The Yellow Sash

There was a growing clamor at the ancient palace of the Cinnelon, and it carried even to the Tower. Rodolfo noted it with mixed emotions. He could not have been forgotten, but there was no clarity as to whether he was yet forgiven. The queen of the Cinnelon was headstrong, capricious and stunningly beautiful to varying degrees, and Rodolfo had misjudged her once already. That was why he had spent the past six months in the Tower. To the outside world, the Tower loomed over the Cinnelon capital, the most dazzling part of the whole palace. But inside, it might better have been named the Pit. It was an exquisitely built prison, with no way out but to be lifted thirty feet from its floor back up to the guards’ overlook. The giant stones that made up the walls were cut to fit with rare precision, no mortar was used, so no mortar could be dug out.

Rodolfo had been straining to listen in to the gossip from the guards. It seemed another lover had upset the queen. That was promising. If he had disappointed her, that might mean a reprieve for Rodolfo. And Rodolfo was keen to get a second chance. The queen was really too old for his tastes, but she was a queen. He’d need a chance to regain his strength, of course. Perhaps he could get some real food at last. He had twisted his right ankle badly as he was dropped into the cell, and his right knee had been wrenched fiercely in the same fall. He had managed little more than sitting, crawling or lying down while in the Tower. Perhaps her healers would be able to treat his knee and ankle properly before he was summoned again to the queen...

His reverie ended when the new prisoner was dragged to and tossed from the overlook. A thick rope had been looped around his chest so he did not fall the full distance. There was no assurance that the new prisoner would not be injured slamming back into the wall. This prisoner, though, even with the stiff and heavy rope, twisted like a cat to meet the rock face with his booted feet and walked backwards to the pit floor. Just before the bottom the new prisoner shrugged off the rope and tossed it aside. He waved the rope back up to the guards with shouts of thanks.

The new prisoner wore black boots and breeches, and a bright, yellow sash wrapped multiple times around his chest.‌ He strode quickly about the communal cell while the guards retreated to more comfortable locales, muttering to themselves.

“My name’s Rodolfo, I can help you hold on here for as long as possible - the queen has been know to ransom those with wealthy families very quickly.”

“That’s what her ministers hope, but I doubt she’s considering that. You see, I told her ‘No’. There are many ways to tell a young lady ‘No’, and I made sure I’d be dropped into the tower with you.”

“With me?” Rodolfo was caught off guard momentarily. “You didn’t mean you upset her on purpose, did you?”

“Call me Darus, the new prisoner offered. “I’ve been asked to break you out of here. That’s why I had to get inside with you. I'd never have come this way, otherwise. The Cinnelon don’t really have all that much to offer these days, do they?” Dimmed sunlight clawing through the window openings - another thirty feet up and across from the overlook - and showed a broad and cheery grin on a very young face. "Her regal majesty Gendrielle was clever enough to insist my sword be taken from me. But her grandfather, who was neither as sweet nor as pretty, was not so smart." Darus carefully unwrapped the sash, looping it over his left arm. It must have been twelve feet in length, with heavy, metal buckles on each end. 

"Is that... Is the sash silk?" asked Rodolfo, not sure how to ask about the reference to the queen's grandfather. He had died some forty years earlier, and the new prisoner was clearly only old enough to have heard tales of the man.

"It's linen, woven as one single piece. Quite beautiful and with suprising strength. But my favorite part is the buckles. Watch carefully!"

Darus had positioned himself at the outside wall and dashed toward the sheer face below the guards' overlook. He took one and then two steps straight up the wall, and stretched out an arm. He wedged the buckle into an otherwise invisible slot cut into the rock. 

"What do you think? Might someone have cut another slot somewhere?" He began to run back and forth along the wall, hanging from the sash. On the forth pass to the right he stretched up again and slotted the other buckle.

Darus dropped down to the ground and sauntered over to Rodolfo. "Now wouldn't it be something if there was a reason some one had cut those two slots there? What do you think?" Rodolfo was quiet. His knee was throbbing again, and his head was aching, too, now, watching this strange display. "Watch carefully, I'm very proud of this!" And the new prisoner trotted back to the sash. He swung himself lazily up inside the sash, with his legs stretched in front of him. His boots rested just below the near invisible crease of the black, stone block centered between the buckles. He stamped his heel at the bottom left corner of the block. And again. And again. It moved. Just a little, but the left side of the block had been pushed in. And on the right, the edge was sticking out. Now he reached over to the right edge, and began to pull. As the block opened up, it became obvious that it was no more than three inches in thickness, and the back of the panel had numerous hollows carved out to reduce its weight. The secret panel pivoted on its center, dividing the opening in half. Two openings, each just enough for a large man to slide through. 

Darus flicked the buckles free, balancing in the opening, before dropping back down. "Wow! Clearly, someone was left alone here with a magic sword for way too long. What do you think? Now, Rodolfo, we just need to get you up there. " Before Rodolfo could acquiesce or protest, he added "How's your knee holding up?" Rodolfo was taken aback. Although he'd not tried to stand or walk, he didn't think he'd given anything away. "I know, I'll strap you on my back. I think I can run us both up the wall and into the tunnel."

Rodolfo was helped to his feet. His left leg had done little to no work since he had first been imprisoned. The right knee had not healed well, and could neither bend much, nor take any weight. His rescuer carefully wrapped the sash about them, cradling Rodolfo behind his upper thighs, looping up to cinch the two of them as one. A second time, Darus ran to the wall and let his momentum take him two steps up. He reached hands, elbows and then chest into the opening. The doubled weight showed no effect. He wriggled forward till the two men were inside the tunnel. Then careful maneuvering with his feet closed the panel, and the men had disappeared from the Pit, leaving no trace at all.

Rodolfo was not able to discern the length of the tunnel, as he lay atop the wriggling young man. Most of the way was tight, so that he could feel the roof scraping his back, though there were moments where Darus lifted himself to his hands and knees. Once, they traversed a vertical wall, Rodolfo cradled by the sash, Darus inching his way by finger and toe holds. In the blackness, it was not apparent if the drop was two feet, or two hundred. The tunnel ended in a space large enough for them to stand, and Rodolfo was loosed from his cradle. He leaned on his good leg in one corner, while Darus pressed an ear to the wall. It was for a full three minutes once Rodolfo started counting, but finally his young rescuer slid to the floor, bracing his legs against the tunnel's end. Silently the wall pivoted as the block in the pit had. Rodolfo needed to crawl out, the night's journey had his muscles shaking. Darus again heaved the pivoting stone door closed, brushing straw and dust back to completely erase the marks of their entrance. 

Darus scooped Rodolfo into his arms, carrying him to the only horse in the stable. It suddenly dawned on him just how strong the young man truly was. There was no special exertion as he was lifted into the saddle, one longer than normal, made for a passenger. Only later did Rodolfo remember that the horse was already saddled, waiting for them. 

The horse carried the two men at a gentle, languid pace through the night, without any haste to betray their escape. The bright yellow sash held Rodolfo upright and secure while they rode, and he let himself give in to the exhaustion that forced itself onto him. 

Low and heavy clouds hid the sunrise as the men finally dismounted, and Darus carried his new charge into an abandoned barn on the distant outskirts of a tiny farming community. Food and water had been stashed here, and Rodolfo ate better than at any point since his incarceration. The horse was treated equally well, and the three spent the hours of daylight completely hidden from sight. The men spoke little during the day, but Darus made a point of addressing the damaged knee and ankle. Exceptionally strong and skilled fingers worked the atrophied muscles and damaged sinews and ligaments, bringing relief, at last, from the relentless throbbing.  Rodolfo was again surprised at the quiet competence the younger man showed, and the details of his preparation. 

It was totally dark when the men ventured outside once more. Darus had wrapped the injured knee with part of the sash, before securing Rodolfo to his back once more. This time, he hurried the horse to an eager trot, rapidly extending their distance from the Pit. Somehow he was able to guide their horse unerringly down the unilluminated road. 

The men traveled five more days and nights, each time arriving at a well provisioned and prepared hideout before any daylight might betray their presence, then leaving again in the dark, hastening through the night. Rodolfo's knee was able to bare some weight now, and flexibility was returning to his ankle. He began to relish the firm comfort when his knee was wrapped, and the security the sash provided while in the saddle.

It was almost jarring when Darus guided the horse into a small village, after all his careful avoidance of people. More unusual, perhaps, was that Rodolfo could see the sun beginning to affect the Eastern horizon. Was this the end of their journey then?

As had become custom, Darus carefully dismounted, the two men bound as one. He then unwound the sash from Rodolfo and his knee. Dim light from the early dawn showed a well in the village center, and Rodolfo was helped over to a wooden hitching post. At first, Rodolfo yielded to the younger man's assistance, allowing the sash to hold each arm spread wide across the center bar of the hitching post. It was when he saw how the buckles were wedged into the iron rings at each end that he realized he was trapped. "Wait, Darus!" he whispered urgently, "My knee is getting better, I can stand on my own now..."

"I need to leave now, Rodolfo. I need to retrieve my sword. The villagers here hired me to bring you back, so we won't be going any further. They promised to pay me everything they have, but I need to refuse that - they have already lost so much. Also, they are really, really unhappy with what you did to their children. I certainly don't intend to be around when they find you..."

Rodolfo nearly yelled after the young man as he mounted and rode off, but the futility struck him at once. He pulled with his arms against the sash. That, too, proved futile. In the distance the sounds of a small farming community beginning their day grew. And Rodolfo suddenly remembered eighteen months ago. That quiet, secluded shed he had found was for drying flax. It was linen they made here. Linen that they wove here. Quite beautiful and with surprising strength...