“It’s not like that, Song Lark, and you know it.”
“I do? Then how come you are blushing red as the lovers’ rose?”
Walking over, she pulled her dagger out of the log. “I should have aimed for your throat.”
Song Lark laughed and eased himself down, resting his head against the log.
“Well, if we are going to go rescue the prince I suggest we get some sleep. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.”
“How well does the prince know you, Song Lark?”
“Well, enough I suppose, but it has been nigh on two years since I’ve seen him last.”
“Does he know who you are, Song Lark?”
Song Lark sat up. “No, he doesn’t. He hasn’t even seen me since the last lord protector was killed. Lord Raburn has never taken kindly to minstrels. He needs silence to think, and we only get on his nerves. But come to think of it, how will the prince know that we aren’t fooling him into being killed? He is wise enough not to jump at any chance he gets.”
They looked at Annabeth.
“I can’t go in that castle. Everybody knows me. I’ll be in chains and in the dungeon before you can say ‘God save the king.’ He is trying to lure me in; why else would he put my father and the prince in the same castle? I can’t go in any of my disguises; they are too thin to face Raburn directly.”
Song Lark sighed. “How else will he try to escape with us, Annabeth? He knows that Raburn is just waiting for him to try something. He won’t come unless he knows it is your plan.”
“I would take Ransom’s place, but for the height difference. The man is paranoid and will notice any small change in height. Two short monks and then a short and tall one; it wouldn’t work, and you have to be the one to carry off the monk part because I can’t, and Ransom can’t speak much so they won’t try and speak to the prince and notice the difference. Ransom shall have taken some vow of silence, I suppose. But I don’t see how we can get around the fact that I can’t go with you.”
“I think there might be room for two beneath the robe.”
“Oh, no, Song Lark, I am not...”
Song Lark smiled at her, picked the strings of his lute, and broke into song.
There was a man sentenced to death
Who by a friend’s cunning lived to take many a breath.
This friend he had was very slim
Who when he heard of his plight went off to rescue him.
Hey no ne no ne hey no ne no ne
The man arrived out of breath,
He whispered, “Friend, I’ve come to save you from death.”
“Why, you’ve grown so plump!”
“Is that so?” and he dropped his burden with a thump.
Hey no ne no ne hey no ne no ne
A dead man took his place,
And he disappeared without a single trace.
This is what friends are for:
To keep you far, far away from death’s open door.
Hey no ne no ne hey no ne no ne
Annabeth laid her dagger against the strings as he began a second rendition of the song.
“You are a fool if you think I would attempt such a thing.”
He raised his eyes coolly to hers. “I have been called many a thing, but never a fool. To be honest, I don’t think you have much choice in the matter.”
She looked at Ransom, seeming to plead with him to say something.
“I think it would work, Annabeth. You’ll come out the window with me. The prince and a page escaping would be perfect.”
“And think about the danger that will come to me when I shrink considerably after you disappeared,” said Song Lark, his hand over his middle.
“Oh, we’ll put a pillow in there to satisfy whatever you require,” answered Annabeth sharply.
Song Lark looked over at Ransom and yawned. “Well, what do you say, my man? Will the plan work?”
Ransom thought it through. Then he nodded. “It will work perfectly, I think.”
“Well then, good night,” and taking his cloak, Song Lark pulled it about himself and closed his eyes.
Ransom and Annabeth exchanged glances and lay down to sleep on their respective sides of the fire that was now a mere glow.
It was the middle of the night when Ransom awoke to the sound of a quiet struggle. He sat upright, hand on his sword, ready.
His eyes ran over the camp and then he saw Annabeth tossing and turning. Her hands seemed to be trying to push something away, but she couldn’t. The sounds she made were helpless sounds: hurt, wounded, afraid.
Suddenly, she sat upright with a gasp. The moonlight caught the sweat dripping down her face. Pulling her knees into her chest, she leaned on them, taking in deep breaths and trying to calm her fluttering nerves.
Ransom waited, unsure of what to do.
Her shoulders began to quake, not the quake of fear but of silent tears. Ransom came to her side.
“What is the matter, Annabeth?” he asked softly.
She turned away.
Ransom leaned close. “Beth?”
He gently laid his hand on her shoulder—she quivered at his touch.
Laying his hand against her face, he turned it toward him. Tears shone in her eyes.
“What am I doing, Ransom?” she asked, her voice shaking. “What am I doing?”
He felt puzzled. “What do you mean, Beth?”
“This is all my fault!” Her whole body had begun to tremble.
“Annabeth, you need to get some sleep. That is just your nerves speaking.”
“I was afraid; I am afraid. I should have spoken up long ago. I can’t even say some of the things I should say, so I tell them to Song Lark and he tells other people. I have no voice. I am nothing. Nothing!”
She paused, breathing hard.
Ransom opened his mouth to speak, but she suddenly continued.
“When my father left for the Holy Land with the king, I was left in the king’s household as a maid. I wasn’t much good at that. I am better with a sword, and the prince and I spent a lot of our time together. When the news of my father’s capture and believed death reached us, Lord Raburn claimed me as his ward, and I legally was, but...I didn’t want to go with him. I knew what he was, what he was capable of, what he wanted me for. He is a master of torture and death, in so many fashions.” Annabeth shuddered.
“That is who he wanted me to become: his right hand in death. I fought him every step of the way when he was teaching me, so he left off my training for a lonely, locked up room until I was willing to learn. When my father returned to his service, Lord Raburn made me swear that I would not tell my father of his treatment of me in his absence. Nothing would have brought me to tell him that in a thousand years. He wouldn’t have cared, anyway.”
Suddenly she turned to face him. “Then when he came back changed, he was different—the father I had always longed for. I burst and told him everything I had seen: the lord protector murdered, my training with Lord Raburn, and the whole scheme of his plans. If I hadn’t told him, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be running, and he wouldn’t be locked up in the dungeon.” At the final word, her skin broke into goose bumps and she shivered violently.
Ransom pulled his cloak over her. “Annabeth, that isn’t the truth.”
“Then how come it feels like it?”
“You are tired, and you’ve just woken up from a bad dream.”
She looked at him startled, and he met her eyes calmly. “I didn’t cry out, did I?”
“No, but whatever it was disturbed you. What was it?”
She shook her head and looked away. “I am sorry for waking you,” she murmured.
“What is it, Beth?” he said, rubbing her arm to take away the chill.
She shook her head, pressing her lips together, hard. Suddenly they quivered and she turned, pressing her forehead against his shoulder, burying her face against him. He felt fear shoot through her spine and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.
> Her hands gripped his doublet.
Ransom let time pass, then slowly turned so his mouth was beside her ear.
“What is it, Annabeth?”
Slowly, she pulled away from his shoulder. Laying her hands on the ground, she stared at them. “Something is wrong. I have had that dream before, but it was never this bad.”
He stroked a stray piece of hair away from her face. “Something is wrong with saving the prince?”
“Not that. It’s something else, but I don’t know what.”
“What is the dream?”
She bit her lip and slowly raised her eyes to his. “It’s—my father in Raburn’s dungeon. Only, I was there with him this time.”
“Oh, Beth.” There was a pang in his voice and he pulled her close. “I won’t let that happen.”
“I know you won’t, but if...” she couldn’t finish the sentence. “It scares me.”
“Don’t let it frighten you, and try to get some rest. You will need all of your strength.”
“I can never sleep after that dream.”
“Just try,” he said, squeezing her hand and moving so her head rested on his shoulder.
Ransom waited until he knew that she had fallen asleep before sliding her head gently onto the ground. He crept to his own place by the fire and fell asleep.
Chapter 12
Two monks sat on the seat of an old rickety cart whose left wheel squeaked considerably. Their hoods were pulled well down over their faces to block them from the hot afternoon sun. One was a tall, thin monk who had a sense of youth about him, while the other was round and as fat as an old cat that had swallowed a rat or two whole.
They rolled up to a fortress that seemed black and cold even in the middle of the day.
Looking up, the fat monk hollered, “Hello up there? Have you table and rest for two weary strangers?”
There was a murmur at the top of the wall, and slowly the drawbridge was let down and the weary little pony pulled the cart across.
A stable boy came up and took the bridle, leading the horse and cart to the edge of the courtyard.
The young monk leapt down from the cart and came around to the old monk. The man waddled over the wheel and dropped heavily to the ground.
THE FALL WAS JARRING. Annabeth ground her teeth against letting out any sounds that would give away her hiding place. The rope chaffed around her wrists, the hay they had used to round out Song Lark’s figure made her itch, and what was worse, she could do nothing about it. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Hello, dear brothers.”
The voice made her just about turn inside out. Annabeth dug her fingernails deep into her palms and tried to think calmly.
He can’t see you. He has no idea that you are here, Annabeth. Just breathe.
She synchronized her breathing with Song Lark’s heavy panting so nothing would be detected.
“What can I do for you?” he asked with his most oily cordiality.
“Brother Matthew, here, and I, thought we packed enough food for our journey, but it turns out that we haven’t. I was wondering if we could impose upon your kindness to give us a little food for our journey.”
“Of course,” said Lord Raburn with a low chuckle. “But I will do better than that. Come feast at my table, and I will make sure that we pack you enough for the rest of your journey.”
Annabeth could tell he was satisfied with their answers, even if he was laughing at them.
“You are too kind to us; company will be a welcome thing. Brother Matthew there has taken a vow of silence, and I can tell you it has been a long journey.”
“Is that so? Well, come this way.”
Song Lark’s shuffling waddle was getting to Annabeth as she rocked back and forth, slowly growing ill.
For the better part of an hour, the men sat, exchanging stories and laughing.
Annabeth’s emotions were caught between fear and utter outrage.
At long last, Song Lark dared broach the subject. “You are a good Lord Protector. I suppose the prince says his prayers every day?”
“He most certainly does.”
“It is good to hear...” he let his voice drift off in a wishful manner.
“Would the good monk like to see the prince and hear his prayers?”
“Oh, that would be too much to ask!”
“I think not. I think he may even have a confession to make. I believe he loves a fair maiden.”
“Really?”
“Most certainly.”
“Well then, take us to him speedily. We mustn’t let the prince live with a guilty conscience.”
“Of course not, dear brother.”
Annabeth heard a snap of fingers.
“Snatchel! Bring these two dear brothers up to the Prince’s rooms at once.”
“Yes, my lord,” said a familiar voice. Everything was painfully familiar to her.
Sensing the direction they were headed, Annabeth guessed they were going towards the northern wing.
After what seemed like forever, there was a rattle of keys.
“The prince likes his privacy. The keys give him ample warning that he is about to be disturbed,” she heard Snatchel explain away the reason he was locked up.
In a moment, the door creaked open and Snatchel announced them. “Two monks come to hear your prayers, your highness.”
“Thank you, Snatchel,” the young man said, trying not to sound annoyed. “Hello, Brothers.”
“I am Brother Lucas, and this is Brother Matthew. He has taken a vow of silence, so no need to speak to him, but my, my, what cozy apartments. One could live quite comfortably here. I see why you do not wish to be disturbed.”
At last he had said the secret words she had been waiting for. It was almost safe to appear. Annabeth waited pensively for the click of the lock to be certain they were alone with the prince. Song Lark shuffled forward.
“We have come to see about your prayers.”
Annabeth couldn’t wait a moment longer, and she began wriggling free of the ropes that held her fast.
“Thank you, Brothers; you are very kind to...” Prince Alfred stopped as he watched the monk in wonder.
A moment later, Annabeth dropped to the floor. She flipped the robe off her head, her hair disheveled.
“Song Lark, next time we do this, I’ll be the monk.”
Song Lark muffled a laugh behind his hand.
A moment later, the prince was on his knees beside her.
“Anna?” he asked, half bewildered, half delighted.
“Hello, Alf,” she said, turning her head to look at him as she untied the last knot of her imprisonment.
Suddenly the prince put his arms around her shoulders. “I knew you wouldn’t fail me.”
“Sorry it took so long.”
“I am sorry you’ve had to suffer so much. Do you know anything about your father?”
She shook her head. “And yours?”
“The only news I have heard was just before my lord protector died, when Father said he was planning on staying on for a year or more yet.”
She nodded. “We are here to get you out.”
“What is the plan?”
“Ransom and I will go out the window, while you leave with Song Lark as a monk. Ransom has taken a vow of silence, so you mustn’t speak to anyone.”
“That is it?”
She nodded.
“Now say your prayers quick, and pray for a swift and careful journey,” said Song Lark with a smile.
“It’s all splendid and I am ready, but did you know Lady Christina is here?”
“No.” Annabeth winced. Lord Raburn had probably moved her up there once he found out that she and her maids were scouts for Annabeth.
“Yes.”
“I don’t like that Lord Raburn is putting you all together, you, Lady Christina, and my father...” The last word trailed off quietly.
“He is still alive—I have seen him.”
&nb
sp; Tears sprang to her eyes. “How is he?”
“Well enough. I’ll tell you more later, all right?”
She nodded in agreement, pain and hope twisting in her heart. Will he be alive after today?
“Can you get word to Lady Christina to come see you?”
“No, but she usually comes here about this time of day.”
“My only question is how in the world we are going to get her out. We planned for you, but not her.”
Ransom cleared his throat. “Sorry for the interruption, but I believe I have an idea. She can leave the same way you came in.”
Song Lark groaned. “Not again.”
“You needn’t worry. She is a lighter burden than me,” Annabeth said softly.
“What’ll we do in the meantime?” asked Ransom.
“Pray. Ransom, get ready to take off your robe should the keys rattle, and Annabeth, you go stand in the corner. They’ll not see you there right away,” said Song Lark, leading them to the far side of the room and kneeling.
There was a rattle in the lock. Ransom took off his robe and helped the prince put it on, while Song Lark stuffed a pillow up his tunic and kept on praying. The door shut almost as soon as it was open, and the keys turned in the lock. There was a rustle of soft, rich fabric. Mentally, Annabeth could feel the touch of it against her skin. It had been a long time since she had worn a pretty dress.
“Your highness?”
The prince flung back the monk’s hood.
“It’s you, Christina,” he said, rising to his feet and coming to her side. “I was hoping you would come as faithfully as ever. We are saved.”
“Do you know these men?” she asked suspiciously, resting her hands on his forearms as they came up to hold her hands.
“No, but Anna does.”
“But how do you know—”
“Hello, Christina,” said Annabeth shyly from her corner.
The girl turned in hopeful shock and flung her arms around her friend’s neck. Tears came to her eyes, and she began to cry softly. “We are saved; we are saved at last. I knew you couldn’t fail us. Oh, Anna!”
“I am so glad to see you again—but we must work quickly if we are to leave before he grows suspicious.” She blinked away the dampness that had risen in her eyes.
Annabeth's War Page 8