J. F. Bone, page 10
“I’m glad I didn’t find it. I’d have roasted myself trying to burn that chain.” She sighed. “I wonder why it is,” she muttered as she laced her bodice, “That every time I get in a tight spot, I wind up stripped.”
We went back down the hall. I found the door readily enough, but it had swung closed and locked. I couldn’t open it.
“You know where Gerd keeps her keys?” I asked.
“They weren’t on her. I didn’t leave her anything except her smock.”
“Well, we can’t go back the way we came unless we have a key. So take us back the way you came.”
“I don’t know how I came. They had me in a sack.”
“Oh, great.” I lapsed into silence. Martha was carrying the kelly and I had the webcor. She was the better shot and was in better condition than I, so she led the way.
We came to a corridor running at right angles to the one we were in. It was short and ended with doors at each end, lit dimly by smoky little lamps that looked vaguely like the one that made Aladdin famous. We turned left and Martha opened the door to a fair-sized room furnished in Tharn style and lighted with candles in sconces on the walls.
“Wonder what this is for?” Martha said.
“Maybe it’s a common room,” I said. Talking was painful so I shut up and watched Martha check it out.
The room had three other doors, one in each of the walls. All were closed. Gingerly Martha tried the first. It opened on a metal grating beyond which was another room, larger than the one we were in, and better lighted. A group of women in shapeless gray smocks, belted at the waist, were seated around a long table, eating and talking. Their conversation was about Sar Virra and was the usual chatter about sex and children. Probably they were the ones I had seen in Sar Virra’s quarters. Martha quietly closed the door, crossed the room and tried the one in the opposite wall.
This opened into another short hall that was open at the far end. The high-pitched voices of two Tharn women floated to our ears.
“I wasn’t raised to be a scullery maid,” one piped. “My father was a cloth merchant and I was gently reared. I had maids to do this kind of work.”
“Don’t let Gerd hear you say that or you’ll be on permanent detail. Just be thankful you are washing pots rather than doing other chores,” a lower-pitched voice answered. “I’ve been Sar Virra’s ward for two years and when our lord starts calling for you to serve him you’ll wish you were back on this job.”
“I didn’t ask to be his Ward. And I don’t want to be his doxy. I don’t care for anything about him.”
“What difference does that make? You have no choice.
You’ll do what the rest of us do. Just thank Tharn that the beast is sterile, or you might have a belly full of him.”
The other girl laughed nervously. “How can you joke about such a thing?”
“It comes with practice,” the second voice replied.
Martha closed the door and tried the third one. It was bolted from outside but there was a slot in the ward through which a rod could be thrust to push the bolt back. Unfortunately we didn’t have the rod. I handed Martha my dagger and she probed with it while I stewed impatiently and hoped that no one would surprise us at our work.
“Ah,” Martha sighed as the bolt slid aside, “that does it.”
The door opened onto a hallway lit with a glowing cresset that gave off an acrid odor and a feeble glow intensifying rather than relieving the gloom around it. We bolted the door behind us and moved softly down the curved hall. I had no idea where we were: possibly in an annular that ran around a central column or an airshaft. If it did, then logically there should be a ramp or a stairway leading to the lower levels.
The silence around us was broken only by the faint sussurating whisper of our bare feet on the wooden floor as we tiptoed silently along. We came to a cross corridor that turned toward the inside of the annular and we went down it hoping it would lead to a stairway.
A glow from ahead brought us to a halt. And then slowly we inched forward. The corridor ended at a circular landing cut across by the straight edge of a staircase and a heavy wooden railing. Four doorways opened onto the landing, and standing beneath the cresset, which illuminated the area, was a Tharn warrior clad in a mail shirt and a gold and white jupon. Buckled to his belt was a sword and he held a spear in his hand. His back was toward us as he leaned, half-asleep, against the railing. But his presence was enough to destroy any hopes we had of passing unobserved.
The expression on Martha’s face was eloquent as we moved back into the dimness of the corridor. The sentry posed an obvious problem. We could immobilize or kill him, but that would trigger an alarm as soon as his relief came, and we had no idea how soon that might be.
Martha pushed me into a doorway in the corridor, made signs that I was to stay there and moved away into the darkness. I had no idea what she was planning to do, but since I could think of nothing but my aching head at the moment, I was content to let her do it.
Behind me came the quick slap of running feet. I shrank back into the doorway as a figure brushed past me, running toward the lighted guard post.
The sentry snapped to alertness. His spear slapped into his hands and levelled. “Halt! Who’s there!” he asked harshly.
“Me, Alyse,” came the high pitched voice I had heard in the scullery.
“What in Tharn’s name are you doing here?” the guard asked.
“Hush! Not so loud, Furth. We might be heard.”
“You’ll have me hanged yet,” the guard muttered. “How is it that you managed to get out. I thought Gerd watched over you like a mother kluk.”
“She’s busy with the new one Lorn brought in this evening. She left Mora and I working in the scullery; and since she did not return when we were done, I came to you.”
“But why? You’re Sar Virra’s, not mine.”
“Not yet, my love. I am scheduled for tomorrow. Tonight I am yours if you want me.”
“Want you! Tharn knows I want you! But this is insane. You’ll have us both hung from the tower gibbet!” But despite the words the sentry didn’t sound displeased.
“For a moment with you, my darling,” Alyse whispered, “I would brave death itself.” I leaned from the doorway and watched as she moved forward and touched the sentry, slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
For a second the man stood rigid, then his arms closed around her.
“Come, my dearest—out of the light—we do not have too much time,” Alyse said. “Tonight I would be with the one I love.”
“But, my duty!”
“If you value me less than your silly duty—”
“You know I don’t. I’ve loved you ever since we were children and played together. But you are the lord’s property. And I am his man.”
“Pah! He has plenty of others. I’m not his woman. He took me without my consent and against my will. I owe him nothing.”
“Nor do I,” the sentry said, “except my oath.”
“And what is an oath to such a lord? I love you Furth, and I want to be yours ere he has me. Come, my love— come with me out of this light.”
The sentry shook his head, shrugged, laid his spear carefully against the wall and took Alyse by the hand. For a moment I thought he would turn in my direction, but instead they went the other way.
“There is a dark corridor here,” the sentry said, “but only a moment now. My relief is due shortly.”
“A moment,” Alyse agreed, “a moment that may fill a lifetime.”
They disappeared into the darkness and I wondered where Martha was as I moved toward the landing. She came out of the opposite doorway as I entered the landing. We grinned at each other as we slipped across the lighted area and into the archway. A spiral staircase turning to the left led downward, along the side of a column of stone bound with iron bands. The stairs jutted from the column to form a helical passageway two meters wide that wound down the center of the tower. The outer wall was pierced with arrow slits that covered the inside. A staircase like this was easily defended. Attackers would find it impossible to use their weapons, while the archers of the defense would be virtually unhampered.
Eight levels: our feet moved quietly from step to step, and the first level appeared. It was a platform like the one above and beyond its arched entrance we could see the arm and shoulder of another sentry. Quietly we moved past and down the winding stair. At the next level the staircase changed to a broad stone ramp that filled the well and spiralled down into the depths. We passed another guard and moved on, our feet making quiet slithery sounds against the stone.
At the fourth level we paused. The archway was wider here and flanked by two sentries who were animatedly discussing the forthcoming trials of courage.
“An Sar Malthor makes the finals,” one said. “You will see such swordsmanship as you never have seen before.”
“I have seen our lord. Is this Sar Malthor the equal of him?”
“Probably. Maybe even his master. I have served under both and Sar Malthor trains daily.”
“Hmm. This I would like to see. Sar Virra seldom stirs himself.”
The first speaker chuckled. “I wonder what reasons you have for that remark,” he said.
“They are my own,” the second guard replied, “but let us say that I love a good fight.”
“Steady now—methinks I hear our relief approach!”
“You always had a good ear, Gorm.”
The two men stiffened into silent statues as from below the click of metal-shod feet and the rattle of equipment came up the ramp.
We were frozen with indecision for a moment. Martha slipped across the platform to the farthest corner and dropped into the dark recess between the wall and the ramp. She undid the waistband of her dress and pulled the skirt over her head as she crouched into a small dark huddle in the corner. I turned back up the ramp as a glow of light filtered up from below and the clink of iron-shod feet and equipment became clearer. There was a doorway in the wall around the bend large enough to hold one man, but not two. Martha had taken the danger of exposure to give me relative safety.
“Guard halt,” a voice barked. There was the clash of metal against stone, the simultaneous thump of wooden spear butts against the floor, and silence.
“Who’s there?” The harsh voice of the first sentry filled the hall.
“Friends.”
“Advance and be recognized.”
Feet clicked on the platform floor. Metal grated. “Report,” a voice demanded.
“All quiet sir. Nothing to report.”
“Fourth file front! Relieve the sentries!” There were more sounds of movement, the second thump of wood against wood, and then the guard officer’s voice, “Fifth file, follow me. Guard detail stand easy.” Feet clicked off into the distance as the rustle and clink of arms and armor filled the silence.
I shivered. Any moment now, someone would see that shapeless pile of cloth in the corner, someone would get curious, someone would investigate, and Martha would be caught.
“Gorm was telling me of a master swordsman in the trials,” a voice said. “Says he can beat our lord.”
Feet clattered on stone.
“Fall in at the rear,” the leader’s voice ordered. Detail, ‘ten-shun! Slope spears! Forard march!” The sounds increased, passed the niche where I crouched and went upward into the distance. I released my breath and went down the ramp. Martha was shivering with reaction. I could feel her racing heart as she slipped the skirt down from her head. The new sentries were silent, and we slipped past them. The guard would be back shortly and we had to get off the ramp before they came upon us.
Below us the rumble and clink of metal sounded. Now what, I wondered. We inched forward down the ramp to a vaulted doorway that opened onto a bare courtyard. In the flickering cresset light we could see the heavy iron grille of a lowered portcullis, the chain and winch, the two guards standing beside the gate, and the darkness beyond. Main gate, I thought. We get off somewhere around here.
“Dead end!” Martha whispered. “Go back!” I eyed the courtyard for a moment. Then I moved. Beckoning to Martha to follow I went back up the ramp looking carefully for the doorway I knew must be there. When I found it, it only took a moment to open, but shrieked like a damned soul.
“Who’s there?” the challenge was sharp as I closed the door.
We froze. The door was still open a crack but I didn’t dare touch it. Below I could hear the sentry’s mailed feet on the stair. He came half a dozen steps, then stopped. I crouched beside the door with the webcor in my hand and Martha leaned over my shoulder taking aim with the kelly.
“Well, are you going up or down? Make up your mind,” a voice came from below.
“I’m coming down. I’m no hero, and that sounded like a corphy. Shrieked like a damned soul, it did.”
“It was probably a door.”
“What’s a door doing opening and closing by itself? There’s no one up here. It’s gotta be a corphy. What else would be opening doors in a deserted hall?”
“You and your ghosts. Come on down. I’ll go look if you’re so queasy.”
“There’s nothing here.”
“Quiet, you sodden wineskin. I thought I heard something. It screamed once. Maybe it’ll scream again.”
“I keep telling you, Bern, there’s nothing here. I’m shining the lanthorn clear up to the next floor and there’s nothing. Besides, the next floor’s not our perimeter. There’s lots of strange noises in the donjon since our lord took over six years ago. I’ve heard many things I don’t want to know about.”
“I’ll bet you have,” Bern said, “but I’ll bet someone’s in the archway corridor.”
“Some thing’s there, you mean. That level is empty. It’s always empty.”
“I’m going to look,” Bern announced.
“You do that. I’m going to stay down here where it’s light. I want no part of ghosts of this castle.”
“All right,” Bern sighed, “you win. I’ll stay with you.”
“Now you’re being smart. You’re not paid to chase ghosts and corphys.”
Bern grunted…
We felt our way along the annular corridor in the pitchy darkness. I knew where we were, but had no idea which was the niche under repair. I had to check every one. After four wrong guesses I came upon the one I was searching for. I led the way to the slit and looked out and down. Six meters below the moat glimmered blackly in the starlight. Most of the folk of the inner bailey were asleep and everything was quiet.
I leaned out of the opening and swore silently. Just how were we to get down to the moat. I hadn’t brought a rope, and we needed one.
“What’s wrong?” Martha whispered.
I told her.
“Wait,” she hissed. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the darkness. Presently she came back with a rope made of pieces of cloth tied together. It seemed stout enough. “You said something about a room; so I looked for an empty one. I found the bed hangings were still in good shape. You’re going to slide down the bed curtains, my lord.”
“I’ll slide down anything slidable,” I said. “Did you by any chance bring anything to tie this rope to?”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“My turn,” I said, as I went down the corridor. I came back with a heavy bench to which we tied the makeshift rope and then we rappelled down to the waters of the moat. I pointed out where the exit rope was placed and sent Martha off while I repeated the submerged act that brought me to the castle. I didn’t want to lose the mail shirt. For some reason I thought it might be needed. Although I had a sublime faith that nothing could go wrong there was no reason to throw caution away.
We were across the moat, across the grass of the inner ward, and into the open carpenter shop when a horn blew from the battlements of the keep. Lights flickered on in the great tower as I found the coil of strong fiber rope that I had stashed earlier. Slinging it over my shoulder, we ran up a flight of stairs on the inner side of the bailey wall as the voices of men-at-arms and the rattle of equipment came from the guardroom below.
A double file of warriors moved at a run toward the donjon, as I looped the rope around one of the crenellations and tossed the ends over the wall. I smiled. The hounds were far behind, and by the time they realized Martha was gone we would be out of the castle.
I watched the snakelike coils vanish into the darkness below as Martha slipped over the edge and slid down the doubled rope to the ground, with me close behind. Pulling on one end, Martha retrieved the rope and began coiling it up when a heavy hand clamped on her shoulder. I was already at the outer wall looking for a stair to the battlements.
“What are you—” a man’s voice demanded.
Martha whirled, her hand flashing to the kelly at her waist.
“Over here!” her captor shouted as she went limp in his grasp. Instinctively his grip loosened, and she exploded. One elbow dug into his ribs, her knee came up to his groin, and with all her strength she drove the kelly into his solar plexus.
The air gushed out of him and he retched. Martha belted him across the skull with the butt of the blaster and darted across the outer ward to the curtain wall; dragging the rope behind her. She went up the stairs to the battlements past an amazed sentry who had only time to gasp before she beamed him down with a maximum stun. Scrabbling with haste we tossed the rope over the wall and slid down, burning our hands as we went. Voices called confusedly as we zigzagged through the ditch filled with pointed stakes and scrambled over the parapet.
Arrows hissed around us and two smashed into my mail shirt but most of them were aimed badly. I was thankful I kept the shirt. The nervous energy that had kept me going drained away, leaving me weak and spent. I crawled into a crack in the rocks where nothing could reach us and drew Martha .after me.
