The smaller of the serving women, a plain, drab thing with a listless manner, who had stepped near to fill Pellier’s tankard, gaped in horror. Shanna began to realize the danger of what she had done. The mirth of the corsairs shook the rafters, and it dawned on her that she had embarrassed Pellier before all the others—to her a well-deserved deed but one quite likely to bring her end.
Harripen snickered. “Hey, Robby, get up. Ye’ll do no good down there alone. Ye forgot the wench.”
The Frenchman’s dignity was sorely bruised, not to mention his backside where he had struck the floor. His eyes were shot with blood, his face scarlet with rage as he came to his feet, glowering at Shanna. The words sounded choked in his throat.
“You high-flown bitch, I’ll teach you to be a proper doxy who’ll come when she’s called.”
Savagely he snatched the leather thong, nearly jerking Shanna off her feet and raising a welt where the rawhide strip sawed at her throat. Half dragging her after him, he strode across the room until they reached a large, open hole in the floor. Pellier drew a blade from the top of his boot and to her amazement slashed her bonds, setting her free of both her collar and wristlets. Shanna frowned at him inquiringly, but smirking, he kicked a ladder into the hole and gestured for her to descend.
“Unless of course you wish my assistance,” he sneered and reached for her, but Shanna avoided his grasp and obeyed. She climbed down into the dark, rank pit and then raised her gaze in wonder at what was expected of her. The ladder was pulled away, and she saw Pellier reach over into the shadows near the wall. A heavy, iron-barred grating crashed down to cover the hole. In some bewilderment Shanna glanced around her. A checkered pattern of light from above filtered down, and she realized she stood on the top of a pile of rubble beneath the opening. Did Pellier intend to frighten her with isolation and darkness? The idea was ludicrous, of course, when she was more terrified of his loathsome attentions.
A skittering in the dark chilled Shanna’s confidence like a flood of icy water. A squeak near her pierced the quiet, and she glanced down as a large rat ran across her feet. Her shriek brought guffaws of glee from Pellier. Anxiously Shanna strained upward to reach the grating, but the pirate wheeled a weighty barrel onto the grill to preclude her moving it. A scurrying came behind her, and Shanna whirled to see several of the gray furry beasts crouching on the edge of the light. Their eyes gleamed oddly red and evilly bright as if they contemplated her end. Gasping, Shanna scrambled away from them further down the slope of the debris— from them.
The odious stench of the pit choked her and brought her close to retching. Shanna could only guess what the pirates used it for. The small, red-eyed furries grew bolder. A half dozen or more now sat watching her, creeping nearer whenever she glanced away. Shanna retreated another step, and her foot went ankle deep in the slime. A rat scurried toward her, and, stifling a scream, Shanna kicked at it, sending it squeaking back to the pack. More rodents slithered from the darkness until their number had doubled. They began to move forward in a body. A shuddering sob escaped Shanna as she splashed backwards until she stood knee deep in the foul water. A sardonic laugh came from above, and a crust of bread and pieces of meat fell through the grating.
“Here, milady,” Pellier’s voice mocked. “Here’s your supper!” He snickered wickedly. “That is, if you can save any from your greedy little friends. And here’s something to quench your thirst, milady.” His humor was high as he poured ale through the cover, drizzling it over the squeaking, fighting rats now tearing at the food he had tossed. “Don’t be lonesome for me. Your friends will keep you company ‘til I’m ready for you.”
His footsteps faded from her small world, and Shanna, conscious of her own ravenous hunger, stared mutely at the greedy rodents. The droplets of moisture glittering as they fell made her throat dry. The fetid stink of offal caused her to cough. The rats, now searching eagerly for any last morsel, turned as one to stare at her. Something bumped her leg, and Shanna reached down, closing her hand over a piece of wood. It was firm and real, which little else around her seemed to be. Her hunger gnawed at her belly, her thirst burned in her throat, her fatigue eroded her will, her fear undermined her resolve.
She was afraid she might dissolve to tears at any moment and plead to be taken from this pit of hell. Even as she faced the scurrying animals, she imagined she felt small, wiggling things between her toes or something slither now and then against her leg.
The rats tested the edge of the water but were reluctant to enter. Then one bolder than the rest leaped in and began to swim towards her. Shanna stilled her quaking and waited tensely, raising the board. A moment more! With a sob she brought the wood down edgewise upon the furry thing, and after a brief, frenzied splashing, Shanna saw no more of it. Warily the others backed away to a safer distance to consider her, their red eyes twinkling as if they whispered among themselves and plotted against her.