Knight in Chains

“Let me out of here!” Marlin Adamson’s voice echoed around the empty stone room, “I’m a knight of the king, a true hero!  Why mock me so?”

He waited for a reply.  His only response was his very own voice, echoing back at him.  He let out a loud sigh and fell onto his bottom, his back against the hard rock wall.  The ground was cold and hard, sending a sharp chill through his body.  Drops of water echoed through the hollow room, drip after drip.  Marlin licked his lips in thirst as he heard the trickle of water.  He looked up at the mossy ceiling above him.  The stones were cracked, but not deep enough to break all the way, and little scraps of moss peeped out from in between them.  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.  His ragtag cloths and bizarre, strangely hair hung loosely on his body, clinging together like wet paper.  He had no shoes, nor socks.  He was bare footed, his heels touching the ice-cold stone floor, and turning red from it.

“Twenty four and a half days,” Marlin moaned softly to himself, “only three hundred and seventy two more to go…”

He let out a deep sigh.  The dripping water continued to echo throughout the room.  It was like a small, frail drum, beating in a steady rhythm.  Marlin began to tap his fingers against the hard stone ground, adding on to the beat.  He heard wind outside, almost not even recognizable.  It sounded like a flute solo, letting fly what it had.  Marlin tapped his foot in symphony, and began to sing.

“I live for, I die for,
The only true warrior’s pose.
I long for my older life’s past,
Full of triumph, full of defeat.
The life of a hero,
The woe of a knight.
Let me be free,
Let me succeed!”

Marlin stifled a tear.  He quickly reached up and wiped it away.  He opened his eyes and looked at the empty hollowness ahead of him.  The room, where he had been for what seemed like ages, was anguish to his mind.

“It’s like looking into my soul,” he sniffed through watery eyes, “drowning in my own piteous life.  Darkness and neglect.  Sorrow and regret.”

Marlin clenched his fist in anger.

“What ever happened to the world I grew up in?” he spat, slamming his fist into the hard stone floor, “When did my king go wrong?”

He waited for the answer to come.  Once again, all he heard was his echo, fading away into the darkness.  He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep.  Just then, the heavy iron door to the musky room squeaked open, it’s bottom scratching aguishly against the stone floor.  Footsteps echoed against the walls.

“He sleeps,” a low, hushed voice snorted out, “and at what price?  His life?”

A tall man stepped through the door and into the dark, empty room.  Although dimmed from the lack of light, he dressed lively, in a royal blue robe, outlined with gold lacings.  His wrinkled old face and bushy, white eyebrows looked drowned in disregard as he stepped slowly and leisurely toward Marlin.  He stopped a few inches away from his side, looking down with scorn.  He butted his foot heel into Marlin’s side.

“Wake fool,” the tall, aged man frowned as he narrowed his eyes, “the king wishes to see you.”

Marlin didn’t move.  He didn’t bother.  The old man wrinkled his brow in disgust.  He kicked the young man harder in the side, leaving a footmark in its place.  Still, Marlin didn’t move, his breath but becoming shallow.

“If you do not make a stand, I will be forced to give you farther punishment,” the man growled, “by my name as the Prime Minister, I have the power to declare you a dead man.  Do you wish for such agony?  I will gladly take it upon myself to execute you on the spot.”

Not but a drip of water responded.  The man’s eyes flared in anger.

“Wake fool!” The Minister kicked Marlin several times, each one leaving a bruise on the young adult.  He continued to beat the man like berries, allowing hot red blood to gush from wounds on the prisoner’s body.  He kicked him one last time before turning away and padding quickly toward the exiting door.

“You’re a dead man, Marlin!” The Prime Minister called behind his shoulder as he grabbed hold of the iron door, “You should have just cooperated!  I know you’re awake!  You do this every time!  Do you wish to end your pitiful life?”

Marlin did not but let out a long sigh.  The Minister growled angrily under his breath before leaving the dark, hollow room.  He pulled the squeaky door closed behind him, clanking heavily against the gray stone walls.  Marlin opened his eyes, tears still staining his eyes and cheek.  He had been awake.  He had endured another beating.  He allowed himself, once again, to suffer in the hands of his own kingdom in which he once served. 

Marlin choked back a cry of agony as he tried to push himself off the musty ground.  His breath was shallow, light and quick, as if his lungs were shriveled to nothing.  He closed his eyes and placed one hand on his chest, the other balancing his body above the ground.  His legs and arms trembled in anguish, wobbling like unstable rubber.  He clenched his teeth in pain as his arm gave way and sent his face burrowing into the hard, stone ground.  He fell to his side, then rolled onto his back in one quick movement.  Every muscle in his body shook in agony, and he could hardly even lift even his head above the ground.  He opened his eyes and once again looked up at the ceiling.  The water continued to drip repeatedly, it’s drum solo once again echoing off the walls.  Marlin forced a smile, and continued his song.

“So I made a mistake,
To save my dear friend.
I served my great king,
In honor and grace.
A warrior in heart,
A felon in life.
Meet me on my journey,
Through life, maybe death.
Perhaps both, in the way of a knight.”

Marlin sighed deeply, his breath but a hoarse crackle.  His sides continuously bled, marks of a shoe as he was hit before.  Although battered and torn from flesh, he continued to smile.  He closed his eyes, and once again tried to sleep.  He knew the Prime Minister would come.  Maybe even the gracious king himself.

“He can take my life if he wants,” his smile slowly disappeared, “I have devoted my life as a knight, to serve my king.  To protect, to live, if not physically, then by spirit.  He can not take that away…”

Just then, the door to the dark cell creaked open again.  It’s piercing sound jerked Marlin’s eyes open.  He forced himself up to all fours, panting with fatigue.  He pushed himself the rest of the way up, onto two legs.  He wobbled in place, his legs like rubber.

“Glad to see you awake now,” the Prime Minister padded into the musty room, “maybe now you can come with me to see the king?”

Marlin didn’t speak.  Instead, he took an uneasy step forward and nearly lost his balance.  His legs wobbled in both pain and fear.  The Minister snorted in contempt.

“That’s more like it,” he smirked, his brow wrinkling, “I almost thought I had to kill you today.  Come!  This way, down the hall to the right.  The king still requests to see you, even though to me, you are but a pathetic mess, dawdling in your own fear.”

Marlin bit back a rude remark, and took another heavy step forward.  He tensed in agony as his bare foot made contact with a rough, jagged edge of a stone.

“Hurry up, you lazy lout!” the Prime Minister reached out and grabbed Marlin by the arm, his nails digging deep into his frail skin.  He pulled the young adult faster, making Marlin trip on his own feet.  He fell heavily against the rough stone floor, the edges cutting his flesh.

“Get up!” the Minister growled, still holding onto Marlin’s arm.  He yanked him up, only to have him fall back to the ground even harder.  The elderly man kicked Marlin in the face, making his nose ooze out blood.  He picked up both of Marlin’s arms and began to drag him across the jagged, hard stone floor.  Marlin grimaced in pain, but not letting a word escape his mouth.  If one were to, it would be ridicule, a remark against the king or Prime Minister.  That would get him nothing but misery.

The Prime Minister stopped and looked at Marlin in disgrace.

“If you don’t get up soon, you’ll have nothing but scratches from here on out,” the old Minister frowned before narrowing his eyes at the prisoner, “plus, I don’t want to have to drag you all the way to the king’s throne room.”

Marlin didn’t make an effort to pull himself up.  The Minister growled deeply in his throat before continuing to pull Marlin across the rough ground.  They went through the iron door, Marlin hitting the footstep with his chest.  A new gash appeared, and it began to foam with blood.  Marlin forced back a cry of agony as he clenched his teeth and eyes closed.  He remembered his lonely song.

“If I were to go back in time,
To that day when dread was near,
I wouldn’t have done anything else.
It was my fate,
It was my future,
It was my life.
I was born to my king,
A loyal knight of the land.
But alas, my friend,
Do call my name,
It is a hero,
Not a felon.”

The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes.  He kicked Marlin in the face to silence him, and continued to drag him across the stone ground.  A trail of blood began to form behind Marlin, as his chest was not but a giant gash.  The Prime Minister stopped abruptly and let go of his arms.

“You get up now,” he sneered, “UP!  We go through these doors, and to the king you will plea your innocence!”

Marlin didn’t move.  He was too weak.  Pain bolted through him like lightning, burning and stinging.  He had not energy, his limbs but frail.  He was a living corpse.  A carcass, unliving in body and mind.

The Prime Minister reached down and clenched his fist around Marlin’s skeleton-like arm, and yanked him off the ground.  Marlin began to topple forward, unable to stand, but was stopped by the elder Minister.  Together, they padded slowly up to the double doors, Marlin leaning against the older man.  The doors opened, and light spilled into the musky hallway.  Marlin by instinct threw his arm over his eyes to block the light.  It had been quite some time since he had seen outside the dungeon walls.

“My Lord,” the Prime Minister nodded to an older man sitting in the throne, “I bring to you the former knight, Marlin Adamson, as you requested.”

The Prime Minister slipped out from under Marlin’s arm, letting the weak warrior to stand alone.  He wobbled in place, like a tower of cards ready to topple, his eyes barely even open.

“Marlin Adamson,” the king bellowed in a deep, loud voice, “you have been held captive for murder.  How do you plea?”

Marlin looked up at the king, his eyes expressionless.  He said nothing.

“Marlin Adamson,” the king raised an eyebrow, “if you do not speak, I will presume you guilty of you’re charges.  You are punished for the murder of my son, Kurten Mostro.  How do you plea?”

Marlin looked down at the floor.  The beautiful red velvet carpet looked like gray, bleak stone blocks to him.  He had given his life to his king, mentally and physically.

“My Lord, great king,” Marlin looked strait into his eyes, “I plea guilty.  I have indeed slain your only son, Kurten.”

The king shook his head in disdain.

“Then it is to your word we part,” he frowned, “may you be a lesson to all who think crime is a game.  You shall be beheaded at this instant!”

Marlin’s eyes flashed in fear as two guards stepped heavily toward him, their hands outreached.  They grabbed both his arms and began to drag him back through the double doors.

“Wait!” Marlin cried out as he continued to hold his king’s gaze, “Alas, I killed your son, but saved yours!”

The king held up a hand to stop the two guards from taking Marlin away.

“Explain yourself,” the king demanded, lowering his hand, “pray it be worthwhile, knave.”

“It be, your highness,” Marlin bowed his head, “it was but twenty five days ago, when Kurten stole my sword while I slept.  I caught him making his way into your room, late at night, clutching his sword hungrily.  I reacted quickly, as I was a knight to protect you from harm.  I snatched my blade from his hands and plunged it into his heart.”

Marlin swallowed hard.

“He was going to kill you,” he frowned, “he was going to take your rank!  He was going to be king!”

The Prime Minister snorted in disgust.

“Nobody believes your stupid story, wrench,” he nodded for the guards to continue dragging Marlin away, “we heard enough of you already.”

Marlin did nothing to stop the guards from taking him away, into certain doom.  He had told his story.  He had told them the truth.  Be it they believe him or not, his king was still alive because of him.  This was his fate.  This was his life.

Marlin was dragged though the double doors, a smile on his face.  He sang the end of his song, with great joy in his heart.

“I travel though my life,
I live my way through and through.
May my journey be a long one,
To soar high into the clouds.
That gate to heaven is open for me,
A knight in great steed,
To give my life for thee, my king!”

The doors closed behind him, no longer visible.  The last to see him, the two guards taking him away.