The New Life

a novel by Mark Robert Whitten

Chapter 12

Jess kept his eyes ahead on the dusty road. Father told him that they would reach the city within the next day. For Leslie's sake, Jess hoped he was right.

They came upon the final sight sometime after noon. It was unlike anything Jess had ever seen. The massive lake stretched on forever, the sunlight reflecting off its glittering surface like a thousand gold pieces winking at him in secret promise. Jess had never seen so much water in one place. It was as if the gods themselves had wept a torrent of tears for all their lost friends. There seemed enough liquid in that one place to fill a valley.

As the road drew them closer, Jess saw what appeared to be small boats bobbing on the surface of the great lake. He wondered who might be on those boats, what they were doing and what it would be like to be out there. Jess shook the musings from his mind; he had to find Leslie.

As the road turned alongside the lake Jess forced himself to look ahead. There were a great many people about, some traveling the road in wagons or on horses, others making their way on foot. The wheat fields surrounding the roads waved in the wind, a golden reminder of summer's impending end. Jess soon understood why the city of Millsburg was so named. Standing amongst the wheat were several mills, their owners no doubt preparing for the harvest. The great arms of the windmills spun slowly in the breeze, waving lazily like the wheat itself. Jess scratched his head. The place seemed peaceful enough. In a way, it reminded him of home.

As the lake-born breeze whistled through the fields and the sounds of birds he didn't know rang out, Father nudged his arm and Jess saw him gesturing ahead. As he looked to where father pointed, he saw something strange in the distance.

It looked like a wall.

The fields soon gave way to the structure. It was indeed a wall and as they drew closer, Jess realized it was the destination they sought. After three days of steady travel, they had finally arrived in Millsburg. Jess swallowed his fear. The wall wasn't like the one surrounding Westwood; where their town wall had been posts of rough hewn timber, the wall he saw now looming before him was of stone. Men in uniforms holding spears and crossbows walked along the top, patrolling between towers. Jess was in awe. He tilted back in his seat as they made their approach, trying desperately to take it all in. He felt so small before the obstacle. He didn't know what he was doing. He had come to save Leslie from a castle and now found himself intimidated by the mere wall of the city. Terror gripped him as he spied the sunlight glinting off the helmets of the soldiers. He hoped they didn't seem him.

"Eyes front, son."

Jess barely had time to heed his father's words before the gate closed in on him. He watched helplessly as they passed through the stone portal, the people on either side of the wagon crowding them in, making him feel even more trapped as the shadow of the wall-gate swallowed everyone.

The city of Millsburg was beyond anything Jess had ever beheld. Even the wall they had passed through couldn't truly compare to what he now saw. Buildings the equal of any in Westwood loomed about him, stretching off into the distance while crowds of people, enough to fill his hometown more than twice over shuffled about the streets with room to spare. Jess had never known a city could be so vast. The street itself was made of paved stone, and the sound of horse's hooves as they passed gave an oddly pleasant echo as they made their way deeper into Millsburg.

Jess wanted to look at everything, to talk to everyone, but as he glanced ahead, his wonder was stolen, replaced in an instant with a sickening dread. The sight of it took his breath. It towered over the entire city, blocking out half the sky with its hulking white might. Jess swallowed hard at the image waiting at the end of the road.

The Duke's castle.

Jess' jaw hung agape. In all his life, he had never known anything could be so big. Even the tallest of trees would have seemed small compared to the castle. They were on the opposite side of the city and already Jess could sense the evil of the place.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Jess turned to the source of the voice. He found an old woman walking along beside their wagon. She was smiling as she stared at the distant castle. "I've lived here my whole life and I still feel a chill whenever I look upon the Duke's great castle."

Father pulled the wagon over, letting men on horses thunder through the street. The woman stopped as well. She was still staring at the castle. It seemed strange to Jess that the woman would call the place beautiful. It occurred to him there might be men about that listened for talk against the Duke. Jess minded himself, lest he be taken prisoner for thinking bad thoughts.

"What's it like in there?" he heard himself ask.

For the first time, the woman took a good look at the two of them. "You're not from around here, are you, boy?"

Jess shook his head. "We're from the country."

The woman nodded. "Country folk are always welcome, but I should warn you, there are people here that can't be trusted." Her smile warmed her face, making her previous statement seem untrue. "I'm sorry dear; I didn't mean to frighten you." She drew her shawl up around her shoulders. "It's just there are some people around who don't like strangers."

Jess didn't know what she meant and found he didn't really care. He had business with the castle and no stranger-hating people were going to stop him. Jess gestured ahead as people ambled by. "Can people just go in, then?"

The woman chuckled. "Well, of course, dear. The business of Millsburg is done there. Courts, trials and hearings, disputes and all manner of things are settled there everyday."

Jess realized the castle was like the manor house of Westwood. Of course the sheer size of both the city and the castle made their hometown seem like a stable. Jess felt dizzy at the prospect of entering such a place. "Well, we-we uh, we have to go," he told the woman. "Thank you."

"Oh, you can't go in now, dear," the woman said. "It's almost nightfall. The castle closes its doors after dark." She laughed softly. "Why, you wouldn't make it halfway there before everyone locked up for the night."

Jess felt his hopes sinking. He wouldn't be able to save Leslie until tomorrow. He didn't know if she would be all right for another day. Jess knew there would be no one to help her. Leslie was alone in that awful place. He turned desperately to his father.

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

Father let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I guess we can find a place to stay for the night. We can probably make it inside by tomorrow."

"I have a place," the woman offered. "An inn; The Sleeping Pig. My son runs it. It's very affordable for people just coming into the city."

Jess nodded. "That sounds good."

He looked to his father for approval. The curt nod he received was enough and the woman led them down the road toward a stable for their horses.

The inn was empty. A few women in plain brown servant dresses wiped down tables, and Jess saw a young man about Ellie's age sweeping the floor. Other than the few old men in a corner booth, smoking and talking quietly, the place was empty.

The Sleeping Pig was a quiet place. The fireplace lent an eerie glow to the room, as soft music wafted to him from the strings of some strange instrument played by a man on a small stage at the other end of the room. A rotund man about his father's age wiped down a counter and barked orders at the young man as he watched them approach. Jess felt out of place dealing with strangers, but with his father right ahead of him, he knew that he was safe.

As father inquired about rooms, Jess let his gaze slide lazily around the place. He had been in shops in Westwood before, and even inside the manor house on the hill, but few of the places in Westwood matched the size and beauty of this simple inn.

The floor was worn wood, clean and smooth and the tables were large enough to seat several men. He could only imagine what the place must look like when they were busy. Father rested a big hand on his shoulder.

The older man behind the counter called out to the young man sweeping the floors. "Henry!" He pointed at the two of them. "See them to their room."

Henry nodded and, handing his broom to the nearest servant woman, strolled past. He looked back at father and smiled. "This way, sir."

Jess followed his father up the stairs to a hallway. They stopped in front of an old door. The wood looked ancient and the paint had faded, but as they entered, they found the room a pleasant enough place.

"Supper will be ready in an hour," Henry told them. "Lamb stew, if you care for some."

Father nodded and Henry looked down at Jess. "Hungry?"

"Y-Yeah."

Henry smiled back. "I'll bring you some stew and bread when it's ready."

As he left, Jess sat on one of the simple straw beds and watched father fill the wash basin. As he washed up, Jess heard him grumble about the water being too cold and complain about the price of the room. Jess didn't know how much they had paid but he decided it would be worth it for a chance to save Leslie. He didn't say it of course; father liked his rants to be uninterrupted.

The night at the inn was peaceful and except for the occasional muffled argument, no sounds came from below. The meal was brought to them and Jess savored the lamb stew; it was their first real meal since they had left home. Dry biscuits and meat were fine once in a while but the black bread they were given was a bit more satisfying. Jess almost wished he were brave enough to ask father for a taste of his ale but he didn't want to push his luck. He settled with his cup of cider, contented that it was sweet and helped wash down the bread.

Their supper finished, they crawled into bed and before father blew out the candle, Jess asked him if he really thought Leslie would be all right.

"Jess, that girl will be just fine. If you don't stop worrying and get some sleep, she's not gonna want to see you."

Jess nodded and allowed his mind to drift. He was asleep in minutes.

* * * * *

They were awake before dawn, neither wanting to delay another moment. When father tried to shake him awake, Jess had clung to sleep until father reminded him of Leslie. After that he was ready in a minute. By the time they pulled onto the street there were already a great many people out and about. Shop people opened their windows, hawkers roamed calling out their wares and the city took on the bustling sounds of life.

Jess guessed they had arrived during a market day. There were all kinds of things available, from apples and pears, to beef and chickens and the food was the least of it. Jess saw more assortments of cloth, trinkets, pottery, metalwork and leather than he ever thought could exist. The whole city seemed a place of infinite wealth. With so much to sell, buy and trade, Jess began to wonder if maybe they had a market-day everyday.

He leaned back in his seat, yawning as he stretched out his arms. He decided he would ask Leslie about the city when they saved her. She would know. As his thoughts refocused, Jess gazed ahead, towards their final destination.

As they rode onward, the morning light splashed over the castle, setting it in a dark shadow. The sight stole his breath. He didn't know how they would get Leslie out of there, but he knew that they had to try.

The crowds parted, allowing their wagon to pass. Jess let his mind wander, thinking about all the times he and Leslie shared. He had learned to read because of her and as they passed the many shops, Jess busied himself with reading the signs. Most held only a symbol, an herb leaf for an herbalist or an anvil for a blacksmith but as they neared the castle, the symbols gradually turned to fancy words. He read a few personal signs, most for dressmakers or inns. The shops in Westwood were fine but the ones he saw now were unlike any he had ever known, with large glass windows for displays of dresses already made. Jess always thought dresses were made in the home. You could only buy the cloth and make them; he didn't really understand how you could be sure the dress was the right size if it was bought already made. He made a promise to remember to ask Leslie about dresses when he saved her. Of course the shops weren't the only things that impressed him. The houses were even more magnificent. Jess wondered who would live in such fine places and why they would need such large homes. Rich folk were always spending money on things they didn't need, father often said, but Jess figured they must need the spare room for all their servants. He wondered what it would be like to serve a family of wealthy merchants, and wear fine livery, run important errands, be paid a handsome wage and know you had an important future.

It occurred to him that he wasn't offering Leslie much of a future. Father had brought him all the way from their home to rescue her, but, if they succeeded, she would be back on their simple farm. There wasn't much else for them. They would probably both grow old working in other people's fields.

But they would be together. Jess reminded himself that Leslie wanted to be with him, that she liked the farm. He instantly recalled her easy laugh, her smile and the way she always seemed to make the ordinary tasks of life tolerable, the boredom less severe. He wondered if he was really going to save her because she needed him and worried that maybe he was going to save her for himself.

As he shook away his doubts, Jess returned his eyes to the street. The castle suddenly loomed overhead, the towers standing tall and white against the blue sky. As his gaze meandered up the face of the fortress, he felt the chill wind freeze his blood. Leslie was somewhere inside the castle, no doubt in some stinking dungeon. He ran a hand back through his thick hair as he wondered how they would find her in such a place. As he considered each possible plan, they came upon the ramp, a great sloping piece of solid grey stone that led directly into the castle. The wagon lurched back as they began their ascent. Jess held tight to his seat, lest he fall back into the wagon bed as he felt himself being pulled to his doom.

Many other people on horses or foot walked up the ramp. There was even a coach or two carrying someone important. He couldn't see through the covered windows, but it was still a sight to remember. As the group strode toward their common destination, Jess wondered who those people were coming to save. Some people held objects wrapped in cloth—gifts, he guessed, for the Duke. He remembered then what he had brought and wormed his fingers into his pocket. He sighed in relief.

The coin was still there.

Holding tight to his one hope, he steadied himself and finally, after days of travel, terror and dreaming, they looked upon the opening to the castle.

Jess remembered Leslie telling him about the castle, about how the ramp led to a chasm called a moat and how the bridge that spanned it doubled as a door for the keep.

True to her word, the ramp ended abruptly and Jess saw the chains to each side attaching the great bridge to the stone of the keep were thick and dark. He imagined those chains binding Leslie to this terrible place. His stomach tightened as the sound of the horses changed from the sharp clack of hooves on stone to the soft thunk as father set them onto the wooden bridge.

Jess peered across the side and caught glimpses of the chasm twenty feet below, its bottom glistening in the midday sun. The river Dundry had flowed all the way to this forsaken place and a small part had been diverted to further separate the castle from the town. Jess couldn't imagine how anyone could ever reach the castle without being invited.

He looked ahead once more and was startled to find the castle's great maw bearing down on them. Sharp fangs protruded from the alcove above, pointing down at them as the passed through the gatehouse. Jess knew they were the tips of something that Leslie called the portcullis and that it was lowered in times of siege. Jess didn't understand how the thing worked exactly but it certainly looked menacing, like the fangs in the maw of a beast; a beast that was now swallowing them.

He knew that if it lowered behind them, they would never escape.

As father guided the wagon in, Jess looked back to see the great gate still stood open. The easy part was over; they were inside. The difficulty would be found in getting out.

The surrounding crowd slowed to a stop, the people looking about for some direction. A man grumbled about everything taking so long and some of the women started chatting about what they needed to pick up at the market that day. Jess wondered if any of them felt as scared as he did. Father nudged him then and motioned near the main entrance. A man had appeared. He looked important, descending the splay of granite steps in his fine clothes and as he strode toward them, many of the surrounding folk quieted.

"All supplicants wishing to see the bailiff will please follow me." He strode away without another word. Jess hopped down and started after him. Hope lightened his steps; he was finally getting his chance to save Leslie. The other supplicants jostled him as they passed. No one apologized and Jess glared up at them as they continued. They were heading towards the entrance to the main keep, the great doors at the top of wide stone steps standing open as if in invitation.

He wished Leslie were there with him.

The entry room was vast behind anything Jess had ever seen. The whole place seemed to stretch on forever and as he moved towards the end of the room, he could see by the light from the windows that the inside of the castle was vastly different from the outside.

The walls were warm wooden paneling that reflected the soft sunlight and the floor was a hard polished wood covered with a thick rug. Jess expected the place to be stone. Much of it was as comfortable as the inn where they spent the night and as he stared up to the ceiling, he craned his neck to take it all in. It looked to be as high and endless as the open sky. Jess watched the wooden beams intently, half-expecting to see birds nesting.

The place seemed so vast and impressive that it made Jess felt like an ant. He felt himself run into something soft and thick. He staggered back as the man in front of him straightened and glared down at him. Jess smiled an apology and the man resumed his steps toward the opposite end of the room. Father nudged Jess on and he followed the man, being more careful this time to keep his distance.

Voices were hushed but Jess distinctly heard someone of authority speaking. He couldn't tell what the man was saying but he figured he was the one in charge, judging by the tone. Jess peaked around the line of people and saw a heavy-set man sitting before a large oak desk. He knew by the papers stacked up around him and the people milling about that he was an administrator and the guards to his sides made the impression even more obvious.

Clutching the package under his arm, he pulled the coin out of his pocket. It glinted, winking at him in the sunlight coming through the open doors. He was so close after so long. He only had to wait.

The hour passed slowly and when he finally approached the large desk, confident that he knew by now what to expect, the man was writing something in a ledger. His head was bent down as he concentrated on his task so he didn't notice Jess' approach.

As Jess shuffled to a stop, he wondered what he was writing. Maybe it was a slip of paper to order the release of a prisoner—or maybe an execution. He swallowed hard as the man finished whatever it was he was writing and glanced up.

Jess smiled. He knew this would be exactly like the magistrate back in Westwood. He bowed and began speaking. "My name is Jess, sir. I've come in search of—"

"Oh!" a voice from beyond the desk called. Jess looked past the bailiff to see a woman just entering a doorway. "So you're the infamous 'Jess.'"

Jess stood stunned. How could she have known his name? He didn't understand that word—infa-something—but he understood that the woman knew him. Her voice carried a hint of mild wonder and as she strode towards him, she beamed with a bright smile. Jess backed up against his father as the woman stopped in front of them, extending her hand. "Hello. I'm Judy."

He took her hand somewhat gingerly, releasing it after a moment. She stood there, hands clasped in front of her exquisite dress, with a bright smile on her pleasant face. Jess could tell by the woman's fine dress that she was someone of great importance. As he peered tentatively up at her, he noticed that her nose looked a bit too big for her face and her kind features were framed by dark, reddish hair that draped about her shoulders. Jess still couldn't imagine how she could have known his name but he realized the Judy-woman meant him no harm. Her smile was warm, like Leslie's. Jess wondered if he would ever see his friend smile like that again. Jess reprimanded himself as he put those thoughts aside; he had to keep a level head if he was to get her out of this place.

He looked up into the woman Judy's amber-colored eyes—eyes that held no promise of returning his friend. He didn't know what to ask, what to demand to make her let Leslie go; he only knew that he wanted her back and he was willing to give anything for her.

He held out the coin as she opened her mouth to speak. She frowned instead and, taking the coin, asked him what it was. "Gold," he said simply. "Leslie took it from you." He sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm returning it to you."

"Thank you," she said, seeming not to understand. As she handed the coin to the administrator, she turned back to him, smiling. "Well, would you like to see her?"

Jess felt his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. "Yes!" He winced back at the sound of his own shout as it echoed around the room. "Sorry. Yes. I-I would like that very much."

Judy waved off his apology and led him towards the door. Father followed closely behind him as they proceeded into the castle proper. Jess watched the swish of the Judy-lady's skirts as she strutted across the expanse of floor and disappeared through the open doorway. He followed her through and found the hall to be much the same as the audience hall. He expected torches in scones set on stone walls, the smell of flaming pitch to assault his nostrils as water dripped down around his feet. He found instead warm paneled walls and hardwood floors covered with soft carpets all illuminated by candles and oil lamps in some places and great sheets of glass allowing in the sunlight in the grander hallways. Silver plates set behind the candles reflected their gentle glow around the hall providing even more light while open windows let in the sun where they could. The whole place had an airy welcoming quality, not at all like a dungeon.

As they moved along, Jess wondered who the woman leading him really was—he saw more than a few servants curtsy or bow to her as they passed, so he knew that she was important.

He also wondered how she had known his name.

A chilling thought occurred to him: Maybe they had gotten his name from Leslie.

Jess had heard stories of what the people in castles did to prisoners. He knew that torture was often used as a means of gathering information and he realized that when they tortured Leslie, she must have told them everything. His stomach roiled with worry over what they had done to her to make her talk. Jess thought he might be sick over what condition they would find her in and if she would even survive the trip home.

After a few tense minutes of walking, Judy turned to ascend a staircase. Jess hesitated. He thought they should be going down to a dark dungeon but as he followed the Judy woman higher into the castle, the sights became ever more elaborate. Jess took in a myriad of tapestries hanging on the walls, depicting scenes of great battles and people he couldn't know. He saw elaborate couches and chairs and several servants going about their business replacing flowers in vases and sweeping carpets and polishing furniture. He wondered which tasks Leslie had undertaken when she first lived in the castle and hoped they didn't make her do anything degrading. Jess ground his teeth at the thought of Leslie being made to empty chamber pots and being whipped by the kind-looking woman for failing to curtsy properly. Jess couldn't imagine Leslie curtsying to anyone and the thought of this haughty woman hurting Leslie for not doing it right made his blood boil.

Judy smirked over her shoulder at him. He forced a smile as she led him down another hall and up another flight of stairs. Jess rushed to keep up the whole way; his legs burned from the effort of keeping up with her until finally, after turning down several corridors and passing more rooms than Jess could even count, Judy stopped before a door and knocked softly.

No one answered.

"Leslie?" Judy called. "Are you awake?"

Jess felt his blood run cold. He held his breath. The silence was deafening. Judy called again. "Leslie?" There was still no answer. When Jess came forward a step, Judy looked down at him and smiled. She called again. "There's someone here to see you, Leslie!"

"I don't feel well," came the muffled reply. "Please leave."

Jess froze before the door. He knew that voice. "L-Leslie?"

A moment passed before the voice responded. "Jess?!" The sound of footsteps padded towards the door. Jess braced himself as the sound grew closer, more urgent. He bit his lower lip in anticipation as he watched the door-handle turn. The door creaked open. Jess gasped aloud at the hammering of his heart, the blood pounding in his ears.

The door swung open wide revealing a girl. As he caught sight of her, Jess let out a cry of blessed relief.

It was Leslie.

She stood there, still as stone, her almond-shaped eyes wide. Jess laughed.

He'd done it.

He'd found her.

"Leslie!"

Leslie rushed forward. "I thought I'd never see you again!" She flung herself into his arms, clutching him tight. He dropped the package with her dress and wrapped his arms around his best friend, his fear for her safety finally extinguishing in the warmth of her embrace. He held her tight as they both wept. He wanted to say so much, to tell her how scared he had been, but at that moment, words seemed meaningless.

He heard her gasp as she wept into his shoulder. "Oh, Jess, I missed you so!"

Jess stood holding her, afraid to let go lest she fade away. The smell of her hair was wonderful. She felt so soft, so warm. He could hear her whimpering against him, crying softly and whispering over and over again how much she had missed him.

She finally released him and stood back to look him over. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her wonderful smile. He stared into her eyes, her bluish-green eyes that sparkled like the pond on a clear day.

Everything seemed right again.

He bent down to retrieve the package containing her dress. As he plucked it up, he stood awkwardly brushing the road dust from the wrapping. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Mother wanted you to have this…"

As he apologized, his heart racing from the thrill of being reunited, he caught sight of something he hadn't noticed before: Her hair was long.

It flowed down past her shoulders in shining, golden waves.

"L-Leslie…" he stammered, pointing at her golden locks. "W-what happened to your…?"

It was then that he looked down the length of her. His eyes took in the dark blue of her dress—the finest dress he had ever seen—much finer than the one he had returned to her. The white horse stitched on the front had great feathered wings spread out like a bird in flight and while the layer of road dirt smeared across the front tainted its beauty, Jess realized she had only received such filth by hugging him a moment ago.

Jess looked from Leslie, to Judy, to his father and finally back to his best friend. "What's going on?"

Leslie averted her gaze. "Jess, there's… something I've been meaning to tell you…" She hooked a lock of hair behind an ear but didn't look him in the eye. "I'm not a thief," she began, "And I don't work here, exactly."

Jess blinked. He felt his mouth go dry. He knew he was on the verge of hearing something very important but he was afraid to ask what it was—he didn't think he wanted to hear it. "But those people took you, Leslie. The soldiers—"

"They weren't soldiers, Jess. They were bounty hunters."

"I-I don't…"

"They took me because my father paid them to bring me back… here." She bit her lip, as if bracing herself for something.

Jess frowned. "Your father…?"

"The Duke." Her bluish-green eyes met his with a gaze that sent shivers thorough his soul. "The Duke is my father, Jess. He paid the bounty hunters to bring me back here because… this is where I live." She stood taller then, her shoulders squared and her back arched as she faced him fully. "My family owns this castle. Duke William is my father." She took a deep breath and delivered the rest, destroying him. "And my name is not Leslie Wilkins," she said. "It's Leslie Burke."

Her words hit him like a slap. Jess felt them more than he heard them. It occurred to him that she had said something important and that he should say something too but his mouth hung open, unable to bring forth anything. He didn't really understand at first, but as the terrible truth began to take hold, Jess found himself struggling to draw a breath. He still didn't say anything—he couldn't. The truth inundated him, washing away everything he had ever believed about the girl standing proudly before him. He wanted to say a lot, wanted to scream denial at her, to call her a liar, to demand that she take it all back and tell him the truth.

But the words wouldn't come.

He knew she wasn't lying.

It was then that he felt the pain. It rose up from deep in his gut spreading like a wave. It formed an iron hard spike that pierced his heart. Jess' eyes stung as he felt the sharp stab of betrayal. The burning weight of it came crashing down on him with a force like nothing he had ever known. His breathing became labored and as he gazed at her through watery vision, he felt his dreams crumbling away beneath him.

He was only dimly aware of the package as it slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor.

Leslie just stood staring, silent as stone.

Jess turned from her placid gaze and did the only thing he could.

He ran away.