Martyr's Fire by Sigmund Brouwer

and returned to his horse. He took the reins from the boy, and without looking back, led the horse into the center of York.
    Even before Thomas was lost to sight in the swirling crowds, Hawkwood pressed two coins into Katherine’s hand.
    “One to bribe the same guard he did,” he explained. “The other to bribe the guard above.”
    He spoke with renewed vigor. Was it an effort to restore her confidence?
    She, of course, did not comment. Merely waited for more instructions.
    “Reach the earl,” he said next. “We must hear what Thomas plans.”
    “If the earl does not speak?” Katherine asked.
    “Tell him it is the only way for him to remove the curse from his family.”
    Katherine paused. “I do not understand.”
    “He will,” came the reply. “All too well.”

Damp stone steps led upward in a dim, tight spiral. The guard’s leering cackle still echoed in Katherine’s mind as she began to climb.
    “ ’Tis money poorly spent for an audience, my sweet duckling,” he had said. “The earl’s as powerless as a newborn babe.”
    Knowledge is power , Katherine told herself firmly, and if the earl shares his, it will be worth every farthing .
    She reached the open chamber at the top of the stairs. The ceiling was low, and the only furniture was a crude wooden chair for the upper guard as he watched the doors of the four cells that opened into the chamber.
    As she arrived, the guard was unlocking one of the doors.
    It startled Katherine. How does he know I wish to visit the earl? I have not yet placed a bribe in his hand nor stated my request .
    Her silent question was answered within moments as she saw a prisoner step through the low opened doorway. That prisoner was not the Earl of York.
    “You’ve done well,” the prisoner said to the guard. “It is no surprise that Thomas—”
    He stopped suddenly as he noticed Katherine. The guard turned too, and they both stared at their quiet visitor.
    The black eyes of the prisoner studied her sharply. His cheeks were rounded like those of a well-stuffed chipmunk. Ears thick and almost flappy. Half-balding forehead, and shaggy hair that fell from the back of his head to well below his shoulders. A thoroughly ugly man.
    And she recognized him.
    His name was Waleran. He had once shared a dungeon cell in Magnus with Thomas, placed there as a spy to hear every word he spoke. Katherine had been there too, but as a visitor, disguised beneath a covering wrap of bandages around her face.
    Katherine bit her tongue to keep from blurting out her surprise at his presence.
    Waleran being here meant Thomas had already been discovered, within the hour of arriving in York!
    If she, too, were now discovered …
    Katherine reminded herself that with her face exposed, she had nothing to fear. This man had seen her only when she was bound in the filthy bandages across her face.
    Still, Katherine fumbled for words. “I’ve brought this for the … the former earl,” she said, extending the wrapped food as proof that Hawkwood had insisted she carry. “To repay a kindness he once did my father.”
    Would Waleran believe her? Katherine bowed her head in a humbleness she hoped hid her flush of fear. In the brief pause as she waited, her heart pounded a dozen times.
    How can I warn Thomas? If I leave now, they will suspect me!
    The prisoner finally spoke to the guard. “Help this pretty creature. I need no escort. And time presses me.”
    It is Waleran who orders the guard!
    The guard grunted agreement and began to unlock the adjacent door.
    Katherine let her pent breath escape slowly as Waleran brushed past her and began to descend the stairs, without a doubt on his way to inform Michael, the new Earl of York, that Thomas was near. She willed herself to move forward slowly, despite the sudden extreme urgency.
    The guard blocked her movement. Her heart leaped into her throat. But then the guard held out a grimy hand, and she understood. She hadforgotten the bribe. With concealed