Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

Anna was exhausted, and yet knowing how sick John was, she felt guilty for sleeping through the night. She got up from the makeshift pallet on the floor and stretched, easing the ache in her lower back. Peering through the bars in the dim light, she held her breath.

Was he breathing? The moments ticked by as she looked for a sign. Over and over she grabbed handfuls of her skirts, clutching the fabric in her fists and letting go. His chest moved. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, and it moved again. Slowly up and down. He was alive. A bit shaky, she sank down on the low wooden stool.

Before she’d fallen asleep last, Anna heard John tell the guards to provide better accommodations for her. The men ignored him. They wouldn’t unless they thought he was being put to death soon or was dying. Her food had gone downhill as well. No longer hot, it was now rock-filled bread, and cheese with watered-down wine. Seeing her treatment degrade gave her a sinking feeling. How much worse would it get if he were no longer here to watch over her? The sob caught in her throat. She couldn’t think like this. For his sake, she had to stay positive.

A mouse darted into the cell, looking at her. She couldn’t eat, so she broke off a tiny piece of bread and threw it to him. He grabbed it and scurried back through the bars.

Did they remove the bodies right away? If they didn’t, the thought of mice and rats gnawing on him was enough to make her sick.

The entire day, she cajoled, pleaded, and yelled. Anything to get a response from John. Late that afternoon he started to hallucinate. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she banged on the bars.

“Get the constable. Right away.”

The guards ignored her until they probably got tired of her yelling. The constable looked like he was in a grouchy mood when he finally showed up.

“What do you want? Keep screaming and I’ll have you gagged.”

Her voice was hoarse and rough from screaming. “Please. Get a doctor. I’m afraid he’s going to die.”

The man was unmoved. “Denby said let him die.”

“No. You cannot.”

The man turned and walked away from her. Anna curled up in ball on the pallet, rocking back and forth.

By the time they brought supper, it was taking longer and longer for John’s chest to rise and fall. And she could hear what sounded like a rattling sound as he struggled to breathe.

The guard slid her food through to her. She grasped the bars, pleading.

“I beg you. Get him a doctor.” The man ignored her, and she tried one last thing. “If he has the fever, you will all get sick and die.”

She was happy to see the man looked nervous. He scurried down the corridor. She wished with all her might he would do something.

Anna had been so worried about John that she hadn’t even tried to go home. Once everyone was asleep for the night, she stood up. Her head ached like it was full of cotton, and her throat was scratchy. She was getting sick. Anna stood in the center of the cell and looked up to the sky.

“I want to go home. My father needs me. Please send me back.” She closed her eyes and waited. Counted to twenty. When she opened them, she was still in the cell in medieval England.

All through the night she tried. No matter what she did, nothing worked. She’d searched every inch of her cell and still didn’t have the locket. She didn’t see it in his cell. Either one of the guards found it and took the piece, or it was where she couldn’t see it. Then again, it might not be there at all. Maybe it was still in her own time. If it was necessary for her to go home, she was stuck. Unable to help either of the men in her life.

Through John’s small window she could see the dawn breaking across the sky. She had to accept she was trapped in the past. And she also had to accept she might be alone. Might die in the tower.

Footsteps sounded down the corridor. Anna was too emotionally exhausted to move. She sat on the pallet and stared through the bars at John.

A man appeared. By his dress, he could only be someone important. He wore velvet and silk, and the colors were so bright in the dimness they made her head ache.

The man sneered at her. “Is he dead yet?”

“Who are you?”

The man straightened up. He looked like a peacock. “I am Lord Denby and your fate is in my hands.”

“Why don’t you come closer?”

He was afraid. Worried he would get sick. But the pig leered at her. He made her skin crawl.

“Guards. ”

Hope flooded her veins. Was he going to do the right thing and take John to a doctor? Her hopes were dashed as they opened the door not to his cell but to hers.

“Bring her. I would have speech with her.”

Somehow the sound of his voice had done what Anna could not. It roused John from his stupor. He staggered to his feet, fell, and crawled across the cell.

“Leave her be. I will see you in hell, Denby.”

The man scoffed at him. “You’ll be dead soon and you’ll be waiting a very long time for me, Thornton.”