The Princess Bride

tied up but not fatally, and will soon be free to go about your business. And if you choose to fight, well, then, we will not both leave alive.'

'I expect to breathe a while,' the Prince said. 'I think you are bluffing—you have been prisoner for months and I myself killed you less than a day ago, so I doubt that you have much might left in your arm.'

'Possibly true,' Westley agreed, 'and when the moment comes, remember that: I might indeed be bluffing. I could, in fact be lying right here because I lack the strength to stand. All that, weigh carefully.'

'You are only alive now because you said 'to the pain.' I want that phrase explained.'

'My pleasure.' It was 5:52 now. Three minutes left. He thought he had eighteen. He took a long pause, then started speaking. 'Surely, you must have guessed I am no ordinary sailor. I am, in fact, Roberts himself.'

'I am, in fact, not the least surprised or awed.'

'To the pain means this: if we duel and you win, death for me. If we duel and I win, life for you. But life on my terms.'

'Meaning?' It could all still be a trap. His body was at the ready.

'There are those who credit you with skill as a hunter, though I find that doubtful.'

The Prince smiled. The fellow was baiting him. Why?

'And if you hunt well, then surely, when you tracked your lady, you must have begun at the Cliffs of Insanity. A duel was fought there and if you noted the movements and the strides, you would know that those were masters battling. They were. Remember this: I won that fight. And I am a pirate. We have our special tricks with swords.'

It was 5:53. 'I am not unfamiliar with steel.'

'The first thing you lose will be your feet,' Westley said. 'The left, then the right. Below the ankle. You will have stumps available to use within six months. Then your hands, at the wrist. They heal somewhat quicker. Five months is a fair average.' And now Westley was beginning to be aware of strange changes in his body and he began talking faster, faster and louder. 'Next your nose. No smell of dawn for you. Followed by your tongue. Deeply cut away. Not even a stump left. And then your left eye—'

'And then my right eye and then my ears, and shall we get on with it?' the Prince said. It was 5:54.

'Wrong!' Westley's voice rang across the room. 'Your ears you keep, so that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideous-ness will be yours to cherish—every babe that weeps in fear at your approach, every woman that cries 'Dear God, what is that thing?' will reverberate forever with your perfect ears. That is what 'to the pain' means. It means that I leave you to live in anguish, in humiliation, in freakish misery until you can stand it no more; so there you have it, pig, there you know, you miserable vomitous mass, and I say this now, and live or die, it's up to you: Drop your sword! '

The sword crashed to the floor.

It was 5:55.

Westley's eyes rolled up into his head and his body crumpled and half pitched from the bed and the Prince saw that and went to the floor, grabbing for his sword, standing, starting to bring it high, when Westley cried out: 'Now you will suffer: to the pain!' His eyes were open again.

Open and blazing.

'I'm sorry; I meant nothing, I didn't; look,' and the Prince dropped his sword a second time.

'Tie him,' Westley said to Buttercup. 'Be quick about it—use the curtain sashes; they look enough to hold him—'

'You'd do it so much better,' Buttercup replied. 'I'll get the sashes, but I really think you should do the actual tying.'

'Woman,' Westley roared, 'you are the property of the Dread Pirate Roberts and you ... do ... what ... you're ... told!'

Buttercup gathered the sashes and did what she could with tying up her husband.

Humperdinck lay flat while she did it. He seemed strangely happy. 'I wasn't afraid of you,' he said to Westley. 'I dropped my sword because it will be so much more pleasure for me to hunt you down.'

'You think so, do you? I doubt you'll find us.'

'I'll conquer Guilder and then I'll come for you. The corner you least expect, when you round it, you will find me waiting.'

'I am the King of the Sea—I await you with pleasure.' He called out to Buttercup. 'Is he tied yet?'

'Sort of.'

There was movement at the doorway and then Inigo was there. Buttercup cried out at the blood. Inigo ignored her, looked around. 'Where's Fezzik?'

'Isn't he with you?' Westley said.

Inigo leaned for a moment against the nearest wall, gathering strength. Then he said, 'Help him up,' to Buttercup.

'Westley?' Buttercup replied. 'Why does he need me to help him?'

'Because he has no strength, now do what you're told,' Inigo said, and then suddenly on the floor, the Prince began struggling mightily with the sashes and he was tied, and tied well, but power and anger were both on his side.

'You were bluffing; I was right the first time,' Humperdinck said, and Inigo said, 'That was not a clever thing of me to let slip; I'm sorry,' and Westley said, 'Did you at least win your battle?' and Inigo said, 'I did,' and Westley said, 'Let us try to find some place to defend ourselves; at least perhaps we can go together,' and Buttercup said, 'I'll help you up, poor darling,' and Fezzik said, 'Oh, Inigo, I need you, please, Inigo; I'm lost and miserable and frightened and I just need to see a friendly face.'

They moved slowly to the window.

Wandering lost and forlorn through the Prince's garden was Fezzik, leading the four giant whites.

'Here,' Inigo whispered.

'Three friendly faces,' Fezzik said, kind of bouncing up and down on his heels, which he always did when things were looking up. 'Oh, Inigo, I just ruined everything and I got so lost and when I stumbled into the stables and found these pretty horses I thought four was how many of them there were and four was how many of us there were too, if we found the lady—hello, lady—and I thought, Why not take them along with me in case we all ever run into each other.' He stopped a moment, considering. 'And I guess we did.'

Inigo was terribly excited. 'Fezzik, you thought for yourself,' he said.

Fezzik considered that a moment too. 'Does that mean you're not mad at me for getting lost?'

'If we only had a ladder—' Buttercup began.

'Oh, you don't need a ladder to get down here,' Fezzik said; 'it's only twenty feet, I'll catch you, only do it one at a time, please; there's not enough light, so if you all come at once I might miss.'

So while Humperdinck struggled, they jumped, one at a time, and Fezzik caught them gently and put them on the whites, and he still had the key so they could get out the front gate, and except for the fact that Yellin had regrouped the Brute Squad, they would have gotten out without any trouble at all. As it was, when Fezzik unlocked the gate, they saw nothing but armed Brutes in formation, Yellin at their lead. And no one smiling.

Westley shook his head. 'I am dry of notions.'

'Child's play,' of all people, Buttercup said, and she led the group toward Yellin. 'The Count is dead; the Prince is in grave danger. Hurry now and you may yet save him. All of you. Go.'

Not a Brute moved.

'They obey me,' Yellin said. 'And I am in charge of enforcement, and—'

'And I,' Buttercup said. 'I,' she repeated, standing up in the saddle, a creature of infinite beauty and eyes that were starting to grow frightening, 'I,' she said for the third and last time, 'am

the

QUEEEEEEEEEEEEN.'

There was no doubting her sincerity. Or power. Or capability for vengeance. She stared imperiously across the Brute Squad.