by Jon Kiln
“Arch Duke Aedwrath might make enough noise to bring soldiers in for our heads.”
“That may be true.” Berengar offered some dried fish from the basket to the younger man.
Nisero sniffed and looked at the scant remains. “Are you enjoying your meal, captain?”
“It is a little more aged than I like. The selections were few, and the price was a touch steep. I’m thinking there is not a steady supply coming into the city for some reason. I get the impression from your tone that I should not be enjoying my food. Is that it, lieutenant?”
“Throwing around the Duke’s coins might not endear us to him further.”
Berengar shrugged and set the basket aside. “As Aedwrath said the first day, he has plenty of money. Being bandits is not cheap.”
One of the constables walked the driver out and sat him on the ground. The men on top untied the Duke. Aedwrath shoved their hands away and tried to stand, but then collapsed to his back on the roof again.
“We should move along before they tell their stories,” Nisero suggested.
Berengar wiped off his fingers on the front of his cloak. “Come along then.”
They slipped around through the crowd and down the western avenue called Golden Hawk.
“I’m not sure what you see as our next move.”
Berengar remained silent for several steps. The avenue cleared out and the crowd thinned as they walked farther from the square. It was not normally one of the busier destinations in the city but the display they had put on for the people had drawn more than the usual attention. Nisero noted that word had spread through the city far faster among the common people than the reaction of the constables indicated.
Berengar finally said, “We’re going to have to approach the King.”
“And do what exactly? Hang him up by his feet?”
“That probably would not be received well,” Berengar murmured.
“No, it would not, sir. But not much of anything we would say or do entering the palace would be received much better.”
“If we were able to approach him and deliver a message without doing him harm, I think that would go a long way to proving our innocence to the one man above all that we need to believe it.”
Nisero rolled his head inside his cloak’s hood, stretching his tired neck muscles. “I do not know that we will find much impression in breaking into the throne room, and then stopping short of killing the King as our plea of innocence. If he is even indirectly involved as has been implied, he might already know of our innocence with no desire to allow it to be proven. If our deaths or imprisonment serve to pacify the eastern kingdom or advance his war agenda, I’m not sure that our guilt or innocence in reality will matter much.”
“That may be true,” Berengar agreed.
Nisero hesitated. “You still intend to try to enter the palace, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said. “I believe it is our best play. We just need to be sure we can get back out again.”
“Well, sir, if we accomplish the impossible by getting in, then doing the impossible a second time would be that much easier.”
Berengar slapped Nisero on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
They turned into a dark archway and followed through into an open courtyard. Three floors of tenement room doors looked out over balconies on the central yard. Children played and eyed the two men as they passed. Women sewed and beat stones against wet cloth. They glanced to the side as the men passed, but did not look on them fully.
An older man with his shirt off and scars across his tanned back sat on an overturned bucket carving, shaping, and bending a staff of wood that Nisero thought might be for a bow. He did not look up from his work at them at all.
As Nisero took the stairs leading up to the second level, he thought that any one of these people might give them up if constables came through asking for people fitting their description. If enough reward were involved, it would be a near certainty.
Nisero bore little hope that the peasants’ hatred for authority would go very far. Maybe the lack of manpower that Berengar’s stunt had exposed would be enough to keep them hidden. He still saw the stunt itself as being the prime to bring in more manpower where it was lacking before.
As they crossed the balcony and rounded the corner, Nisero said, “I think you misunderstand the state of my spirit, sir.”
“No, I read your meaning exactly.”
“What is it that you hope will occur then?” Nisero asked. “Do you expect the King will grant us pardon on the spot where we enter as burglars and then will grant us a feast as he agrees to engage the east in war on our behalf?”
“I think a feast may be a bit much to ask with the shortage of fresh fish in the city,” Berengar remarked.
They climbed the stairs to the third level and rounded the corner to walk along the front edge of the tenement block.
“I don’t sense that you have a desire to explain yourself, sir, nor to dissuade my concerns,” Nisero said.
They stopped at an unmarked door two from the corner. Berengar gave a particular pattern of a knock. “I think the King may well realize that there are movements being made by powers below him. I’m not convinced that men like Caffrey and Aedwrath are acting on behalf of the King as they imply. The effort to capture you for the crime of escaping with your life may well be an effort to keep you from bearing witness of the events from that night. I do not think the men that operate in the dark believe that we would make this play to speak to the King directly. After what I’ve seen today, I believe we might be able to sail this strait and reach the King in the very vacuum created by the war threat that evil men have created. This may be our chance.”
“They do not think we will do it, because it is a truly insane ploy.”
The door opened and Arianne peeked around from behind it. “Will you two get inside? I can hear you talking from in here. You have all the stealth of two drunken aunts.”
They walked inside and she closed and barred the door behind them.
“I think there may have been some form of rum soaked into the fish we ate as a preservative,” Berengar realized.
“You do seem nearly jovial, father. I don’t like it.”
Berengar unlatched the window and opened the shutter boards out part way to allow light into the room. They were one level above the street. Berengar chuckled. “I actually have a glimmer of hope. Maybe that is what you see that disturbs you both so. I’m sure something will come along to tamp it back down. Do not worry.”
Arianne sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “Are you sure it is wise to have that window open?”
Berengar waved her off as he sat down at the table in the center of the single room. “Unless the constables are riding birds, they will not see in here and I am not convinced they have the capacity to know they are searching for us even if they saw us.”
“We are running low on supplies,” she said. “You should have bought more on your way back to avoid a second trip.”
“We will need to buy a great many things for what we have coming ahead.”
Arianne looked back and forth between the two men. “What have you got planned?”
Nisero gazed out the window at the avenue below them. A group of men started shouting and pushing. The merchant yelled, “I have no grain. I can’t help you. Leave me be.”
Nisero felt the urge to run down and break up the fight, which would normally be his duty. He took a couple deep breaths and tried to remind himself that there was nothing for him to do. He had no grain the fill the bellies of the attacking men nor their children. He had no authority to protect the merchants from the rioting crowd.
The lieutenant thought about Arianne’s question and finally said, “We are going to see if the King wants to throw us a feast.”
Chapter 13: In Chains
“Just slide through,” Nisero hissed.
Berengar dragged the shovel, pulling out more dirt from the space under the wall. “
Just a little more. I don’t want to be caught trying to get back under if we have to leave in a hurry.”
Nisero turned his eyes back toward the city beyond the parade grounds. Even in the darkness, he could see bits of trash marking the grass across the open space. It was tenuous enough crossing the broad, open ground the first time. If they came back through on the run with soldiers on their trail, he was not sure a little extra space under the garden wall was going to make all that much difference.
Nisero thought back to not that many days ago when he stood shoulder to shoulder with the men now hunting him. The late prince was honored that day on these very grounds.
“We almost assuredly will be on the run whether we get back this far or not,” Nisero predicted.
Berengar set the shovel aside and pushed the rest of their gear through the opening under the wall. “Okay, come on.”
As the captain clamored under, Nisero looked up at the spikes atop the wall and wondered why the builders had not dug the garden wall deeper. The lieutenant followed. The interior surface of the wall was lined with ivy and the grasses were thicker.
Berengar waved forward and they both ran into the ornate hedges along the wall of the palace. Nisero looked out in both directions, but saw no men patrolling or standing at the outlook positions.
“Let’s climb,” Berengar said.
He fed the grappling hook and rope out before swinging it around in a circle to gather momentum. Then, the captain threw it above a decorative protrusion on the wall. The rope looped over and the hook scraped the stone as it pulled up the other side.
Nisero hissed through his teeth and looked around furtively for anyone that might be investigating the horrid noise. The hook caught the edge and Berengar leaned back on the rope to test its hold. He nodded and put his boots against the wall, using the rope to walk and climb up to the top of the overhang. Berengar shook the rope and nodded down at Nisero. Nisero grabbed hold and climbed up. Berengar took the younger man by the shoulders and helped to pull him up to his knees the last couple feet.
Berengar took the hook free of the ledge and wound the rope up with them. As he swung the hook around in a circle and prepared to catch the next ledge, Nisero looked down the short distance to the ground compared to the vast expanse leading up the wall.
The captain threw the hook letting the rope feed through his gloves. The hook pinged off the head of a decorative lion without hooking on. It fell away loose and he locked his hands around the rope to avoid losing the entire bundle. The hook swung like a pendulum down below them as Berengar wound it back up around his arm.
He swung the hook around in a circle again and let fly. It looped over the lion’s head and the prongs of the hook caught on the detailed engravings of the stone lion’s mane. Nisero did not like the look of the hold, but Berengar leaned back on it and the hook did not slip.
He handed the end of the rope off to Nisero who wrapped it around his waist and leaned back. If Berengar fell loose with the hook, Nisero would do his best to keep the captain from tumbling all the way down the wall. Berengar scaled the wall diagonally between the hook on the lion and the anchor of Nisero’s weight. The captain straddled the lion’s head and shoulders holding the rope with his weight. Nisero nodded and swung out on the rope along the wall. He climbed straight up and scrambled up onto the lion.
Berengar stood and made a throw. The hook missed and he staggered, but Nisero grabbed his legs and steadied him. Berengar wound back up the rope and swung the hook over the next protrusion. They worked their way up the outside of the palace wall one level at a time in this manner.
“Are you sure about that window?” Nisero asked from the broad back of an eagle. There appeared to be the remains of nests from lesser birds around the wide base of the grand, stone monument.
Berengar grunted. “That’s where we want to enter.”
“I would hate to get this far only to crawl into the bedroom of one of our enemies to get caught.”
“I’m sure it is empty. But all the same though, be ready to fight.”
“Always.”
Berengar took three throws to get the hook locked over the open, stone sill. Nisero anchored below as the captain climbed up and over. The wait seemed to be forever as the lieutenant watched upward from his high perch. Berengar finally leaned out and waved him up before bracing the rope for Nisero with both hands. The lieutenant climbed up and shuffled over inside.
As Berengar rolled up the rope, Nisero looked around at the grand bed, mirror, and draperies in the darkness. “Whose room is this?”
“Visiting dignitaries.” Berengar shrugged his broad shoulders. “It is not usually occupied.”
“How do you know this?”
“I was kept here when I was honored by the King the last time.”
“How did you know there would be no visiting dignitaries in it now?”
Berengar shrugged again. “Would you stay with the King after what happened to the prince?”
“Good point.”
Berengar unraveled the longer length of rope from his back and tied the end around the base of a solid column in the center of the room. He walked the rope out to the window and then dropped it on the floor.
“This is our escape. It is long enough to reach the ground and we can rappel quickly.”
“Are we tossing it out?” Nisero inquired.
“Not yet. We don’t want it spotted before we get back.”
Berengar moved toward the door of the bedroom. He twisted the handle down until it popped and then he waited. Hearing nothing, he pushed the door open and leaned out into the empty passage way. He slipped out and waited as Nisero stepped out along the wall. As Captain Berengar eased the door closed, Nisero listened for any sound of activity in the palace. Air gave a low whistle as it crossed the passage from one open window to another on the high floor, but he heard nothing else.
Berengar turned from the closed door and nodded. Nisero nodded back not entirely sure what they were agreeing to between them.
The captain led them through the passage deeper into the royal palace of the King. Nisero’s legs felt weak as he considered the full scope of what they were doing. Were they innocent before now, the act of invading the palace, no matter what their intentions, was an act of war. There might be no pardon for it no matter what they were able to prove in the future.
Nisero got a deep sense in his spirit that they were never going to make it back to that bedroom and down the rope again. He wondered what would become of Arianne once they were gone. He didn’t know if she would be able to make it back out of the city or what her husband would do, if she did.
They reached the top of stone stairs painted and encrusted along one edge of the wall with jewels. It seemed like an odd choice and the expensive decorations were almost forgotten and sad in the dark corner of the palace. They listened and heard nothing.
Berengar turned and held up a hand as if to question. Nisero shook his head. The entire city seemed to be under neglect. The food was not coming in. What food was there had grown too expensive for commoners to rightly afford, and there seemed to be no military presence even within the grounds of the palace itself.
Nisero began to think about the time they crept through the halls of the neglected castle of Faithcore, beyond the edge of the kingdom where bandits ruled. It hurt his heart to think of his own beloved kingdom one day sinking to that deep low.
The captain started down the steps with Nisero close behind. As they reached the bottom, voices echoed up from one direction. There was a brief laugh and then more conversation. It was oddly comforting to finally hear some activity even if it meant they might be at higher risk of discovery. The sound was not a party and it did not sound like guards engaged in conversation while on patrol. Nisero could not place their words.
Berengar signaled the opposite way in the passage and they slipped along. They moved again from the light of torches past high, wooden doors into darker passages again.
They
descended a set of stairs in a narrow, dark hall until they saw light ahead. There was more quiet conversation and the clinking of pots. Berengar peered around the corner and rolled back smiling. He held up one finger indicating to wait.
After a few moments of peeking around the corner, he held up three fingers, rolled one down to show two, and then one. He made a fist and then waved Nisero forward. Berengar ran across in the light to the darkness in the passage across from the opening. Nisero cautiously followed and looked around as he passed through the light. He saw the kitchen with the cooks turned away, busy elsewhere.
He stepped back into the darkness and followed Captain Berengar up another set of dark steps.
Berengar reached the top and parted the drapes to peer through. After a moment, he parted them wider and showed Nisero the grand hall. There was a throne and tables set as if for a feast, but the torch light was low and the seats were all empty. The throne and wide dais too was unoccupied.
“What do you make of it?” Berengar whispered.
Nisero made a non-committal sound. “I have not understood anything going on in this kingdom for quite some time. Is this the throne room?”
“It is,” Berengar said. “I have only been in here once myself, but it is set for a feast. Yet, it is left barren. They are cooking below but nothing is being brought up. Normally there would be wine and mingling, but there is nothing. Even before a feast was set to begin, there would be more activity than this.”
Berengar pushed the drape aside and stepped into the empty throne room. Nisero waited a beat and then followed.
“I’m not sure what to do next. We need to see the King.” Berengar frowned.
“Would you have us go up to his bed chambers?”
A voice echoed through the hall. “That will not be necessary, gentlemen.”
Nisero dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword and began to back toward the drape.