The prison attendant walked over to the woman and told her that Gwyneth was going to be helping out today. The woman grunted and glanced at Rowena, handing her two baskets of the foul bread.
“Where does the rubbish go?” Rowena asked, holding the two baskets gingerly in the air. The woman looked at her and narrowed her eyes. Her mouth curled back and she let out a raspy cackle. “Rubbish? There are plenty of rubbish bins chained up in the prison. Take them that bread before they starve. We wouldn’t want them starving to death before we get to question them all.”
The woman’s heartless words stabbed Rowena in the chest. She clenched the handles of the baskets, turning her knuckles white.
“Of course,” Rowena said through clenched teeth. “That’s what I meant.”
Jonathon breathed out a sigh and Ronan looked calm as ever. Rowena decided then that tomorrow she would smuggle some of her breakfast into the prison. The idea of her friends and fellow witches eating rotting bread made her stomach do cartwheels. She loosened her grip of the basket handles as a guard appeared in the doorway.
“Mornin’ all.” His voice was lighter than that of the old woman’s and the sour prison attendant, but his face was still cold. “You must be Gwyneth,” he said, nodding at Rowena.
“Yes,” she managed, her rage still boiling under the surface.
“Ronan and I told him about you yesterday,” Jonathon said. “It’s important he knows who you are.”
“Yes, or I might think you’re an escaped witch!” laughed the guard. “You wouldn’t want that! Well, come on along, then.”
He turned his back and raised his hand motioning for her to follow him. Rowena walked forward not hearing any footsteps behind her. She turned back to Jonathon and Ronan. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked, her stomach sinking.
“This is your task, Gwyneth,” Ronan said, winking at her. Rowena gulped hard and hurried to catch up with the guard as he made his way down a long dark passage. An overpowering stench lingered in the fusty air. Slightly sweet with a putrid note that threatened to make her vomit if she inhaled too deeply. As they approached the cells Rowena realized the smell in the air was coming from human waste. Butterflies rammed the walls of her stomach and she wasn’t sure if she could go any further. A low moaning arose from behind a solid wooden door. The guard unlocked the door and pulled it open, letting a new bout of rancid air flood out.
The guard handed Rowena a small rusty key. “This will unlock all the cells on this block.” He pointed to the solid wooden door. “This door will be locked for security reasons. When you’re ready to come out, ring that bell up there. I’ll be waiting outside.” He pointed to a small brass bell hanging from the ceiling.
Rowena was distracted by coughs and groans drifting from the cells but she acknowledged the guard, nodding her head.
“Don’t look em in the eye, some of em can curse you that way,” the guard said, taking one last look around the dank hall before shutting the door. She heard the loud lock clang into place, sealing her in.
A flaming torch hung on the wall beside her, burning up the little oxygen that was in the room. She dropped the baskets of rotten bread on the floor and took the torch down off the wall, lighting her way as she walked further. She peered around the cells seeing women lying or crouched on the bug-infested floor. None of them looked up when Rowena walked past their cells.
Walking up to one of the dingy cells cautiously, she put her hand up by the rusty bars and wrapped her fingers around the corroded steel, making sure she didn’t drop the small key. “Hello?” she called out softly. The woman inside didn’t stir. A faint buzzing filled the air. Rowena unlocked the cell and walked inside, not taking her eyes off of the slimy bugs crawling all over the ground. A cat-sized rat flittered over her foot. Rowena stifled a scream, gripping the torch tight. She crept a bit closer to the girl. “Hello?”
The woman didn’t respond. As she got closer to her, she could see a ripple of movement under the woman’s mucky dress. The smell was even thicker here and more pungent. Rowena covered her nose with her free hand.
“Can you hear me?” Fear made her voice waver. The woman’s dress wasn’t just dirty, it was spotted with bloodstains. She put an arm on the woman’s stiff shoulder turning her over and was faced with the decaying visage of what was once a young woman. A silent scream sat in Rowena’s horrified throat, waiting to erupt as she stared at the lifeless body. The poor woman’s mouth was twisted open, her eyes gone. The huge rat had probably been feasting when she arrived. Rowena felt her breakfast crawl up her throat but willed it back down again. She would not vomit on this poor girl’s body.
Rowena’s gaze turned to the girl’s body, searching for the cause of death. There were tiny round holes all over the girl’s ankles and wrists, with dried blood lacing the cavities. A metal contraption sat next to her feet with sharp spikes protruding from rusty cuffs. The poor girl must have been tortured to death.
Rowena backed out of the cell, gripping the torch. The putrid air made her desire not to throw up futile. Unable to resist, she bent over and heaved up her breakfast. Once her stomach had settled, she straightened up and left the cell, leaving it locked as she had found it. A faint whimpering came from the cell opposite her. The sound sparked hope. Someone was alive in there.
She unlocked the door. A woman was sitting on the floor, her back turned. The cell was bare except for a scattering of straw and a wooden bucket.
“Hello?” Rowena said.
At the sound of her voice, the woman turned around, her pale face lighting up. “Rowena,” she gasped.
“Selene!”
“Did they find you?” Selene asked, her usually soft voice hoarse.
“No. They think I’m with the witch hunters. I’m here to help you, but I can’t yet. Are there many of you still alive?”
“Yes. Three of us have died so far. We are all destined for the stake.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, Rowena. They put us on trial one by one. It doesn’t matter though. The outcome is always the same.”
“How do you know that?” Rowena said, crouching down in front of her.
“Yesterday this cell was full. They were taken. Becky, Amy, and her mother.”
Rowena’s heart sank, and she stifled a sob. “This is horrible. Becky was only a child,” Rowena whispered, lowering her head. “They gave me rotten bread to give you. Tomorrow I’m sneaking you in some proper food. Can you wait that long?”
“Yes. Thank you, Rowena.”
“Have you had your trial?”
“Not yet. We dread whenever the door is opened, anyone of us could be next.”
“I better not take too long or they’ll get suspicious. Try to keep strong, Selene.” Rowena gave Selene a smile and left the cell, locking the door behind her.
Outside the cell, she heard a familiar weeping. She bolted toward the sound and stopped when she came to a cell where a young figure lay hunched. Isabel! The flaming torch shed some light on Isabel who shielded her eyes from the brightness with a skinny arm. Rowena unlocked the door and rushed to Isabel, falling to her knees.
“Isabel, it’s me, Rowena,” she said, her voice thick. Tears streamed down Rowena’s face as she propped the torch against the wall and wrapped her arms around her friend. Isabel was lying in the corner of the damp cell on rotting straw that reeked of human waste. Her cold, wafer-thin body trembled in Rowena’s arms. Her parched lips peeled apart from each other as she tried to speak.