Henry, Irene, Aisling, Flora, Zachary and Percy returned to the chapel to find Dale sat on a crate and cradling a cold, congealed bowl of stew. He glowered into it with an unbroken, sullen expression without eating any and gave a miserable sniff. He still dripped with black grime and silt.

The water had receded now that the stream flowed along the ancient river bed, but the others could see Dale had given up on clearing the mess or rebuilding the sodden fireplace.

‘Come on, you,’ said Irene. ‘It’s been a busy day. Let’s get you to bed.’

Aisling doused a rag in drinking water then flung it at Dale. It hit his face with a wet slap. Startled to life, Dale made a grumbling noise and wiped his face.

‘All this time down here and we’ve barely dug a pebble of ore. Those awful people from the Company will be back tomorrow. Heavens knows what they’ll say,’ said Flora.

‘We’ll muddle on through. We always do,’ said Henry, with a weary voice. He pulled something from inside a layer of sacking cloth at his waist. Henry’s gauntlet opened to reveal a brilliant glow of sunlight for a moment, before he turned and left again through the doorway. The others were too weary to question where he went, and instead climbed the stairs to rest.

The next day, the miners spent a long morning of digging ore in one of the pits marked out by the rotten signposts and tumbledown, whitewashed ropes.

This was, however, with the exception of Dale, who refused to leave his bedding. The miners sat down to eat lunch when Henry startled them with his arrival.

‘The Company’s coming! The trapdoor just opened and they will arrive soon.’ Henry urged them to their feet. The others made to gather up their gear. ‘Leave it all, come and help me gather sacks of ore I left to charge. I put them up while you slept.’

Amidst the grinding of chains and gears, the personnel lift made its descent, and the miners hurried to gather the bags of minerals and make it back to the chapel.

The lift crashed to the cavern floor. The metallic roar of machinery was cut short, along with the wailing gramophone, and there was the muted bellow of the Duchess’ voice from within. The doors slammed open and the Duchess stepped forward, seething and crimson-faced once more, to the lift’s entrance.

The Duchess produced a silver bell and gave it a jingle to announce her presence. It was a delicate sound as the lift’s impact still echoed around the caverns.

‘Don’t keep her waiting! Go, take a sack each and stand smart in a line. They’ll like that. Only speak when you’re spoken to. Remember – not a word about me! You’ve never heard of a Henry Evans,’ Henry urged.

Henry dipped inside a crate then caught Irene’s arm. He handed her a copy of the worker’s manual.

‘Listen to me, Dale has no place down here. We don’t want him here. He doesn’t want to be here – even more than the rest of us. I’ve seen this before. You have to declare Article 51 against him,’ Henry whispered.

Irene looked at the handbook where Henry opened it, with all its tiny print, numbered articles and bullet points. ‘What does it say?’ Irene asked.

‘If everyone agrees that a worker is not suited for labour down here, and they’re holding everyone back, then they can vote to have them sent to the surface. Everyone has to agree,’ explained Henry with urgency in his voice.

‘Alright, but what does it actually say? I… can’t read,’ said Irene.

From within his helmet, Henry looked at Irene long and hard. ‘Neither can I,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sure that’s what the rule was, and what number. Just try to make it look like you know what you’re talking about. Now go!’

Along with Henry, the only ones still left in the chapel were Dale, and Aisling, who prodded him with her boot.

‘Come on, you’ve got to go. You’re going to get us all in trouble,’ Aisling attempted to command Dale.

Dale shook his head. ‘There’s wicked things out there,’ he said in a miserable voice.

‘Fine! Stay there forever then. I guess I got two sacks off my debt,’ Aisling said, and strode off to the lift with two bags of ore. Aisling shot a haughty look back at Dale, but he didn’t respond to the bait.

The Duchess stood with fists on her hips and her legs planted in a powerful stance. In one hand a weighty tome of Company punitive procedures, which no doubt she had written herself. It was bookmarked and ready to go. The Duchess flipped it open with an ominous creak of leather and ran her finger over some clause and chapter with a smug pride.

‘Come on, you heard the bell! Get over here and report in. We’re bang on time and punctual to the minute, there’s no excuse for you not to be!’ the Duchess trilled. Aisling joined the line of workers, and Henry came to observe, unseen in the shadows.

‘Oof,’ said the Sergeant as the Duchess thrust the silver bell into his belly, and he fumbled to stop it dropping to the floor.

The Duchess proceeded to read from her book. ‘Under Article 13 of the penal code of The Righteous Anglian Mining Company of Our Lady’s Hallowed Earth,’ the Duchess paused to make the ritual hand gesture. ‘Failure to produce the quota of iron ore results in a further debit upon the indentured work of the worker along with compound interest to which they must work to pay off the cost of their upkeep…’

Each worker presented their sack of ore and set them down in a row.

A look of incredulity was stamped over the Duchess’ face. ‘Well, aren’t you all resourceful!’ she cried.

The duchess snapped the book shut and did a head count. ‘We’re missing someone,’ she stated and opened a ledger. ‘Roll call!’

‘It’s that Hillary boy. Dale Hillary,’ the Corporal said in his nasal voice.

‘Roll! Call!’ The duchess trilled louder, in a piercing tone that made the Corporal wince.

The Duchess then rattled out the names of all the miners until she came to Dale’s name, to which there was no response.

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The Duchess sighed and closed the ledger. ‘Dale Hillary is not present,’ she conceded.

‘Please ma’am, he’s in the chapel and refuses to leave,’ Percy offered.

After fixing Percy with a glare more powerful than the light in the ancient temple, the duchess boomed out Dale’s name, which sent Hillary echoing around every stalagmite, cavern, and crevasse, and through the gaps and bare rafters in the chapel’s roof tiles.

Dale was compelled to appear in the doorway. The awe struck in him by the demonic opera-wail was more powerful than the horror which he had witnessed in the last two days. He scurried over on legs not guided by a will of his own.

‘You! I count six sacks but five bodies, so I presume this spare one is yours? Bring it over here,’ the Duchess commanded Dale. ‘And look at the state of you, covered in grime. It is every worker’s duty to be clean and orderly, especially for inspection!’

Dale obliged and brought over his sack to the lift, as meek as a mouse. The Duchess grabbed it and dumped it on a pair of scales inside the lift. She made a Humph! noise as the scales settled, then put on a thick leather glove, and plucked out a chunk of ore. With her free hand she reached in her voluminous bosom and dug out a pendant that had an emblem of the Company’s lodge chapter. Dangling from the pendant was a silver plumbing line, and it oscillated wildly and leapt from side to side when the Duchess held it over the chunk.

The Duchess gave a long, suspicious look at the miners. From her coat pocket she withdrew a device that looked like a cigar lighter and placed the base of it on the chunk. She clicked a lever on the side and a tiny light bulb shone on top.

The Duchess replaced the device, dropped the ore back in the bag and stuffed the pendant down into the depths of her corset.

‘I suppose you can load your sacks on to the lift,’ the Duchess blustered, through clenched teeth. The effort to control her tone rose veins on her temples.

Irene took her chance and held the booklet aloft. ‘I want to call a vote!’ Irene cried, and tried to sound brave by thinking of Henry watching them from the dark. ‘I would like to invoke Article 51!’ It took all of Irene’s effort to not let her voice wobble as the Duchess’ pendant had done over the ore.

There was absolute silence and everyone; miner and company officer, went very still.

‘Article 51 – the worker’s rights to feminine hygiene products? Unusual I suppose,’ the Corporal thumbed his nose and gave a perplexed grimace.

‘Corporal!’ The Duchess and Sergeant shouted in unison.

‘Stand forward. Identify yourself and present your case, young lady,’ the Duchess bade.

‘Irene Petra. One member of the group has not been performing as part of the team and has been holding us back. We want to call a vote for him to leave,’ Irene said in a falsely bold voice.

‘You probably meant Article 41,’ replied the Duchess in a withering tone. ‘Alright then, let’s hear it. Who do you want to vote out?’

‘Dale,’ was the response from all the group, although it pained them to not put their own name forward.

‘Me! Me!’ blurted Dale and came to life. ‘I want to get out of this mad hell hole. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen…’

‘Quiet! I have never encountered such impudence from a group of new miners in my life!’ The Duchess’s voice was ear splitting. ‘So, Hillary, you don’t want to stay! You would rather be someplace else and abandon the rest of them to it!’

‘Y-yes, I’ve been witness to some unhallowed and profane things. This is no place…’ Dale blabbed.

‘And yet, despite the others’ vote of lack of confidence, you have produced a sack of quality ore, that is fully infused with energy!’ the Duchess countered. ‘What argument can be made for the unsuitability of this worker?’

The others groaned, and Henry clutched his helmet in dismay from where he watched in the dark. The miners had no response.

It so happened that Dale sent them all a saving grace. He broke down, gabbling, ‘I’ve seen monsters and witches and a mermaid! It pulled me underwater. This place is cursed! It’s haunted and I don’t want to spend a minute here any longer!’

‘Enough!’ the Duchess demanded. ‘There are none of these fantastical creatures on the property of The Righteous Anglian Mining Company of Our Lady’s Hallowed Earth, and I will not hear otherwise! I shall not tolerate this nonsense any longer. This is most unprecedented! The motion is approved; Dale Hillary, you are to return with us to the surface.

‘As for the rest of you, I hope you realise that the clause of Article 41 is that the remaining workers are to mine the remainder of the evicted worker’s share?’

A groan of despair came from around the group.

The bags of ore were loaded into the lift and the Duchess’ hand was on the door, ready to slam it shut. She then turned back to Irene, Flora, Aisling, Percy and Zachary.

‘I don’t know what’s going on here. Something’s off. You lot are up to something and I suspect you’re getting help from someone. I know better than to ask. I’ll figure out what it is, nothing much gets past me.

‘I’m honour-bound to live by the rules of my own making, but no-one throws the book at me like that so lightly. I knew every piece of labour law legislation that my uncles’ solicitor firm practiced better than they did, before I wrote my own. Even though my sex prevents me from practicing law, I intend to shake things up and make some changes. I would advise great caution with quoting the rulebook at me, little ones. I shall see you on our next appointed date!’ The Duchess’ voice trembled with livid passion.

‘W-when is that?’ stammered Irene in a very small voice.

‘Read your handbook!’ trilled the Duchess.

The lift doors slammed shut and the blackened, hellish contraption rose towards the inky dark of the cavern ceiling. Muted gramophone music blared from within, and at the windows, the silhouettes of the Duchess and Dale looked down at the remaining miners as the lift was hauled up from view.

The miners fell about and flopped down to the cavern floor. It was with a mixture of relief and exhaustion that they had come this far, but dismay to see the only way out of the caves leave without them.

Irene hugged her legs. ‘I’m shaking, from having to speak up like that. I can’t believe I did. It felt like I was watching someone else do it.’

‘Oh, woe is us. To see him get plucked back up to the surface world and sunlight instead of we,’ mourned Zachary, with a hand to his suffering brow.

‘Dale seemed like the most sensible one when we first met. What hope have we got when he fell apart like that?’ Flora wondered aloud.

‘You did well. You did the right thing,’ said Henry, and startled the group.

‘The problem with folks like him,’ Henry said, and pointed upwards, ‘is that the more grounded they are and the more set in their ways, the less they are able to adapt. They can’t accept something outside of what they already know. They’re not willing to deal with the unknown.’

‘So now we’ve got to invoke five more articles until we all vote ourselves out,’ Percy commented.

Henry rounded on him. ‘I’m astonished that worked once. We won’t be doing anything like that again! Don’t get any ideas about acting up or feigning madness or the like! I’ve seen people try. It doesn’t end well!’ Henry yelled.

‘Wasn’t being serious…’ Percy mumbled.

There was a moment of quiet as the miners sat. Minds were cast back to memories of the bizarre and inexplicable things they had seen over the past two days. They tried to conceive of the monumental task ahead of them and the distant prospect of freedom and what came after.

‘I never heard a name like Irene Petra, or an accent like yours. Are you from Wales?’ Percy’s question brought a scattering of laughter from the group.

‘No, I’m not from Wales. I’m from Cyprus,’ replied Irene.

Percy looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t know, I never left my home town,’ he stammered.

‘My parents were merchants who set up a business in England. It burnt down – it was burnt down, and they perished,’ said Irene.

‘That’s dreadful. I’m so sorry,’ Zachary said. Irene waved it away and avoided everyone’s gaze.

‘I was only ever in and out of orphanages as long as I can remember,’ Flora said. Zachary, Percy and Aisling concurred. They were the same.

‘What about you?’ Irene turned to Henry.

‘I’m from here. This is where I’m from. You don’t need to worry about more than that,’ Henry gave a gruff reply.

‘You had a plan to get Dale out of here, so what’s your plan?’ Aisling spoke up.

‘My plan?’ Henry gave an awkward cough now that he found himself in the spotlight. ‘This is my home and I’m showing you how things work. I can show you how to get through the program and get back to the surface. I’m helping.’

‘Don’t you want to leave?’ asked Flora.

‘I want to get my own back at the Company. I haven’t figured out a way to do it yet, but I will. I’m not leaving until I do. Wouldn’t even think of it. Until then… this is where I belong. I don’t like how they do things on the surface world. I don’t think there’s a place for me there. At least here I’ve got some space that’s all of my own,’ Henry said, and trailed off.

For the first time, Irene gave Henry a look of true pity. She shivered at the thought of being resigned to remain down here forever. ‘So what happens now?’ was all she could think to ask.

‘There are a lot more places down here than what you’ve seen, and a lot more things down here than you’ve ever imagined, too. You’re going to have to be brave, resourceful and hard working. We, my friends, have got a lot of mining to do.