Gates of Heaven by Pamita Rao

Author:Pamita Rao
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LiberWriter.com

CHAPTER TEN

The Prisoner

Chimes of bells woke up the vendors of Tireol market square at dawn, and just like every other day, they pushed their carts into the positions that would earn them the most sales during the day. As the sun rose above the horizon, the people of Tireol hustled in the streets to buy their daily goods. The scents of flowers, fish, perfume, and meat wafted in the air, and people moved towards various carts. The fragrance of fresh flowers drew the attention of a few women towards a flower stall. The vendor of a meat stall called out to passers-by to come and get fresh stock, while tending to the queue forming in front of his stall. The smell of fish attracted a few towards a woman crouched on the ground with an open array of freshly caught fish on display.

“Only five coins,” she called out, as her customers picked up fish to see if they were indeed fresh.

An old man hunched his way towards the fruit vendors, followed by his young grandson, who held a basket for him. The sweet scent from the bright red fruits wafted its way to the boy’s nostrils, and his mouth watered at the sight.

The old man moved from one stall to the next, observing the display of bright fruits and vegetables. His grandson grasped his hand as they passed in front of a fruit stall and pointed at a red-colored fruit.

“How much for those fruits?” the old man asked.

“Three coins,” said the vendor.

The old man opened his pouch. There were only five coins in his pouch. He had not earned a lot this week. His ageing bones would not allow him to lift heavy goods, and his employer had given him lesser wages than the last time. They had lived on thin vegetable stew to save some coins for the tax collector. This was all he had left until the next payday, and he still had to buy wheat. Wheat would cost a lot more.

As he considered what to do next, his grandson picked up a fruit from the cart and hid it inside a pouch that hung from his shirt.

“I can only spare one coin, lad. How much can you give me?”

“I won’t make enough coins if I sell that little. You have to at least buy a bunch,” the vendor said.

As the old man argued with the vendor, the boy slipped one more fruit into his pouch.

The sudden sound of galloping hooves caught their attention. They lifted their heads in the direction of the noise. Fifteen horses clattered into the market square. Soldiers sat on those horses and held their heads high, and villagers bent their heads and moved back as the soldiers approached.

As they rode by, some of the men paused to snatch fruit from nearby stalls and laughed as the townsfolk moved back to let them pass. The sound of moaning came from behind one of the horses. Inglan’s hands were tied to a horse, and his body dragged across the streets.

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