Cinderella - A Retelling with Strength and Courage
Page 8
Chapter Five
Ella was racing toward the castle, tumbling in her ice-shoes, calling out the alarm, and strident horns echoed in answer from the walls. Ella thought again of all the carts and wagons she had heard rolling through the town during the afternoon. Yes, undoubtedly many had held villagers and their families. However, it would have been easy enough for hostile troops to enter in disguise. The King’s soldiers at the gates could hardly be expected to know every single family from every remote corner. Undoubtedly every wagon which had at least one female form in it – no matter how homely – was allowed through. And it wouldn’t take much effort to dress a young soldier up in a woman’s outfit.
She turned to sprint left around a corner. The guard grabbed her arm, pulling her right. “Not that way. Come. I know a shorter route.”
There was a small door in the side of the wall, and he reached into a narrow hole alongside it. Some sort of a twisting pull, and it opened. Before them were a steep flight of stone steps.
They went up.
A landing, another set of steps, and he put a finger to his lips. She nodded.
He carefully crept forward.
She realized they were on a balcony flanked by thick curtains, overlooking one corner of the ballroom. The musicians were huddled back behind them on the balcony in a silent mob. Horns, flutes, and other instruments were strewn about the floor. A trio of wine glasses sat empty along the balcony edge.
The guard barely glanced at the musicians. He eased around the curtain to look below. Ella crouched below him to do the same.
The room had stilled in a tableau.
At the far end of the room was the head table. Ella had never seen the King and Queen, but surely the crowned blond couple in the beautiful black-and-gold outfits were them. The Queen was as beautiful as everyone said she was. Ringlets of golden hair cascaded along her cheeks. The King was portly with a thick beard.
The King was lowering himself down onto a knee, his gaze glued on his wife.
She stood stock still.
A man in a silver tunic stood behind her, a glinting dagger held at her throat.
A low growl sounded in the guard’s voice. “That is Sir Hector himself. The gall of him, to take her hostage in the open! If he dares to hurt her …”
Ella scanned the rest of the room. There were around fifty of the King’s soldiers around the room, with more coming in, but each man who saw the situation froze in place. Perhaps thirty of the enemy were arrayed before the head table. Ella had no doubt that the Hector’s aim was to force the Queen to move down into the middle of those enemies – and then for the whole group to leave the castle.
Who knew what concessions would then be demanded for the Queen’s safe return?
The guard’s hand clenched on his sword. “We need to do something.” His eyes moved amongst the positions, cataloguing his options.
Ella carefully drew an arrow from her quiver. She kept her voice low. “Do you trust me?”
He went pale.
“You cannot be serious. That is the Queen down there.”
She nodded. “All tales of Sir Hector are of his cruel, spiteful nature. If he is able to spirit her away – how long do you think his series of demands would go on? What will she suffer in his care – and what if he never lets her go? What if, in the end, he takes the entire kingdom as his own – and the Queen is never seen again?”
From the shadowed look in the guard’s eyes, the thought was not far from his own.
Hector was at the far end of the table.
He gave the slightest of nods. “Do it. Before it is too late.”
Ella lowered herself to lean on the balcony, just as she would against a fallen tree. She drew in a deep breath. The arrow was just so.
A clock chimed somewhere far above. Was it midnight already? Ella absently counted the tolls as she sighted carefully, oh so carefully, for the exposed area of Hector’s chest. This gave her the greatest space to work with that would ensure Hector dropped that dagger.
Ten.
Hector turned –
Eleven.
The time was perfect.
Twelve.
She released –
A shriek filled the room. Her stepmother’s voice called out in outrage, “What in the world?!”