B is for Belladonna
Simon motioned for everyone to follow. Godwin pulled himself through the tight space on his elbows, wriggling like a fish through fingers until he came up beside Simon. He could hear voices now. The sickening sweet melody of Aldred’s prose and some other men. He pressed further towards the sounds, passing Simon cautiously. Listening. What were they saying?
“Give it an hour,” toned Aldred. “They’ll be done for.”
Clicking and the gentle sliding of metal on metal in time with foot steps carried up the shaft. Armor.
“Sire,” a male voice grunted.
“Have you news for me, Grant?” said Aldred.
“We await you command.”
“All accounted for?” said Aldred.
“Every one,” said Grant. “This nation shall be yours by morning.”
Simon froze beside Godwin. They exchanged a look in the dim light.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Godwin.
“What is it?” said Barth, as they scrambled out of the shaft.
“I think something bad is going to happen,” said Godwin.
“We should get out of here at once,” said Simon.
Godwin nodded his agreement. “I need to get something from my bedchamber. Can’t travel without my sword. Give me a few moments.”
“Your sure it’s safe?” said Simon.
“I’m no one,” said Godwin. “Aldred doesn’t know I exist any more than Bertram does.” Godwin smiled, clasping Simon by the shoulders. “Besides. What could Aldred possibly do?”