wheels, not even the thin layer of snow that had fallen during the night could muffle the sound. Almost as soon as he realized the nature of the sound, the wagon passed by and as though in recognition of who they were passing, the wheels on the right of the wagon hit a small puddle, spraying freezing water on his face. He pulled back in mixed feelings of shock, surprise and anger. Losing his footing in the process he fell from the stone bed and onto the dirty floor of the room.
He picked himself up from the floor and wiped his face on the thin blanket. Soon, he heard another wagon coming. Exercising greater caution this time, he looked out the slit of a window. The sun had just begun to glow in the eastern sky, but its radiance was muted behind a thick layer of clouds, still
he could make out a load of wood on the wagon and it disturbed him.
Shadowy figures were just beginning to be visible in the glow of the rising sun and it appeared to him that an occasional woman hurried to the village well for water and then returned bearing the heavy load.
James sat down on the bed and wondered whether John would have any success at all at the priory. He knew that time was not on his side.
Occasionally, he would stand and peer out the window as if doing so would help to gain him release. Just looking out of the window seemed to calm him. There were more people outside now. Some were already on their way to their daily labors. Most slowed or stopped when another wagon went by. They spoke quietly to each other, and motioned in the direction of the dungeon, then continued on their way.
'These are simple people,' he thought, 'ignorant to the ways of the world.' To them his fate was nothing more than a temporary diversion from the unremarkable drudgery of their lives. Most of them were teetering on the brink between survival and death themselves.
He sat back on the stone bed and waited. Soon, he felt a sharp pain in the middle of his back. As a rock fell to the floor he jumped with a start and whirled around to see two small boys through the slit above him. He wanted to lunge at the window to take hold of a leg if he could. But he was not fast enough. The boys ran away yelling taunts over their shoulders. He surely did not deserve such wretched treatment, but was in little position to restrain it. He decided to exercise more caution and not sit directly beneath the window.
As the boys ran off, James noticed that there was considerably more traffic on the narrow roadway now than he had expected. Some women, fortunate enough to have the means, darted in and out of shoppes buying provisions and bread for their families, but most people were making their way to the village square.
The square was to the right of the window. The most prominent feature of the stone-cobbled square was St. Mary's Church. James did not have a full view of the square nor the church, but he could see that at least one man was bent on the task of stacking wood in the square near the base of the church spire.
'So this is the reason for the wagons,' he exclaimed half to himself and half aloud. His heart began to pound within his breast. Of all the ways to die, he thought, this was surely the worst; excruciating in its pain, insulting in its spectacle. 'Am I ready to dee?' he asked out loud.
Just then he heard the door at the top of the stairs creak open on their massive hinges. He stood at the door of the cell and through its small window-like opening he could see the glow of candles as two men descended the steps from above. The men cast larger-than-life shadows on the walls as they came down the stairs. They walked briskly to his cell. Thoughts of fighting them off and escaping crossed his mind. He knew however that such thoughts were useless. Even if he were able to get out of the cell, how might he get past the guards beyond the top of the stairs?
Now the soldiers were at the door and it was thrown open and two guards stepped inside and grabbed James by the arms and dragged him from the cell. He gave