Jarrod stepped cautiously towards the sound of sobbing. His lantern light kissed the old walls and reflected off the damp ground. His shoes sloshed in a puddle and he stumbled before catching himself against the wall. “Ah, my socks are soaked.”

“You’ll live.”

The ground dried up as they passed beneath a series of wooden frames and into a circular clearing. The ground was covered in wheat grains. From the darkness across the way, they could hear the sobbing. It was a female, and between the cries, she’d count.

“One thousand eight hundred and fifty-three.”

“One thousand eight hundred and fifty—”

“Hello,” Jarrod called into the black. His meagre lantern barely illuminated his face.

“No no no!” the voice cried and she wept harder. “He’ll be mad, he’ll be furious!”

Mr Potter moved to the side of Jarrod. “It’s ok, whoever you are.” He placed a hand on Jarrods back and walked him forward. Jimethy didn’t dare follow them.

“I lost my count! I lost my count!” she screeched and a slapping sound emitted.

Jarrod edged toward the voice and held his lamp forward. “My lady, we have come to free you.”

“Who is that?” she cried.

“I am Jarrod.”

“Jarrod? His friend? No! Leave me alone!”

Mr Potter took the lamp from Jarrod and held it to his face. “I am here to help, my name is—”

“You’re Mr Potter, Mr David Potter…you made my shoes.” Her voice was high and innocent.

Mr Potter sucked in a deep breath and strode toward the pathetic voice. The light cast over the bare wall that was slick with mouldy residue. Slumped down on her knees was a frail woman in a tattered dress. Her hair was a shocking white.

“You’re safe now.” Mr Potter moved tentatively towards her.

She kept her face hidden by way of burying it between her skinny knees. “I lost my count.” she huffed miserably and began to sob once again.

“What count?”

“He makes me count the grain, he makes me count it all day.”

“Who does?” Asked Mr Potter.

The woman raised her head. She looked like a porcelain doll, beautiful yet so fragile a single touch might crack her from head to toe. Her skin was translucent and her eyes were grey. “My husband.”

Mr Potter and Jarrod gasped.

“E-Elizabeth!” said Jarrod. “Your voice it’s so, child-like.”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“I can’t, I’m chained.” She raised her wrist and rattled the shackle.

The three men tried in vain to yank the chain from the wall but it would not budge. They’d need to go at it with a pick axe at this rate. After half an hour of heaving and huffing, Mr Potter grunted: “You’re sure you don’t know where he keeps the key?”

Jarrod shook his head. “I didn’t know she was down here!”

“Let’s go speak to Alius, we’ll get the information out of him.”

“Please don’t leave me, I hate to be alone.”

“Jimethy, wait with Elizabeth.” Mr Potter turned to Elizabeth and placed his hand on her frail cheek. “We’ll have you out of her in no time, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed up and sobbed into her hands.

***

“Where is the key to your wife's shackles, Alius?”

Alius shook his head as he held the bars. “She isn’t my wife Mr Potter, no, no no…”

Greg sighed and shook his head, “He’s been like this since we put him in here.”

Mr Potter sighed and walked towards the cage. “She’s told us everything, now save me some time and tell me where you keep the key.”

Alius laughed. “If you let her out, you’re all dead. I can’t have that on my conscience,” he spoke with growls and low moans. “You can’t, you can’t free her, no…no no!”

Mr Potter handed Greg the flintlock and rolled up his sleeves, buttoning them around his forearm.

Jarrod caught sight of what might transpire and leaned around, “Alius, I know you think you mean well, but please…we need those keys.”

Alius spat out at them. “Common traitor, I knew I couldn’t trust you, coward!”

“Do not let Jarrod leave, Greg.”

Greg nodded and inspected the gun.

“Open the cell.”

Greg blinked. “But…”

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“Open the cell.”

Greg obeyed and stepped away from the cage.

Mr Potter entered and looked at Greg, “Lock us in.”

The lock clanked and both Jarrord and Greg stepped away, looking in.

“Oh, this is not good…this is not good!” Jarrod looked to the door and made to leave.

“Stay there, Jarrod.”

Jarrod turned and looked at Greg who was pointing the gun at him. He thought about dashing away but opted to remain. Quietly he sat on the chair and placed his head in his hands.

What came next was a one-sided thrashing. Mr Potter laid into Alius with his fists. His knuckles were broken and bloodied but that didn’t stop him.

Alius started by laughing and resisting, but the pain overwhelmed after several rib-breaking digs from Mr Potter. His resistance turned into sobs and pleas. He cried and spat broken teeth from his swollen lips. He curled into a ball and tried to weather the unyielding storm. Forty minutes felt like forty days and forty nights at the hands of the Devil's torments.

“He’s had enough, please, stop!” Jarrod bit his nails. He had seen death a few times now, but not the administration of such violence.

Greg, a young man who had never seen anything like this; had turned away, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Even though he believed Alius to be evil, it was difficult for him to see any man take this kind of thrashing.

“Where is that key?”

Alius rolled on his back and cried aloud, his mouth was glossy with blood and his eyes were reddened and bruising rapidly. “I’ll tell, no more…no more!” he rolled back over and wept.

Mr Potter stepped back. He was laced with sweat and his chest heaved. He was glad Alius had capitulated because he wasn’t able to continue this much longer. His arms ached and were too heavy to lift. He pressed his back to the wall and closed his eyes. Blood dripped from his knuckles and formed claret constellations on the hard stone floor.

“I must warn you though, this village is set upon by a dark curse. It has my wife and she’ll levy it upon you.” Alius whimpered as he shuffled into the corner and cradled his broken body. He wanted to pass out and let the pain wash away.

Mr Potter continued to suck in mouthfuls of air. “Tell me where the key is.”

“I cannot, no I shan’t!” Alius sat up a little and spat blood at Mr Potter.

“Then we’ll have to dig her out.”

“No, no, no!” He sobbed again. “The light will kill her!”

“Perhaps Jimethy can come and work you for another half an hour.”

Alius cried out. “It’s under Jarrods doorstep!” He pointed at Jarrod. “It’s with Jarrod!”

Mr Potter looked at Jarrod and sneered. “This better not be true.”

Jarrod lifted his hands defensively and shook his head. “If it is, I had no idea it was there!”

Alius collapsed in the corner and began to cackle. “Traitor!”

***

“Lift it then.” Mr Potter waved his flintlock at Jarrod.

Jarrod sighed and knelt at his front door. “I promise you, I had no idea about this.”

“Just lift it!”

Jarrod nodded a few times. “Yes, of course.” He eased the single stone block from the muddy bed, sending a few woodlice skittering. Pressed into the mud was a small key. Jarrod worked it free and stood up, offering it to Mr Potter. “This must be it.”

“Of course, it’s the key.” Mr Potter took it from him and inspected it. “It’s also the last bit of evidence I need to put you both to the rope.”

“I said I hadn’t a clue!”

“Save it, Jarrod.”

Jarrod was locked up in the cell beside Alius and Greg was left to watch them both while Mr Potter made his way back to Jimethy who had been left alone with Elizabeth. Though the mystery was solved, Mr Potter felt uneasy and that sense of creeping death coiled around his throat as he made his way back to the pantry. He had wrapped his hands in linen, for now, he didn’t want to scare poor Elizabeth any more.

Jimethy heard Mr Potter's footsteps and sighed in relief. “You’ve been ages.”

“The prisoner didn’t come easily with the details.”

“Where is Jarrod?”

“In the cell, where he belongs.”

Jimethy nodded and went back to Elizabeth with Mr Potter, key in tow. They freed her quickly and helped her up. Her legs buckled as she tried to stand. Mr Potter and Jimethy eased her out towards the pantry entrance. She whimpered and sniffed the whole way.

When they reached the steps she took each one so cautiously. The light from the house burned her eyes and she turned away. “Ah, no.”

“It’s ok, we’ll have you back in good health.”

She nodded and once at the top she stopped and would not go further.

“What’s the matter?”

“The garlic…”

“What of it?”

“He made me eat, he forced fed it to me! I cannot stand it!”

Jimethy looked at David and gave a quick nod. He moved in front and proceeded to pull the hanging cloves down, taking them away, though the smell lingered.

Elizabeth thanked them and stepped into the pantry, breathing a sigh. The two men went inside and held the door for her. She reached the door frame and stopped dead again. “Alius said I could never come back, he said I was formally uninvited.” she glanced in, shaking.

Mr Potter nodded. “Well, I am the Captain of this village now, and this is the captain's house, so, you please come in.”

She gave a dry smile and stepped in cautiously. Her toenails were long and crooked and her legs were dirty. Her frayed dress floated behind her as she approached the fireplace and sat beside it.

Jimethy and Mr Potter chatted quietly in the study.

“What do we do now?”

Mr Potter stroked his chin. “We need to get her back to health, find out everything that happened…then bring those two bastards to justice.”

“We have the evidence?”

“His living wife, chained up in a secret tunnel? I think it’s clear what this fruit was up to.”

Jimethy nodded and peered around the corner to check on Elizabeth. She was sitting in silence, staring at the fire. “Isn’t it odd? Alius was a good man…killing people doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Some men hide their sickness well, Jimethy. He’s harboured these sorts of feelings for a long time. Now he found a way to act them out.” Mr Potter crossed his arms over his chest.

“Do you think Jarrod is involved?”

“I do, this was a two-man job and they were covering each other's tracks. The village will believe us once we show them Elizabeth.”

Jimethy nodded and looked back at Mr Potter. “He seemed quite shocked at it all, though, don’t you think?”

“He’s a good actor, Jimethy. He knew nothing all the time. Guess where the key was.”

Jimethy shrugged.

“Underneath Jarrod's doorstep.”

Jimethy’s eyes flashed in surprise and he shook his head grimly. “Then it’s clear, they both need to be tried.”

“Then hanged.” Mr Potter added.

“Who needs to be hanged?” Elizabeth had joined the men. She seemed to move silently and Jimethy could swear she was sitting by the fire that second.

Mr Potter smiled at her kindly. “Nothing you need to worry about right now, Elizabeth, you’ve been through so much…”

She smiled back and nodded sweetly. “How is Esme?”

Jimethy looked away awkwardly. “I’ll fetch some food up from the village.”

Mr Potter bowed his head. “Thank you.” He looked back to Elizabeth. “Esme is resting and well.”

“Oh that’s good, I’d much like to see her again.”

“Next week, you can see her next week.”

Elizabeth rubbed her arms. “Will you stay here tonight? I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“No problem.”