Guards held Thomas upright in the doorway. Samoth glanced at the broken man but did not appear to recognize Thomas at all.
Maria was shocked. This man did not even resemble the man she had longed for! She dared not look into his eyes. Struggling to control her emotions, she asked the guards, “Has he recanted?”
“No, my lady!”
Anger suddenly filled Maria’s heart. Boldly turning to Thomas, she asked, “Don’t you see the power I have over you?”
Thomas raised his head, and from his battered face, his eyes met hers. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Dear lady, you would have no power if my Lord had not given it to you.”
Maria’s eyes turned cold, and deep furrows deformed the lovely lines of her face.
There was no defiance or anger as Thomas whispered, “Please, do not turn your back on the heavenly Father’s love. Yield to Him and find peace for your soul.”
The room grew silent. No one had ever addressed the princess so boldly.
Maria felt the color drain from her cheeks, and a deep pain settled in her chest. She wanted this man so badly she could not remain angry, but what of those watching? They were shocked by Thomas’s boldness. She dared not lose face before the guards or Samoth. She was, after all, divine.
Turning to Samoth, she suddenly realized that he was the answer to her problem. Looking back at Thomas, she asked, “So, you still want me to give up my throne and come with you to Amity?” She watched for Samoth’s reaction. She was sure he had not yet recognized her prisoner.
“Samoth,” she said, looking full into his face. “This Prince of Amity claims he is free while I am held prisoner.”
“Prince of Amity,” one guard whispered. “If I had known …”
Maria held out her hand for silence. “Let it be known that the Queen of Heaven is supreme. I shall continue to reign when this man is forgotten. Send him and his freedom to the oubliette!”
Shock registered around the room. The oubliette! Few had ever seen its dreaded door, but all had heard the stories.
Though others stood in dread silence, Samoth came to life. Recognition and hatred suddenly showed on his face and seemed to stir him into action. “I will toss this imposter through the door myself,” he whispered savagely.
Maria nodded her assent. “Thank you, my prophet!” She was glad the task was out of her hands.
Thomas caught Maria’s eye and spoke to her softly. “You may forget me, but the Lord Almighty will never forget you!”
Maria felt the color drain from her face, and Samoth snarled, “Get this scum out of here!”
The guards dragged Thomas into the hall, and Samoth shouted, “Hold him!” Jerking Thomas around to face him, he snapped, “Trying to steal my woman?” And with that his fist slammed into Thomas’s stomach.
Other fists flew. Men trained to hate Amity vented their wrath upon its prince. He must die, for he had rejected and humiliated their queen.
Finally Samoth fell away, exhausted. “Enough,” he panted. “Let him live to feel the terror of the dark door.”
Though the beating had come to a halt, the guards still hurled insults at their victim as they dragged Thomas down the hall.
The chamberlain’s quarters were near the guard station, and Melzar was startled by heavy pounding on his door. “Melzar, open up!” demanded a loud voice.
The old man, attired in the impeccable garb of the high court, opened the door to reveal Samoth and a group of guards supporting a limp and bloodied man.
Samoth stepped forward and shouted, “Jabin has appointed you keeper of the keys, and by command of the Queen of Heaven, this man is condemned to the land of the forgotten!” Even as Samoth spoke, the men around him withdrew in fear.
Melzar felt a bit dizzy as he turned to examine the prisoner. Who is this? he wondered. Suddenly Thomas raised his head, and his swollen eyes met those of his friend.
Melzar gasped. “What has this man done to deserve such a fate?”
“Why does it matter to you, old man?” Samoth said with a sneer.
“I do not readily hand out the keys to the darkened door,” Melzar said steadily. “It must be a very serious charge indeed.”
“He asked the Lady to leave her throne,” Samoth said. “We will put an end to such insolence. Quick, give us the key.”
Melzar scowled and fumbled through the many keys on his ring. Finally he withdrew a long black key, which he touched with loathing. Presenting it to Samoth, he said, “I cannot come with you. I have many pressing concerns. You may open the door yourself.”
Samoth seemed to recoil. “Give the key to him,” he said, pointing to the burly man who was holding Thomas. The big man scowled but took the key in trembling fingers.
Melzar turned troubled eyes upon Thomas. How could he lose such a friend? But wait! What was that? What was Thomas doing with his hand?
To Melzar’s surprise and great joy, he noticed that Thomas had crossed his forefinger and thumb to form a cross. The old man looked again into the face of his friend and saw a faint smile.
A strange boldness enveloped the old man, and with only a glance at Samoth, he crossed his own thumb and forefinger. Thomas and Melzar’s eyes met one last time, and Melzar’s heart leaped for joy.
The guards grew more pensive with each descending step, but strangely, Thomas gained new strength. He was familiar with these steps, and the stench did not render him afraid. Had he not traversed these steps countless times in his attempt to cleanse the prison?
The group moved more slowly with each descending flight, and those at the rear fled when they were out of Samoth’s sight. Only a very few reached the final flight of steps to the heavy iron door. Samoth’s torch flickered in the stagnant air. He stopped at the landing and held his torch aloft. “Take him down and unlock the door,” he commanded.
The men holding Thomas stood as if riveted to the floor. They felt a tug as Thomas began to lead the way. Step by step, they descended until they stood before the frightful door. The guard with the key could not move.
Thomas turned to him. “Let me,” he said, reaching for the key. A few moments passed as he fumbled with the lock, but everyone heard a loud click, and darkness swirled into the stairwell as the dark door swung open. A putrid odor poured onto the landing and began to climb the stairs.
The guards threw their weapons down and raced up the stairs toward Samoth’s light.
In the growing darkness, Thomas turned to face Samoth. “I pray you find forgiveness in the Lord Jesus!” Raising his hand in farewell, he turned and stepped into the darkness.
“Shut that door!” Samoth screamed. Two men rushed down the stairs and slammed the door. The earth shuddered, and thunder boomed up the staircase. The darkness began to dissipate, and Samoth’s torch once again shone bright.
“Give me that key,” Samoth demanded. The guards raced back up the steps and placed the key in his outstretched palm. Samoth glanced at the key and realized for the first time that his hands were stained with Thomas’s blood. Turning, he nearly ran up the stairs, hoping to find a wash basin to remove the last vestige of Thomas from his hands and his mind.
Maria tossed and turned beneath her covers. The night was young, but Samoth was already gone. His touch had left her cold and dissatisfied.
Tossing her covers aside, she leaped from the bed. At once she began to pace the room, feeling caged like some animal. She needed space, and when she spied the stairs leading to the roof, she instantly began to climb. She knew these stairs were only used on Holy Nights, but right now she didn’t care. She climbed rapidly and only paused for a moment at the door that led to the roof. Should she go on? Why not? Who could stop her?
Lifting the latch, she shoved the heavy door aside and slipped quietly out onto the roof. Everything was quiet. Tonight, eerie shadows greeted her with mock severity. Tomorrow night things would be so different. She would be met with bonfires, people, praise, and adulation. She would be the center of her kingdom’s attention.
She stepped quickly to the altar centered on the flagstone rooftop and rehearsed the ritual in her mind. Usually she felt exhilaration, but tonight everything seemed dull and absurd.
Trying to catch the thrill of former services, Maria climbed the altar’s rough stone steps and knelt to stroke an imaginary sacrifice. Virgin maidens would dance and keep time in a circle below. Suddenly Maria stopped, disgust filling her soul. “I can’t do this!” she cried.
Desperation filled her heart. She felt dirty and alone. Samoth was using her! Even this worship service reduced her to nothing more than a courtesan. Maria recoiled. Was she a deity or a laughingstock?
Bitter tears rolled down her cheeks. Falling prostrate upon the altar, Maria thought she heard a mournful wail far away. Her heart stood still. Had she only imagined it?
Visions of a handsome slave filled her mind. Could it have been …? Her mind reeled. Dreadful memories of Thomas’s battered face focused in her mind. She shuddered at the thought of his dark tomb.
Turning her eyes to the brilliant moon above, she cried out, “What have I done?” Sobbing, Maria laid her head on the rough stones of the altar. The moon kept silent vigil as she wept.
Finally, her tears spent, Maria raised her head and studied her surroundings. Nothing had changed. She was still alone. “I have nowhere to turn,” she said. “If I want power, I shall have to use my own. If I want counsel, I shall give my own. If I want comfort, I shall have to make my own!”
Resolve grew within her heart. Whether Samoth used her or not, whether she felt the thrill of worship or not, she would go on! She would persevere. “Tomorrow is a new day,” she said with growing conviction. “Tomorrow is my day.” Rising to her feet, Maria raised her fist to the moon. “I’ll show you! I don’t need you or anyone else. I can make it on my own!”
Far beneath Maria, in the depths of the earth, Thomas was fighting a battle of his own. He had been so bold when he could still see the light in Samoth’s hand, but when the door crashed shut, his world disappeared in darkness. He heard the key scrape in the lock and reeled at the finality of his sentence. Terror gripped him as he groped for the wall. What lay beyond him? He had never been able to see beyond the door, but he was quite sure a narrow ledge was all that separated him from a very deep chasm. What would happen if he stepped one way or another? Would he disappear into the caverns below as had all those he had brought here?
What of Melzar? Would he come to the rescue? Would Samoth even return the key? All questions faded as Thomas realized he could not stand in the darkness forever. Carefully he dropped to one knee and settled to the ground, all the while touching the door with one hand. He did not want to lose that door! Placing his back against the cold iron aperture, Thomas settled back to see what would happen.
In what might have been minutes or hours—time was impossible to determine—there grew the sounds of small, padded feet scurrying all around him. Miniature voices called to each other in a language of their own.
Thomas shifted his weight more firmly against the door. When he dropped his hand to the floor, it bumped a furry creature, which let out a frightened squeal. Thomas jerked his hand away.
Thousands of tiny voices took up the frightened cry, and Thomas joined the clamor. “Oh, Lord,” he shouted in desperation, “calm my fears!”
The cries of his unseen companions slowly subsided, and some sense of calm returned to Thomas. Maybe it’s nothing dreadful, he thought as he brushed his hand slowly around at his side. His fingers connected with a large furry object, and the creature darted swiftly away.
Rats, Thomas thought with disgust. He moved his feet gingerly, but nothing seemed to contend for the space about them. Rats must not like the edge of this cavern either, he thought to himself.
Thomas began to realize that he could not move without disturbing a growing number of rats that, like him, were clinging to the wall. Easing himself forward, he heard tiny feet rush past him in their haste to some predetermined destination. All was good until Thomas suddenly realized he had lost the door. Which way should he move? Not daring to make a mistake, he wrapped his arms about his knees and sat perfectly still.
He sat for what seemed like years, pondering his next move. The wounds inflicted upon his body hurt so badly, and here in the darkness there was no distraction to take his mind from the pain. Thomas thought of Melzar occasionally, but as time lapsed, so did his hope of rescue.
An endless stream of unseen visitors passed close to Thomas. When some stopped to investigate, Thomas swung his arms to rebuff them, but eventually he grew too weary for even that limited activity.
Drifting into an eerie slumber, Thomas dreamed of rats feasting on an endless procession of corpses. He could hear the rats’ laughter as they called to one another in their foreign tongue. Helplessly, Thomas watched lifeless men march down an endless stairway, plunging headlong into the abyss of the rat kingdom.
Suddenly Thomas saw his own face among those marching in the long procession. “No!” he tried to shout, but the line of men continued descending toward the abyss. “No!” he screamed again, but still they moved forward. The edge of the abyss loomed into sight, and unable to stop his own march, Thomas felt his stomach pitch as he fell headlong over the side. He imagined huge rats with forks and knives in their unwashed hands, and napkins about their necks, awaiting a signal from their king.
“No!” Thomas screamed as their sharp knives cut into his flesh.
Thomas awoke with a start to find that he was indeed surrounded by furry creatures. There was a sharp sting as another rat bit his leg. Thomas flailed wildly, and rats scattered. Kicking again, Thomas’s legs suddenly sailed into nothingness.
Grasping madly for something to hold, Thomas’s hands came up empty. His feet flailed as his body slid over the edge. A scream rent the darkness.
Silence settled upon the cavern, until once again the soft pad of tiny feet could be heard moving toward a feast already in progress.