~ Kind Heart ~

by

Carolyn Ann Aish

A low, despairing moan caused Kind Heart to spin lightly on boot-clad feet. Sidney’s soldiers still stood by the doorway, staring at the leather-clad figure with the ridiculous feather plumed hat. They were overawed at this close encounter with the famed and feared Kind Heart.

"Patrick? Brother Patrick!" Kind Heart’s feet flew to the chained prisoner who moaned. Beaten and bloodied, Brother Patrick rested on one foot, the only space upon the stone floor free of sharp spikes. The wall was a mass of glittering, razor-sharp spikes. There was nowhere for Patrick to lean or rest without piercing his bruised skin.

Sheathing the sword, Kind Heart hurried back to the thick wooden table near the dungeon-keeper. Upending food-plates and rough tin goblets, Kind Heart snatched up the solid wooden tray. Taking it to Patrick, it served as a cover over the spikes so that Patrick could stand on both feet. Kind Heart gently placed the man’s bruised feet on the tray.

One by one, the pins slid from the shackles around Patrick’s wrists. Kind Heart felt heartened that the shackles did not need a key and was encouraged to know that Patrick still had some strength and will left in him.

"Try to walk," the rescuer urged.

Patrick attempted to cooperate, but his legs and feet would not obey. "Sorry... I’m... so sorry... I... can’t."

The soldiers at the door parted, allowing a robed figure to enter the chamber. Kind Heart’s eyes strained in the smoky atmosphere. This was what had been expected. But here in the torture chamber? They were going to attempt their capture here?

"Here, let me help," the kindly voice seemed to come from heaven itself. It was Brother Emil.

Together they supported Patrick, moving out the door, flanked by the watching soldiers who did not follow. Kind Heart wondered what story they were going to concoct about this ‘break-in’ and ‘rescue’. How simple it had been--so far. Along the passage toward the stone steps, then, up, up, up--one by one, it was very slow and tedious.

"The cart’s in the courtyard and the men await to open the gate for you," Brother Emil said, confirming Kevin’s words.

Patrick’s body began to quiver and quake, then the man moaned loudly, collapsing into unconsciousness.

"I’ll carry him and lead the way if you’ll watch our backs," Emil said, collecting the man into his strong arms.

Ignoring these words, Kind Heart unsheathed the sword, saying, "We’ll not go left here, we’ll go right. Do as I say, Brother Emil. It’ll be much easier this way--you can tell Baron Sidney that you were forced, at sword-point." When the monk did not move Kind Heart pressed the sword-tip into the clothes on his large back.

"This is not supposed to be a trap, Brother Emil, and I’m making sure that it’s not. Kevin does not believe it to be so, but what do you think? Walk as you answer."

The monk stepped in the direction Kind Heart indicated, saying, "I... I... I hope not. But I have not been as sure as the lad. He believes everyone speaks the truth but when I heard that Lady Sidra was involved, I..."

"Lady Sidra? Sidney’s stepmother? I didn’t know she was here. How long has she been here? Keep walking, Brother, faster please and take the next right turn."

The monk did not answer, for deep in the castle a shout sounded out, followed by many more. "Hurry," breathed Kind Heart. "I’ll not leave Brother Patrick here to be further tortured or questioned. You must exert yourself to go faster." With sword in one hand, and the other threaded through Brother Emil’s arm, Kind Heart urged the man into a run.

Choosing the narrow spiral step-case up to the south tower, Kind Heart was retracing earlier footsteps in reverse. Men’s voices, calling instructions, became clearer as they gained the rampart. The dreaded dogs barked and howled. Shouted commands were incomprehensible as they were too distant, but Kind Heart knew that the trap had been set in the courtyard where the cart was waiting. But the ‘bait’ was now missing and the trap empty!

The cane chair was as it had been left. Kind Heart drew it around to the stone walk. "Sit Brother Patrick in the chair," Kind Heart said, thankful for light from the moon at first-quarter.

Kind Heart’s fingers trembled as they worked to strap the unconscious monk into the chair. Wrists to the supports, neck to the tall back, waist, chest... the shouting rose with the barking of the dogs. Kind Heart fixed the two ropes together, lowering the chair carefully down the stone wall, playing out the thick rope with care. "Go, Brother Emil. Make haste to the western tower and complete your escape." Kind Heart did not need to repeat this directive. Emil’s feet moved faster than ever and the monk disappeared into the deep shadows. The dogs were released from their leashes and the barking became frantic as the animals mounted the stone steps. Heavy boots joined the chorus as soldiers followed the dogs up the steps.

Kind Heart emitted a shrill whistle, followed by another. With expert movements, the leather-clad figure rappelled to the waiting horses.

Dogs and men arrived on the rampart above. Confusion caused the men and dogs to run aimlessly from crenel to crenel, seeking the prey.

Time was lost positioning the cane chair upon the second horse, but Kind Heart was pleased that the rope had not yet been discovered. The chair was finally secured so that the back of it lay down on the horse’s back. Patrick half sat, half lay on the horse. "Halt! Who goes below there? Name yourself!"

"Get down there!" The rope flickered and snaked and Kind Heart guessed that someone was now descending.

Mounting the large brown horse, Kind Heart fixed the two reins together. Trotting, cantering, galloping. In spite of the trap prepared, Kind Heart had again done the impossible--rescued an innocent person, and escaped.