror that hung by the basin. He didn’t hear her movement, but suddenly he felt her cool fingers touch his naked ribs. Her hands encircled his firm torso and combed the thick hair on his chest.
“You’ve been away a long time,” she said.
He felt the warmth of her body against his back. “Absence makes the body fonder,” he said, turning to meet her moist, parted lips.
The two embraced, searching for the one thing they had never found: true love.
Morning found Maria alone. Samoth had departed before she awoke, and now she sat at her mirror, watching as a maiden combed her long dark hair. “Why doesn’t he stay?” she fussed.
The maiden did not answer but continued to comb and braid the Ravenna’s hair.
Maria stared glumly into the polished brass. “He loves me, you know.”
The brush caught in her long dark hair, and Maria was instantly defensive. “I know he loves me. Why else would he bring me servants? And he doesn’t just bring servants; he makes the servants love me. They want to serve me. They relish coming into my presence.” She tried to sound confident, but her voice was a little too shrill.
The maiden pulled the brush through the knots in Maria’s hair but did not reply.
Maria thought of the worship service and the clamoring congregation, everyone reaching out to touch her. It was so thrilling! She wished it wasn’t limited to each full moon.
“At least today is special,” she said. “Samoth brought another group of men for my royal guard.” She smiled to herself. She knew the only thing they guarded her from were lonely nights while Samoth was away. That happened nearly all the time nowadays.
Her guards were flirtatious, fun, and oh so loyal—just like so many slobbering dogs. They were no challenge at all.
“What I want,” Maria said boldly, “is someone who will resist me just to make it fun. I’m bored with these men who simply pant when they escort me anywhere.” Maria glanced in the mirror and caught the shocked expression on her maiden’s face. A haughty smile crossed her lips as she spoke. “I’m sure you don’t understand.”
The maiden said nothing. Blushing deeply, she busied her fingers with combs and pins, quickly shaping the Ravenna’s thick hair.
Thomas and nine other men stood in a waiting room high in the Temple of the Moon. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls, and large windows flooded the room with light. This group was awaiting the Ravenna’s inspection. Thomas’s situation had improved dramatically since he’d been removed from the dungeons below. He’d been fed and bathed, his hair clipped and his face shaved, and today he wore the scarlet breeches and white shirt of the court gentry. The wound above his right ear had been carefully treated, and he was nearly healed.
He’d understood little that had been said during the last few days, for the language of Endor was foreign to his ears. However, it seemed that several men from this very group could be chosen to serve as guards in the realm of the Goddess. He wasn’t enthused by the thought of serving a woman who thought she was divine.
Thomas glanced out the window to the courtyard far below. I wonder if anyone from home has a clue where I am, he pondered as he surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Maria walked swiftly down the corridor amidst a flourish of petticoats and the soft whisper of satin. Four men escorted her, two carrying torches to light the hallway, and the others holding her arms for support. Behind Maria, a maiden carried her train.
They reached a doorway where Melzar, the chief jailer, stood bedecked in the stunning crimson and gold of Endor’s stewards. Bowing low, he asked, “Are you ready, my lady?”
“How many are there?” she asked.
“Ten, my lady.”
“Why so few?” she asked.
“There has been little time since your last choosing,” Melzar responded.
“Silence,” Maria demanded. Will I find anyone to resist me among so few? she wondered. Breathing deeply, she composed her thoughts and said, “I’m ready.”
A trumpet sounded, and Maria swished into a room where ten men stood awaiting her inspection. She was taken aback. These were some of the most handsome men she had ever seen, and her cheeks grew warm.
She could feel every eye in the room admiring her. A giddy sense of power coursed through her veins. She could choose one or all of these handsome men to accompany her, guard her, or protect her. And they all wanted to.
But wait! she thought. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. Not all eyes were on her. One man stared straight ahead as if she hadn’t entered the room. Her heart beat faster: a conquest. “The gods have not let me down,” she whispered.
With cool deliberation, she walked along the line of men, admiring each one in turn. The longing in each man’s eyes gave her a sense of satisfaction. She knew they had never witnessed such grace and beauty before, and they longed to be a part of her court.
She finally came to the man who had garnered her attention. Breathing deeply, Maria studied him. Thomas stared at the wall as if he were made of stone. She stepped directly into his line of vision and studied his eyes. They were not glassy but clear and cool. Not haughty but calm and unmoved. In fact, he seemed to look right through her.
A flood of emotions poured through Maria. She’d forgotten the deep emotions of a conquest. Seductively, she moved closer to the nameless man. Her fingertips brushed lightly upon his cheek. She peered into his expressionless face. Bruises were healing under his skin.
With a wry smile, she spoke to the chamberlain. “Where did this one come from?”
“Some say he is a prince of Amity,” Melzar answered.
Maria caught her breath. Thoughts raced through her mind. My father hates Amity with a passion and has decreed that all from there should die, but I know there are many in the prison, and he does not seem to care. What would happen if I took a prince from that country into my guard, or maybe even to my own bosom?
She could feel color rush to her face. It was so forbidden, so wrong, yet so tempting. Trying to cover her emotions, she turned angrily to the chamberlain. “Melzar!” she stormed. “Why have you presented this man with bruises? You know I can have nothing defiled!”
“Time was short, my lady, and he came to me bruised and beaten. I’ve done the best I could with him in the short time I was given.”
Maria dismissed the entire proceeding with a wave of her hand. “Take this one back! I will interview him when he is fully healed. The rest of these men I will take into my service. Show them their quarters and instruct them in their new duties. That is all!”
Maria whirled to make her exit, brushing lightly against Thomas. She watched to see if he showed the slightest reaction. There was none.
With a great flourish, Maria’s petticoats rustled as she hurried from the room.
After the Ravenna’s inspection, Melzar led Thomas down to his own quarters in the prison and lectured him on the folly of spurning the Lady of Endor. For some strange reason he felt drawn to this young prince of Amity, and in the days that followed, he began to tutor Thomas in the language, customs, and worship of Endor. The young man proved such a willing student that Melzar began to share more and more of his time and knowledge with Thomas.
One day as Thomas walked the halls of the tower with Melzar, he asked, “Are there dungeons below us in this building?”
“Yes,” Melzar answered.
Thomas liked the old jailer. He had begun to think of him as a surrogate father figure. “May I ask you a question?”
“Speak your mind,” Melzar responded.
“Would you let me share your duties and lighten your burdens?”
Caution shaded Melzar’s countenance. “You wouldn’t try to trick me? Any attempt to escape will forfeit my life.”
Thomas frowned. “I hoped I had won your trust. A shared burden is lighter for both.”
Melzar narrowed his eyes, and Thomas sensed the man’s doubts.
On a hunch, Thomas suddenly asked, “Are you afraid of me or for me?”
“You are a very perceptive young man,” Melzar said. “If you must know, I am afraid for you. I was instructed to send you back to the Goddess when you were healed, but I am reluctant to do so. I’m hoping in time she will forget you are here. Now I must decide whether to let you help me.”
Thomas watched as Melzar struggled to reach a decision. “All right, let’s give this a try,” the old man finally replied. “Come with me.”
Melzar collected bread from the kitchen, and Thomas carried a pail of water as they descended from the prison into the dungeon beneath. The stench was awful! The smell of decay permeated the air.
The first cell they entered, Thomas feared he would gag while holding a torch and Melzar’s basket of bread. Melzar began distributing crusts of bread to each man in chains. They came to a man who hung motionless against the wall, and Melzar began to pass him by.
“Sir, shouldn’t we awaken him for his morsel?”
“There is no need, my son.”
Thomas bent, touched the man, and withdrew his hand in revulsion. “He’s dead!”
“What did you expect?”
“Shouldn’t we remove him?”
“I don’t have time,” Melzar answered.
Thomas was shocked. His mind raced. These were men, not animals chained to the wall. They had hopes, dreams, desires, and emotions that no other creature on earth could experience. To leave the dead among the living would dehumanize the prisoners into something akin to trash. Thomas could not imagine allowing that to continue.
Thomas spoke earnestly. “Melzar, if you don’t have time, let me remove the dead from among the living.”
“I cannot allow that.” Melzar’s face grew stern. “You would need to leave the temple, and I would forfeit my life.”
“Is there not a room within the temple we could devote strictly to the dead?”
Melzar considered in silence as they continued passing out their morsels of bread. Again and again they passed hands that no longer reached for the crusts of life. They finished their labor and fled to the fresher air of the hallway.
Melzar hesitated. “There is a room …” he began, his face pale and his eyes darting nervously about the hallway. “I will show you the way.”
Thomas followed his keeper down many flights of stairs into the very bowels of the earth. Here the stench of rotting flesh was almost unbearable. Melzar stopped his descent and turned to Thomas. “I cannot do what you ask. I fear for myself, and I fear for you. This is the realm of the forgotten.”
Thomas fought to control his churning stomach, and he held his nose. “Lead on, my friend. Our heavenly Father will give us strength.”
Melzar frowned but turned and slowly descended two more flights of stairs. The air was ripe, and the stench of decay burned their eyes and noses. Even the torchlight dimmed in the pall of this terrible place.
An iron door stood at the bottom of the stairs. With a trembling hand, Melzar searched through his keys and selected one. Holding the key up for Thomas’s inspection, he said, “This is the key to the oubliette, the land of the forgotten.” With that he slipped the key in the lock and opened the door.
Melzar had given Thomas permission to remove the dead from the dungeon as long as he brought them to the oubliette. This room at the very deepest level of the dungeon was never visited by the prison guards, and once people passed through the door, they were never seen again.
It was appalling work, but Thomas was given broad freedoms and a wide assortment of keys to access many areas of the dungeon he otherwise would never have had. Each day he would open a new cell, remove the dead from the walls, and carry them to the oubliette. When he closed and locked the door at night, he sealed the living from the dead.
“Don’t let any part of your body cross the threshold,” Melzar warned Thomas, “for no one knows exactly what is on the other side. No one who has crossed that threshold has ever returned.”
Torches flickered and barely lit the steps leading down to the iron door. One by one Thomas carried dead bodies to the door, laid them on the threshold, and used a long pole to push them into the darkness on the other side.
There must be a ledge about three feet inside the door, Thomas reasoned, but he could see nothing beyond the threshold. He wondered if some dark magic kept light from penetrating the darkness. Even a burning torch would disappear from view in the inky darkness of the oubliette. Though I can’t see what’s inside, Thomas considered, there must be a deep abyss. I have to push the bodies some distance before they slip over the edge, but I never hear them hit the bottom.
He once again turned to climb the stairs. Several cells had been cleansed, he thought with some satisfaction. Did he dare start another? He suddenly noticed a door in the dungeon that he had not noticed before. A human skull hung upon a peg beside the door.
Is this where men are brought to die? he mused. What are their crimes? Did they oppose the Goddess or refuse her service?
On impulse, he withdrew the ring of keys Melzar had loaned him. Trying key after key, one finally slid into the lock upon the door. Turning the key and lifting the latch, the door swung wide. The reek of decay assailed his nostrils.
Skeletons hung in chains from the walls. A few gaunt men raised sunken eyes to view the intruder. Thomas cried out in horror. “Haven’t you been fed?” These men were not facing execution by gallows, sword, or fire. They were being starved!
“Master,” a hoarse whisper met his ears. He searched for the owner of the voice and found a shell of a man, wasted to skin and bone.
The man stirred, and Thomas leaned near, hoping to catch any word he might utter, but the poor man’s throat was so dry he could not rasp another word.
“I’ll get you water,” Thomas said, rising quickly. There was a fountain near the guard station. Washing his hands in the basin, Thomas looked for a cup. Not seeing one, and not wishing to attract attention, he cupped his hands, filled them with water and hurried back to the cell.
The old man’s tightly drawn features did not move, and Thomas feared he was too late. “I have water for you,” he said softly.
The old man’s eyes flickered, and Thomas poured water into his parted lips a little at a time. Weakened as he was, the old man tried to stand. “Save your strength, my good man,” Thomas encouraged.
“Master, Thomas,” the man croaked hoarsely.
Thomas was shocked. “You know me?” he managed to whisper.
“I always believed I would be rescued, but I never dreamed it would be the son of my lord who would come to this dreadful place. I am Helberg Stanley, a loyal servant to your father.”
Thomas stared in disbelief. Stanley was not a ruler, but on the Western Slope, many men looked to him for guidance and leadership.
“How is it you came here, my lord?” Thomas asked.
“It’s a long story,” Stanley whispered. “But don’t speak so openly. The walls have ears. Even one’s thoughts become public knowledge here.”
“Why should I be afraid of revealing my heart to you?”
“We are not alone. Amity is hated here—and much more so its prince.”
“I can’t leave you here. You’ve not eaten, and I’ve given you only a drop of water.”
“Show me no favors, for I am not liked here.”
“Why? What have you done to deserve this?”
“Hush. Get water for all,” the old man whispered.
Thomas rose to obey and surveyed the room. How was he to get water to those yet alive in this dreadful place? Then he remembered. Other cells had a bucket and ladle. In short order, he returned and began to offer each man the water of life.
The men in this cell responded differently from those in the other cells. In most cells, Thomas was viewed as an attendant doing an unpleasant task. But the men in this cell were supposed to die, and they were not given food or water. Some saw Thomas as an angel of mercy, others viewed him with suspicion.
One man asked, “What have you to do with us?” His speech was broken and heavy with accent, but he spoke the common tongue well enough for Thomas to understand.
“I came to remove the dead from among you,” Thomas said simply.
“We are all dead men! Do you give water and hope only to prolong our suffering? Leave me alone and let me die.”
The man had willingly taken the water offered moments before, so Thomas was gentle in his response. “I’ll not force anything upon you. You are free to choose life or death.”
Thomas’s work continued in the days that followed as one body after another disappeared through the door at the bottom of the stairs. He had cleansed the cell where he’d found Helberg Stanley as well as many others. But the labor was beginning to take its toll. He grew weary as he climbed the stairs again, and stumbling, he lay prone on the steps. One by one, the torches in the stairwells began to flicker and go out. Darkness enshrouded him, and a terror slowly spread up the dungeon stairs. With growing menace, it numbed his heart and quelled his spirit.
“I need to close that door,” he whispered. His mind had grown dull, but he could imagine spirits of the dead creeping up the staircase toward the place where he lay. Thomas knew he was being irrational, but still the thought preyed on his mind.
Then he heard the soft scurry of padded feet. His heart pounded in his chest, and he struggled to choke back his fear. Something furry brushed his leg. Sweat beaded on his brow.
Jumping up, he raced up the stairs and grabbed another torch. Its flame burned low and sputtered in his hand. With bated breath he descended into the darkness.
His eye caught a movement. “Rats.” He sighed. “I should have known.”
Though his fear abated with the knowledge, an unearthly presence still lingered in the air. At the bottom of the stairs, he found only the gaping doorway and darkness—nothing else. Giving the door a shove, he heard the satisfying click of the lock as it banged shut.
Maria’s knuckles were white as she yanked a brush viciously through her hair. Nothing was going right! Samoth had been there last night, but there had been no pleasure in his embrace. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her preoccupation.
“That bungling Melzar!” she stormed.
All Melzar had said when she’d questioned him about the prisoner was, “He isn’t healing as fast as he should. Each day he becomes covered with a deathlike smell, and each night his clothes have to be burned with fire.”
Her brow furrowed. I should have that old man executed! she thought vengefully. She managed a few more swipes at her hair. She was in such a foul mood that she had refused help in preparing for bed.
“The prisoner did not appear about to die!” she raged. “What is Melzar doing? Making him ill?” Suddenly she paused. “I’ll simply order the prisoner to be brought after he is properly cleaned tomorrow. That will put an end to this delay.”
She stopped and looked in the mirror. “But I can’t be defiled! Full moon is only two nights from now.”
Normally the thought of worship under the moon made her giddy with anticipation. Tonight it made her realize that she would have to wait several more days to see the one of her dreams.
“Well, I can wait. I don’t want to anger the gods.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, it gives me extra time to prepare.”
With that settled, she walked to her gown room. “Now, what should I wear?” Her eyes fell upon one of her most revealing garments. A slow smile spread across her lips. “Shame on you,” she whispered.
Melzar had managed to keep Thomas away from the Goddess of the Moon for several weeks. During that time, Thomas had cleansed much of the dungeon, and life had become easier for Melzar. Most cells were clean and tidy, and everything was in order. The smell in the dungeon had improved dramatically.
Thomas had recruited help from several cells and had persuaded Melzar to release these men into his care. Stanley was the first among the men Melzar approved to work about the prison with Thomas. Just this morning, Melzar had seen several men carrying pails of water to scrub a holding cell. True, the guards weren’t too happy about so many people roaming the halls, but even they had to admit that the odor was better, and nothing had happened yet. Just the same, they remained wary.
Days quickly ran together. One day as Thomas was making his rounds delivering bread and water to the prisoners, he noticed a man holding his thumb across his forefinger in the sign of a cross. It was the secret sign from the old stories. Stanley had remembered the sign and started its use after Thomas had gotten him released to a work crew. That sign let Thomas know who was safe to talk to and who wasn’t.
Thomas’s eyes met those of the prisoner making the sign, and he nodded. Carefully he dipped his ladle in the bucket and held the water near the man’s lips. Hidden by Thomas’s body and the ladle, the man whispered softly, “Beware the third man down, my lord. I think he suspects who you are.”
“Why would he want to harm someone who brings him food and water, cleans his cell, and eases his discomfort?” Thomas asked.
“He is devoted to ‘the Lady’ and loves her greatly. Word has reached us that she sent for you and you refused. There are those who think people who deny the Lady should be put to death.”
“Do they know Melzar is the reason for the delay?”
“It is suspected. Everyone knows his workload is less and conditions are better. If you remain here, it may go hard on him as well.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the prisoner in question began to yell, “Hey, what’s going on there? Don’t give him all the water.”
Thomas nodded his thanks, offered the water, and moved on down the line.
Thomas finished his duties in the cells and returned to Melzar’s quarters. He found Melzar reclining on his cot. “May I have a word, Melzar?”
“Certainly.” Melzar sat up and waved for Thomas to enter. “Is there something you need?”
“I need you to send me to the Ravenna,” Thomas said.
Melzar turned very pale. Glancing nervously around, he motioned Thomas closer. “My son,” he said, “if you reject the service of the Lady again, she will order your execution. You have become very special to me, and I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”
Thomas nodded. “You’ve told me that before, but there is talk in the cells that you are refusing to send me to her. If that becomes well known, your life will be forfeit. You must let me go to her before you are in danger.”
“A woman spurned is a fearful thing,” Melzar warned.
“You have not said exactly what it is she expects of me, yet you have said enough to make me wary.”
“I am frightened for you, my son. Have I not told you that all who cross her die a horrible death?”
“You have warned me,” Thomas replied.
“Yet you consider opposing her?”
“I must live with my conscience.”
“Then you are determined to go?” Melzar asked.
“Yes,” Thomas answered.
“Then you must be presentable,” Melzar said. “You must take a bath, and I will pick out the clothes you must wear.”
An hour later, the two men stepped into a corridor, and Melzar remained silent as he led Thomas past the guard station. Once they had traversed a long hall, his steps slowed as if he was reluctant to leave his charge. His eyes darted about, searching for listening ears. “The Lady desires men as a spider hungers for flies. She will devour you and reduce you to nothing. Look at the guards. They are mindless slaves, obeying her every command, lusting for her favors. At random, she gives them just enough to keep them wanting more.”
Thomas smiled at the man he’d come to love. “Melzar, I want to thank you for this warning.”
The old man began to tremble. “I shall be slain if the walls should repeat my words.”
“I would have learned the truth eventually, from others if not from you. Our heavenly Father reveals the truth to every man’s heart.”
Melzar frowned as they proceeded slowly down the long corridor. “Your words frighten me, my son. Who is this god who reveals secrets to men’s hearts?”
“He is the Lord Almighty,” Thomas said, “the creator of heaven and earth.”
“What kind of god is he?”
“Our Lord is gracious and merciful, giving freely and expecting nothing in return. He knows man is but dust.”
“How do you worship a god who expects nothing of you?”
“Religion tries to make man right with God. It offers penance and punishment, hoping to appease God. However, the Lord will not accept such human payment, for our righteousness is as dirty rags to Him, and our offerings are unholy. But the Lord sent His Son as a holy sacrifice, that whoever believes in Him should never perish but have everlasting life.”
“Tell me more!” Melzar demanded, excitement growing in his eyes.
“The Lord became flesh and dwelt among us. Completely divine, yet all man.”
“Like the Goddess of the Moon?” Melzar interrupted excitedly.
“No!” Thomas said firmly. “She is trying to build an empire on this earth by feigning deity, but Jesus left the wonders of heaven to become a servant. He took our sin upon Himself and suffered in our place. He came not to lord it over us but to give us life!”
Melzar stood quietly, trying to digest this information. “But I ask you again, how do you worship a god like that?”
“Our Lord became a servant, and we follow his example. When we humble ourselves to serve one another, we experience freedom from our selfishness. This is the highest praise and worship we can offer.”
“So, service is your sacrifice? That is what is required of you?”
“We serve not to purchase our salvation; rather we serve out of gratitude for the salvation Jesus has already given.”
“My heart is troubled!” Melzar said frankly. “The words you speak move me, but I do not know how to respond.”
“Yield to the conviction of the Holy Spirit. Accept what Jesus has already done. Cling to Jesus’s death and resurrection. Our heavenly Father will accept all who come to Jesus in faith. Salvation is a free gift to all who believe. Simply take the Lord at His word.”
The fear in Melzar’s eyes was replaced with wonder and amazement. “You mean I can be right with God, without the rituals of the Goddess?”
“Yes!” Thomas responded. “The rituals of religion only glorify and gratify the flesh. You cannot please our heavenly Father by participating in their practice.”
“Were you worshipping your God by cleaning the prison cells?”
“Yes, in part. You see, I believe the Lord has sent me here. I know you think Samoth brought me, and he did, but the Lord allowed it to happen. I have been able to share the Divine One’s love with many people here, but my time may be nearly over.”
Wonder grew in the old man’s eyes. “Can I have this same calmness of spirit that you possess?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “Place your trust in Jesus Christ, and He will give you peace.”
They had reached the top floor of the temple. The next flight of stairs led to the roof. Melzar touched Thomas’s arm. “We have spoken openly, but we can do so no longer. The Lady’s chamber is just down the hall, with guards about the door. Your time of testing is at hand. I will now bid you farewell, for I cannot do so at the door.”
They faced each other with eyes of admiration and deep respect. Melzar trembled as he spoke. “I hope your God is with you.” The men grasped each other’s shoulders.
Suddenly Thomas took Melzar’s hand in his own. He quickly formed a cross with Melzar’s thumb and forefinger. “This is a sign among believers here. If you flash this signal upon greeting someone and it is returned, you will have found a brother in Christ. They will support you in the coming days. I may not return, but there are others here who serve the Lord of heaven and earth. They will show you the way of truth and mercy. I pray the Lord will be gracious to you.”
Melzar studied the sign in his hand for a moment and then nodded. Stepping from the shadows, they continued down the hallway.