Chapter Fifty-Four
Sybil
Sybil’s trust in John was not unfounded. He arrived the following day, as he said he would, with several jugs of ale for the
two guards on duty, the awful one with the scarred eyebrow and the youngest one. As planned, John met with Margery under the
auspices of hearing her confession. In this meeting, he secreted a guard’s uniform to her, apologizing that there was only
one. This she hid under her skirts.
Sybil buried the clothes in a dry patch of rushes. “One of us can dress as a guard and lead the way for those being smuggled
out.”
Margery nodded, but the wariness in her expression indicated skepticism. She had been unconvinced from the start. Uncertain
that the little girl could be fast enough to slip the valerian root into the ale. Uncertain that, upon their departure, their
small group would not be chased down like dogs.
Then there was the question of who might join them.
If every prisoner escaped, the attempt would be that much harder. They would be too easily seen. But how could they leave everyone else behind?
And yet how could they risk being caught?
These questions twisted back and forth, tangling around one another.
In truth, Sybil had her own doubts. But there was too much at stake not to try. Once she was free, she would take Jacinda
and flee from this town. They would be safe.
For the first time since she had been arrested, there was a semblance of hope.
“He said to tell you he is grateful for what you said to him,” Margery whispered to Sybil after her meeting with John Griffin.
It was obvious Margery did not understand the message she conveyed, but to Sybil, those words were a balm to the ragged parts
of her soul.
Were their places reversed, and he had kept the knowledge of their child from her, she did not know that she could be so forgiving.
But then, she had been the one to know what he missed, witnessing Jacinda grow from a babe to a beautiful little girl with
curling red-gold ringlets. How her inquisitive nature evolved into defiance and a strength Sybil found equal parts inspiring
and infuriating.
Hours later, the guards wasted no time imbibing the gift bestowed upon them. Mugs frothed with foaming ale, and the sweet
scent hovered in the air, making every prisoner’s mouth water with longing.
By evening, the guards were staggering around the room, jabbing their cudgels into the cages and jeering at the prisoners.
The one with the scarred eyebrow approached Sybil and wavered outside the bars, glaring at her.
“You do not have to be so cruel,” Sybil said boldly, knowing she would stoke his ire.
From behind her back, she waved a hand, the sign for the little girl to slip between the bars with her vial of valerian root.
“Oh, but I do.” He sneered, his face ruddy with drink. “You witch.”
“I am no witch.” Sybil lifted her head. “I am a woman. One who has never done harm to anyone.” From the corner of her eye,
she caught the little girl’s slight figure slip between the bars.
A quick glance confirmed the other guard was busy harassing the male prisoners, his back to the table where the two mugs of
ale sat beside the jug.
Sybil could not have planned their distraction more perfectly. The guard’s vicious natures would be their own downfall.
A scoff drew Sybil’s full attention back to the guard. “We’ll see tomorrow.”
Her body quivered in response despite her resolve. “What do you mean?”
What more could they possibly to do her?
“You are going to trial tomorrow.”
Sybil shook her head, scarcely feeling her own body. “Without the assizes?”
Bury St. Edmunds was too small to have their own court system—like many towns—and relied on the traveling court to oversee
trials. With war ravaging the country, the men of the assizes were not traveling.
How could there be court with no men to act as judge and jury?
The guard simply lifted his shoulders in an uncaring shrug. “They’ll deal with the likes of you tomorrow. You and the pretty
one.” He nodded to Margery, who stiffened at her side.
Behind him, the little girl hid under the cover of the table and poured half the vial into each mug with trembling hands. Just as she was returning, the guard began to turn back around.
“All of us?” Sybil asked quickly.
His brow furrowed. “Of course not all of you. No one has the time to see to the lot of you in one day.” He rolled his eyes,
thoroughly convinced she was a fool.
When he turned round once more, the little girl was back in the cage.
He lifted the mug of ale, and drank so deeply, his entire body leaned back. When he lowered the mug, there was a scowl of
disgust on his face.
Valerian root did have a strong taste, even when rivaling good ale.
Fortunately, the guard didn’t seem to mind overmuch and went to drink again when the younger guard knocked into him, sending
his ale to the ground. Sybil’s stomach fell along with the mug as it shattered to a hundred pieces amid the frothy splash.
“Oy, you wasted my ale,” the guard growled.
The other guard was practically a boy and already staggered with drink. He lifted his own off the table and handed it to the
scarred jailer. “Take mine.”
Without a word of thanks, the scarred man swept the ale to his lips and drank thoroughly.
Within minutes, he slumped into the chair, his head resting heavily upon his fist.
Eventually, the younger sank into the other chair, his own head nodding.
While he had not had any of the valerian root, apparently, he’d had more than enough ale to see himself to a drunken slumber.
Sybil held up her hand for the little girl to wait, to ensure they were both truly asleep. The elder of the two would not
wake until dawn, not with the dose he’d received.
Finally, she nodded, and the little girl was through the bars, attired in the guard’s clothes as she crept toward the two jailers.
Every person in the cages tensed.
“Get the keys,” someone whispered.
Before she could even try to reach for the guard’s belt, another prisoner cried out, “Free us.”
The younger guard sat upright and glared over his shoulder at the old woman who was still keening. “Enough out of you,” he
slurred. “Or I’ll give you cause to cry.”
The little girl ducked under the table, and by the time the younger guard turned and lowered his head to the cradle of his
arms, she was out of sight.
Sybil waved her back. After a second’s hesitation, the child crawled out from under the table and slipped back through the
bars into the cell.
“You can’t do this,” Sybil said in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “The risk is too great. I cannot put you in danger.”
The prisoners were too desperate. Too eager for escape themselves.
The girl shook her head, her small brow pursed with a resolve no child should ever be burdened with.
“My trial is tomorrow,” Sybil said. “Margery’s too, along with several others. Our absence will be noticed.”
The girl looked between them and her eyes widened with horror.
“You have the guard’s clothing,” Sybil lowered her voice, whispering so none could hear but the child. “Wait until everyone
falls asleep and slip through the bars like you do. The vicar John Griffin will be at one of the local parishes. Do you think
you can find him?”
Despite the girl’s wary expression, she nodded.
“Go to him,” Sybil said quietly. “He will protect you.”
The girl’s face crumpled, her large, dark eyes filling with tears.
“Come now, be a brave girl.” Sybil opened her arms, and the girl fell into them, her small body trembling with the force of her embrace. “Let us pretend to sleep and wait for the others to quiet.”
They lay in the rushes, the little girl curled into Sybil’s side as she’d once done with Edith.
Around them, the murmur of excitement gave way to exhaustion. For empty bellies and raging thoughts made for terrible fatigue
and they all found themselves sleeping more and more as the days dragged on.
Finally, all was silent.
Sybil lightly squeezed the girl’s shoulder. Her eyes were already open, staring at Sybil. She sniffed, the sound wet with
tears.
But she nodded and rose quietly.
Silent as a mouse, she slipped through the bars. She shrank down as she passed the guards, as if she could make herself small
as a mouse as well.
The younger guard stirred, and she froze.
Sybil’s heart lurched from where she watched.
After a long pause, the girl stealthily stepped forward to the barred entry leading to the open bay. One set of doors from
there and she would be free.
As if sensing the girl’s nearness, the younger guard snapped awake, just as the girl was about to leave the room of cages.
He stared at her, incredulous.
Sybil’s heart throbbed a frantic beat, and she slid her leg through the bars, to see if she could glide through as well, only
to be stopped by her hip bones.
All she could do was continue to watch, helpless.
The little girl shook her head, eyes wide and fearful. And then, a single word escaped her lips. “Please.” She put her hands
over her chest, and she gazed up at him with a hope so visceral, even Sybil felt its charge. “Please.”
The young guard’s shoulders softened. Then he turned away from the girl and lowered his head to the cradle of his arms.
Sybil almost gasped with relief.
The girl looked back at Sybil one last time. Then the child who had been such an incandescent spark of hope was gone, fading
into freedom.
Sybil hoped that little girl spread her wings and soared into the world she was meant to have. That she could cherish life
for them all.
For Sybil knew the outcome of her trial before it began.
Death would come for her soon.