“Then what will we do?”
“Throw it at them,” de Garcia answered. “It will throw them off if we bombard them with their fallen comrades.”
“Always the warrior, de Garcia,” Alfonzo said, “A fighter before a man. But in this you may be right. Are we ready?”
“As ready as death,” was the answer.
This dialog was whispered: the guards across the room could not hear them. Without warning, the bodies were flung at the unsuspecting guards. They hit lengthwise, knocking the guards to the ground. The rebels closely followed the bodies and fell upon the guards with their swords. The guards, however, were defeated by the sight of their comrades. Their mortality was paraded before them and they surrendered as soon as they were free from the bodies. Alfonzo led them out of their barricade and had them bound with the irons used for prisoners.
“What should we do with them? We have little time,” he said.
“If I may suggest something, master,” said de Garcia. “We should strip them of their uniforms, and chain them down below – in the lower levels – as if they were but common killers. If we dirty their hair and ruin their beards, they will not be recognized. It is time they saw what it is that they have done.”
Alfonzo nodded his head. “Perhaps it would be best, that they may repent. Make it so, de Garcia, take two with you,” and he pointed to two of Blaine’s men. They set to their work at once, preparing the guards for their imprisonment.
“We will be above,” Alfonzo continued, “These are the upper levels, and you should have no trouble following us when you are finished.”
“Yes, but now we must hurry,” Blaine answered, “Already I can faintly hear the rumblings of the catapults above. The impersonators have arrived and the escape is prepared. Now it is our turn.”
“To do what?” Alfonzo asked.
“You will see soon enough,” and they split: Alfonzo and the rest going upward; de Garcia and two of the men downward.
The upper levels of the dungeon were cleaner and brighter than the lower. Hurrying on, they reached the top of the dungeon in a few moments. The main part of the castle was all contained in the same massive tower: the dungeon below the ground and the Great Hall on it, with its adjacent kitchen and store rooms. It covered all of the first floor except a small entry room to the dungeon that opened into the courtyard. This was directly below the large window of the Great Hall, where the catapults had been placed.
There were only two guards in the entrance room, and they were preoccupied with a game of chance. Alfonzo and Blaine stole up behind them, slitting their throats before they could raise the alarm. Then, they were out of the dungeon and into the courtyard.
There, standing before them, were twenty catapults: each twenty feet long and five wide. The buckets were five feet in diameter. These were Gylain’s catapults, built to his own design. It was on them that he based the security of his castle. A few men guarded the catapults, but they were more interested in the clamor coming from the Great Hall, than in their duty. Thus, they sat in a group with their backs to the dungeon door. Alfonzo motioned to the others and crept up to their backs. He raised his sword and his hand, the latter as a signal. He brought them both down at once, and with a single motion the careless guards were put to sleep.
“I see your plans now,” Alfonzo said to Blaine, pointing to the buckets of the catapults. They were directly below the Great Hall’s window, facing the high outer wall.
“We must still aim them,” Blaine answered, and immediately they set to work correcting the catapults’ angles and direction.
“Surely, you do not mean for us to land softly on the ground?” Lorenzo asked.
“Of course, not. We have spread a heavy net between a circle on the other side of the wall. It can hold a hundred men and we do not have nearly that number.”
“A well-planned rescue, perhaps. Yet we cannot see the houses over the wall to aim at them, and a misfire here marks the end of us.”
“There are yellow streaks along the wall, if you look closely. Our men marked it earlier, while they were disposing of the wall and gate guards to delay the chase.”
“Ah, so there is! Good work, old friend.”
“No praises just yet, Lorenzo, for we have yet to escape.”
In a moment, the catapults were aimed correctly and loaded with the spring and lever that would release their loads into the air.
“This is not good, Blaine,” Alfonzo said, “For these catapults must be set off by a human hand, and whoever releases them will be stranded within the castle walls.”
“Someone will have to remain,” was the answer.
“But whom?”
“I will,” said a deep voice, shrouded with a thick Spanish accent. “I will remain behind.”
“De Garcia,” Alfonzo said. “I will not let you be captured again, to be brought back to your hellish prison.”
“I will not be told no in this, master. I am not worthy to even sacrifice myself for you. How much less am I to be sacrificed for?”
“I have misjudged you, de Garcia.”
“Perhaps; but only on the side of mercy.”
They had been out of the dungeon for ten minutes but had not yet heard the clamor coming from the Great Hall. Now that they were silent, they listened.
“What? Are they fighting inside?”
“They must have been discovered,” Alfonzo cried, “Quick, into the catapults!”
They scrambled into the buckets of the catapults – except for de Garcia, who remained on the ground. Then, just as the last of them came over the edge, the sound of breaking glass came from above.
“Look out below!” roared the voice of the blond Fardy, and an instant later some thirty people came crashing down, landing upon the buckets of the catapults.
Chapter 39
“Come, your highness,” Gylain was saying to the impostor Queen of Saxony, “The catapults will be here soon, but we must feast before we inspect them. The food is now ready, I believe.”
“Yes, sir, the feast is prepared,” Leggitt answered his subtle question.
“Then to the Great Hall we go,” and Gylain turned and led the way to the castle door, where the party dismounted.
“Leggitt will take your horses to the stables for you,” Gylain told them.
“I would not impose upon you the care of our mounts, so we have secured the use of a livery in the southern section of the city. If you would take them there I would be most grateful,” Ivona said. Then, glancing over to Willard, she added, “All of our mounts, that is, except the knight’s. He does not part from his.”
“Very well, we would be pleased to serve you in this. Leggitt, make it so.”
“Yes, my lord, it will be done.” Leggitt took the white mare by its reigns and led it toward the outer gate. The other horses were led by the stable hands. “This is the last Gylain will see his horses,” he whispered to himself.
Behind him, Gylain and Nicholas Montague led the queen’s entourage into the Great Hall.
“Where would you like your soldiers to dine?” he asked the queen.
“At my side, and I should like to sit at the window that over looks the catapults, if I may.”
“So it will be written, so it will be done,” and now they were within the Great Hall and saw the feast spread before them. It was no less luxurious for its hastened preparation.
The castle was made of a single tower, and at its base – where stood the Great Hall – its diameter was three hundred yards. The hall itself was not this wide, for there were rooms on all sides except the wall nearest the outer gate. Its ceiling reached upward two hundred feet, growing narrower as it rose. There were three chandeliers hanging above, each thirty feet across. Just as there were servants’ quarters along the outside of the lower level of the Great Hall, so there were royal quarters along its upper level. A hallway connected these rooms together and overlooked the Great Hall through a long window that stretched around the room.