“A pleasant surprise, madam,” Gylain said as the Queen of Saxony approached. “Come this way: the feast is prepared!”
He turned and led them through the massive gate and into the courtyard. A double-gate led into the castle, of which the second could not be opened unless the drawbridge was closed. Therefore, they stopped for a moment and surveyed the scene. All around the central tower that formed the castle was the courtyard. The entrance to the dungeon came out into the side of the courtyard, directly across from the clouded buildings. The castle tower was wider at its base than either its upper or lower sections, and the Great Hall was at the ground level, although its floor was raised ten feet from the ground outside. There was, accordingly, several large windows that began on the floor of the hall and reached a dozen feet above it. One of them came out directly above the dungeon door, ten feet from the ground. Fifty men were assembled in the courtyard. As she looked out upon their gleaming swords, Ivona began her first speech – written beforehand to set up their plans.
“I am impressed by the display of your power, Gylain, for even in Saxony we do not have such impregnable castles and such timely soldiers.”
It struck Gylain’s pride; he bowed low to show his gratitude.
“I would only desire one more thing, if I could be so imposing,” she continued.
“By all means, it would be my pleasure to fulfill your desires,” was the answer.
Ivona gave him one of her lovely smiles and continued. “I have heard about your catapults, that they are superior to those of Europe. Would you display them for me, tonight?”
“It will be done,” he bowed again. He turned to Leggett, who was behind him, and said, “Bring out the catapults and set them under that window,” he pointed to the large window near the dungeon door. “The queen can admire them as she eats.”
“How many, my lord?” Leggett asked, though he knew already what he was to do.
“All of them. There is room for twenty under the length of the windows, is there not?”
“Yes, I should think so.”
“Excellent. Will your men be joining the feast?” he asked the queen, giving the cloaked man who rode bear back a significant glance.
“Yes, we are tired from the ride.”
“Good, then let us go to the feast!”
With that, Gylain led the horse troop toward the door of the Great Hall.
Chapter 38
Meanwhile, in the Devil’s Door, Blaine and his men were exiting the secret passage. First Blaine came out. Then, once they were sure the guards were not around, the rest of them exited. There were five men in all each carrying two swords: one for themselves and one for the prisoners. Blaine held a torch instead. The room was dark and damp and though it was now lit by the torch its shadows were still deeply etched upon the face of the wall.
“Why do the men leave the passage, Blaine? Should we not leave the cell at once?” Alfonzo asked.
“We cannot, unfortunately. There are large patrols around the tunnel’s exit.”
“Yes, Nicholas Montague is back. He saw us come from it on that fateful night.”
“It is too dangerous to risk. Even we, the forest dwellers, had a difficult time entering the tunnel. To leave would be impossible, for you cannot know if the soldiers are near until you open the hidden door, and then they are upon you. Besides, the only reason the guards are away from here is that Ivona is impersonating the Queen of Saxony.”
“Then it is not the queen herself?” Celestine asked quietly, though it was not possible to tell if it was from relief or disappointment.
“No, only Milada’s daughter. Come, we must be on our way.”
“Are there many guards above?” asked Alfonzo as he took a sword from one of the men.
“We cannot be certain, but we counted a hundred earlier. They should all be in the Great Hall, now, our informants tell us. They feast with the queen.”
“And if not?”
“Then we fight.”
“So we will,” Alfonzo murmured, “Follow me.”
Blaine looked at him with wondering eyes.
“I am well, Blaine. We both know this castle, but I know its soldiers better.”
“I follow, sir. My only thought is for your health. Yet I see that you are well.”
Lorenzo and Vahan Lee were already unchained, the former wielding his sword confidentially, the latter awkwardly. Celestine, also, had taken a blade and stood among the men.
“Vahan and Celestine, take the rear,” Alfonzo ordered and it was done.
Behind Alfonzo, the small company went up the stairway to the next cell. The cells in the dungeon were on top of each other, without a hallway or passage other than the spiral stairs that ran up the center. The doors that separated the cells were merely bars in a frame and thus could be seen through. They were always locked. Halfway up the dungeon one cell was converted to a guard room – the headquarters of the jailers – below which the desperate criminals were kept.
The prisoners were stacked on top of each other according to the various degrees of their offenses. It was an earthly Hades, where the tormented souls are stacked in various degrees of suffering. Those suffering less could peer between the bars of the door and jeer at those below them, who did likewise to those below them. Even in their horrid situation the prisoners found joy in mocking those in worse straights than themselves.
In preparation for the arrival of the queen, all prisoners were chained to their walls to prevent outbursts with the few guards on duty. Blaine came forward and unlocked the cell door with a small pick. The group continued to the cell above them. There were several desperate looking men chained heavily to the wall. One of them – a dirty fellow with a wild beard and muscled frame – looked at them as if recalling events through the mists of time. Just as Alfonzo reached the stairs to continue upward, the prisoner called out, “Master Alfonzo, have mercy.”
Alfonzo turned to look at him, his goatee untrimmed and his face haggard from the torture. For a moment, Alfonzo could not recognize him through the troubles of the years. Then, with a mystified look, he left the stairwell and walked over to him.
“Not all who say to me, ‘Alfonzo, Alfonzo,’ will be forgiven. I remember clearly what you have done, de Garcia. I do not forget traitors, least of all those who betrayed my dearest friends.”
“You speak the truth, master,” the prisoner moaned, his face fallen and his spirit broken. “Yet have mercy upon me, for I am wretched and perverse. I have fallen from your trust, and therefore I cannot ask you to release me. All that I ask is your forgiveness, that I might die in peace.”
“Arise,” Alfonzo said to him, “Take off your chains and follow me.”
“Thank you, master!” cried the man, and he bounded up as one of the men released his chains. It was evident that he had worked himself hard during his prison stay, for he was still in the same physical perfection of his youth.
Next to de Garcia sat another prisoner, equally dirty and forsaken.
“Master, have mercy upon me, too,” he called out.
Alfonzo turned to him and he continued.
“I am not as wicked as de Garcia, Alfonzo. For while he betrayed, I only deserted with small, useless intelligence. If you released de Garcia, surely you will release me?”
“Which is easier to say,” Alfonzo asked, “‘Take off your chains and follow me’, or ‘Your sins are forgiven?’ Yet how can the sins of a man be forgiven when he will not even ask for it?” He turned to his men, “Come, let us go. De Garcia, follow behind.”
They continued to the next cell with the cries of the prisoner following their ears. Yet not one of them turned to look at him: he was entirely forsaken. The next dozen cells were populated with prisoners of treachery and violence. They did not release them, though the prisoners clamored after them with cries for mercy. At length, they stopped to collect themselves in the cell below the guard room.
“When they brought me down,” Alfonzo whispered to his followers, “This was the greatest concentration of guards: between the lesser and the greater criminals. Prepare yourselves for action.”
Alfonzo crept up the stairs, the others behind him. Even the prisoners kept silent and did not warn the guards – though revenge was their only motive. Alfonzo came to the door and put his hands silently to the bars, trying to
