“Nice work,” he said quietly.
A querulous voice sounded from one of the cells close to the door. “Who’s that? Is someone there?”
Maddie recognized the voice of Timothy, one of her mother’s senior retainers. Timothy was no warrior. He was in charge of the castle dining room whenever Cassandra had important guests. She stepped to the door of the cell, pulled the bolt free of its hasp and shoved the door open. Timothy, white-haired and thin, emerged, blinking in the extra light.
“Princess Madelyn!” he exclaimed in surprise, puzzled by her appearance. She was dressed in a camouflaged Ranger cloak, woolen breeches and a leather jerkin and was carrying a recurve bow that was nearly as tall as she was. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”
Maddie smiled reassuringly at him. “We’re taking back the castle, Timothy,” she told him. Then, looking around the cellar, she asked: “How many of you are down here?”
“Seven or eight of us. It’s hard to be sure. They brought some in after I was locked up.”
Maddie gestured to Stefan and Edvin, who were peering around the cellar. “Can you let the others out of their cells, please?”
The two Skandians began to unlock the doors and push them open. Gradually, the imprisoned castle staff—five men and three women—emerged into the cellar, looking around fearfully as they saw the armed and ferocious-looking Skandian warriors gathered there, then staring in surprise at the crumpled bodies of the two guards.
“It’s all right,” Maddie said quickly. “These are my friends. You’re quite safe.”
The prisoners huddled together, matching Timothy’s puzzled expression as they recognized Maddie. None of them had ever seen her dressed this way. They were used to seeing her in fine gowns and dresses. This leather- and wool-clad young woman, armed with a bow and two knives at her belt, was something outside their experience.
“She looks like a Ranger,” one of them whispered to his neighbor.
Maddie heard the exchange and smiled. “That’s what I am,” she said, and there was a buzz of surprise from the group. They were all house servants, she saw, stewards and maids and waiters. They definitely weren’t warriors.
“Perhaps you’d better wait here until we’ve got rid of Dimon,” she told them.
But Timothy scowled at the name. “I’d like to help,” he said, and several others voiced their agreement.
Maddie shook her head. “You’re not armed and you’re not trained for battle,” she told them. “With the best will in the world, you’d get in our way. These men”—she indicated the Herons—“won’t have time to look after you. They could be hurt trying to protect you.”
Timothy looked about to protest, but Hal stepped forward and laid a hand on his forearm.
“I appreciate the offer, Timothy, but we’re trained to fight as a team, and it could be dangerous for all of us if you come with us.”
Reluctantly, Timothy accepted the good sense of it. He looked around and caught sight of Thorn, and the massive club on his arm. He took a pace toward the white-haired Skandian, recognizing a champion warrior when he saw one.
“You,” he said. “What’s your name?”
Thorn appraised the elderly servant. He admired the man’s courage. He knew Timothy would be willing to fight against Dimon’s men, given the chance. He also knew that he would probably die if he did.
“I’m called Thorn,” he said quietly.
Timothy stepped closer, leaning forward to place his face only a meter or so from Thorn’s. “Well, Thorn, when you catch up with that traitor Dimon, I’d like you to give him a wallop from me with that big club of yours.”
Thorn’s face split in a wolf-like grin. “I’ll be happy to oblige, Timothy. And I might give him an extra one from me,” he assured the elderly servant.
But Maddie interjected, smiling. “I think my mum might have other ideas about that,” she said. “She wants Dimon for herself.”
Hal nodded several times. He’d heard stories about Cassandra’s fighting prowess. “I wouldn’t care to be Dimon if she cuts loose with that sling of hers,” he said.
Maddie shook her head. “She won’t be using a sling. She’s been training with the Nihon-Jan katana. She plans to slice him up into little pieces.”
“And I’ll wager she’ll do it too,” Hal said. Then he looked around at his men, relaxing in the cellar. “It’s time we got that drawbridge down,” he said.
The Herons gathered themselves, checking weapons and equipment.
Thorn held up his hand. “Just a moment, Hal. There’s something I need to take care of first.”
Hal nodded, sensing what Thorn had in mind. He saw his old friend looking keenly around the crowded cellar, seeking someone out. “All right, Thorn. But don’t be too long about it.”
“I’ll only be a minute or so,” Thorn said, his eyes still roving across the group of people. Then they stopped as he saw whom he was looking for and stepped toward him.
“Ah, Jesper, my old friend. Don’t skulk back there among the others. Come and join me.”
In truth, Jesper was stooping slightly to remain hidden among his comrades and the released prisoners, and trying to avoid Thorn’s gaze. He had thought it was funny to tease Thorn when they were in the tunnel and the old warrior was oppressed by the confined space, the shifting, uncertain light and the sense of being far below ground. Now, he realized, it hadn’t been so funny after all. He backed away as Thorn pushed through the surrounding people. But he didn’t move quickly enough, and the old sea wolf’s hand shot out and gripped a handful of his jerkin at the shoulder, pulling him forward, holding him up on tiptoes, off balance.
“Would you like to touch my hair now, Jesper?” Thorn asked, his voice sinking to a fierce whisper. “Maybe make some remarks about the moat caving in on us?”
Jesper struggled to free himself. But Thorn’s grip was unbreakable.
“It was a joke, Thorn. That was all. Just a joke.”
“A joke, my friend? No, I don’t think so. A joke is when everyone can have a good laugh together. But when you do something that’s spiteful and hurtful and causes misery to someone else, that’s not a joke. That’s cruelty.”
“No. I didn’t mean it that way. I—”
Thorn suddenly shoved Jesper violently backward. Jesper slammed into the stone wall behind him, the impact driving the breath from his body. Gasping for air, he slumped to the ground.
“Now get up,” Thorn told him. “And next time you make a joke, be sure it’s really funny.”
Thorn hauled him to his feet, where he stood swaying uncertainly, trying to fill his lungs with air.
Hal waited a few more seconds until he could see that Jesper had recovered. Then he exchanged glances with Maddie.
“All right,” he said. “Lead the way to the gatehouse.”
33
Maddie led the way back to the secret room. She stopped at the threshold, looking back at the two slumped figures of the guards. “Should we tie them up?” she asked.
Hal considered the idea, then shook his head. “I think they’ll stay quiet for a while yet.”
Timothy heard the exchange and stepped toward her. “There are plenty of manacles down here . . . ,” he began.
Maddie smiled. “It is a dungeon, after all.”
Timothy nodded. “We’ll make sure they’re not going anywhere,” he said grimly. There was an angry growl of assent from the other former prisoners, and Maddie decided that, if the guards were smart, they wouldn’t be seen to wake up anytime soon.
“We’ll leave them to your tender mercies then,” she said, and beckoned to the Herons to follow as she stepped back into the concealed room. She caught Thorn’s eye. “No tunnels this time, Thorn. We’re not going underground. There’s a secret passage that leads to a spot under the gatehouse, then a series of ladders that will take us up. My
lantern and one of the torches should give us plenty of light.”
At her words, Hal re-lit the torch he had carried through the tunnel under the moat. Maddie’s lantern was still burning.
“I’ll bring up the rear,” he said, then added, “Jesper, you stay with me.”
“As you say, Hal,” said Jesper. Maddie moved to the door on the extreme left of the room and pressed the latch. The door sprang open, revealing the passage behind. Unlike the tunnel under the moat, this was well-formed from rock and stone and had evenly shaped walls and plenty of headroom. It was nothing like the cramped, dark, damp-smelling tunnel through the clay that had brought them into the cellar. The lantern light illuminated the first five or six meters of the passage, then the darkness closed in again. Thorn looked at the well-formed walls and ceiling and heaved a small sigh of relief. It was cramped and confined and he didn’t particularly like it. But it didn’t cause that gut-loosening fear that he had felt in the tunnel when the damp clay and earth seemed to be pressing in on him. Maddie glanced at him, her eyebrows asking a question, and he nodded gruffly.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”
She led the way into the passage, holding her lantern high to cast its light as far as possible. From behind them, Hal’s torch added its flickering glow, giving them plenty of light.
The floor of the passage was smooth and even—again unlike the rough, uncertain footing that they had found in the moat tunnel. Their sealskin boots whispered on the stone as they followed the small cloaked shape in the lead. Maddie looked back at Thorn, and he saw her teeth gleam in a smile.
“Not far to go,” she told him. “It’ll start to angle upward in a minute or so.”
She had only gone through this passage once before, but it was perfectly straightforward with no awkward turns or dangerous spots. A few seconds after she had spoken, she felt the floor beneath her feet begin to slope upward and she knew they were close to the ladders that led up into the gatehouse. Behind her, she could hear the regular shuffle of feet on the stone floor. There was no other sound.
She was pleased that, this time, she couldn’t hear Thorn’s loud, nervous breathing. The one-armed man seemed to have his claustrophobia well in check. She looked back at him again. His face was half concealed in shadow, but he was pressing on without any sign of hesitation. She found herself admiring his control. True courage, she believed, consisted of facing up to one’s fears and defeating them. That was what Thorn was doing now. For herself, she had no fear of small, dark places so there was no courage involved in her making her way through this passage. But for Thorn it was a different matter, and she realized that for him to walk quietly behind her through this small space, lit only by the yellow flame of her lantern, was an extraordinarily brave action.
The light from her lantern shone on a new sight in front of them. It was the first of the series of ladders that would lead up to a concealed door that led into the main floor of the gatehouse. She called back over her shoulder.
“Nearly there. Now it’s time to climb.”
They bunched up at the base of the first ladder, peering upward, trying to pierce the darkness above them. There were two ladders per floor, she knew, and the gallery they were heading for was on the same level as the battlements—the fourth floor. That meant eight ladders in total. She looked around the faces that surrounded her, making sure everybody was ready. She was about to turn back to the ladders when Hal held up a hand to stop her.
“Just a moment,” he said. “Where do we come out?”
“We’ll come out onto the main floor of the gatehouse. It’s about halfway up the building, on the same level as the battlements. The controls for the drawbridge are located there.”
Hal considered her answer, then came to a decision. “In that case, I’m moving up to come with you. Thorn and Stig will go out first—after Maddie has checked the situation. I’ll follow them. The rest of you”—he looked round at the attentive faces of his crew—“follow on in the normal battle order. Clear?”
There was a rumble of assent from the crew. Hal handed his torch to Edvin, who would now be bringing up the rear, and pushed his way through so that he stood behind Thorn and Stig. Jesper followed him, elbowing to be in front of Ingvar, who had re-donned his tortoiseshell spectacles.
The big warrior looked at Jesper with some amusement. “Hoping to win back a little favor?”
Jesper scowled and ignored him. That was precisely what he had in mind, but he wasn’t about to admit it.
“Everyone ready?” Maddie asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to the ladder. “Then let’s go.” She had a sudden thought and turned back to them again. “These ladders are quite old. Place your weight carefully and keep your feet as close to the sides of the rungs as you can. No more than two people on a ladder at the same time, all right?” When they nodded their understanding, she added: “We’ll form up on the landing when we reach the top.”
She started up the first ladder. It was near vertical and she felt a familiar twinge in her hip as she set her weight on her right foot for the first time. Then it eased and she began to climb, moving quickly. She felt the ladder vibrate beneath her feet as Thorn began to climb after her.
She reached the first platform and stepped around to the second ladder. Below, she heard Stig begin to climb. Then Thorn joined her on the platform and she gestured upward.
“One down. Seven to go,” she said, and began to climb once more. Thorn let her mount half a dozen rungs, then started up after her. As she’d advised the others, she placed her weight carefully. She reached the top and stepped onto the small platform, waiting for Thorn. When he arrived, she started up the next ladder.
They were past ground level now and daylight was visible through narrow, carefully concealed arrow slits in the outer wall. Up they went, stepping around at each of the small platforms that separated the ladder flights. They had climbed six ladders so far, which meant they were on the third floor. Two flights to go. The gatehouse control room, the bridges that joined the keep to the four towers and the battlements themselves were all on the fourth level.
Maddie’s thighs were feeling the strain, the muscles aching as she kept pushing herself up and up.
Below her, she could hear the soft patter of feet on the ladders, and the occasional grunt of effort from the Skandians. She noticed there was no sound from Thorn. He moved up and up in a steady, effortless rhythm. Years of training and actual combat had hardened his muscles and honed his fitness.
She reached the final platform, before the last flight up to the fourth floor, and paused, regaining her breath. Thorn stepped up beside her. Behind him, Stig saw them stop and he paused halfway up the ladder he was climbing.
“Everything all right?” Thorn asked her quietly.
She nodded. “Just getting myself set,” she said. She was casting her mind ahead to the point where she opened the door into the gatehouse control room. She had no idea what she would find there. The place might be deserted. Or it could be packed with Dimon’s soldiers.
The most probable scenario would be somewhere between those two: maybe a dozen men stationed there. After all, it was a key point in the castle’s impregnable defenses—the one potential weak point. Dimon would hardly leave it unguarded, she knew. But he didn’t have a large number of men, and the walls were under threat from Horace’s force outside. She shrugged. No point wondering, she thought. Best thing she could do was get on with it and see what the situation was—and then turn these Skandians loose on whoever was in the gatehouse. She smiled grimly. She quite enjoyed leading a force like this. There was a definite sense of invincibility about these wild northmen.
She looked at Thorn again. He was waiting patiently, sensing what was going through her mind. She grinned. “All right. Let’s get going.”
She moved quickly up the last ladder, then stood to the side on the platfor
m, waiting for the others to join her. Thorn and Stig crowded onto the platform with her, then Hal. She saw Jesper’s face level with the platform floor. He was standing on the upper part of the last ladder. There was no room on the platform for any more people. She called softly down the shaft.
“That’s all for now. Hold your positions, then get up here fast when you hear the door open.”
Not an ideal situation, she thought, to have her force strung out down the ladders. But at least their three premier warriors would be ready to charge into the gatehouse. That would give the rest of the crew time to get up the ladders and join them.
She pushed past Stig and Thorn. They were both bulky men and took up a lot of the available space on the small platform. She studied the door leading into the gatehouse. It was fitted with a spring-loaded latch, similar to the one in the cellar. She looked around to make sure the others were ready, received a nod of confirmation from Thorn and pressed the lock.
The click as the door sprang open a few centimeters seemed deafening. But there was no reaction from the gatehouse. She eased the door open a crack farther and peered through.
The gatehouse was a vast stone room, lit by high windows set in the stone walls. The outer wall was formed by the huge drawbridge, now closed and standing upright. The floor space was relatively free, with only the control area for the bridge and the massive chains and cogs that raised and lowered it. The main machinery was in the level below. To her left, a short ladder led to a timber platform set against the wall, overlooking the room. Probably a supervisor’s position, she thought.
She counted ten men in the big room. Some were relaxing at a large table and chairs set in the middle of the room; others were peering out the arrow slit windows either side of the bridge itself, presumably keeping an eye on the force threatening them from outside. One man was close by the door where she watched, but he was preoccupied with the task of painting heavy, protective grease onto one of the support chains for the bridge. He had a leather pail of grease in one hand and a large brush in the other. A wooden gantry stood beside him, allowing him access to the higher parts of the chain, and a long-handled battleax was leaning against it. Two other soldiers stood a few meters away, both in armor and both wearing swords.
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