In the wild lands of medieval England, a brutal winter settles upon the poor villagers of the northern realm of Westcliff. But it is not just marauding wolves that they must fear. As they toil for their master Lord Westcliff, he makes plans that wil...
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The sounds of waves crashing in the distance mingled with groans as Gabriel started to wake. His head hung low as he dangled from the chains that held his arms outstretched; his shoulders burnt from the strain of being suspended in this position. He had managed to grab a few hours restless sleep after exhaustion had finally overtaken him. It had been six days now in the dungeons. As he came to, Gabriel realised that the groans that had woken him had been his own. The gaoler's attentions had been successful in slowly reducing him to submission. Gabriel opened a heavily bruised eye and looked up at the thick manacle wrapped around his wrist – a legacy of his initial reaction to being brought to the dungeon. On awakening from his clubbing, Gabriel had found himself chained to the walls. As he had regained his senses, he had remembered Lord Westcliff's promises to sell the children into slavery and he had fallen into a desperate rage to free them. His throes of anger had snapped one of his wrist cuffs clean off the chains. If it hadn't been for the gaoler rushing over and battering him back to unconsciousness with a poker, he might have been successful in freeing himself. But when he had awoken the second time, Gabriel had found himself now suspended by chains designed to lift the great drawbridge and with specially crafted manacles capable of holding a man of such inhuman strength. With both cuffs and chains nearly an inch thick, there was no hope of shattering them.
As the pain in his shoulders racked him, Gabriel groaned again. Every single joint ached from his own bodyweight pulling him down. His lungs burned as his own considerable mass made every breath an effort. He felt every wound and injury that the gaoler had inflicted on him over the last few days. But every one of them was nothing to the terrible knowledge of what his actions had brought about. Gabriel wailed aloud as he pictured the poor children who were now destined for a slavers' market somewhere. The image of beautiful little Alice pierced his heart hotter than any of the irons the gaoler so delighted in sizzling against his skin. He gave a tug at one of the manacles that held him and let out a yell as the movement sent waves of agony down his arm. The sound of tiny bells ringing tormented his ears, the small alarms having been attached to his chains to notify the gaoler of any movement he made.
Hearing the dungeon door creak open, Gabriel mentally prepared himself as he waited in the darkness. A pair of feet slid towards him, stopping an arm's length away. He watched a filthy fingernail appear and dig painfully under his chin, raising his head. Slowly he turned to see the grinning gaoler. The old man's wrinkled face stared back at him, looking him up and down. He released Gabriel and brought his fingers to cover his nose.
"Phewee, you stink" the gaoler remarked as he backed up a step. He gave one of Gabriel's chains a shake, rocking his head to the tune of the bells as he did.
"Jingle-bells, Gabriels smells. Jingle-bells, Gabriel smells!" he said gleefully, proud of his rhyme. As he looked at Gabriel, he could see the big man did not appreciate it so much. The gaoler snorted and waved his hand in front of his face to dispel the stench, but even for a man as used to powerful odours as the gaoler was, Gabriel truly did reek. It was hardly Gabriel's fault though. Standing as best he could in his suspended position, the big man's feet were immersed in a channel of watery human waste. The decision to place him in this location was deliberate and calculated. The castle had several toilet areas set within its structure, hollow funnels built to let human waste drop outside into the moat or the sea. One set of funnels diverted back inside the castle to drop into the dungeons – just another form of punishment for those poor souls sentenced to spend time there. As a special form of torture to help bring Gabriel to heel, these chutes emptied directly over him. Lines of loose and not-so-loose human deposits covered Gabriel's head and shoulders. As if to emphasise the point, a sudden flow of water descended from the holes above to rain down onto Gabriel. The gaoler chuckled as he watched the spectacle.
