I am woken from another poor night of sleep, by the chirp of a bird sitting in the small square cutout of a window. I bring myself up off the damp cement floor to the window, as I do every morning, to peer out my cell window. I close my eyes and let myself feel the salty breeze from the ocean caress my face. I pretend I am back on the ship, sailing to new land. Opening my eyes again, I am reminded, I am still here in this prison. I grab my small rock in my window sill and walk over to the wall where I have marked the number of mornings I have been here. This dash will make it 7. I am starting my 7th day here. My beard is starting to grow; my hair mangled and filthy.
There is the morning slam of the dungeon door. The guard calls those of us down here something I can’t quite understand and tosses us a saucer with a chunk of bread and some unknown broth. “Guard! How much longer will I be prisoner?” I shout. He speaks in a language I do not know, French maybe, and then tells me “Silence. Or You’ll hang! Murderer!”
“I’ve done nothing of the sort!” I demand. The Guard banged his sheathed sword on my cell door,“One more word. And no trial!”
I make myself comfortable as one can be in a place like this, chewing on my stale piece of bread. Sitting against a wall starring at my window, I hear the prison door open. A hooded man, dragged down the hall by his arms with his feet bare running through the dirt, is tossed into the cell next to mine. I hear him groan in pain as his weak body hits the floor. Waiting until the guards are gone, I whisper through the small hold that runs between our cells. I imagine that it was created by the rats that run among my feet. “Hello, sir. Are you alright?” I hear another deep slow groan without a word. A moment later a small scroll of parchment appears in the small hole. “I cannot speak. My jaw was broken by the guards who came for me. They called me a liar and a traitor.” I whisper back to him “I’m sorry sir. They say I’m a murderer.” And before I say another word, the guard shouts, “Quiet, the lot of you. Or we’ll assume you’re traitors to the Crown. That comes with a worse punishment. The gallows!” I see a small stick of charcoal appear in the same hole. I say quietly “Alright, I guess we will converse with the use of parchment.”
“My name is Henry Ashford. I was abroad the Golden Voyager as the Gunnery Officer. Our Firstmate was found dead when we came to port. They said I did it.” I roll up the scroll and put it back into the hole. My prison mate takes the parchment. I can hear him unrolling and reading it, followed by rough scratching onto parchment.
“I am Johnathon Lockhart. I was picked up in the market by the Crown’s Army. I own a printing press. They claim I wrote slander about the King. They broke my jaw, beat me and dragged me here.”
We continued our correspondence for hours, until sunset.
Henry: “I’m sorry John, what lies do they claim you told?”
Johnathon: “Unsure to be honest. The death of his brother, Prince Henry seemed too coincidental.”
Henry: “Are you saying the King killed his brother in order to succeed him?”
Johnathon: “I’m not saying he did, I just mentioned the death seemed suspicious.”
Henry: “I’ve been at sea for too long. I have not heard much since my return to port.”
Johnathon: “How was your Firstmate killed?”
Henry: “They found him dead in his quarters. I say it appeared to be natural causes. He had been sea sick for a few days prior.”
Johnathon: “Why did they charge you for murder then if he passed naturally?”
Henry: “I was closest to the Firstmate. Our sleeping quarters were across the way from each other. Someone claims they saw me walk into his quarters late into the night.”
Johnathon: “Did he indeed die naturally?”
Henry: “I believe so. Captain however said he saw him slumped over his desk with foamy vomit coming from his mouth.”
Johnathon: “Poison. Someone must have poisoned him!”
Henry: “I don’t know how they would do such a thing.”
Johnathon: “Was there a surgeon aboard your ship?”
Henry: “Of course, there always is when we are transporting a High Class individual. That part was classified.”
Johnathon: “With those type of symptoms, he could have been given any number of things.”
Henry: “Our surgeon has a nice supply of herbs and flowers to help with pain. I would assume he would have known if anything went missing.”
Johnathon: “If you’re innocent, you should make your claim and call the surgeon forth.”
Henry: “They wont believe me.”
Johnathon: “Maybe not, but if you’re innocent, would you not want to try?”
Henry: “I want to try and get out of here!”
Johnathon: “We should get some rest.”
Johnathon ends our correspondence for the evening. He is right, we need to rest. I need to get out of this cell if I am to survive. Even if I tried to blame the Doctor, no one would believe me. I lay on the wool blanket, an arm tucked under my head, staring out my tiny window at the moon. What will I do? How will I ever get out of here?
I awoke to sun shining through my little window into my eyes. I get up to my feet and peer out my window at the ocean crashing into the cliff side. I want nothing more than to be at Sea and escape to that Southern Island.
Johnathon: “So you want to escape.”
Henry: “It won’t be good for me if I stay.”
Johnathon: “How do you plan to do this? It doesn’t look good for either of us.”
Henry: “Are you saying you want to help?”
Johnathon: “Yes. Let’s get out of here. I have a small boat that i keep hidden in a small cave down by the coast. If we can get to it, we can go.”
Henry: “Alright!”
Johnathon: “One last thing. I do need to know if you did indeed kill that man.”
Henry: “Sometimes, when someone is in the way of a promotion, one must do what must be done. I was given a large amount of gold to do it for someone.”
Johnathon: “So you took care of the Firstmate for someone else?”
Henry: “It will appear an accident when he went to the Surgeon for nausea and pain and took too much Wolfs Bane.”
Johnathon: “Very well. I will ask no more questions.”
That night, while to guard was fast asleep, we hatched our plan to escape. Johnathon appears to know the layout of the castle quite well. I have no choice but to trust him. We are both bound for the gallows at the next Sunrise after the coming morning. We must break out tomorrow night. Johnathon drew us a map of how we would navigate the castle tunnels. They have some secrets passages that lead down to the coast. We know when the guard comes and goes. We spent our day sitting around much like we do every day. As the sun is starting to set and the Guard comes for his final pass with our dinner ration of bread and broth, my prison mate sets the plan in motion.
“Hey traitor, get up!” the guard shouts. Johnathon doesn’t move. I tell the guard “I think something is wrong with him. You might want to check on him.”
He opens the gate and gives him a kick. I start to hear rustling, like two men fighting. All of a sudden a man, with a large cloak and the hood pulled over his head - I assume is Johnathon, pops out from his cell with the guards keys and unlocks my cell. He waves at me to follow. I see a dark shadowy glimpse of his face. His jaw appears to bruised, however it was so dark I couldn’t decipher if that was just the way the torch lights in the dungeon were catching his face. I grab the guards sword and his coat and hat. We tried out best to blend in.
We head out to the hall outside the dungeon and start making our way down a long straight pass. We eventually come to a set of stairs and we go up. Johnathon pauses while he takes a second to assess. We run down another long hallway until we reach a small door way. With a small spiral staircase. Much to my amazement, there isn’t a guard in sight. Where is everyone. After what feels like an hour of running, multiple sets of stairs and secret doors, I’m completely turned around. “Johnathon, are we lost? Are you sure this is right way?” He nods his head yes, and that’s it. He continues to wave me to follow him. Eventually we end up in a went tunnel. You can hear the sounds of the ocean. “Have we made it? To the coast?” I ask in excitement. Johnathon starts to run. I follow and start to run as well. We come to the end of the tunnel to be greeted by a gust of salty ocean air, the moon and a million stars and an unfamiliar feeling; freedom. I breath a sigh of relief.
We both stand for a moment, in silence. It is incredibly dark outside, however the moon puts on a beautiful display and lights up the beach, the ocean, and Johnathon. He turns to me and removes his hood. “Hello Henry.” Johnathon says in a very serious tone.
“Johnathon, you can speak!” I say in shock. “But… but, your jaw. I thought.. " puzzled I can’t put my words together. “I don’t understand.”
“Well you see Henry, I may be a printer, but I am also of high importance to the Crown. What some may call a Spy.” Johnathon says in the calmest tone.
“What? I’m quite lost. Was this all a ruse?”
“The Crown and it’s Army have been searching for a gentleman for quite some time. He has committed a few murders in the last year. You fit the description quite well I might say. And then you told me all about the murder of your First mate. You were aware of the potency of wolfs bane. You were the last one to see First Mate alive. You admitted to me, that you indeed were paid a pretty piece to complete this task. You are the man we have looking for. You have been on multiple ship crews with varying positions over the last year, and someone has died on each of those voyages. Henry, thank you for making my search a bit easier.” Johnathon stands there spilling all the details of my past year. I am at a loss for words. What do I do now? Run?
In a matter of moments, Red Coats on horses come racing down the beach. And at that moment, I realize, I was the fool. My prison mate was the rat. He was there the whole time for one purpose.
“You were only there for my…. my confession?” I ask quizzically.
“Yes, Henry. I was simply there to see if you were indeed the man we were searching for.” Johnathon says.
A man comes with shackles and places me inside a locked carriage. I close my eyes and try to lock in the moment I felt free with stars above and ocean air blowing against my face.
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