“The dust blinds my eyes,” he moaned, “But who can save me with their spit, now? Double woman, you will be my undoing! But silence; for we have the devil on our tails, and by God if he does not bite.”
“The devil whose hell you have escaped. Do you think, child, that a poor village boy can overcome the will of the King of Hibernia and Emperor of the Three Kingdoms? Does he not allow you to defeat him only to make his inevitable victory sweeter by its price?”
“Silence, I said; and I will be obeyed!” Patrick rose up to his full height, as if to threaten her.
“Beat me,” she laughed, “Beat me until I am tempered; for you are a man and I am but a woman.”
“Could I touch you but in love? No; but do not tempt me.” Patrick became silent, and as he stood there, Leggitt and de Garcia removed panels for themselves and for Lydia.
The latter turned her pale face to Patrick, looking at him through her hazel eye. She spoke in a tender voice, though only in a whisper, “No, you would not hurt me, though I would myself. If I were the devil, you would not refuse me; and if he were God you would not repent. For that I love you, though I have not the strength to show it.”
Patrick smiled at the change he had seen many times before. Then, with hands skilled in carpentry, he removed the window from its frame with a dagger. When the way to the roof was clear, he turned to the others and said, “Do as I do.”
He held the wooden panel in front of his stomach and dove through the window. When he landed on the roof the panel was below him and it glided over the slippery tile as if over ice. His momentum multiplied with the incline to bring him speed. As he neared the upward curve of the roof’s edge, he was going fast enough that he could not stop. Yet he did not want to. The pliable panel curved up the ramp and he was thrown over the garden to the houses beyond, whose flat roofs stood waiting. There was a muffled thud and a slight groan, then he landed safely. The others were right behind him.
“Come,” he said as he stood and turned to leave, “For our enemy pursues.”
Five minutes before this, Vladimir and his soldiers had entered the house. There were six of them with him, mounted and armed heavily. The young officer led them at a feverish pace, as if fleeing the spawn of hell; and indeed Montague was no less, though he did not pursue him at that moment.
“Hurry, men,” he hesitated. “There is no one else but de Casanova, so de Casanova it will be.”
At that moment they arrived at the door. Vladimir came forward and knocked three times in a heavy fashion. Then he turned and waited, resting his hand on the door handle in his haste. He stood that way for ten seconds, then could bear no more and tried the handle – albeit with the vain energy of the unexpecting. Yet, to his surprise, it turned and opened, revealing the inner scene to him. The butler was prostrate on the floor, the furnishings disarranged.
“Has de Garcia’s wrath been shown here, as well?” he sighed. “It is as they say: the warrior within is never broken.” Then, in a louder voice, he called, “De Casanova, what has happened?”
“Damnation!” a voice called from the garden room and Vladimir and his men ran back to see what was about.
There, lying in the garden beyond the broken window, was de Casanova, in a swoon. Vladimir ran over and pulled him further into the garden, onto a small spread of Spanish moss.
“Awake, friend!” and Vladimir shook him.
“Damnation,” the other moaned, rolling to the left.
Vladimir shook him a second time, and he leapt to his feet, in a heavy fever.
“Damnation!” he cried, “They escaped you, Vladimir!”
“Yes,” the other lowered his head.
“I am disappointed,” de Casanova grew angry. But then, with a press of the lips, he stopped himself and spoke quietly. “Yet look what they have done to me. I did not know Leggitt was among them, and Gylain does not choose his friends without cause; nor his enemies, as we have seen. But look, they are still above us.” He picked his sword up from the ground where it had fallen in his fall and put his foot within the glass room, remaining, however, in the garden. “They will not fly by us again.”
As he spoke, Patrick McConnell sailed by overhead, flying on a wooden panel. Neither de Casanova nor Vladimir could speak for a moment, but stood with their heads extended upwards as the others passed over the gap between the houses.
“How quickly I have forgotten,” de Casanova said, “The man who ruined the Spanish rebellion and the man who started the English rebellion together, with Gylain’s trusted deputy at their side. But we outnumber them.” He placed his sword within its sheath and ran around the narrow garden to the street beyond. The soldiers’ horses stood there, tied to a post alongside de Casanova’s. “Hurry,” he yelled back to those following, “For they will not delay!”
In the meantime, Patrick was leading the others to the next house, whose roof was directly adjacent to the first in the row of houses. They jumped across the narrow gap, doing the same for the next three before they came to the end of the street, just as de Casanova was mounting his horse. A hay wagon happened to be passing by underneath the roof. Patrick did not hesitate as he jumped over the edge and landed squarely in the back, his companions beside him.
“You there, driver,” Patrick called out, “Ten crowns if you fly as the wind! To the docks!”
The driver – a stale old man – started back in his chair and turned to face them.
“I have lived to see ten kings,” he said, “But never ten crowns!” and he spurred the hairy horse until it could go no faster. Even then the cart knocked the passers-by over, as if they were but weeds by the roadside. There was nowhere to run in the narrow streets. Yet danger is the mother of genius and poverty the father of the French. None of the peasants were injured.
Meanwhile de Casanova, Vladimir, and the half dozen soldiers were at a full gallop. The pilfered peasants were looking at the cart to see who had bounced them, and when the soldiers came through everything was upset again. They were slowed by the tumult that followed.
“Through them,” shouted the chevalier, “We have larger beasts to slay!” He dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. The beast dove into the crowd. The peasants were thrown aside, though still they saved themselves from harm.
“Death to the king!” some of them shouted, though they hid their faces even as they offered rebellion.
Yet the soldiers took no notice of them – they were foreign soldiers with a foreign mission. Rather, they followed de Casanova and the escaping cart. Their gallop far surpassed the wagon’s, and after a moment the fugitives came into view. They were half way down a long lane of houses that emptied into the customs house. It was a long, low rectangle with one end in the docks and one in the city.
“Vladimir,” de Casanova called out as they charged, “Take three men and circle around to the other end of the avenue. If we can trap them between us the battle will begin. So fly – fly like the anger of a prince, lest it come for you!” And Vladimir did, rushing forward at a deadly speed.
“Our horse is tiring,” de Garcia whispered to Patrick and Leggitt, who were looking back at the troop of horsemen thundering down the lane.
“Yes, and the promise of money will not motivate that poor beast,” Leggitt added, turning around and glancing at the driver. “Are you clever enough to have ten crowns?”
“Clever enough to say so,” and Patrick winked at his companions, who returned it with a laugh.
“A bad time for joking, children,” sneered the blue-eyed Lydia. Then she turned and her hazel visage said, “Yet laughter eases pain. Be glad the old man does not hear.” Indeed, the fat-eyed driver leaned forward on his bench and laid a challenge to the customs house, daring it to flee him.
Yet the horsemen were but ten yards away and quickly coming up. The row of buildings continued without a break in either direction. The customs house blocked the lane in front of them. The only escape was through the building itself or through a narrow lane to its right. But
for them, neither was open.
“We are trapped!” Leggitt yelled, “They have circled around!”
Vladimir and his men charged through the narrow lane. Then they came to a stop in front of the customs house. The driver stopped the horse, having no where to turn, and de Casanova and the other soldiers formed a circle around the wagon, with de Casanova standing between the fugitives and the customs house. There were eight with de Casanova, as opposed to five in the cart, one of whom was an old man and another an unarmed woman.
“I cannot be defeated, Patrick,” and de Casanova dismounted and drew his sword, “In love or in war. Come, Lydia, return to my side.”
Lydia looked at them, her blue side facing de Casanova and her hazel Patrick. For a time she was silent, as if in deep thought, then she spoke in a hurry: “No, you are mistaken, old man. For I am already with my lover!” Blood charged into her face and its paleness retreated until it became as livid as her glowing hair. She went to Patrick’s side, holding herself with the grace of a princess, and sat down upon the hay with as much bearing as if she were a queen returning to her throne.
De Casanova was equally as livid, though from anger rather than love. “So it will be,” he whispered hoarsely, “I send you to death, my love,” and he raised his sword to carry out his threat.
But he was stopped by a solemn voice from behind him, from the steps of the customs house. “Silence, there! By whose right do you lift your sword, vagabond? By king or by tyrant? If by the first, I command you to heave away and flee to your den. But if by the second, then I command you to turn your face to me, for I dislike to strike down a man from behind!”
De Casanova spun around, as did his still-mounted soldiers. There, standing between them and the customs house, were four shrouded figures, hidden behind their dark robes. The first was over six feet tall and of equal girth. The second was only average in height, but he held himself with the strength of a king. The third was slender and curved, beautiful even when disguised. The forth was short and somewhat stocky, but he held himself with a strange courage. As they looked on, the fourth figure threw off his hood and revealed his face to those before him. Vladimir jumped back. His horse reared from the terror of its rider. Even the stolid de Casanova stepped backward, raising his drawn sword involuntarily to a defensive position. The figure only laughed.
“I am loyal, without a doubt,” it said, “But you are dead!”
Chapter 52
Sometime before this, in the Atiltian forest, there was a flurry of activity at the rebel city. In the shaded meadow beneath the four Great Goliaths, a train of wagons and carts stood waiting to enter the tunnel that led to the city above. The grass there was but ankle-high and the sun only came down through a spotlight the rebels had made, a beam that illuminated the waiting area below. The citizens of Eden with ties to the rebellion feared for their lives and property after the attack on the Castle Plantagenet, and crowded to the city for protection. There they were welcomed, but as the only entrance to the city above was a narrow underground tunnel and a steep climb, it was many days before they could all enter. In the meantime, there was a small, nomadic settlement on the meadow below the canopy.
A wide, spiraling tunnel was delved within one of the massive trees, circling around the heartwood into which the rebels never cut. From the underground tunnel that led to the base of the tree-tunnel, those entering the rebel city traveled upward two hundred feet until they reached the entrance hall that led between the tunnel and the city proper. This hall also wrapped around the center of the tree, but was wider and level. Therefore, it was easily divided into sections, through which an entering person had to pass: in all, a circle with the center filled and the rest broken into three sections that were separated by uncarved walls. These divisions were partly commercial and partly governmental. The first quadrant of the hall was a passport area, with a strong guard to prevent the entrance of spies. The second quadrant was a bazaar, with a host of merchants on hand to buy the goods of those coming in with the view of taking them above to the main market and selling them. For those without a private rope route, it was difficult to have wares hauled to the upper sections of the city. The third and largest quadrant was the stables, in which the animals were kept, for they could not walk the Treeway safely.
The third quadrant opened to the city outside, to the Treeway that connected it all together. It was a road made of sturdy planks attached to the branches. At this point it wound around the outsides of the trees in the same manner as the tree-tunnel had wound around the inside. Along this road were doors, each leading into a room delved into the tree. After the initial tunnel, the city was not connected within the trees: only the Treeway brought the rooms and structures together.
The city was entirely self-sufficient. For food, the rebels grew mellis upon the upper branches of the trees. Mellis was a plant that was found only in the forests of Atilta, for it could not be supported by the devolved climates of the mainlands. It was sweet in taste, much like the sugar cane or beet, except its taste was clearer and stronger. On the trunks of the trees they grew pomum , a rich fruit not unlike a combination of an orange and a pear, except that it had no outer peel or covering. It was purely fruit. These two foods were their favorites and were used to some extent in most of their dishes, not unlike sugar and salt in Eden. Yet their primary food was frondis . This was grown on giant nets that were stretched between the trees in a sort of horizontal terrace. The frondis , a vine similar to lettuce, was farmed by the Frondits: a lofty group, for they walked along the wooden frames to cultivate the plants.
For water, the rebels made a reservoir of the canopy above, channeling the rainwater along it until it emptied into wooden tanks for daily use. It came down like a waterfall into the tanks, where certain plants were cultivated to purify it. The water thus collected was transported throughout the city via wooden pipes, flowing downward until it finally came out into a stream on the ground below. A series of aquatic plants were grown in the stream: whatever contaminants were left in the water were quickly removed as it flowed to the ocean.
Many of the rebels never walked upon the ground. Yet this did not mean they stayed in their city. Travel through the forest roads was unsafe – for those who were unarmed – and the majority of the rebels were peaceful folk, only involved in the war as those who could not escape it. They took sides, but were not partisans. To facilitate their travels, a roadway was built hundreds of feet above the ground, in the upper branches of the trees. Since the trees were so large in the forest, and since their canopies connected and formed a continuous framework of thick, sturdy branches over the entire forest, the rebels built the Treeway upon them. They secured boards to the branches, one after another, until a smooth roadway was formed.
The Treeway traveled in several directions from the rebel city, and continued in each until the forest emptied into the ocean. The first branch traveled to Eden, directly south of the tree city. The second traveled southwest, to the rebel harbor, and a second branch of the second road traveled from the harbor to the ancient ruins, slightly to the north of the latter. The third main roadway extended to the west coast, the independent kingdom of Lord Milada of Erlich. The height of the road rendered it invisible from below and a cloud of foliage surrounded it from all angles. Could it have been seen, however, it would have made little difference, for it could not be reached from the ground without someone above to lower a ladder.
Also at this time, far to the southwest of the rebel city, a party of about two dozen persons was traveling north, to the ancient ruins. The dawn was in its latter stages and the sun was fully above the horizon, though it could rarely be seen through the dense canopy that surrounded the Treeway. The leaves and branches surrounded them on every side, as if they traveled through a cave or a tunnel. Birds sat on either side of them as well, unconscious of their audience; and their songs were sweetly innocent.
“My strength diminishes as the sun’s grows stronger,” said Alfonzo, who led the part
y. His goatee was untrimmed, contrasting his otherwise prim appearance. Beside him walked Celestine.
“Yet who would fault you for it, Alfonzo?” she asked with a smile and a squeeze to his hand, which she held in her own.
“We are all worn with you,” added William. “This day has seen me twice through the forest, twice in heavy battle, and once in a duel to the death. Or rather, it would have been, had you not come to our rescue with the rebel fleet. But it would be better for you to forsake the art of war for that of love. Though they are both art, the reward of one is life and the other death.”
“Do not be fooled,” Alfonzo answered, “For though my love has long been sleeping it has not yet grown entirely cold. Perhaps it will wake soon.” He looked to Celestine for a moment, then continued. “But as a man of war, I must ask: why did Gylain retreat at our approach? We outnumbered him, but only by one, and he held The King’s Arm . Above all, why did he spare your life, William, when he grasped it in his hands?”
The Admiral slowly drew a breath and his eyes flared up for a moment, as if a spark was lit but then quickly subdued. “Absolute hatred is absolute patience,” he said, “And vengeance would rather be delayed, than carried out incompletely.”
The Griffith brothers walked alongside the Admiral, and Barnes asked, “Could it have been that Gylain was afraid for his own life? In a continued battle, he may have fallen.”
The Admiral laughed, but from hatred rather than humor. “Gylain has no fear. He has looked into the devil’s eyes and seen himself staring back. When he closes his eyes, the fires of Hades dance before him; and when he dreams, they scorch him to the soul. No, he was not afraid: only cautious.”
“How do you know Gylain so well, father?” Celestine asked.
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