waiting for Deborah to pass. “Get a move
on, we haven’t got all night,” he barked, pointing at the buckets standing
outside each of the occupied cells. “Take them to the privy at the end of the
corridor and empty them. The other prisoner washes them and you bring them
back. Got it?”
Deborah nodded, thankful she wasn’t the one
detailed to do the washing out. The buckets stank despite their closed lids.
The privy stank worse. She tipped the contents of the first bucket down the
shaft, and holding it out at arm’s length, handed it with a grimace to her
companion. The boy ran the empty buckets under a tap, swilling them along a
yellow-stained gutter that disappeared into a hole in the wall.
At the same time, Deborah noticed with distaste, he
was splashing the ends of his trousers with the filthy water. The boy turned to
take the next bucket and Deborah recognized the curly black hair and hawk nose
of the hero in the exercise courtyard. Her heart leapt in spite of the
unsavoury situation. He held out his hand for the bucket and nodded a sort of
greeting.
Deborah smiled, eager to win the confidence of the
rebel. “I saw you in the courtyard, it was me who waved. I clapped, I wanted to
cheer.” Her voice rose in excitement.
The boy put a finger to his lips. “Not so loud,” he
whispered. “They’ll hear.”
“Let them,” Deborah raised her voice a tone. “I
don’t care. What can they do?”
The boy frowned. “If you don’t know what they can do, then you’d best be quiet.
Tomorrow I will receive five lashes for blasphemy, and I hope I will bear it
like a man. But I don’t want any more just because of some girl’s squealing.”
Deborah’s face was burning with confusion.
Something about the boy had seemed…special. Something about him had made her
think of the dream laughter, and for a moment she had wondered if…The thought
dissolved into a sad puddle. This boy certainly never laughed like that. And
now she had annoyed him. She found herself imagining his pale back ripped and
striped with bleeding furrows.
“Come on,” he snapped. “Just give me the bucket or
you’ll have the guards over.”
Deborah’s eyes narrowed as she thrust the slop
bucket at the boy. “And I thought you were different.” Her lips twisted in
scorn. “You’re just as much a coward as the rest.”
The boy raised himself to his full height and
sneered. “And you’d know all about heroics, I suppose. Was it for heroics in a
dark corner with some Ignorant boy they picked you up, then?”
“Oh,” Deborah gasped in indignation. “You arrogant
little shit!” With a furious gesture she sent the contents of the slop bucket
over the boy’s shirt.
“Hey, you two,” the guard shouted. “If you like
paddling in crap so much you can clean out the privy at the end of the week.”
They finished their turn of duty in icy silence.
The full buckets were slopped into the privy, water from the tap swished round
in the clean buckets, and splashed in the gutter. Empty buckets rattled and
clanged as they were set back down outside cell doors. When the job was done
the guards escorted them back to their cells. They parted without a look, in
silent anger. The guards didn’t even notice.
Chapter
9
Zachariah
threw his filthy shirt into a corner and crouched down on his mattress with his
knees up to his chin in an attempt to stop all the heat escaping from his body.
It was cold at night in Providence, and the blanket he wrapped round his
shoulders was thin. Damp seeped up from the floor of his cell just below ground
level and chilled him to the bone. The small window was out of reach, level
with the ground of the exercise courtyard. All he could see was the vague grey
mass of the prison.
The faint glimmer that fell from the window picked
out the bridge of his nose and his high cheekbones, leaving his eyes in deep
shadow. Hugging his knees, he rocked back and forth to keep warm, and wondered
what was going to
on, we haven’t got all night,” he barked, pointing at the buckets standing
outside each of the occupied cells. “Take them to the privy at the end of the
corridor and empty them. The other prisoner washes them and you bring them
back. Got it?”
Deborah nodded, thankful she wasn’t the one
detailed to do the washing out. The buckets stank despite their closed lids.
The privy stank worse. She tipped the contents of the first bucket down the
shaft, and holding it out at arm’s length, handed it with a grimace to her
companion. The boy ran the empty buckets under a tap, swilling them along a
yellow-stained gutter that disappeared into a hole in the wall.
At the same time, Deborah noticed with distaste, he
was splashing the ends of his trousers with the filthy water. The boy turned to
take the next bucket and Deborah recognized the curly black hair and hawk nose
of the hero in the exercise courtyard. Her heart leapt in spite of the
unsavoury situation. He held out his hand for the bucket and nodded a sort of
greeting.
Deborah smiled, eager to win the confidence of the
rebel. “I saw you in the courtyard, it was me who waved. I clapped, I wanted to
cheer.” Her voice rose in excitement.
The boy put a finger to his lips. “Not so loud,” he
whispered. “They’ll hear.”
“Let them,” Deborah raised her voice a tone. “I
don’t care. What can they do?”
The boy frowned. “If you don’t know what they can do, then you’d best be quiet.
Tomorrow I will receive five lashes for blasphemy, and I hope I will bear it
like a man. But I don’t want any more just because of some girl’s squealing.”
Deborah’s face was burning with confusion.
Something about the boy had seemed…special. Something about him had made her
think of the dream laughter, and for a moment she had wondered if…The thought
dissolved into a sad puddle. This boy certainly never laughed like that. And
now she had annoyed him. She found herself imagining his pale back ripped and
striped with bleeding furrows.
“Come on,” he snapped. “Just give me the bucket or
you’ll have the guards over.”
Deborah’s eyes narrowed as she thrust the slop
bucket at the boy. “And I thought you were different.” Her lips twisted in
scorn. “You’re just as much a coward as the rest.”
The boy raised himself to his full height and
sneered. “And you’d know all about heroics, I suppose. Was it for heroics in a
dark corner with some Ignorant boy they picked you up, then?”
“Oh,” Deborah gasped in indignation. “You arrogant
little shit!” With a furious gesture she sent the contents of the slop bucket
over the boy’s shirt.
“Hey, you two,” the guard shouted. “If you like
paddling in crap so much you can clean out the privy at the end of the week.”
They finished their turn of duty in icy silence.
The full buckets were slopped into the privy, water from the tap swished round
in the clean buckets, and splashed in the gutter. Empty buckets rattled and
clanged as they were set back down outside cell doors. When the job was done
the guards escorted them back to their cells. They parted without a look, in
silent anger. The guards didn’t even notice.
Chapter
9
Zachariah
threw his filthy shirt into a corner and crouched down on his mattress with his
knees up to his chin in an attempt to stop all the heat escaping from his body.
It was cold at night in Providence, and the blanket he wrapped round his
shoulders was thin. Damp seeped up from the floor of his cell just below ground
level and chilled him to the bone. The small window was out of reach, level
with the ground of the exercise courtyard. All he could see was the vague grey
mass of the prison.
The faint glimmer that fell from the window picked
out the bridge of his nose and his high cheekbones, leaving his eyes in deep
shadow. Hugging his knees, he rocked back and forth to keep warm, and wondered
what was going to
Similar Books
