Part 29 (2/2)

The Wolf could see it all with remarkable clarity. Indeed, his knees and s.h.i.+ns could recall better than his mind's eye every stair and endless mile of winding black corridors he had been hauled along during his descent into the lowest level of the labyrinth.

What he could not envision, as he gave up on his unidentified sound and lay back in his cell, was the solemn group of figures dressed in gray robes who were making their way through the upper alleyways into the courtyard.

The sentries were in the process of explaining to the lost monks where they had erred in making a turn, when the clanking footsteps of a small patrol approached the court from the direction of the barracks. The captain of the patrol was ill-tempered, declaring he had been interrupted in his evening meal to comply with new orders to double the sentries posted around the main keep. He then demanded to know, in his best Draconian mien, why the guards had left their post and why the court was swarming with a nest of scurvy, lice-ridden acolytes.

The first two sentries should have looked more closely at the face behind the steel nasal, for by the time it occurred to them to question why the captain's voice sounded odd, there were blades slas.h.i.+ng through the darkness, ending their curiosity for all time.

Sir Roger de Chesnai quickly ordered his handful of men to hide the bodies and a.s.sume the posts of the dead guards. The ”monks” hastened forward, spilling across the courtyard and shedding the cowls that would hamper them in the close confines below. All but one were dressed in leather armour and blue surcoats borrowed from the guards' barracks on an enterprising raid conducted earlier in the evening.

”That was too easy,” Alaric worried, his neck craned back, his head swiveling to scan the sheer stone walls rising above them. The only windows were high up on the third storey, and on the twin towers that rose above the turreted roofline. Most of the guests would be in the great hall, where the Dragon was undoubtedly reveling in his triumph, but there were guards everywhere and every shadow was suspect.

”Come,” De Chesnai said urgently. ”Give me your hands so I can bind them.”

”Loosely, d.a.m.n you,” Friar muttered, thrusting out his wrists and watching as a length of twine tied them together.

”There must be hundreds of chambers below the keep,” Gil protested in an angry whisper. ”How can we possibly search them all?”

”One at a time, if we have to,” De Chesnai grunted. ”And a fat lot of good that that will do”-he glanced wryly at the longbow she carried slung over her shoulder-”in a place where the longest corridor is half a turn more than the shortest.” will do”-he glanced wryly at the longbow she carried slung over her shoulder-”in a place where the longest corridor is half a turn more than the shortest.”

Gil opened her mouth to offer a retort, but staunched it on a warning glare from Alaric. She did not completely trust the knight, nor did she like the idea of using Alaric as bait. It was the only logical way they could hope to gain entry to the cells below, yet it caused a quickening in the blood and a pounding in her heart to see Alaric without sword or armour.

”Christ's ribs,” spat a disgruntled Robert the Welshman. He had squeezed his broad frame into one of the confiscated surcoats and looked like an overstuffed pasty about to burst its seams.

”Your own fault for swelling to the size of a bullock,” Sparrow hissed from the seat of the makes.h.i.+ft sling suspended from the Welshman's broad shoulders. A dwarf would have been difficult to explain to an alert sentry regardless of his disguise. Dressed in his own forest clothes and riding Robert's back, Sparrow could pa.s.s for just another bulge of muscle ... providing he stopped squirming for better balance in the sling.

Mutter and Stutter snickered in unison and adjusted the angle of each other's helm.

”Ready then?” De Chesnai asked. ”We'll not have a second chance. You, la.s.s, if you are as good a shot as the bishop says, get by my elbow and stay there. Aim for the throat to cut off any sound of alarm.”

”I know full well how to kill Normans,” Gil replied tautly. ”See to your own skills, Captain.”

De Chesnai prodded Alaric toward the door. Both men had to duck to clear the archway, then climb down the short flight of steps single file in order to reach the guard's station below. There, three of De Gournay's men stood instantly alert, their hands clasped around the hilts of their swords.

”Rest easy lads,” De Chesnai barked gruffly. ”Just another bit of amus.e.m.e.nt for my lord D'Aeth. Caught him trying to empty the kitchens of venison, and right under the prince's nose.”

The guards chuckled and eased their hands from the swords. A bat of an eye later, one of them was crumpled on the floor, unconscious, and the other two were pressed flat against the wall, their eyes bulging with the pressure of the cold steel blades thrusting into their necks.

”The Black Knight,” De Chesnai asked the closest. ”Where is he?”

”Where you will never get to him,” the guard spat.

Sir Roger sighed and shook his head. He gave his hand a jerk and the blade of his knife plunged forward, slicing through cartilage and bone like a cleaver splitting through a joint of mutton. Blood and air bubbled through the gaping wound and, before the guard had finished choking and twitching himself into a tangle on the floor, De Chesnai was approaching the second man and waving Gil aside.

”Now then. I shall ask again. Where is the Black Knight being held?”

”B-b-below,” the guard stammered. ”In the main donjon.”

”Lead the way, there's a good lad. Oh”-he raised the dagger and rested the point on the guard's cheek, letting him feel the warm wetness of his comrade's blood-”and if you attempt to cry out a warning, or sound an alarm of any kind, you will feel the bite of this up your b.u.t.tocks, my friend, and I promise you, the sensation will not be a pleasurable one.”

The guard blinked, swallowed, and nodded jerkily.

”Move,” De Chesnai ordered.

The guard reeled away from the wall and stumbled ahead of them along the dimly lit corridor. De Chesnai, Alaric, and the others were close behind, leaving three of their own men to replace the guards on watch.

Two more posts were broached and cleared, with De Gournay's men bound and gagged-if they took the suggestion peaceably-or the bodies hidden and the vacancies filled with erstwhile foresters. At the third guardpost, there were four men playing a game with dice and pebbles. Boredom caused one of them to inspect the new prisoner with more care than usual, and to wonder why the sentry from the main post was sweating rivers in the chilly air. He was on the verge of shrugging aside his suspicions when the sling around Robert's waist snapped, bringing Sparrow down with a yelp of pain.

Gil wasted neither thought nor action, but raised her bow and fired an arrow into the guard's throat before he could cry out a warning. De Chesnai's dagger tasted blood again, buried to the hilt in a man's belly, while Robert accounted for the third and fourth guard by grasping them around the necks and cracking their heads together with enough force to send their eyeb.a.l.l.s squirting out of the sockets.

In the sudden eruption of violence, the sentry who had been their hostage darted ahead into the gloom of the corridor. He did not get very far before an iron bolt from Sparrow's crossbow thumped his flesh like a hatchet striking into wood and sent him sprawling forward into the wall. He grabbed for a chain hanging nearby and tried to use it to hold himself upright, but it was no use, and he slid slowly down onto his knees, his mouth moving in soundless agony.

Alaric discarded the ropes from around his wrists and bent over to arm himself from one of the dead guards. They were standing at a junction where the corridor branched off in two directions, each hazy and poorly lit. The guard had been running toward the one on the left ... because it was the closest? ... because he knew there was help within reach? ... or because he was hoping to lead them away from their true goal?

”In a week,” De Chesnai remarked dryly, ”I've not yet met one of De Gournay's paid louts who can claim a brain bigger than a pea. He would have been after saving his own neck, methinks, by giving M'sieur D'Aeth the pleasure of chewing upon ours.”

”To the left then?”

”Aye. The left.”

They did not waste the time to hide the bodies, but ran swiftly along the low-ceilinged corridor, pausing where lit torches marked the entrance to a storeroom. There were no doors and no guards blocking them, and thus were deemed by Friar to be of no importance. After several more sharp turns along a route that took them deeper and deeper beneath the belly of the keep, they were drawn by the smell, rather than the dull light, emanating from a doorway up ahead.

This one was guarded.

Two arrows released simultaneously from Gil's bow and Sparrow's harp-shaped arblaster, struck the men-at-arms posted on either side of the iron-grille door, killing them with only the faintest of thuds to mark their pa.s.sing.

Gil was the first to sidle up to the entryway and edge an eye around the stone frame. When she saw the vast, sunken maw of a pit that yawned beneath her, she recoiled back against the wall again, needing a moment or two to brace herself for a second look.

”Christ's mercy,” De Chesnai murmured, the bile thickening in his throat at the sight of the hooks and ropes and chains that dangled over tables, benches, and wooden racks stained dark with blood. Iron tongs, pokers, and pincers were suspended like cooking utensils over the firepit-different sizes for different purposes. Cauldrons of oil and pitch sat cooling beside the grate, steam from the surfaces drifting lazily upward to blend with the sulphurous miasma above.

”I can only see two guards,” Friar said tautly. ”But there must be more ... listen.”

The sound of voices and the rattle of dice seemed to be coming from around and behind the base of the central column. As much as half of the huge room was effectively cut off from view.

”Alaric!” Gil's voice, whispered in his ear, urged him to follow her pointed finger to a table almost directly below them. A young boy was stretched out, bound hand and foot in a spread-eagle position. His eyes were open and he was staring directly up at the door, but there was no change in his expression to indicate whether he had seen them or not.

”Eduard,” De Chesnai said unnecessarily. ”You were right, Bishop. Tomorrow would have been too late.”

Alaric's gaze flicked back to the two guards he could see at the bottom of the stairs. They would be easy enough to deal with, but he did not like going in without knowing how many more were inside, out of sight. Nor did he like the size or location of the huge bronze alarm bell. It looked big enough to bring down the walls of Jericho if struck with any force at all. Of equal concern, suddenly, was the chain attached to the bell pull. It climbed all the way up the wall and disappeared into a small, neat hole in the ceiling rafters- undoubtedly connected to another bell located in the soldiers guard station above, and possibly to a third and fourth on storeys higher up.

Alaric stiffened, remembering the guard they had shot back at the junction. He had died reaching for a chain, and the chain had slipped several links before drawing taut in his death grip.

”Christ! The alarm is already given! Gil, Sparrow: the guards!”

The two archers stepped into the doorway and without questioning the order or the unexpected savagery, fired down on the two visible sentries. The arrows both struck the same man an inch apart, and while Sparrow gaped up at Gil and fumbled another bolt from his quiver to rearm his crossbow, Gil swore and nocked another of her longer arrows, catching the second, startled guard squarely in his opened mouth. The cry of warning was strangled short, but given nonetheless and a scramble of heavy boots, chain mail, and the sc.r.a.pe of crossbows being armed reached the top of the stairs.

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