“We killed him, do you not remember?”
“Of course, where was my mind?” and the tower echoed with their sinister laughs as they carried their prey off to their torture chambers.
Later, in the Devil’s Door, Lorenzo’s face danced with rage and his fiery mustache with righteous wrath, his preferred emotion.
“Moses may have filled the Nile with blood, but mark my words, friends: if ever I get my hands on the Montague brothers, I will fill much more than a bloody river!”
“Do not doubt my loyalty,” began Vahan Lee in his veritable French accent, “But it is my belief that they have given him a great honor. For when their foul deeds overtake them – and the island of Atilta is once more in the hands of the people – Alfonzo will only be honored more for what he now endures.”
“It is easy enough to spew forth such rigmarole about honor, when it is not you who has been beaten. Perhaps you would like to have the same done to you?”
“Silence, Lorenzo,” whispered Alfonzo through his pain. “Vahan is optimistic, and I am with him. Anger and vengeance do not make good bedfellows, dear priest.”
“I have neither bed nor bedfellows. Yet I understand your meaning, and I acquiesce to your superior wisdom.”
“Do not speak, my love, only rest. You must be well enough to walk when the time for our deliverance comes.” Celestine held her husband’s head in her hands, comforting him in his distress. She raised her face to the two other men who were imprisoned with them, “Good old Clifford made it safely to the forest band, and the king is with them there. We will be rescued soon enough.”
“Ah, the king,” sighed Vahan Lee, “Little did I know when he saved me from those bandits – no offense, Alfonzo – and then from the mysterious thrower of the acorns who wished to mistreat me.”
Alfonzo laughed at the silly man, as did the others.
“I think I know who threw those acorns,” Lorenzo said.
“Who? You must tell me, so I can be wary of him.”
“The king!”
Vahan Lee blushed at the realization, but soon recovered enough to laugh at himself in good-spirits. “I suppose I am a better spy than a woodsman.”
“And a better talker than a spy!” cried Lorenzo. “You tell that Frencher king of yours to hurry up his army and help us throw off Gylain! I just wish I was with Milada now, with the danger he is in. You are sure you heard Ivona was safe?”
“I am,” answered Celestine.
Prior Lorenzo savored those words, just as he had the dozen times he had already heard them. “Ivona safe at last. What goodness it is, what joy it will be to see her again.”
“Yes,” Alfonzo said, “There will be many joyful reunions when this ordeal is over. Even Celestine will be rejoined with her father.”
She smiled softly, as if to herself. “Why do you say that, dear Alfonzo? Can there be any hope of his return?”
“Of course: Nicholas Montague was with him on his ship, as prisoner. He still bore the marks of imprisonment when he came to us. If he came back, then your father must have, as well.”
“But if Nicholas had succeeded in mutiny once more?”
“The ship is not in the harbor, and Nicholas made no triumphant entry, which his vainglorious mind would have done had he the opportunity. It is my belief that the Admiral and some of his men came ashore to see how things went, and when he was gone Nicholas escaped. None of his men returned, only he did.”
“Could it finally be, after all these years, that we will be together again in peace and safety?”
Before anyone could respond, they heard the creaking of the door as it swung open.
“See to him, and be sure he is not harmed!” It was Gylain’s voice, shaking with anger.
“My lord,” the voice of Nicholas Montague could be heard, “He will survive – but with greater pain – if he is not treated by the doctor. Would you ruin our work?”
“Silence, fool! Who told you to torture him? Do you think you are God, that you can take a man’s life only to please your sadistic nature? There are some deeds which are ordained by fate, but to add to the condemnation that has already been thrust upon us is folly, sheer folly!”
“Very well, my lord,” Montague humbly said, obviously in disagreement but also in obedience. His long stride could be heard as he climbed the stairs of the tower.
“Make sure he is well, doctor, and relieve his suffering as much as possible without letting them escape.”
“Is there a message my lord would have me tell them?”
“No! I was never here.” Gylain’s footsteps also climbed the stairs, and in a moment the doctor came down to their cell.
“How is he coming along?” he asked Celestine.
“He’ll recover,” she murmured, thinking of the paradox that was Gylain, “He’ll recover.”
Chapter 27
“And tell them to reach the Devil’s Door if possible. If not, to sneak into Gylain’s quarters and take the tunnel to the anteroom behind his throne,” Blaine Griffith said to the man who signaled Alfonzo.
“It is done,” the man said, “I have told him everything.”
“Good, and here comes his reply, ‘Will do.’ That is Alfonzo; he still lives.”
A dozen rebels stood around the base of the tree in which the signaler was perched, among them Willard, Horatio, Ivona, Clifford, and Blaine. As they waited for the man to climb down, Willard spoke to old Clifford.
“Let us hear your plan, then, Clifford.”
“Of course, my lord. We all know the Queen of Saxony is due at the castle in the next week. But, because of the weather, it is expected she will be late. Gylain wishes to find favor in her eyes, and is being extra careful in protecting the castle. As you have seen, there are men on all the outer walls: it is impossible to enter without help from within, and we do not have the strength for a direct assault.
“For part of the mission, we can use the secret tunnel. Yet there is no direct link between the dungeon and the Great Hall, although they are part of the same tower. Instead, the dungeon opens to the courtyard, which in turn leads to the hall. It is my suggestion, then, that we disguise Ivona as the Queen of Saxony, and you as her knight. Thus, from the Great Hall, you can distract the guards from the dungeon and courtyard, allowing those who came in through the tunnel to rejoin you with the prisoners and make the escape.”
“But Gylain and the Queen of Saxony were once lovers,” Ivona said. “I am young, and she must be fifty.”
“That was the old queen, Casandra. Gylain has never seen Cybele.”
“It is possible, on that end,” Blaine said, “But where are we to get the proper retinue for a powerful queen? We do not have the horses or armor for such a guard.”
“But you forget we have taken twenty suits of armor with horses to match from our fallen enemies. We can redye them and paint a new insignia. Only Willard remains unequipped with a proper suit of armor.”
“I will provide for myself, so have no fears there,” Willard answered.
“We must begin our preparations now, for the true queen may arrive at any time. The sooner we begin, the better.”
“I will enter Eden, to scout the land and collect some belongings. Blaine will join me.”
“I also need to set up a netting within the inner courtyard of a city circle,” Blaine said.
“What the heavens for?” and Clifford raised his eyebrow.
“You will see soon enough. I will enter by the secret passage while Willard and Ivona pass the main gate disguised as the queen and her entourage. We will need the netting to escape, and I will say nothing more of it now.”
“We must part, then.”
With that, they went their separate ways: Blaine and Willard to Eden, the others to the rebel city.
It was a short walk to the stone wall that separated the city from the wilderness: fifty feet high and ten thick, a formidable wall among men. Yet beside the forest, it was dwarfed. Only two gates led into the city: one in the west and one in the north. Both were heavily guarded, but that was no matter to the rebels, who had long ago discontinued using them. Between the wall and the forest was a valley: a short, empty clearing. Blaine walked up to
