Westley got to his feet then. 'All right. I'll need a sword eventually.'
'Why?' Inigo asked. 'You can barely lift one.'
'True,' Westley agreed. 'But that is hardly common knowledge. Hear me now; there may be problems once we're inside—'
'I'll say there may be problems,' Inigo cut in. 'How do we stop the wedding? Once we do, how do I find the Count? Once I do, where will I find you again? Once we're together, how do we escape? Once we escape—'
'Don't pester him with so many questions,' Fezzik said. 'Take it easy; he's been dead.'
'Right, right, sorry,' Inigo said.
The man in black was moving verrrrrry slowly now along the top of the wall. By himself. Fezzik and Inigo followed him through the darkness in the direction of the wheelbarrow. There was no denying the fact that there was a certain excitement in the air.
BUTTERCUP, for her part, felt no excitement whatsoever. She had, in fact, never remembered such a wonderful feeling of calm. Her Westley was coming; that was her world. Ever since the Prince had dragged her to her room she had spent the intervening hours thinking of ways to make Westley happy. There was no way he could miss stopping her wedding. That was the only thought that could survive the trip across her conscious mind.
So when she heard the wedding was to be moved up, she wasn't the least upset. Westley was always prepared for contingencies, and if he could rescue her at six, he could just as happily rescue her at half past five.
Actually, Prince Humperdinck got things going even faster than he had hoped. It was 5:23 when he and his bride-to-be were kneeling before the aged Archdean of Florin. It was 5:24 when the Archdean started to speak.
And 5:25 when the screaming started outside the main gate.
Buttercup only smiled softly. Here comes my Westley now, was all she thought.
IT WAS NOT, in point of fact, her Westley that was causing the commotion out front. Westley was doing all he could to simply walk straight down the incline toward the main gate without help. Ahead of him, Inigo struggled with the heavy wheelbarrow. The reason for its weight was that Fezzik stood in it, arms wide, eyes blazing, voice booming in terrible rage: 'I AM THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS AND THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS.' He said that over and over, his voice echoing and reverberating as his rage increased. He was, standing there, gliding down through the darkness, quite an imposing figure, seeming, all in all, probably close to ten feet tall, with voice to match. But even that was not the cause of the screaming.
YELLIN, FROM HIS position by the gate, was reasonably upset at the roaring giant gliding down toward them through the darkness. Not that he doubted his hundred men could dispatch the giant; the upsetting thing was that, of course, the giant would be aware of that too, and logically there must somewhere in the dimness out there be any number of giant helpers. Other pirates, anything. Who could tell? Still, his men held together remarkably staunchly.
It was only when the giant got halfway down the incline that he suddenly, happily, burst into flame and continued his trip saying, 'NO SURVIVORS, NO SURVIVORS!' in a manner that could only indicate deadly sincerity.
It was seeing him happily burning and advancing that started the Brute Squad to screaming. And once that happened, why, everybody panicked and ran....
Eight
ONCE THE PANIC was well under way, Yellin realized he had next to no chance of bringing things immediately under control. Besides, the giant was terribly close now, and the roar of 'NO SURVIVORS' made it very hard to do any solid thinking, but fortunately he had the sense to grab the one and only key to the castle and hide it on his person.
Fortunately too, Westley had the sense to look for such behavior. 'Give me the key,' Westley said to Yellin, once Inigo had his sword securely pressuring Yellin's Adam's apple.
'I have no key,' Yellin replied. 'I swear on the grave of my parents; may my mother's soul forever sizzle in torment if I am lying.'
'Tear his arms off,' Westley said to Fezzik, who was sizzling a bit himself now, because there was a limit as to just how long a holocaust cloak was really good for, and he wanted to strip a bit, but before he did that, he reached for Yellin's arms.
'This key you mean?' Yellin said, and he dropped it, and after Inigo had taken his sword, they let him run away.
'Open the gate,' Westley said to Fezzik.
'I'm so hot,' Fezzik said, 'can I please take this thing off first?' and after Westley's nod, he pulled the flaming cloak away and left it on the ground, then unlocked the gate and pulled the door open enough for them to slip through.
'Lock it and keep the key, Fezzik,' Westley said. 'It must be after 5:30 by now; half an hour left to stop the wedding.'
'What do we do after we win?' Fezzik said, working with the key, forcing the great lock to close. 'Where should we meet? I'm the kind of fellow who needs instructions.'
Before Westley could answer, Inigo cried out and readied his sword. Count Rugen and four palace guards were rounding a corner and running toward them. The time was then 5:34.
THE WEDDING ITSELF did not end until 5:31, and Humperdinck had to use all of his persuasive abilities to get even that much accomplished. As the screaming from outside the gate burst all bounds of propriety, the Prince interrupted the Archdean with gentlest manner and said, 'Holiness, my love is simply overpowering my ability to wait—please skip on down to the end of the service.'
The time was then 5:27.
'Humperdinck and Buttercup,' the Archdean said, 'I am very old and my thoughts on marriage are few, but I feel I must give them to you on this most happy of days.' (The Archdean could hear absolutely nothing, and had been so afflicted since he was eighty-five or so. The only actual change that had come over him in the past years was that, for some reason, his impediment had gotten worse. 'Mawidge,' he said. 'Vewy old.' Unless you paid strict attention to his title and past accomplishments, it was very hard to take him seriously.)
'Mawidge—' the Archdean began.
'Again, Holiness, I interrupt in the name of love. Please hurry along as best you can to the end.'
'Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam.'
Buttercup was paying little attention to the goings on. West-ley must be racing down the corridors now. He always ran so beautifully. Even back on the farm, long before she knew her heart, it was good to watch him run.
Count Rugen was the only other person in the room, and the commotion at the gate had him on edge. Outside the door he had his four best swordsmen, so no one could enter the tiny chapel, but, still, there were a lot of people screaming where the Brute Squad should have been. The four guards were the only ones left inside the castle, for the Prince needed no spectators to the events that were soon to happen. If only the idiot cleric would speed things along. It was already 5:29.
'The dweam of wuv wapped wiffin the gweater dweam of everwasting west. Eternity is our fwiend, wemember that, and wuv wiw fowwow you fowever.'
It was 5:30 when the Prince stood up and approached the Archdean firmly. 'Man and wife,' he shouted.
'I'm not there yet,' the Archdean answered.
