This is episode fifty-five of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.
Lighting Candles
The bell at Whitford Castle’s tower rang ten times. It echoed over the sleepy countryside of dew and clover. It reminded everyone that the Royal Court would commence hearing cases before the ruling earl.
Tom, Thomas, and Lattice arrived early, waiting at the main gate of the castle. As time passed, a crowd gathered there also. Nobles began to arrive, and they climbed from their carriages and horses. The commoners were pressed back by castle guards. At least one hundred nobles from the surrounding manors dressed in their finery strutted inside.
The constable appeared at the gate, his wrist bandaged. He nodded and winked at Tom. Then he called out, “All having complaints of law, come forward.”
A half dozen men fell in line at the side of the constable. Tom lined up last.
The constable called to one of the guards, “Take them to the waiting room.”
The men, along with Tom, followed the guard to a cramped, dark, dank room lit only by four sconce candles. Wooden benches lined the walls of the cramped room. The guard told them to sit.
Meanwhile, a crowd of commoners and peasants grew at the castle’s main gate.
“Witnesses follow the guard to the witness gallery,” the constable called out.
A group of about two dozen men followed the guard.
“Guards,” the constable called out, “Take one hundred and fifty to the balcony.”
They huddled together and moved through the main gate. Several in the crowd, knowing Lattice’s and Thomas’s interest in the day’s proceedings, waved them to the front.
“You two,” the constable pointed at Thomas and Lattice, “come with me.”
A mumble of concern rippled through the crowd.
They followed the constable.
“What are you going to do with us?” Lattice said fearfully.
“Follow me and say not another word,” the constable said gruffly.
They followed the constable across the main courtyard. He walked through a small opening and climbed down a flight of stone steps. At the bottom of the steps, he opened a heavy oak door. On the other side of the door, a dozen or so servants, cooks, and bakers busily prepared food. It was the castle's kitchen.
They followed the constable to a hearth against the outside wall. He grabbed two torches and handed one each to Thomas and Lattice.
“Follow me,” the constable motioned with his head.
They followed him through another oak door and climbed up a flight of stone steps.
They entered the great hall of the castle. And stood at the opening. Thomas’s and Lattice’s heads swirled as they gazed with wonderment at the vastness of the great hall.
Nobility sat in chairs in a colonnade surrounding the great hall. A balcony supported by arched cathedral pillars was positioned directly above the colonnade. The throne, rested on a dais, pressed against a wall. Shafts of dusty light shone in from openings above the balcony.
“Take the torches and light each candle in the court,” the constable said. “Stay alert during all the proceedings. If a candle goes out, hurry to it and light it again. That’s your job, understood?”
“Yes,” Lattice said.
“Yes,” Thomas said.
The constable turned to walk back down the steps.
“Sir,” Lattice asked, “why are you doing this?”
The constable turned and faced Lattice. He hesitated, then spoke. “Last night, when Tom gripped my hand after catching it before I could strike him, I looked into his eyes, and his eyes did the same to me. I have never seen such quickness nor cast my eyes upon such a deadly gaze. I knew at that moment, Bouchard had met his match. I want you to see closely, your reputation restored and vengeance due your husband.” He tossed his head toward the nobility sitting and tittering to one another in their seats. “I’m a commoner. They are not my kind.”
Unexpectedly, Lattice leaned to the side and forward. “I’m sick,” she said.
The constable grabbed her and held her steady.
“This is where my husband lost his life for my honor,” Lattice said with her face about to let go of a torrent of tears. “It is hard to look upon.”
The constable grabbed her shoulders and said, “No matter what you think of me, if not for the care of my family, I would have gladly taken your husband’s place. Now, you be strong.”
Her lip quivered, and she forced a smile. “I will.”
The constable winked, nodded, and hurried through the doorway and back down the steps.
“Are you strong enough for this?” Thomas asked. “If we leave now, no one would be the wiser.”
“It is the constable’s duty to make certain someone is employed to light the candles,” Lattice said. “If they are not lit, the constable will be severely punished. He will lose his position. As corrupt as he is, it is better to have him as a constable than one who has no compassion or no family.”
Thomas and Lattice, with flaming torches, walked briskly into the great hall. They lit the wall-mounted candelabras hanging at each arched pillar, and the sconces on each side of the pillars. Two candelabras stood at each side of the throne, and they lit them.
They returned to the doorway where they started. They appeared out of breath, but nervousness seemed to be the reason for the heavy breathing.
“I’d rather plow a field,” Thomas whispered to Lattice.
“I’d rather grind grain,” Lattice whispered to Thomas.
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