clearance between their sides and the wall to wedge himself into. He even tapped their sides, seeking a hollow thud that would tell him the cask was empty, in hopes of being able to hide inside.
The smell of wine emanating from them was almost strong enough to overwhelm his senses. Slinging perspiration from his eyes, he stumbled into a stack of mead barrels, nearly knocking them over, and found himself at a dead-end corner.
All hope in him sank. He heard his pursuers coming down the stairs, and at once he threw his torch upon the ground and stamped it out. The darkness blinded him, then he saw the glow thrown forward by his pursuers’ torches and the long shadows cast upon the floor.
“He must be down here,” said one.
“Aye, he’s here right enough. Search it well. Sir Magnin won’t take kindly to this goin’ on all night.”
Noel squeezed himself into the corner and tried his best to shift the huge cask over enough to let him behind it. Of course it would not budge. He crouched down in despair, breathing hard, his heart hammering wild, and tried to think.
Only then did he notice that this cask was set up on support pillars above a stone-lined pit cut into the floor. He ran his arm under it and felt about. There was about three feet of clearance beneath the cask. Without hesitation, he thrust his head and shoulders between the bottom of the cask and the edge of the pit. He scraped his cheek and felt it sting, but he didn’t care. There was just enough room for him to slither in.
It was awkward, going in and down head first. He had to twist himself about in order to bring his knees around in the right direction. That made his ribs catch on him, and he nearly gasped aloud.
At the last instant, he held back the sound and bit down hard on his lip. Safely down in the shallow pit, he breathed hard through his mouth, and sweat bathed him in a river. He coiled himself against the wall, keeping his head low, and watched the swing of light and shadow as they walked closer.
They did not find him. They searched every nook and cranny. They went through the dungeons or whatever lay beyond the passageway he had first started down. They stuck their torches behind the casks. They even found a hiding spot up in a niche behind the stairs and spooked a family of rats that chittered and hissed furiously at the disturbance. His concealment was perfect, and as they finally started up the stairs to leave, he felt his thudding heart slow down. His breathing grew calmer. His tense muscles slackened.
He rolled onto his back and lay inert for several minutes, basking in the sheer relief of it.
But of course he could not remain in that hole forever. He debated with himself over waiting through the rest of the night, or of trying to slip from the castle now while there was still plenty of confusion.
He decided finally that he could not wait. By morning, the castle would be more secure. Men would be organized. The searches would become more thorough. In the darkness, he had a slim chance to slip away unseen. In daylight, he would have none.
Getting out was easier than getting in. He squirmed his way out and finally kicked free. His clothing was coated with dirt and cobwebs. He slapped and brushed as best he could in the darkness. He had to look presentable enough to blend in with the crowd if necessary. If he could find a servant about his size, he would ambush the fellow and make a quick change.
Fumbling his way to the stairs, he groped about until he found the bottom step. It was not until he placed his foot upon it that he heard a faint sound.
Noel froze, his blood turning to ice water in his veins. It seemed to come from the direction of the passageway behind him. Every instinct he had urged him to dash up the stairs for his life. But with all his willpower he forced himself to look back. His eyes strained to see through the darkness.
There must have been a torch burning far away down the passageway, for the faintest hint of a glow came from that direction. After a moment he could see the vague outlines of a figure standing there. He swallowed, forcing himself to wait.
The watcher did nothing, said nothing. Noel’s sense of alarm tamed down. Maybe this was a friend.
He hesitated, but he had to risk it. “Help me,” he whispered. “Whoever you are, I need your help.”
“Theodore?” said a woman’s voice, all atremble.
His head came up. He said, “Sophia?”
She ran to him, heedless of the dark, and gripped his arm. Fragrant and soft in folds of velvet and fur, her beads clicking upon her bosom, she leaned close.
“God have mercy!” she said. “Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“Is he here? In the castle?”
“No.”
She gasped and began to weep. “He is dead. He is dead. I know it. I have dared to hope, but now I know it must be so.”
“No, he isn’t dead,” said Noel with irritation. He checked himself. “At least he wasn’t when I saw him last.”
“When?” she said eagerly. “When did you last see him?”
“This morning, late. About noonday.”
She thought it over a moment, then twisted with rich rustles of cloth to push away his arm and stand free of him. He could smell the clean scent of verbena upon her. She had skin as cool and smooth as silk.
“You sent your handmaiden to me, didn’t you?” he whispered. “You offered to help me.”
“Yes, I thought you must be here to help Theodore. I couldn’t imagine another reason why they should mistake you for him. He is-” She broke off.
“His only thought is to rescue you,” said Noel, feeling like Cupid on a bad day. “He is trying to-”
“But he mustn’t,” she said in fresh alarm. “Sir Magnin will only entrap him. Theodore must send word to Byzantium for a sebastocrator and reinforcements. He must retake the castle and subdue the rebels before they incite the entire Peloponnese to revolt.”
“Fine,” said Noel. “Whatever. I must get out of the castle. Can you help me?”
“But who are you?” she asked again.
“My name is Noel of Kedran. I am a traveler who has been caught up in these events. Will you help me get away? Is there some secret passage out that I can use?”
She drew in a sharp breath. “There is.”
“Great! Show me-”
“No!” Her hand closed hard upon his, her nails digging in. “I cannot. I swore to my father upon his deathbed that I would not reveal the secret of its location to anyone.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Noel, losing his temper. “What good is a secret passageway if it isn’t used in times of need? I have a great need to escape Sir Magnin, Sophia. He wants to kill me, and I would rather stay alive.”
“And what have you to do with Theodore?” she asked.
He frowned. The girl might be pretty, but her wits were not quick. “As I have said,” he answered with all the scant patience he had left, “I am a friend. I switched places with him to give him a chance to escape the Milengi-”
“No! The Milengi!” she cried in distress. “They will torture him. They are animals-”
“Hush. By now he’s probably escaped them and is on his way here to rescue you. In the meantime, I have to get away. It would probably be wise for you to come with me. Then Theodore won’t have to risk his neck by entering the castle, and the two of you can go back to Constantinople together.”
“This is his plan?” she said doubtfully. “It seems poor-spirited.”
“It is a very practical plan, designed to save all our necks,” said Noel in exasperation.
“Theodore the Bold should come storming Mistra with all his men and retake it,” she said.
Noel very nearly said something unwise. Curbing his temper, he said, “Theodore may be bold, but right now he has no men. Sir Magnin wiped out his entire force.”
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, I see. That is why they have been feasting. The garrison here did not fight very well. It surrendered here almost at once. My captain-at-arms should be horsewhipped for his cowardice. Had I been a man, I could have led them in resistance and Sir Magnin would have had to besiege us. Our walls here are very strong. We do not even fear the Turks who are marauding the coasts, according to the latest word from Monemvasia.”
“My lady,” said Noel, rolling his eyes. “Forgive me, but armies, Turks, and cowardly captains-at-arms do not matter very much right now. Will you get us out of here?”
