Frozen In Time

     When the Merlins reached Canturbury castle, Goldach looked up at the imposing fortress, nearly falling backwards as he did.  It was quiet and misty; just a few birds chirped.  As he listened closer, he heard fain sounds coming from within he fortress.  The large drawbridge was up and showed no signs of lowering.  One of the Merlins, Absolon from the Norfolk district, had his falcon with him.  Myrridian removed a small, rolled up scroll from his satchel and handed it to Absolon.  He placed it in the falcon’s talon and tied it loosely.  Then Absolon leaned down towards the falcon and whispered into his ear.  Goldach thought he heard what he said, but it was in some other language.
It was French.  Myrridian noticed this too, and when the drawbridge came down over the stream, he said, “Get back!”  There were men with spears and armor that had come to meet them.
     “What is your business here?”  One of the guards asked.  
     “I’m afraid we have made a mistake, dear sir.  We will be on our way now,” said Myrridian.  He obviously knew something they didn’t, but Absolon would not leave without his falcon.  He was about to speak, but Myrrididan looked at him then looked up.  There was the falcon, circling high in the sky.  Absolon then knew that the situation here was grave at best.  The guard was not warming up to Myrridian very well, either.
     “I think not.  The motley bunch of you will be coming with me to the dungeon!”  Said the head guard.  Myrridian decided quickly that it would be wise to allow themselves to be captured, and spoke to the men.
     “Do not oppose them,” he said.  He quickly pulled Goldach near to him.  “We will go peacefully,” he said.  The men did not hesitate to do as Myriddian had instructed.  The guards began to file back into the castle.
     “Go on now, head on in there,” said one of the guards.  As they entered the castle, there was an entryway lined with replicas of the royal tapestries of the Lady and the unicorn.  Large candles burned in amber glass holders alongside these tapestries.  One of the larger oafs of their party, Rinauld, lingered over the tapestry of the Lady holding a mirror up so the unicorn could see his reflection.  As he hesitated, the guard poked him in the back with his spear.  He knocked the spear out of the guard’s hand.  As it fell to the ground, Myrridian put his hand up, and everything stopped.  
     “Rinauld, I’m sorry.  That should not have happened,” said Myrridian.  Only he, Rinauld, and Goldach were still in motion.  Everything else was in suspended animation.  Myrridian looked at Goldach.
     “Your mother’s been feeding you the Sweet Flag, hasn’t she?”  Asked Myrridian.  Goldach just shrugged his shoulders.  Myrridian ruffled his hair.  He continued.  “What I want you to do, Rinauld, is nothing.”
     “He drew blood, Myrridian!  I cant just...”  Rinauld was quickly silenced by Myrridian.  His mouth was still moving but no sound was exiting.  
     Myriddian said, “Now, Rinauld, we do not have time for this.”  He stopped and smiled at the irony.  “Well, we do, but we won’t in just a second.”  Rinauld was no longer attempting to speak.  “Look, Rinauld, he won’t remember anything.  No one else will either.  We have a task to accomplish here, and we cannot leave a trace!  So, no more altercations.  Keep your eyes straight ahead and follow these pissants into the dungeon.  We will not be there long, but we have to free our compatriot.  This is the most direct way.”
     Goldach noticed this conversation.  His gears were turning.  He thought to himself about the strange logic.  He knew this was a dangerous situation, yet he didn’t tell anyone else.  It was a rescue mission, on a need to know basis.  He had decided that no one but him needed to know.
     Rinauld looked at Goldach, and remarked, “We’re here for his education?  Far be it from me to question you Myrridian, but come on Sir!”  At this, Myrridian’s eyes narrowed.
     “You will not question me or my directives, Rinauld.  Forget about all this, drive on, and do not speak or hesitate again,” he said.  At that moment, time resumed itself.  The guard was on the ground, picking up his spear.
     “Why, you twit!”  The head guard said.  “You dropped your spear.  Can you show some royal decorum for one moment?  I should report this to the Archbishop.”
     “Please don’t Sire; I will straighten myself this moment,” he said.
     “We’ll see about that.  Well, go on.  To the dungeon,” said the head guard.
     Past the entryway, they travelled down a long hall.  When they reached the end, a dimly lit hallway spiraled down to the subterranean dungeon.  Two guards went down first, then the Merlins were lined up and sent down.  
     “Put him in there as well,” said the head guard.  The guard who had dropped his spear protested and the head guard slapped him with the back of his hand.  The guard fell to the ground, as the head guard was wearing heavy metal lined gloves.  They picked him up and carried him down the steps behind the Merlins.  

     The dungeon smelled terrible, as the floor was wet and soft with excrement and urine.  There were so many rats that their sound was rather deafening.  They were placed in one large cell.  The unconscious guard was thrown to the ground after them and the cast-iron gate was shut loudly.  Sitting in the corner was Grefin of Northwick, whom only Myrridian knew well.  He was in a dishevelled state, covered in the ancient waste that lined the floors and walls of this dank prison.  He was thin and emaciated; not much remained of him.  Myrridian became extremely angry at this.
     “Gentlemen, this is the man we came to see.  Meet Grefin of Northwick,” said Myrrididan.  Goldoc recognized this man, but not acutely.  He had been a close associate of Aurelian’s when he was alive, helping him to form the secret branch of the Knight’s Templar that was their reason for this journey.
     Grefin was weak and barely able to speak, but his spirits were renewed when the party of Merlins arrived.  He raised his head with tremendous effort.  It otherwise was hung down from a lack of spirit and energy.  He mustered out the words,
     “Young Myrridian, a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into here.  I suppose these are your like minded compatriots, excepting the sleepy one over there?”  He asked.  Myrridian nodded.
    “And what have we over here?  He’s a might young, isn’t he, to be locked in Canturbury’s holy dungeon?”  Grefin turned his head to look at him and Goldach remembered.  “Yes, my boy, you’re no stranger to me,” said Grefin.  Goldoc said nothing.  He felt faint from the fumes, which overpowered each one’s senses.
     “Who is this man?”  Asked Absolon.  
     “He is our important contact at Canturbury castle these days, I presume,” he said with a laugh.  Grefin laughed also, but with difficulty.
     “If I were you, dear Sir, I would ask the more pertinent question: How in the bloody hell are we going to get out of here?”  Said Grefin.  The unconscious guard began to lift his head.  Rinauld saw this, walked over to him, and knocked him out cold again.  His head fell into the pile of feces on the ground.