Twenty-Four
I awoke to an almost perfect blackness and no idea where I was. All I was certain of was that it was dark and damp and somewhere that I didn’t want to be.
I’d been propped against a wall, my hands and feet tied, and my back soaked through with moisture from the coarse surface I leaned against. It was quiet, too. Only the sound of water dripping from above me cut through the hush of the space, hitting the stone floor and sending out frequent tinny echoes.
Pain shot through my head as I tried to move, a result of being hit in the face that had left me with a pounding headache and what I was certain was dried blood making the side of my face feel stiff and sticky.
I shifted around a bit, noticing that the rope that bound my ankles was looser than the one at my wrists, and tried shuffling my feet to see if I could break free. There was definitely room to manoeuvre.
“Help!” I yelled, hoping that I was close enough to civilization that someone would hear me. I continued to struggle against the binds on my feet as I shouted. The friction was wearing through my thin suit trousers and causing my ankles to burn and chafe but there was definitely more movement in my legs than there was before.
“Help!” I screamed again. I left a pause and fell still, trying to listen for noise or movement from outside. None came.
“Where the hell am I?” I wondered aloud. I was starting to panic trying to work out where Arthur might have taken me. It was broad daylight when he hit me and people were in the village. Someone must have seen him put me on a horse or into a carriage or something. Someone must be looking for me. What the hell was he playing at?
I brought my legs closer to my body and kicked and thrashed again with my feet. The ropes hadn’t given way enough for me to free myself but they had loosened enough that I was able to twist my feet. I put the back of one foot against the heel of the other and pushed hard. My wedding shoes were tied tightly but with enough force I was able to round one off the heel and push it off. This time when I began thrashing, my right foot escaped the bond and pulled free.
After a lot of wrangling, I managed to get myself onto my knees, and with no small effort, eventually onto my feet. With my hands still constrained behind me, I felt around on the slippery stone surface of the wall and began taking side steps along its length in a quest to find an exit.
“You’re going the wrong way,” a voice in the darkness spoke out, frightening me half to death.
“Who’s there?” I shouted, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to compose myself. “Arthur?”
“You won’t get out.”
The disembodied voice echoing around the room made me feel more uneasy than when I thought I was alone. Not knowing where he was or what he was doing filled me with genuine fear and I could hear my breathing get louder and faster as my heart beat overtime in my heaving chest.
“You could just let me go,” I said, hoping I might be able to reason with him. “This has gone far enough, don’t you think?”
Before the last words had even left my lips a rush of heavy, frantic footsteps filled the room. In a heartbeat he was upon me, screaming in my face. “TELL ME HOW IT WORKS!”
The hot air of his breath and spit covered my face and I recoiled, terrified by the sudden screaming that was shattering the blackened silence. I tried in vain to retreat but was firmly wedged between him and the wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I pleaded, and I could hear his footsteps stagger off as he disappeared somewhere into the cavernous space.
“The time for games is over, Mr Jacob.” His voice was calm again, distant.
“How long have I been here?” I asked, trying to divert the topic.
“Too long, already.”
“People will be looking for me.”
“Mr Griffiths, perhaps?” There was a snark to his tone that made me uncomfortable. “You’re a man of many secrets, aren’t you Mr Jacob? I heard you at the church. The two of you make me sick.”
His voice remained in the distance and I began edging along the wall again in the hope that if I could not see him, then he could not see me. If I could just find a door handle I might be able to free myself and get outside and start screaming for help until someone pays attention.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, taking another step right and being careful not to make a sound. If I could keep him talking I would have a better guess at where in the room he was lurking.
“Must we do this, Tom? Must we dance this dance where you act the fool and I hold the cards until you die of starvation?”
Was he capable of that? Unhinged he may be, but would he let me die?
I took another step. “What do you want to know?”
“The ring. How does it work?”
“I don’t know.”