“Lorenzo! Is that the garb of a church man?”
“No, but I am also a citizen of Atilta. Long live the king!” Lorenzo stood with emotion as he spoke.
“By ginger’s head and beadle’s bread – I have heard that you have word!” said the other guard, who had also risen.
“Innkeeper!”cried Blaine “This is an unlikely guard, I admit, but I would not trust anyone more. Are you both away from your occupations?”
“I am laying down the robes for a time,” said Oren Lorenzo. “Not that I am no longer an abbot, mind you, but I am wearing armor, for now.”
“And I have no inn to tend, as my establishment has since met its end” the Innkeeper said.
“Many things have been lost in the struggle for freedom. But I must hurry, for I have word.”
“He has word, indeed!” Osbert called from the stairs above. “Come, Blaine, for we will dine with these fine fellows soon enough – after the word has been given.”
“I give my word, we will,” Blaine finished as he ran up the stairs.
The two rushed up the stairs as if they were chased by a horde of barbarians and dashed against the door as Osbert turned the handle. It swung open under the force. The two men stumbled into the room. The door swung closed by itself. Alfonzo sat at the desk beside the wall and stood to greet them. His goatee was well-trimmed, his cheeks clear from rubble. His hair was out of its usual pony-tail and left to stream down his back and around his face.
“Blaine, you have returned to my side.”
“Sir, I bring word from the Admiral,” and Blaine took an unsealed note from his inner pocket and handed it to Alfonzo.
“Have you read it?” Alfonzo asked.
“No, though I know what it contains, as he spoke with me as he wrote it.”
“Yet why did he send you, when a lesser ranger would do?”
“It was I who brought the intelligence to him, Alfonzo, and you will know further when you read the message.”
Alfonzo turned his face to the note. As his eyes met the words his face lost its color, though its expression remained unchanged.
Lord Milada – laying on the bed across the room – sighed to himself, “Then she has left us! What poor, poor fate! What terrible destiny!” and his limbs wiggled weakly around the bed.
Osbert fell to the ground, overcome with grief.
“No, it is not that,” Alfonzo smiled weakly. “It is something that promises of evil far greater than that; for what you think is a personal tragedy, while this subdues the hearts of all. No, my friends, that is not what this note reveals. Indeed, it contains but two words: De Casanova.”
“De Casanova!” cried Lord Milada from his bed.
He did not finish his thought, but each in the room knew what it was.
“Blaine, the Admiral has sent a verbal message, has he not? There are things which are sealed better with the lips, than the pen.”
“Gylain prepares to attack and Hibernia is with him,” and Blaine continued to report what he had reported to the Admiral before.
When Blaine had finished, Alfonzo said, “Within five days we will have the whole force of the enemy outside these walls and only our meager rebellion inside them.” He paused, looking into the darkness beyond the window. “Yet still we can win, so let us prepare. Osbert, Blaine – there will be no rest for us, now. Summon the officers to the great hall at dawn, for I will lay out our plans then.”
“Yes, sir,” the two chorused, and they left the room to carry out their orders.
“Hold on, you have given your word,” Oren Lorenzo cried as they rushed past him.
“And so we must break it, friend,” Blaine said. “For in five days as many thousands of men will march through the forest to our walls, and the navies of two maritime powers will be anchored on the bay, with Gylain and the King of Hibernia at their head!”
“So it has come,” Lorenzo moaned. “The final battle has begun. Yet will the deluge come as well?”
As Blaine and Osbert left, Alfonzo sat down beside Milada. It was the same room in which Milada had been wounded, though it had been rebuilt by the zealous townsfolk. At this time, it was lit by only a flickering lantern, making the stone walls seem a wild man’s cave. The stained-glass window that faced north – to Thunder Bay – had been replaced with a clear-paned window and opened the tower to a view of the surrounding countryside. The lights of the town were out. In the darkness even the castle below them could not be seen. Instead, the tower seemed to float aloft, towering above the ground like a cloud or a star. Yet though they sat in the heavens it was not paradise; for Milada’s wound had been slowly destroying him. It was nearly closed on the outside, but on the inside his stomach had been pierced and could not be reclosed by the methods of man.
“Can it be, old friend?” Milada moaned as his arms moved weakly across the surface of the bed. “Can it be, that Atilta has come to the end? De Casanova is here and his king soon after. The nobles were our only hope, yet they have deserted us; and I am too weak to exhort them.” He was silent for a moment. “And my lovely Ivona! To what have I sent her? She wanted to serve God, and I man; and if she was wrong, I was equally foolish. A woman is a weaker vessel, but what is the strongest vessel, if it holds no water? And Ivona holds wine and honey. She is a weaker vessel, perhaps, but what do we cherish: the crystal cup or the wooden? I have pushed her into something which bodes ill for us all, and above all for her. She will not die, but her innocence will be lost.”
“Will she be guilty, then? One can be both innocent and seasoned. Do not curse yourself, Milada, for she is pure – and God, in his justice, will reward her in full.”
“God? You are as naive as my daughter, Alfonzo. If God were so mighty and just, would we not but trust in him and be saved? If so, then why do you fight? Look around you, man! Where is the greatness of God? Is he in the children who starve in the villages, or in the broken women who sell their souls to the rich men? Is he in the murderous soldiers who keep the peace (from existing), or in the fat priests who confess all sins but their own? God, you say; but I know of no God.”
Alfonzo smiled, but in pity rather than amusement. “God is in the back of our eyelids. We will not see until we forsake the physical, and draw our sight from another source.”
“Yet I am already overdrawn.”
“You always will be, on your own account. But I say it is good that de Casanova has come to Atilta, for Willard has sent him running away. Victory is already with us.” He paused, then added, “But the diplomat must ask: where is Patrick McConnell? I do not know of his intent, but he has raised the English against their oppressors; and if the nobles are too interested in the current regimes to join us, the peasants will not be. It would be good if he were in France, and if the king befriended him.”
“It would grow to be good in the future, you mean, yet we need allies in the present. The yoke of Charlemagne has finally been broken and Rome no longer rules the seas. Venice is not a military power. The way is open to freedom. The people will be free, in the end; but will it be worth the price? Is freedom what we think it is? We will see, for the precipice is past and the ground will come whether we desire it or not. When the tide breaks, what will be written in the sands? Nothing, I should think. Therefore, let us forget the philosophical and spend our energies on the military.” Milada sighed. “But our energies must mean your own, for I have none.”
“I will not be alone. Blaine is here and can organize the forest resistance with Osbert’s assistance. With a few forest rangers, they can delay Gylain’s land force. And with the time gained, Lorenzo and myself will have constructed a fortification to prevent a forced landing. If the fleet cannot land, they cannot besiege the castle. As for the soldiers,” Alfonzo continued, “More will come from all across Atilta, as the messengers reach them. Let us hope the entire forest rises up to join us. Even now our blacksmiths are toiling away, night and day, to make weapons for the host. Let us hope there are men to wield them.”