Page 6 of Beholden
Although I didn’t agree with Curly’s methods, I couldn’t condemn him. Even though the truly dangerous criminals were locked away in the queen’s dungeons, desperation and despair oft led people to do things they wouldn’t normally consider. And Curly’s control prevented anarchy.
The overseers doled out our rations and made certain we followed all the rules. The armed guards ensured that we didn’t try to revolt. But neither the overseers nor guards went down into the mines if it could be helped, which made Curly’s leadership all the more important.
“Come,” I said gently to Alice as I knelt beside her and slid my arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home for the night.”
Home. The very word brought a painful lump to my throat. While I missed many things about Rockland, more than anything I missed my father. After he’d died, the grand castle with its many outbuildings didn’t feel like home anymore. Once the Duchess of Burgundy and her two daughters had arrived to oversee Rockland, I felt like a stranger there.
“Ah, my lady,” Alice replied as I lifted her to her feet, her breathing finally even again. “I ought to be helping you, not relying upon you for my daily needs.”
“Nonsense. We must lean upon each other. ’Tis the only way to truly survive.”
If only I’d never said anything to the duchess about my faithful servants. Instead, I’d beseeched her for their well-being, asked her to show them mercy. Rather than granting my request, she found twisted pleasure in hurting me even further by expelling Benedict and Alice from service and accusing them of stealing from Rockland’s coffers alongside me.
I berated myself every day since then for being so foolish, although I suspected my two faithful servants would have come with me anywhere, regardless of my protests. They’d been like grandparents, stepping in whenever my father traveled, bestowing upon me all the love I’d ever needed. And now they were suffering on my account.
“I’ll go see if I can find anything for us to eat.” Benedict wearily regarded the dozen or so thatched huts that made up our village at the top of Ruby Mountain. Only rotting stumps remained of the pine, hemlock, and firs that had once graced the level area. Now the surface was barren and rocky from all the crushed stone we brought topside every day in an effort to meet our daily quota of digging.
“Thank you, Benedict.” I suspected he’d come home empty-handed as he had the last time. Even if one of the other slaves had an extra piece of fish or bread they were willing to sell, we had naught to exchange in payment. We’d long since used up the few commodities of value we’d been allowed to bring into slavery, and we owned nothing anymore.
From the frustration etched into Benedict’s once-distinguished face, he realized the futility of his search as well. And yet, he cared too much about Alice and me not to try to find something for our meal. Perhaps he would pledge his own rations away as he’d done last time.
Alice hobbled next to me as I led her away from the mine entrance. Once I settled her in the hut we shared with several other slaves, I made my way through the growing darkness toward the infirmary. Without any medicine or pain relief, the best I could do for the sick was offer them water and what little food was available. Most of the time, I simply sat at their sides, held their hands, and sang to them. It wasn’t much, but kindness was oft the best remedy for an ailment.
Shouting from the overseers at the edge of town drew my attention. A man dangled from a broken slat in the bridge. More than half of the wooden step had vanished, having dropped into the ravine hundreds of feet below. And now the unfortunate newcomer was about to follow suit.
“No,” I whispered as my father’s voice echoed in my head:“If someone is in need, ’tis better to try to help, even if you fail, than never to try at all.”
I couldn’t just stand by and watch someone fall and die.
Frantically, I glanced around for something—anything—I could use to rescue him. But our town had naught to boast of except hardship and barrenness.
I stumbled forward regardless, tripping over the rocks and nearly falling in my haste to reach the bridge. All the while, I untied the rope around my waist that served as a belt for my mining tools. It wasn’t long, but it was something.
One of the newcomers, a thickly muscled man who’d already crossed the ravine, was straining against the hold of the overseers and several other slaves. “Release me! I shall go back for him.”
Curly was one of the men attempting to contain the newcomer. “If ye be stepping on the bridge and getting it moving, yer friend won’t be able to hold on.”
“He won’t be able to hold on as it is!” The man lunged, causing the four or five men at his sides to have to wrestle him back.
Making full use of their distraction, I approached the bridge. As I stepped lightly onto the first slat, I held my breath and hoped the ropes wouldn’t sway too much. I was lithe and lightweight, especially after toiling in the mine pits for the past months. If anyone could cross without swaying the bridge, I was the most likely to do so.
I tiptoed several slats in before Curly’s anxious command beckoned to me. “Gabi, ye get back here right now, d’ye hear me?”
“You know I am the best choice to make such a rescue,” I called over my shoulder.
“No one can be helping him but himself! Now get on back here.”
I took another delicate step, praying fervently I wouldn’t cause the man to lose his grip. His knuckles were white, but he seemed to have a strong hold, one hand on the broken slat and the other on the cord that ran the length of the bridge. If only I could toss my rope out to him so he had something sturdier to cling to.
As I continued my tentative walk, my thoughts strayed to the day I’d arrived last autumn, to how frightened I’d been to cross the bridge. With each step I’d taken, I hadn’t been able to block out the terrible rocky gorge that lay far below. Not only had I feared I’d slip and fall to my death, but I feared crossing to the other side would lead me to the bowels of death itself, to a future so different from anything I’d known that I couldn’t fathom how I’d survive.
Of course, my new life was as hard—perhaps harder—than I’d imagined. Yet even though I’d lost everything, I still had so much to give, especially kindness.“Kindness is a commodity one can never use up.”I recalled more of my father’s advice.“And kindness is a commodity that will always be in demand.”People around me needed it in abundance every day. Like now...
“Hold on,” I gently urged the dangling man. Drawing closer, I could see he wasn’t a man after all, but a lad of twelve or fourteen. What had he done to earn a place in the mine pits? Likely not much. Very few in Slave Town were true criminals. Most were simply victims in a land where justice rarely prevailed and mercy was nonexistent.
Only six slats away now, I met the young man’s gaze. His pupils were dark and wild with fear.
“I shall throw you this rope, and I want you to use it along with the side of the bridge to heft yourself back up.” And while he did so, I’d pray for the strength to hoist him. “Do you think you can do that?”
