Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  Walter sighed, helping the child up by the hand. Looking over his disheveled appearance and tousled hair, and with dirt smudged all over his dinner clothes, there was no way that Walter could readmit Matthias back out into the fray without cleaning him to renewal. Of course, Walter would get to it eventually. Perhaps it would just…slip his mind for a few minutes.

  "I'm of a mind not to allow starvation while I still tend to your family," Walter began and watched the boy grin, "Therefore, I shall place you over here on this stool, and tell you that you are not to move from this spot," Matthias's face fell as Walter picked him up and plopped him down on a rickety old stool, "However, I shall still be running errands, so my back is…conveniently turned away from you most of the time."

  Matthias enthusiastically hugged Walter's waist, stool creaking, "Thank you! Thank you!"

  Walter bent down and tweaked the boy's nose affectionately, "If you get caught by anyone else, I shall deny our little secret," he whispered.

  "Understood," the boy saluted him and raced off before any backs were turned.

  Walter shook his head, thinking he wasn't the most prudent-planning and secretive young one, but adorable, nonetheless. He pivoted around and faced a frowning crowd of servants- the only ones smiling were the women. Walter shrugged at them and continued directing orders.

  "That was not a call to cease your actions. Everyone, get back to work," he ordered with an unforgiving hard clap to initiate the labor-intensive work again.

  "My friends!" The Regent announced in a resounding and strong voice, "My friends, may I have your undivided attention?"

  The hall quieted down to a dull roar as each man and woman stood up to face their leader. Servants had begun to set down dished plates as the first course came in. Richard and William made their way silently through the crowd, passing Lord Rodriguez, to end up next to their father in support as he raised his arms.

  "Today marks the first night of the weeklong celebration of the Grand Turneul Cavalerilor!"

  Cheers made an infectious wave throughout the people as they listened on.

  "I cannot express to you my gratitude in seeing of all the faces here today. Each and every one of you has gathered on common ground and under one common purpose: to celebrate my accomplishments and, by extension, to continue hindering the reach of the Ottoman Empire!"

  More cheers accompanied this continuation.

  "I know many of you have family members and friends who have died in the unsightly scene of battle, but know this: I will not rest, I will not pause, and I will not cease in our collective war against the Ottoman Empire until each last one in Mehmet's army is killed!"

  Rodriguez shifted his weight and whispered by The Regent's side, "Perhaps the crowd is eager to hear of the tournament…"

  The Regent paused in his ardent speech and presumed a calmer stance, "But onto lighter matters, I shall talk about the tourney. Whether you are participating in the tourney or a spectator, I can tell that this experience will be memorable! The stakes are high, and the prize being the fair hand of my loving daughter William!" he motioned down to William who managed a meek smile, "I expect any man who enters to play honorably, to respect his opposition honorably, and to honor his family and mine with a clean round. If any are caught cheating, they will be disqualified and their house disowned for the remainder of the tourney."

  The noble houses each began to look at one another in fearsome glares in competition for the fair hand of William. Chins were jutted out, noses were turned up, and seats were scooted further apart from their neighbors as one by one each house exchanged shifty glances at the other. Sabotage was another piece of the game of which was secretly unspoken. The only man who truly looked sympathetic, the only person who remotely seemed concerned for her and slightly ajar about the situation, was Pip. He shared a sorrowful look with William as she gulped down in fear and bowed her head in submission.

  "Now, you all know I'm not one for lengthy speeches, as I'm not the best orator in this land, but I will say this: Let the feast begin, and let it mark a grand new chapter in the year of our Lord 1453!" The Regent's voice commenced the piling of food and one more round of applause and cheer.

  All sat down to enjoy the first course. Richard and William took to their seats and effortlessly assumed an etiquette of smile and charm -something that Lord Rodriguez had drilled into them since they were children. Their father lowered himself into his large carved throne chair and waved over the first course of meat. His large hands gripped five massive pig shanks and plopped them onto his plate. Richard was happy to see him comfortable, but she wished that he had not singled out William moments before. Taking a minute to look at the poor thing, she was just plain terrified and white as a sheet. Richard could not conceal her worried frown for long and easily felt it morph into an angered glower.

  The Regent alarmingly noticed her change in expression, but he chose to ignore it, "I'm so happy to have you here," he kissed Richard's cheek and William's, "You have both grown into two beautiful young noblewomen. Perhaps the two most beautiful in all of Hungary, mayhap one day turning into true princesses. I trust you are enjoying yourselves?"

  William smiled, "We are, father."

  Richard felt her shoulders relax somewhat and realized her father would not pursue what she wished to discuss, not in front of so many nobles at the very least. Her father knew he would hear her piece sooner or later, but it had to wait in the face of so many he had to host and impress. Then Richard instantly remembered Rodriguez's words: 'if you mar his name for your own selfish gains, you will prove to be the suspicious little tarts I think you truly are'. She shook her head, internally disagreeing with the statement, and assumed a graceful posture and sweet smile, "The noble houses seem content with the feast that Walter prepared," Richard looked out at the crowd sitting in their respective chairs. Count Gavros was not far enough from her, placed facing her across the room and constantly watching Richard's every move, Lady Illira and Johan, prospective Duke of Thuringia were sitting at the same large table with Richard and William. House Gregori, House Wojciechowski, House Kruskoph, and House Elkress all arrived and sat at their various tables. Other nobles and houses she knew were sprinkled here and there, yet there was no sign of Lord Victor or of his House. "The room is perfectly arranged and organized."

  Rodriguez nodded, suspiciously eyeing her changing facial expressions, "As it should be, lass. I was the one who placed everything where it is," he then turned to his superior, "My lord, I have dire news of Ladislaus V. Frederick V is still refusing to release the boy to us, despite the fact that the Hungarian estates sent a deputation to Vienna to induce Frederick to surrender the child and the Holy Crown."

  The Regent shook his head in sadness, ripping through another pig leg, "Ever since that fateful day almost ten years ago, when Vincentislaus I, King of Hungary, died, politics has been less than sane. I fear that little boy Ladislaus V will not see another winter."

  "Now, I passed Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing, and Ulrich II, Princely Count of Celje, in the Club Tower discussing their plans to take László by force. Now, under normal circumstances, I'd advise you against allying yourself with such an act of war, and an act of aggression at the very least, but-"

  "Father, you should set aside some time to send soldiers for a journey to Austria. We must save the child and the Crown," Richard interrupted as she thumbed her hooped sleeve.

  The Regent shot her a warning look, "Richard, leave the politics of this country to the men at this table. We are well and capable of deciding what is necessary on our own," his dark brown eyes lifted their gaze to Lord Rodriguez once more, "What say you, my Royal Vizier?"

  Rodriguez sighed and raked a tired hand through his dark blonde hair, "I can't believe the words are flowing freely past my lips, but I agree with Lady Richard. My lord, you are the regent of a kingdom, one that you have devoted your entire life and soul into, and I will not have such an aged and tired man, who has already been through enough and given to
o much, now asked to be their king. It is one thing if your house is elected by the estates -that has merit and stands on its own- but when you have a child who is the rightful heir to the throne rotting away in some dungeon that his estranged relative threw him in, then there is no other call than a call to arms."

  Richard felt herself smile at Rodriguez, quite possibly one of the first true times she ever had. She watched her father's expression change from denial to reluctantly willing. He placed a hand on his thick and bearded chin, chair pushed back and index finger tapping the bridge of his nose. William watched the transformation in curiosity. It was always awe-inspiring to hear Lord Rodriguez's words and how he had his own style of convincing her father of things. Where Richard was more forceful, Lord Rodriguez was more practical. He spoke The Regent's language, and every time the adviser attempted to gain her father's favor it was always through pragmatism.

  The Regent made an exasperated noise but nodded, "Alright, I shall think on it. We must remember not to spread our forces thin, as there is ever an Ottoman threat. I fear that if we pull out more men, Wallachia will soon stand defenseless."

  "Of course, my lord," Rodriguez turned up his sleeves and folded them neatly, recognizing when a conversation was ending, "I will deal with the heathen Frederick myself. So long as I exist, people who withhold the Holy Crown will be dealt with," he cracked his knuckles, "...and punished with the utmost severity imaginable."

  William shuddered as his voice reminded her of an animal's growl and noticed her older sister grinning. Focusing on something with certain levity, she rather enjoyed their spots -not specifically sitting at The Regent's smaller table, as it was strictly reserved for him and his absent wife at the moment- the two girls were sitting at the perpendicular adjacent table.

  Five large tables were used in the set up. Two were connected together to form a long table, two more connected across the room to face the first long table, and The Regent's table connected all four in a perpendicular style to create a massive horseshoe shape. The lesser houses were at the far ends of the long tables, and the ones seated closest to The Regent were of great import. It was a wonderful and controlled spectacle. Everything was in order and as it should be…except for one invisible problem within the depths of the castle. In the dark recesses of the high stone fortification, there lurked an unassuming villain to this perfect day.

  He had doused the torches and created a little niche for himself. The darkened room was difficult to work in, but he couldn't attract any attention to where he was. As long as no one suspected a thing, he would soon be free to move about the castle. The barrel he carried was set gently down on the floor as the man opened up the top and peered inside at his handiwork, but not before checking his corners.

  Neatly folded and strapped to the sides of the inside were linen packets filled of gunpowder. He had arranged four rows of these, making sure that adequate spacing was used so as to maximize the explosion. Flicking packets that were also dangling from cross beams he had constructed, the assassin watched as they twirled for a moment, none of them bursting or rupturing and in need of repair. He grinned, satisfied. The assassin then pressed his hand to each of the packets adhered to the inner wall of the barrel; this was to make sure that they were strapped in correctly. Rarely did anyone know this, but in order to adequately explode this beauty, the dispersal of the gunpowder being used had to effectively contain enough air in between the spaces of the barrel to feed the fire, thus initiating the continuation of destruction. An amateur would pile the gunpowder in like sand, but the bomb quite possibly might not explode and would definitely not destroy as much as it could. Fortunately, his men had perfected the art.

  The Assassin grinned as he couldn't feel anything that needed to be readjusted. Placing the lid back on, he lifted the barrel back onto his shoulders and made his way out of the room. Servants hardly noticed as he walked up a narrow staircase and blended into the crowd of frantic people on the ground floor.

  Stopping a woman, he asked, "Could you point me in the direction of the feast? I'm afraid I'm lost, and The Regent will want his wine delivered soon."

  She eyed him curiously for a moment, unable to deduce his muddled accent, "Walter did not debrief you on where everything should go? The kitchen is down the hall to your right. Talk to 'im."

  The man grumbled when she did not give him directions to the hall specifically, but he soon shrugged. A minor detour. He walked briskly to the kitchen, only to find a throng of menservants and women maids placed at their stations and working the bread, salts, sweets, pork, boar, and some chopping up greens. His stomach growled, but the plight was easily ignored. Stepping forward, he began to ask for Walter, knowing perfectly well that all questions he had would defer him to this man.

  Walter helped assort more plates together as the other servants whisked them away to the hall. He sighed happily at the amounts that people were eating. At this rate, he might need to make another trip to the larder. After placing more vegetables onto a platter that was passed his way to be refilled, he motioned for a couple of men to bring forth the wine kegs.

  "Wine and mead, this way to the Knight's Hall," he motioned up the stairs, "One barrel at a time! We aim to finish a whole keg before we replace it with another."

  A tall and dark complexioned man stepped forward with a barrel carried on one side of his thick shoulder, "Wine for The Regent."

  Walter nodded, "Up to the Knight's Hall you go," he waved the man off, "Up the staircase, down the corridor, and take the second door to your right."

  The man nodded and turned on his heels, paving a large pathway in his broad wake as servants scooted out of his way.

  "Walter," one of the maids clucked, "Matthias has gotten into the larder! He's just like the hounds! You must go and fetch him. Now. Before he gobbles everything."

  "Oh, growing boys," Walter sighed and glanced back at the man moving up the stairs. Something made him glance again at the man. He looked…slightly different. Walter had known all of the kitchen staff, and this one he did not readily recognize. Perhaps it was one of the nobles' servants to chip in; the houses all had their own, and they were no doubt crawling all over the castle grounds.

  Walter took a few steps in the direction of the larder when he stopped again. A strange feeling entered his body, one that he rarely experienced. His instinct ordered him to turn back around and follow the man to the hall. Slightly alarmed by the feeling that only happened one other time, Walter pivoted off the balls of his feet and made his way up the stairs, ignoring the maid's disgruntled scoff.

  "I shall return," he reached for a torch and began the steps, "Or perhaps you could trouble yourself in retrieving the young lad yourself," he politely implied her next order and swished back around before she could back-talk.

  Closing the apothecary's door with a soft squeak, Victor made it out silently and exhaled. Vincent would survive, and Ladislaus was in healing hands; that much was certain. Refusing to take a moment to think, he ran to the nearest person he could find, who was five feet away, and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Where is the Knight's Hall?"

  The man looked confused for a moment, "Wh-what?"

  "Where is the Knight's Hall? I have important business there. You must tell me!" Victor shook the man.

  "G-guards!" the servant shouted in fright at Victor's wild expression.

  Two castle guards approached with caution and halted Victor.

  "What's this?" one asked.

  Victor took in a deep breath and calmed himself, "This incompetent servant is refusing to tell me where I need to be. I must get to the Knight's Hall. My…my house is there. The Noble House of Poděbrady. Perhaps you've heard of them? I am Lord Victor, son of Lord George of Kunštát and Poděbrady. My father wishes to see me. I fear it is urgent."

  The guards placed a hand on him in relief, "Ah, the Knight's Hall is just up the stairs and down the corridor. It will be on your left hand side, my lord."

  Victor graciously thanked the two as
they took the servant by the collar and walked away stating how gross acts of misconduct in refusing to help a lord would throw him out of the castle if it happened again.

  Whispering a silent prayer of forgiveness for the servant, with due haste Victor climbed the staircase and up to the next floor. The steps were high and spiraling, but he was sure he would make it in time. Tiny beads of sweat formed around his hairline as he pushed his muscles further, ignoring their screams as he flew past two maids who consequently fell over in Victor's whirl-wind sprint.

  Walter watched three men turn the last corner and into the hall as he himself trailed behind. One ferried salts, one was in possession of three mugs, and the last carried the barrel. What caused Walter to suddenly stop was when the last man, the one he did not recognize who was carrying the barrel, stumbled for a moment. He righted himself agilely, but what Walter noticed was a curious substance that leaked out of the side of the barrel and sprinkled to the ground.

  Walter furtively made it to that corner. As he neared it, the manservant realized that it was not spilt wine at all, but in fact something in powdered form. Crouching to inspect, Walter pinched some into his fingers and rubbed it around. A black, acrimonious stench attacked his nostrils.

  "W-wait," he brought the torch closer, failing to notice a blob of wax dripping off of the top. The blob sparked the powder as it fell to the floor and ignited it in a spurt of hot flame as it exploded in Walter's face. He jerked his head back in shock and wiped his face off, "No…this is what Ladislaus told me he and Vincent had talked about… This is…"

  The manservant jumped up to his feet and sprinted to the Knight's Hall, nearly missing the last turn into the room. He panted uncontrollably as he scanned the room for the suspected man. Watching the nobles laugh, chortle, and tear into their food jovially had to be overlooked as Walter searched for people who were standing instead.