Gerald sat in his room, looking around. It was ten paces wide, little more than a dungeon. Three walls were made of stone, while the fourth consisted of iron bars that blocked his entrance, thus ensuring no privacy whatsoever. The bed was naught but a wooden pallet with a thin straw mattress upon it, and the only other furniture was a table and chair at which he could sit for meals. The prison had even provided a candle, which was useful as he was here mainly when it was dark out. The room boasted a single window, but it was high up, out of reach, and was barely big enough to admit sunlight.
Candlelight flickered, throwing shadows about the room as he stared out through the bars and across the hall to a similar cell opposite him. It was empty, but the sounds of snoring could be heard drifting through the prison.
He lay down and tried to sleep, but memories of Walpole Street haunted his thoughts. Things would have turned out far differently if only he hadn’t insisted on confronting Lord Walters!
A rattle of keys broke through his thoughts. Light from the open door to the guard room flooded the cells, causing at least one prisoner to groan in protest. Moments later, he heard the heavy footfalls of the head jailer, followed by a second set of feet, these softer.
"You've got a visitor, my lord," the jailer announced.
Gerald wiped away the tears, looking up to see Sophie carrying a basket with great care.
"I've come bearing gifts," announced Sophie as she entered.
"Call me when you're done," the jailer said, then left to give them some privacy.
Sophie placed the basket upon the chair and then removed the top. "Her Majesty wanted you to be comfortable," she said, taking a blanket from the basket and handing it to him. "This should help keep you warm."
Next came a wooden platter, and tankard, which she placed with care on the table. "You'd best come sit down for this," she said. "I've got some nice fresh sausages for you, courtesy of the Palace, along with some decent ale. We all know how much you dislike wine."
"I don't dislike wine," argued Gerald, halfheartedly, "I just prefer ale."
He watched in anticipation as she placed her hands back into the basket.
"Her Majesty also thought you might like something to read," she said, producing a book.
Gerald took the tome, examining its spine. It was a book of poetry, by Califax no less.
"Couldn't she send something with a more martial element?" he asked.
Sophie smiled, "She said you'd complain."
"And?"
"And I'm supposed to tell you the poems are all about war."
Gerald suddenly became acutely interested in the book. He opened it to see Anna's sure hand.
'For my father, Gerald Matheson,' it read, 'with all my love, Anna.'
Gerald wiped his eyes, muttering something about dust.
"Tell the queen," he said, his voice breaking slightly, "that I'm truly honoured by her gifts."
"She also said to tell you," Sophie continued, "that she's already at work raising funds for your release."
"Tell her she has to stop," pleaded Gerald, "the kingdom can't afford it."
"She'll do anything to get you out of here," argued Sophie.
"I know," he said, "but I can't have her throw everything away just to save me."
"She would argue that it would be worth it to have you back, you know she would."
"I do," he admitted, "but she's the queen now. She has bigger things to consider."
Sophie stood, lifting the now-empty basket. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" she asked.
"Thank you, but no," he said. "I'm afraid I'm not in much of a mood for visitors.
"I understand," said Sophie. She moved to the door, calling out for the guard. He appeared in due course, unlocking the cell. The maid paused in the doorway as she was leaving, looking back once more to Gerald.
"I'll bring you more food tomorrow," she promised. "Don't give up on hope, Gerald, it's all we have."
He stared back at her with a dull expression, merely nodding, and then she was gone.
The days became a blur. Each morning, at sun-up, he would be awakened to head out to work. Gerald remained Marshal of the Army, still having to interact with others in the performance of his duties, but it grew harder for him to return to his cell at dusk. The days were bearable, but the nights were intolerable; with no one to talk to, he became increasingly disheartened, withdrawing from life.
He had been serving his sentence for only a few weeks, yet it seemed like a lifetime. Gerald was used to seeing Anna each evening, but now, confined as he was to this cell, all he could do was sit alone with only his thoughts. Sophie would bring a meal each eve, but with other duties to attend to, she could stay but a brief moment and the queen was far too busy these days to spend time with him during the day.
With nothing to do, his thoughts turned to memories of the past. The face of Meredith would come to him, reminding him of how much he’d lost, and then the inevitable sense of anguish as he thought of his daughter Sally, taken at such a young age. Was this his torment, to forever relive the past?
As the days piled on, he grew more despondent, half convinced that he was living in the Underworld; his nights filled with anguish while his daytime became more of a chore to endure than the freedom it was.
They had shown him how much he earned, and how much was owed to the prison. Everything else, he was told, went to the Walters family, the price for the death of the nephew. By Gerald’s reckoning, he would have to live another one hundred and twenty years to pay off such a debt.
He was musing on this very topic one night when the jailer appeared rather unexpectedly at his door. Gerald looked up in surprise.
"Gather your things, my lord," the man said.
"Why," asked Gerald, "what's happened?"
"I was told your debt's been paid in full," said the jailer as he unlocked the cell.
Gerald gathered his belongings, meagre as they were.
"I don't understand," he sputtered, "are you telling me the crown paid my debts?"
"I'm not telling you anything," responded the jailer. "All I know is that you're to be released. Now come on, before they change their minds."
Gerald followed him through the prison, emerging into the darkness of night.
"Good luck to you," the jailer said, extending his hand. "I hope there's no hard feelings."
"Not at all," said Gerald, shaking the man's hand. "You've been most gracious, under the circumstances. Can you tell me who paid for my release?"
"Can't say as I can," said the jailer, "though I reckon that carriage over yonder might give you some clue."
Gerald glanced in the indicated direction to see an expensive carriage led by a team of jet black thoroughbreds. A man stood waiting beside them, watching Gerald bid farewell to his imprisonment. Gerald moved closer, soon recognizing the figure as he stepped into the moonlight.
"Jack!" said Gerald in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Hop in," the cavalier replied, "there's someone who wants to talk to you."
Jack opened the door, admitting Gerald, then climbed in afterwards. As Gerald took his seat, he noticed his fellow passenger was none other than Prince Alric.
"Your highness," he said in surprise.
"Gerald," said the prince, "so good to see you in such fine health, I’m only sorry it took so long."
"I still don't understand," said Gerald. "What are you doing here?"
"I recently returned from Weldywn," explained Alric.
"I didn't know you'd left," said Gerald.
"You forget the magic circles," the prince continued. "I had Albreda take me to Summersgate and met with my father, the king. When I told him of your predicament, he insisted on paying your debt."
"You did that for me?" asked Gerald.
"You helped our kingdom in our hour of need," explained Alric. "It's the least we could do. I only wish I could have been faster. It took longer than expected to round up the coins."
"But I'm the marshal," argued Gerald, "I cannot be beholden to a foreign power."
"And you won't be, don't you see? We consider this a repayment of our debt to you. We expect nothing in return, other than your devotion to Anna, of course."
"I don't know what to say," said Gerald, feeling overwhelmed.
"I know what you mean," said Alric, misinterpreting the marshal's confusion. "I find it hard to comprehend myself. Travelling from Wincaster to Summersgate now is a matter of a simple recall spell. Of course, you know what this means?"
Gerald looked at him, still in shock. "No, I don't," he confessed.
"It means," continued Alric, a smirk forming on his face, "that you and Anna can visit Summersgate for dinner and be back before bedtime. There's never been anything like this before in the history of our kingdoms!"
Gerald's head was spinning, trying to take it all in.
"Where are we going?" he finally asked.
"To the Palace to meet with Anna. She's hosting a meeting with the Nobles Council. I bet she'll be surprised to see you!"
"It is simply untenable, Your Majesty," said Lord Stanton. "We cannot have a criminal in charge of the army!"
"I might remind you," argued Anna, "that Lord Matheson is only in prison until his debt is paid. It is not your job, nor the responsibility of this council to appoint the Marshal of the Army. That is the sole prerogative of the sovereign.
Lord Stanton leaned back in his chair, wearing a smug look. "But think how it looks, Your Majesty. Is this the image you wish to project to your people."
"The people love their marshal," interrupted Baron Fitzwilliam.
"I don't remember asking you for advice," argued Lord Stanton, “and as a mere baron, you should know better than to interrupt me.”
Fitz smiled, "I'm still the acting Governor of Shrewesdale, am I not, Your Majesty?"
"You are," confirmed Anna.
Before Fitz could say more, there was a knock at the door, then a servant appeared, moving to whisper into Anna's ear.
"It appears we have visitors," announced the queen.
"This is a council meeting," declared Stanton, "and as such, should not be interrupted. We have important business to discuss with you, Your Majesty."
"Beverly?" Anna called.
Moments later, the door opened, and the red-headed knight poked her head in.
"Yes, Majesty?"
"Who's here?"
"Prince Alric," announced Beverly, "and two associates of your acquaintance. They say it's important."
Anna's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I think we can afford a moment for our new allies, don't you?" said Anna. She looked around the table but saw no objections.
"Very well, send them in."
Alric entered first, followed closely by Jack, as was expected.
Tempus suddenly sat up and barked, his tail wagging furiously as Gerald finally entered the room. The great dog even rose from his customary place beside the queen, trotting directly to the old warrior who halted to pet him on the head.
"Gerald!" called out Anna, not even trying to hide her glee. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"I'm free!" he announced.
"I don't understand," said Anna, "we haven't raised the necessary funds yet."
"My father insisted on settling his debt," offered Alric. "The Walters family are now paid in full."
Anna rose, making her way across the room to embrace her oldest friend, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
"I hardly think this is appropriate for a queen," complained Lord Stanton.
"With all due respect, Alexander," said Fitz, "you can keep your opinions to yourself."
Anna turned to her nobles, "It appears that fate has returned our marshal to us in a timely manner. This meeting is concluded. We shall reconvene tomorrow."
The nobles of the realm stood, bowing respectfully to the queen, then exited the room.
Anna waited till they had left, leaving only herself, Gerald, Alric, Jack and, of course, Tempus.
"It's finally over," she said.
"Not quite," said Gerald, "I need to apologize to you."
"Whatever for?" she asked.
"For being such a burden," he replied.
"You are never a burden," she said. "It was those that conspired against us that were the true burden of the crown."