"What do we know of him?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. We never got around to talking with him at any length."
Gerald returned his attention to the enemy line. "Show yourself."
The scraping of wood on stone announced that the Norlanders were moving part of their own barricade, making room for the earl to advance. With this done, Creighton stepped out into the neutral area between the two lines, his hands held to the side.
"It is I, Lord Creighton," the man said, "and I am unarmed."
"Step forward," said Gerald.
The Norland earl took three steps, drawing closer to the Mercerian barricade.
"Say what you want," said Gerald.
In answer, Creighton glanced briefly back at his own line of troops. "It would be better, I think, to discuss things in private."
"So you said earlier," said Gerald, "but you must understand our hesitation to let you enter our lines."
"It would be in your best interest to do so," the earl said. "There are things we must discuss that are not meant for the ears of others." He glanced back at his own troops one more time.
"Very well," said Gerald, "let him through."
Beverly shifted the table slightly, opening a small gap. Lord Creighton advanced, slowing to navigate through the small opening.
"Lord Matheson," he said, "I thank you for hearing me out."
"Come with me," said Gerald, "and we shall talk." He turned to the men at the barricade. "Conner, see that table returned to its previous position. Beverly, you're with me."
He led Lord Creighton into the same room he had so recently vacated, offering the bed for the earl to sit upon.
Lord Creighton declined the offer. "You are surrounded," he began, "and we have men blocking both exits."
Gerald thought briefly of the second barricade to the south, but then shrugged it off. Arnim was more than capable of holding his position.
"And?" the marshal said.
"Surely you must realize by now that there is little chance of escape."
"Did you come here to talk or lecture?" asked Gerald.
"Do you know the history of Galburn's Ridge?" countered the earl.
Gerald was thrown off guard. "Norland History is not my strong suit," he admitted.
"Think about it a moment. Of all the places to build a castle, why here?"
"It's very defensible," said Gerald.
"Yes," agreed the earl, "but also very difficult to construct. Every single stone had to be lugged up here, a monumental effort."
"I have a feeling you're about to explain why," said Gerald.
"Indeed. You see, when Galburn became king, he selected this area as his capital. He was tired of being on the run, and felt this was a safe place."
"Are you saying there was already a castle here?" asked Gerald.
"No, but there was a series of caves. Still is, in fact, right below this very castle."
"So he settled into these caves and then built the castle overtop?"
"Precisely," said the earl.
"An interesting tale," said Gerald, "but why are you telling me this? I have to wonder at your motives."
"The politics of Norland are convoluted," said Lord Creighton. "Let us suffice to say that Lord Hollis and I have opposing views on many subjects."
"You don't agree with the war?" said Beverly.
Creighton looked at her in surprise. "I didn't say anything about a war."
"Come now," she continued, "you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble if you didn't have an army ready to march."
"I see we have underestimated you," the earl continued. "Be that as it may, if you agree to hand over the queen, I can assure you she'll be treated with the courtesy and respect due her station."
"Let you hold her as a hostage?" said Gerald. "That will never happen!"
"You'll never get out of here," said Creighton, "not without your horses, and they have been removed from the castle to a place not far from here. I'm afraid they're out of your reach, for the present."
"You're wasting your breath," said Gerald. "Our minds are made up. If you want the queen, you'll have to cross a line of Mercerian steel to get her."
"Very well," said the earl, "then I shall leave you now. Don't get down on yourself, Marshal, it's not the end of the world."
He stepped from the room and Gerald hurried to catch up to him.
"I'm sorry we didn't see eye to eye," said the earl, "but believe me when I say that you have earned our respect."
Conner pulled the table aside once more, allowing Lord Creighton to step through. He turned one last time, locking eyes with Gerald.
"Remember, don't be DOWN on yourself, Lord Matheson."
The earl turned away, returning behind the safety of the Norland barricade.
"What was that all about?" asked Beverly.
Gerald smiled. "He was telling us how to escape," he said. "It seems we have an ally, after all."
* * *
Arnim shook his head. "I still don't understand. You say this Lord Creighton visited, that much I get, but I don't see how he helped us."
"I'd have to agree," added Beverly.
The three of them were sitting alone, gathered around a small table.
"What was the last thing that he said?" asked Gerald.
"Something about not getting down," offered Beverly.
"Exactly," said Gerald, "don't you see?"
Arnim grumbled something unintelligent then spoke, "Spit it out, man."
"He told us about caves that the castle is built upon."
"How does that help us?" pressed Arnim. "We still don't know where the entrance to these caves is, or where they lead."
"Oh, but we do," said Gerald. "We're on the ground floor. The caves are directly below us."
"How do you know that?" asked Beverly.
"I don't with absolute certainty, but I believe his lordship was trying to tell us, hence his reference to looking down."
"Still," said Arnim, "how do we find the entrance?"
"We don't," said Gerald, "we make our own."
"How do you propose we do that?"
Gerald looked at Beverly, then let his eyes wander to Nature's Fury. Beverly smiled, her mind grasping the concept.
"He knows what my hammer did to the doorway," she said, "and he's assuming we can go through the floor in the same way."
"And could it," said Arnim, "go through the floor, I mean?"
"I would say so," said Beverly, "though I'm not sure where we'd start."
"In the queen's chamber," said Gerald.
"Why would you say that?" asked Arnim.
"It's the largest room in this section of the castle, and likely one of the oldest."
Arnim shook his head. "I'm afraid I still don't understand.
"The castle was built by King Galburn," said Gerald, "and this room was likely his for a while."
"What makes you say that?" asked Arnim.
In answer, Gerald turned to Beverly. "Will you tell him or shall I?"
Beverly looked at Arnim. "When a lord builds a castle, it takes years, especially one as large as this. The first buildings constructed are going to be the most important in the short term, such as the king's chambers. This was likely Galburn's residence as the rest of the place was constructed."
"How do you know all this?" asked Arnim.
Gerald laughed, "She was raised by Baron Fitzwilliam. Would you expect anything less?"
"I was born a simple farmer," said Arnim, "so I understand little of such things. How do you know this, you were a farmer much like me?"
"You forget," said Gerald, "I spent years in the baron's service, and if there's one thing Fitz likes to talk about its castles and battles."
"Those are two things," said Beverly.
"So they are," said Gerald, grinning.
"All right," said Arnim, "so we know how to find the tunnels. Now, assuming we can get out, what next? We're still at the mercy of enemy cavalry."
"Ah,
yes," said Gerald, "the next step would be to send a small group of soldiers to recover our horses."
"But we don't know where they are," said Arnim.
"We do now," said Gerald, "thanks to Lord Creighton."
"We do?" said Arnim.
"Yes, he said they were in a place not far from here."
"That could be anywhere," Arnim grumbled.
"No, it couldn't," said Gerald. "You see, the west is a long descent down a treacherous road. The base of that road is not a quick trip, and south of the castle is a sheer cliff."
"That still leaves north and east," said Beverly.
"It does," Gerald agreed, "but when we first arrived, I spent some time familiarizing myself with the area. I have it on good authority that the only decent grazing lies to the north."
"Why couldn't Lord Creighton have been less obtuse?" said Arnim. "Surely, he could have come out and just told us all this?"
"I think it's his sense of honour," said Gerald. "This way, he can deny that he told us how to escape."
"Are you sure it's not a trap?" asked Arnim. "After all, it would get us out of our defensive position."
"It's a distinct possibility," said Gerald, "but we have no other options, as far as I'm aware."
"Very well," said Arnim, "I'm in."
"As am I," added Beverly. "How do we proceed?"
Gerald looked out the window. "We have to wait for the rain to subside. The hills will be treacherous to navigate in such weather."
"That means holding out for another half day or so," said Arnim, "and we still don't have food."
"A good point," noted Gerald, "but we shall have to endure."
* * *
It was midnight, or at least close enough. No bells had been rung in the castle, but the moon was high, and darkness had settled in some time ago.
Beverly stood in the middle of the queen's chambers, Nature's Fury in hand. They had moved the furniture out, adding it to the barricades, and now Gerald watched as she prepared to strike.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"As ready as we can be," said Gerald. "Once the floor collapses, we'll have to move quickly. The Guard Cavalry will man the barricades while the others make their way through the tunnels. You take the lead, and I'll bring up the rear."
He glanced at Conner, who stood by the doorway, torch in hand.
"Close the door," said Beverly. "We want to dampen the sound as much as possible."
With the door dutifully closed, Gerald moved forward, his own torch illuminating the area. Beverly raised Nature's Fury high above her, gently brushing the ceiling with the head of the hammer.
"Careful," warned Gerald. "It's the floor beneath us we want to break, not the ceiling overhead."
She crouched slightly, allowing more clearance, and then brought the hammer down with all her might, smashing it into the stone floor, sending fragments spinning as a large crack appeared.
"Again," said Gerald.
She struck a second time, and as the crack widened, small chunks of stone fell through into the darkness beneath.
"Almost there," he said.
The third time proved to be the last. Nature's Fury struck the floor and continued through as the stone collapsed into a chamber below. Gerald stepped forward to the edge, holding his torch over the opening.
"I'd say no more than six feet down," he said, "and the floor looks smooth, other than the rubble, of course."
Beverly used her hammer to lightly tap the edge of the pit, dislodging any loose stones. Satisfied nothing further would collapse, she sat, dangling her feet into the hole.
"Wish me luck," she said, then dropped down into the darkness.
Gerald held his breath as she went, then relaxed a little as he heard her feet hit the ground. He leaned forward once more, illuminating her.
"Stand back," he said, "and I'll drop the torch."
She moved aside, and he tossed it down to land on top of some rubble, where Beverly quickly retrieved it.
"This looks good," she said. "The tunnel is clear, though it smells a bit musty."
"Can you see the way out?"
As she disappeared from sight, all he could see was the light flickering off the walls. Shortly thereafter, she reappeared. "There's an old stairway, but it's been sealed up. I believe it's the old entrance to the room."
"Any other way out?"
"Yes, a path that leads roughly north, though it's far from straight. Shall I investigate?"
"Yes," said Gerald, "but don't go too far, we don't need you getting lost down there."
She moved off, and the light grew dimmer, finally disappearing as she rounded a corner. Gerald stepped back to the doorway, opening it to see Conner waiting with a torch in hand.
"Any sign of trouble?" asked Gerald.
"No, my lord. Things have been quiet."
"Good," said Gerald, "they didn't hear us, then. Give me your torch, then go and fetch the first group."
Conner trotted down the hallway, leaving Gerald alone with his thoughts. With Anna safely back in Merceria, their group had shrunk to seventy-two people. No, he corrected himself, they had lost two guards when everything went sour, and then three more as the Norlanders tried to storm the barricades. That left sixty-seven, of which five were injured, three severely. They would require help to descend into the caves, and for that very reason, a sling had been devised using bed linens.
It would likely take all night to get everyone into and through the caves, but the most treacherous time would be as the last few soldiers held the barricades. Once they withdrew, there was a very real chance that the Norlanders would swarm forward and then chase them. To compensate for this, he intended to hold on until just before light, giving the others the best chance to get away, but it all hinged on how the Norlanders might react.
Time appeared to stand still as he waited for Beverly's return. The first group of Mercerians had already arrived in the chamber, four of the queen's guards and four servants.
When a flickering light below caught Gerald's attention, he looked down to see Beverly, waving her torch.
"I think I've found the way out," she said, "though I didn't follow it to the end."
"I'm sending the first group down," said Gerald. "Take two guards with you, leave the other pair at the bottom here to help the next lot climb down."
"Aye, Marshal," she replied.
Gerald looked towards those gathered around the opening.
"You're up first, Wilson, and be quick about it. I know your father was a ranger, so now you have a chance to follow in his footsteps."
"Sir?" the man responded.
"You'll be guiding these people, lad. That's normally the work of the rangers."
"I'll do my best, sir."
"I know you will," said Gerald. "Now, let's not be wasting any more time, we've plenty to do."
Wilson dropped into the chamber below, landing in a crouch. He took a moment to orient himself, then moved aside.
"Let's move some of this rubble," said Beverly. "It will speed things up a bit."
They both set to work, soon clearing the space below the opening. The rest of the soldiers dropped down quickly, but the servants would be slower. Gerald lowered the makeshift rope. They had knotted it, making the descent easier, and the first servant, a maid named Cynthia, made her way below. When Wilson gave the thumbs up, the next in line began climbing down.
Gerald waited until half were below, then opened the door to where the next group stood ready.
* * *
Arnim peered out from behind the barricade. The Norlanders were napping, of that he was sure, but still, he didn't trust them. After all, Norland had been their enemy for years. Slowly, his eyelids began to droop, sleep trying to claim him, and then moved again, forcing himself to stay awake. It must be early morning by now, he thought, and they would soon be called upon to do their part.
A lantern moved behind the Norland barricade, and Arnim put all his energy towards focusing on it. When a
tap on his shoulder broke his concentration, he turned to see Conner.
"The marshal says it's time," he whispered.
Arnim nodded. "Very well. Get to the chamber as quick as you can, and we'll start falling back."
He waited until the messenger was out of sight, then tapped the guard beside him on the shoulder. "You first, Abercromby," he whispered.
The warrior rose, creeping down the hallway in a crouch, lest he draw attention to himself. Arnim watched, tapping the next man as Abercromby withdrew from sight.
He continued down the line, waiting patiently as each made their way to safety. They had discussed rushing back, but the movement of so many men at one time was sure to be heard.
Finally, he tapped the last man, then waited as he fled. Arnim peeked over the barricade, taking in the enemy one last time, then turned, moving off as quietly as possible.
Gerald gazed down the corridor. Only half a dozen men remained here at the northern barricade. He wondered if everything was going well in the south, but Arnim's position was out of sight, and he had to trust in the viscount's ability to carry out his orders.
The marshal watched as another of his men headed to safety, then heard a commotion behind the Norland barricade.
"Saxnor's balls," he swore under his breath, "can nothing ever be easy?"
The shuffling noise reminded him of men preparing for battle, and now his line was held by only three men, four including himself.
"Right, men," he whispered, "it looks like it falls to us. Keep low, they'll start with a barrage of bolts. You know how they operate."
He crouched, his eyes peering over the makeshift wall. Sure enough, a flurry of bolts sailed forth, digging into the furniture they had piled in their defence, then a shout announced their attack.
Gerald stood, confident that the bolts would cease, for the Norlanders flooded across the small gap, intent on breaking the Mercerian defences.
"Back up," he commanded, "and we'll hit them as they come through the barricade."
A rush of men closed the distance quickly, eager to be among their prey. One of them jumped up on a chair but lost his footing as it shifted, falling back into the man behind him. Another slowed, climbing carefully over the stacked furniture. Gerald stepped forward, delivering a precise jab with his sword between the chair legs, sinking it into the man's leg. The Norlander let out a howl of pain and then fell backward, out of sight.
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