The Sword and the Flame

by Stephen Lawhead

  He would be king, he vowed, or die trying.

  At midday Ronsard awoke from a too-short nap and made an inspection of the camp, visiting his commanders and men, all of whom had been busily transforming the woods round about into a small village—a village of fighting men.

  “Sir Garth,” said Ronsard, hailing a thick-sinewed knight who was directing the construction of a tether line for the horses. “What word from the sappers we sent out this morning?”

  The big man drew air into his great barrel of a chest and puffed out his cheeks; the air whistled through his teeth. “Nothing good, my lord. Castle Ameron is as secure as the rock she sits upon. The sappers found no breach point, nor any soft footing around the entire perimeter—at least three sides, I mean. The fourth side is the river.”

  Ronsard frowned. “Nothing?”

  Sir Garth shook his head. “Her roots are stone, my lord, hard as her master’s heart. We’ll find no tunneling place beneath those walls.”

  Ronsard nodded and walked off. So be it, he thought. If we cannot go under the walls, we will go over. There is no time for a lengthy siege; the matter must be settled in four days if we are to reach the High Temple before . . . Well, one way or another we will reach it in time. With the true god’s help we will reach it in time.

  Just then he heard footsteps behind him and turned to meet Theido. “You look the better for a bit of sleep, my friend. We are get-ting too old to be chasing through the forests all night, eh?”

  Though Ronsard’s tone attempted cheer, Theido remained heavy-hearted; his voice was gruff when he spoke. “Is there any sign from the castle?”

  “None. I spoke with the watch commander a moment ago—he said there has been no signal from towers or battlements, though it appears a few archers have been posted. They are waiting.”

  “Hmph!” said Theido. “Then I will give them something to think about while they wait.” With that, he spun on his heel and called for a squire to bring his horse.

  “What is your plan?” Ronsard hurried after him.

  The squire came running with Theido’s charger, and the tall knight caught up the reins and put his foot in the stirrup. Ronsard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do not go alone.”

  “Come with me, then. It makes no difference to me.” Theido swung himself into the saddle and wheeled his horse.

  “Wait!” called Ronsard, and then sent the squire scurrying after his own mount.

  When Ronsard caught up with his headstrong friend, he was halfway to the castle across the stony escarpment. Granite outcroppings pushed through the mossy turf, making the way more difficult. The sun shone down from directly overhead, glancing off the rock faces with a harsh light. Ameron Castle stood before and above them at the top of the slope, and Ronsard studied the walls carefully as they approached.

  They rode to within bowshot of the walls and halted. Theido raised his hand to his mouth and called to the watchers. “I am Lord Theido, friend of the king. I would parley with your master. Bring him.”

  The two riders waited while the men on the battlements debated this request, ultimately deciding that they could not refuse. One of the men said something, a head disappeared from the crenellation, and the first watcher called back, “We have sent for our lord, sir.”

  They waited; the knights’ horses stamped and snorted impatiently, tossing their heads and shaking their manes, eager to move on. But the wait was rewarded with the appearance of Lord Ameronis at the battlements.

  “So, Theido, it is you!” Ameronis called down from his wall. “And is that Ronsard?”

  “I want to speak to you, Ameronis. Face-to-face.”

  “I am sorry, but it seems that the gates have been closed and fortified. I cannot open them for you.” Ameronis spoke with good humor, as if he would gladly forget that the men before him bore anything but friendship and goodwill.

  “Then allow us to approach, for I have something to tell you that you should know before blood is spilled on either side.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” muttered Ronsard. “The only thing this wolf understands is the broad side of a blade.”

  “I know,” replied Theido. “But those with him are not of the same stamp. We may be able to sway them. See? Here they are.”

  Ronsard saw several more heads join Ameronis to peer over the wall. “I do not see Lord Edfrith among them.”

  “Perhaps he has had the good sense to withdraw before entangling himself further in this greedy one’s plots. That shows, at least, that this pack is not of one accord.”

  “You may approach,” shouted Ameronis down to them. “I will listen to what you have to say.”

  43

  I do not like this, Ameronis,” said Lord Kelkin. “If it is true we hold the ransom for the king’s son, we must give it. I do not want the prince’s blood on my head.”

  The friends of Ameronis were gathered with him in his council chambers, a room high in the tower keep above the dungeon. The windows were open so that the breeze might stir the air, which lay still and heavy in the room. Ameronis sat on a sill gazing out across the escarpment toward where Theido and Ronsard had retreated only a few minutes before.

  “You had stomach enough for it when we rode to the king himself,” said Lupollen. “I did not hear you complain then. If it is true that he who holds the sword is king, then here is our king!” He gestured to Ameronis, who placed his hands on the sill and rose, facing them, silhouetted in the narrow window.

  Lord Denellon muttered beneath his breath. “If he is king, why are we hiding behind bolted doors, waiting for a fight?”

  Ameronis ignored the remark. “Do you not see that this is exactly what they wanted?”

  The others looked at him askance. “What do you mean?” demanded Gorloic. “Speak plainly.”

  “Then believe me when I tell you it is nothing but a trick to make us relinquish the sword without so much as an arrow exchanged. Theido is a crafty old fox; he knew this would cause dissension among us, and this is why he spread the lie.”

  “You doubt him—after all that happened in Askelon?” asked Denellon.

  “Oh, I do not doubt that the prince was abducted—that is true enough. Most likely he was abducted by simple highwaymen who only want a few ducats of gold to let the boy loose. For all we know, the lad may be free now, the ransom already paid.

  “No, this story about the sword being ransom for the prince and his life forfeit if the Shining One is not delivered four days from now—why, it is a ruse, and a shabby one at that.”

  The lords listened to this speech of Ameronis’s, spoken calmly and with assurance, and frowned—not convinced, but swayed somewhat by the sly reckoning. At last Kelkin stood and said, “I think we make a grave mistake, sirs. And one we will long regret. But we are already enjoined and must see the matter through. Aye?”

  “Aye,” echoed the others. “It is the only course left to us.”

  “Yes,” said Ameronis, nodding as if he, too, had been finally convinced by Kelkin’s address. “It is the only course open to us. They”— he pointed out the window—“they have forced us to it, and we must see it through.”

  “What answer will you make to them, Ameronis?” asked Lupollen. “It is nearly time for them to return for your reply.”

  “What answer can I make?” Ameronis spread his hands. “I will tell them that we cannot give over the sword. I will offer to forgive the affront on my honor which has been served me by their presence if they leave. If not? Well, it is out of my hands.”

  With that, the lords rose and filed out one by one onto the battlements. On the ground below Theido waited alone, having returned for the reply to his demand to give up Zhaligkeer.

  “Lord Theido,” called down Ameronis, “before I give my answer, I would ask a question of you.” The other lords on the ramparts with Ameronis looked at each other. What was the devious lord up to now?

  “Ask it then,” replied Theido from below, leaning with an arm on the pommel of his s
addle.

  “What guarantee have I that if I give up the sword to you, you will not turn and use it in your own bid for the throne?”

  “Only a man such as yourself would think such a thing,” snapped Theido angrily. “You who are true to none believe all men to be as dis-loyal as yourself.”

  Ameronis merely shrugged. “What guarantee?”

  With an effort Theido held down his temper. “I can offer no guarantee save my word of honor. But if you prefer, you may ride back to Askelon and place the sword in the hands of the king yourself.”

  “With you and your knights as escort?” Ameronis scoffed. “I would be cut down before I rode a half a league.”

  “Theido’s word is good enough for me,” replied Lord Kelkin. “As good as a king’s seal and promise.”

  “He is offering a chance to save honor without shedding blood,” put in Lord Denellon. “I say we should consider it.”

  “He is offering to have us flayed like trout, my friends. Do you sup-pose he would not seek to punish us once the sword was his?”

  “He said we could deliver it into the king’s very hands,” argued Gorloic. “I say we should reconsider.”

  “And find ourselves in Askelon’s dungeons as soon as the sword is handed off ?” said Lupollen.

  “The Dragon King would not do such,” said Kelkin. Gorloic and Denellon nodded with him in agreement. “We could ask for safe conduct.”

  “Safe conduct! Ha! The only safe conduct we would receive would be safe conduct to the headsman’s block!” Ameronis frowned. “No, we dare not give up the sword now. As long as we hold it, we hold our lives—give up the sword and we are dead men.”

  “I am waiting,” said Theido. “What is your answer?”

  “You have my answer,” said Ameronis. “I will not give up the sword. If the Dragon King wants it, let him come and take it from me himself!”

  “You realize this is treason—”

  “Do not speak to me of treason, sir! When I am king, your effrontery will be counted treason and we shall see who squirms then! Leave this place, and take your men with you.”

  “We are charged to bring back the Shining One, and we will achieve our purpose. If you have no thought for the king, at least think of the life of his son.”

  “A ruse! Be gone; I am tired of talking to you.”

  “I am leaving,” replied Theido coolly. “When next we meet, it will be at sword point. You have forced us to declare the siege begun.” Theido snapped his reins, turned his horse, and galloped back down the slope. Ronsard was anxiously waiting for him at the edge of the encampment.

  “How is it with them?” asked the sandy-haired knight.

  “You were right, my friend,” replied Theido hotly. “It is a jackal’s den. Though the others with him—Gorloic, Kelkin, and Denellon—seem inclined to reason, they allow themselves to be led astray by his smooth tongue.”

  “So the siege is begun.” Ronsard stared at the castle rising before them. “Those walls will not be easy to breach. And we cannot starve them out. We must go over the top.”

  “Perhaps it will come to that,” replied Theido, following Ronsard’s gaze. “But not yet. I want to examine that fourth side of the castle, the west wall on the river.”

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “It will have to be tonight, under the cover of darkness.”

  “Very good. I will arrange a diversion as well; that will mask our true purpose. But what do you hope to find?”

  “A postern gate. I have never yet been inside a castle that did not have a rear entrance of some kind. A man like Ameronis will have a secret gate if nothing else—if only we can find it.”

  Ronsard nodded and added, “If only we can find it in time.”

  For the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, the camp bustled with activity. The woods nearby rang with the sound of axes as trees were felled and stripped of their branches; men combed the forest, gathering dry pine needles by the armful; the forge and bellows of the smiths sent black smoke rolling up through the trees and into the sky.

  By nightfall all was in readiness. A pale half-moon rose in the tree-tops, casting a glimmering light upon the escarpment, bleaching the castle walls and the granite outcroppings on the field white as dead men’s bones.

  “All is in readiness,” said Ronsard. He came to stand beside Theido, who was instructing a group of knights he had chosen for the night sortie.

  “Good. We are ready here too.” Theido dismissed the men, saying, “Rest now. I will sound the call when it is time to go.”

  The knights departed into the darkness, leaving Theido and Ronsard alone with the embers of a slowly dying fire. “Now to wait. The moon will be well down in a few hours; it should be dark enough then to move without being seen.”

  “Once we start in, not a soul in Ameron Castle will think to look for you. I will make certain of that.”

  “How long can you keep up the diversion?”

  “As long as you require it. We are well provided.”

  Theido sighed. “Ah, well then, all is ready. We may as well take some rest too. We must have our wits about us if we are to beard the lion in his den.”

  44

  At the edge of the woods, the two parties assembled: one a force of two score men-at-arms, the other a dozen handpicked knights. The moon had climbed the night sky and sunk down behind the trees of Pelgrin, and full darkness lay upon the land. The castle rose before them on the slope, a massive black shape in the greater darkness. But for the blazing stars shining down like the fires of a celestial host encamped, the besiegers would not have had enough light to find their way.

  “We will give you enough time to get into position,” said Ronsard. “You will know when the diversion starts, I daresay. With any luck the whole castle will soon be awakened to the alarm.”

  Theido nodded. “We will be ready. Do not get careless, and stay well out of arrow range. There is no need for anyone to get hurt tonight. Yours is not the risk—at least not yet.”

  “We will keep out of bowshot, never fear,” Ronsard assured him. “See that you do the same.”

  With that the two men parted company, Theido leading his knights off into the woods, making for the riverbank where the slow Sipleth flowed dark and silent. After walking what seemed a lifetime through the woods, the knights came upon Sipleth’s east bank. The sound of moving water eddying and curling as it slipped along its shores told them that they had reached the first stage of their journey.

  Walking silently, their tools and weapons muffled to prevent any sound, the small force turned and filed along the riverbank, proceeding toward the castle. Presently the river broadened, flattening as it bent around the castle rock. The bank rose to form a cliff above the black water, unseen except for the winking glint, here and there, of starlight on a ripple in the current.

  The knights made their way up the rising cliffside, fighting through tangles of nettles and bramble thickets along the way. Their labors were rewarded when Theido at last halted their progress and passed the whispered word back along the file: “The castle is just ahead. We wait.”

  Ahead, right to the very edge of the cliff, stood the west wall of Castle Ameron. The raiding party knelt down in the path to wait for the signal. It was not long in coming, for as the knights waited silently below the curtain, there came a shout from above, far off. “Fire!” This call was echoed by another and another all along the battlements. Then the knights heard the clatter of feet racing along the high walls directly over their heads as the cry resounded, “Fire!”

  Still Theido waited, holding up his hand to stay his men. “Hold,” he whispered. “Give it time.”

  Now the alarm cries could be heard echoing through the castle yards and along the furthermost battlement. But nothing more was heard from directly above; so Theido, moving stealthily, crept forward to the western wall beneath the tower and along the curtain, walking the entire length, gazing upward as he passed.

>   He was back momentarily, saying, “It worked. The watch has with-drawn to the far side of the castle. We have little time, so let us work quickly. Go.”

  The knights leaped to action at once. Coils of rope were produced and heavy stakes driven into the ground. The ropes were attached to the stakes, and knights began lowering themselves over the edge of the cliff to the river below. Theido and two archers remained beneath the walls to protect the ropes while their comrades were vulnerable below.

  When the last knight had disappeared over the edge Theido said, “Now we wait once more. Stay back close to the wall in case the tower watch returns, and keep sharp for my signal.”

  The two knights melted back into the darkness beneath the tower wall. Theido, too, stepped back from the edge of the cliff, sitting down with his back against the immense curtain of stone to wait, praying that the watchmen would not return soon.

  Theido need not have concerned himself, for at that moment every available man under Lord Ameronis’s command was either lofting buckets of water to quench the fires burning in the ward yards, or lining the eastern wall with bow and arrows in an attempt to prevent the siege force from sending more fireballs their way.

  For when Theido’s party departed, Ronsard and his force had waited until they were well away and then moved out upon the field, dragging with them the crude catapults that had been constructed that very day. There were two of them, ungraceful machines of rough timber and rope; long poles of ash with slings at one end and counterweights of stone at the other were lashed to sturdy sledges of pine. Along with the catapults were two wagonloads of baled pine needles, tinder dry and awaiting the spark that would set them roaring into flame.