silence in wickedness and speeches in righteousness.
Hismoni rose and took charge, hoping to bolster the courage of his fellow traitors, that his fortune might be secured. Gylain knew Milada’s death would end the rebellion and he could well afford to make it happen.
“Arm yourselves,” the captain of the guards ordered. They did, each taking a sword in his hand.
“If you fail, you will find safety with Gylain, but not favor,” the gruff-voiced spy said. “I will be ready with horses at the rendezvous. When the deed is done, meet me there and we will flee together. But wait, you are sure that Osbert is safely away? If he returns in the midst of the action the tide may turn against you.”
“He has gone to the forest,” Hismoni replied, “We told him Admiral William Stuart was coming to the castle, and that he should meet him upon the forest road. He set off this afternoon, going toward Eden. He is a simpleton, and will reach it before he realizes our fraud.”
The shrouded man gave Hismoni a sharp look, and though only his eyes showed, they cut Hismoni deeply.
“Fear not,” Hismoni answered, “The Admiral is far from here: there is no way that Osbert could meet him upon the road.”
The shadowy man said nothing, only grunted to himself and fled the room, going to the point of the secret rendezvous.
From the castle basement the traitorous party made their way to the ground floor. Hismoni had used his power as the captain of the guard to ensure none would come across them. Once on the ground floor, they took the stone stairway that wrapped around the outside of the castle.
“Will we feign friendliness or merely attack?” asked Selmar.
“We will try to put their guard down, and say we heard they were in danger. But if they hesitate, waste no time in dispatching them. The force of the guard is small, but with the townsmen alarmed it will be hard for us to escape.”
“Yes, but luck and fate are with us,” said Selmar.
“I doubt it,” replied Fritz, “For our deeds are dark, and fate does not smile on such as us.”
“The only thing dark about us are your spirits, Fritz, so be of good cheer. Are you still afraid that God will rain down punishment from the sky and kill us at once? What a fool you are, my friend.”
At that moment, a loud crash was heard directly above them: the sound of breaking glass. They looked upwards, and Hismoni was the first to speak.
Just as the glass broke, he cried, “They are throwing shelves at us!”
Fritz looked up to see a heavy shelf falling at him. He screamed in panic. “Judgment!” he yelled. But then he was silenced. The shelf crushed him into the stairway.
“They know our intentions, men, so let us charge while we yet have time!”
Hismoni charged forward up the stairs, followed closely by his men. Each had his sword raised for combat.
Above, the Fardy brothers looked over the edge of the wall, their heads extended through the gap the shelf had made. When they heard Hismoni yell the charge, the blond Fardy said, “Brothers, they are attacking! We must have angered them intensely.”
“If only men were all as patient as ourselves,” answered the brown Fardy.
“No,” whispered the black Fardy in something slightly resembling fear. “No, they are the traitors.”
“Yes,” the blond Fardy returned, “And that shelf was the reward of our virtue!”
“What providence you knocked that shelf on them,” Milada said, growing excited, his limbs throwing themselves around. “Come, to the keep!”
With that, Milada dashed to the pillar in the center of the room. The door to the keep was a massive stone slab, positioned nearest to the stairway. The four pulled on it frantically, but it was slow to open, for its size. At last, just as Hismoni and the assassins came in, it flew open. Once it was outside the frame, it opened easily.
“Hurry! Pull the door closed!” cried Milada, as the Fardy brothers struggled to close it.
“Hurry! Before they pull the door closed!” cried Hismoni, as he raced to the door, hoping to keep it from shutting.
It was a long second, each party straining themselves.
“We have them!” roared Hismoni, and he grabbed the edge of the stone door with his extended fingers.
But it was not to be. For just as he did so, the momentum of the door swung it shut. It sealed with a thud and a bang, taking Hismoni’s fingers with it. He cried out in pain. From the inside came the sound of slamming wood: the door was locked. The keep was made to be impenetrable.
“So it comes to this,” Hismoni groaned. “Thurston, go and keep watch through the windows. Selmar, go to the storage room. The battering ram we trained with yesterday is still there,” he glanced down at his left hand, now devoid of its fingers.“By coincidence,” and he laughed, but it was strained by the pain.
“So it was you, Hismoni,” Milada called through the door. “I trusted you as my own son, and I am given this in return. I wondered that the bandits did not slay you in the forest. Yet now it is explained.”
“Yes, but do not lie, for you have never trusted me as your own son. If it were not for the prince, I would have had you before. Yet revenge is only sweetened by delay.”
“I am a fool, perhaps,” Milada’s muffled voice returned, “But I am no liar. I have given you everything that is mine to give.”
“Everything, you mean, but that which I have most desired.”
“You had merely to ask it, and it would have been given.”
“No, not this. For I desire Ivona.”
“Hismoni!” Thurston cried from the windows. “Hismoni, come quick!”
“What is it?”
“A group of riders gallops across the plain.”
Hismoni rushed to the window. There, just leaving the forest, six riders could barely be made out, riding wildly for castle.
“Hurry!” Hismoni whispered, for fear of letting those within the keep overhear. “Hurry! They will reach us before ten minutes have passed!”
Chapter 31
By early evening the forest had already fallen into darkness. As the trees stretched into the distance, they converged into a continuous wall, and nothing could be seen through them. A fog came up from the ground which, together with the winding road, rendered the blindness almost complete. This only made the forest more beautiful, however, for while darkness filled the forest, there was light above. The sun was still in the sky, though below the tree line, and the colored light shone through the canopy. It was as if the forest slept while the sunset still came through the bedroom window.
It was in this paradox that the Admiral, the Innkeeper, Barnes, Meredith, and the messenger from the ship found themselves. They had been traveling all day, making a quick passage through the forest. By this time they were growing weary, though they had set their wills upon reaching the castle before resting.
“My legs grow heavier with each step I take,” said Meredith.
“Be glad your heart does not, friend, for that is my ailment,” answered the Admiral. “I have a feeling of urgency about reaching the castle. Doubtless it is only my fears, yet it will not pass from me.”
“A darkened heart will not impart tidings blessed or good, it will merely start to tear apart the hope which time has stood,” rhymed the Innkeeper.
“Yes, yet a heart jolly may be destroyed by its own folly,” said the Admiral, “But look, who is that over there, turning the bend? He is familiar to me, yet I cannot place him.”
The others looked closely for a moment, but the darkness of the forest was hard to pierce. At length, Meredith plunged his eyes through it and recognized the man.
“It is Osbert,” he said. “Perhaps he brings news of Milada.”
They quickened their pace, though it was unnecessary. Osbert broke into a run when he saw them.
“Hail, Admiral, I have been expecting you,” he said as he reached them.
“Osbert, what faith and patience! Fifteen years I have been gone, and still you are expecting me?”
“No,” the simple man laughed, “For I was told you were arriving today. I was sent into the forest to meet you.”
“Who could have known?”
