Fire Dance

by Delle Jacobs

  With a sideways shake of his head, Dougal signaled the knights to release Rufus.

  Alain leaped forth and grabbed the king's arm to yank him from the fray, already knowing Rufus's intent. "Nay, Sire. Let her have it."

  "Alain, you cannot let her!

  "It is her fight, as she says. She knows what she does."

  "Alain!"

  Alain hissed at him, begging the king silently. Rufus's pale blue eyes filled with horror, but Alain would not release his grip.

  "Block the stairs," said Fyren.

  Melisande sneered at the feeble gesture as a knight sidled there. She looked about her with the regal carriage of a queen surveying her domain, and walked into the larger chamber beyond. Behind her followed Fyren, his eager greed only barely disguised.

  "Alain, I beg you, you must not!"

  "Aye. We go, too."

  "He will kill her, Alain!"

  "Believe in her, Sire."

  No danger of his own could have ever brought Rufus to trembling. Few men understood that as well as Alain. But the king's hands trembled for the lady with butter-yellow hair who dueled with the magician. His large Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly.

  And none knew fear as Alain did at this moment. He too was desperate to save her. He was a knight, a warrior. It was for him to fight, to protect his lady, as he had intended earlier to do. But if he did, if he stepped in and slew Fyren, she would never be free. Fyren, and a lifetime of fear, would imprison her, even to her grave.

  Nay, she was right. The fight must be hers.

  And he was so terrified, tears formed in his eyes.

  * * *

  She turned her body and soul to stone. She would not show him fear. Never. Yet she could not see how she would turn this to their favor.

  She must. God was on her side. And she would bluff them until the inspiration came. What else could she do?

  Antithesis. What was it?

  "I need yet one thing, Fyren, and I know you have it."

  Melisande's eyes roamed over the large oak table that had been set back on its legs.

  "What?"

  "I shall not tell you. I have promised only to show it. You will not have the formula until the king is safely back in the hall."

  "Get on with it, then."

  Her eyes took on the lean look of a predator closing in. One eyebrow cocked itself high, assessing the adversary, then slid confidently back into place. Before her, she spilled the powdered contents of one jar onto the floor. Judging it adequate, she took the second jar and let loose a quick burst of liquid onto the powder. She stepped back.

  Nothing happened.

  Fyren laughed. "Is this what you call Greek Fire?"

  The puddle whooshed to wild fire before them. Fyren leaped back with an involuntary yelp.

  "Yes, fire, Fyren. That is what Greek Fire is about."

  But as it had done before in the kitchen, the blaze quickly faded to little more than a flame in a brazier.

  "And this you call Greek Fire, girl? Do not tell me it is unquenchable."

  "Of course not, Fyren. It is but the beginning. As I have said, I need something more. I am sure it is here."

  Melisande turned her back to the sorcerer to again scan across the remnants of the pots and jars on the table.

  "Melisande, put this out!" shouted Fyren.

  "Put it out? I have but now begun."

  Again she turned away as if she had not noticed the way the flame slowly began to grow again.

  "Melisande, it spreads! Put it out!"

  "It is but a little fire, Fyren. Are you so afraid? Odd, don't you think, Dougal, for a man who will spend his eternity in Hell, to so fear a little blaze?" She assessed Dougal's confusion. "Ah, you did not know? Aye, there is much I think you do not know, Dougal, for you are a decent man. And you are new to this unholy alliance."

  Melisande stepped casually to the opposite side of the fire, leaving Fyren alone to face the flames.

  "He has told you only that he has the power to roll back the Norman wave into the sea, and make England Saxon again. But did you know, Dougal, that he used his daughter as a whore? That he stole young girls and murdered them, while raping them? He liked it that way, you see. If you take the time, you will find their bodies deep in the pits of this cavern. But do not believe his magic. Naught of it is any more than you see now, and I can show you how all of it is done."

  Fyren's face became red with rage, then paled as panic again overtook him. "Melisande! Put out this fire! It is spreading! It will kill us all!"

  "Put it out yourself, Fyren. But then, you will not, will you? You are too frightened."

  Her eyes flicked quickly to the pail of water Fyren always kept in the corner to reassure himself. Fire. Water. Antithesis. Water! That was it!

  But Fyren had seen her eyes, interpreted the sudden wild notion in his own way. He lunged for the bucket before she could reach it. "Now, I have you, girl. You thought you could get it before I did, didn't you?"

  With a swoop, Fyren plunged the water over the growing fire. Before her horrified eyes, the flames leapt up with a roar, splashing onto Fyren's robes. Little globules of fire, no bigger than a thumb, suddenly burst into great tongues that clung and licked and danced, merged into a huge, screaming torch before her. She leapt back to save herself.

  Beyond the storm of fire, Alain and Rufus screamed to her, desperate to break through the impenetrable wall of searing heat.

  "Nay!" she screamed back. "Save the hall! The fire will carry upward!"

  "I'll not leave you!" shouted Alain.

  "Nor I!" screamed Rufus.

  But they could not get past.

  "Go! Trust me! I know a way out!"

  "Alain, we cannot leave!"

  Alain's fists became fiercely tight balls. "Lady!" he screamed.

  "Trust me! Trust me, Alain! I can do it! Go!"

  She begged God. Please, just this once, let them give a woman their trust!

  Only the outline of Alain's body was visible past the warping heat between them. He sped away, forcing the king ahead of him.

  Thank you, God!

  She turned slowly, took a long, slow breath. Her gaze swept over the knights that stood, frozen in their fear, then alit on Dougal. She sank a cold, pitiless stare on them.

  "Now," she said. "Who wants to live?"

  CHAPTER 25

  Alain raced to the stone staircase, shoving Rufus ahead of him. "Go!"

  "Alain, she'll die!" But Rufus kept running.

  "Nay, she'll not. She knows the caverns. Go!" Alain crammed down the terror that rose like gorge. But he had to believe. He'd promised her.

  Norman knights poured downward, no longer held off by the single Saxon knight they had knocked aside.

  "Go back! All of you!" shouted Rufus. "Run for the hall! Get everyone out!"

  Jammed into the narrow space, the knights turned around, but could not move. They passed the word upward until those at the top understood they must get out of the way. Rufus kept shouting, his booming voice carrying as it did on a battlefield, as the upward spiral of stairs cleared ahead of them. Then he began chanting his prayers, calling on Jesus, Mary, God, and all the saints he knew. "God protect her, Holy Mother, protect her."

  "She carries God's blessing, Sire," Alain said, as much for his own reassurance as the king's.

  "Aye, but it never hurts to ask again." Rufus pushed through the portal at the top, and climbed into the lord's chamber, with Alain shoved at the king's rear.

  Once out, Rufus grabbed Alain's arm and yanked him through so quickly that Alain barely missed cracking his head on the stone above him. Saxon knights clambered through the hole behind him, willing to trade anything for the inferno below.

  Rufus flung orders like stones from a slingshot. "Out! All of you! The fire spreads upward! Empty every chamber and everyone out of the hall! Hurry! Do not let the people panic. Force them to retreat bravely, like soldiers. Go!"

  Chretien grabbed the king's arm, e
ntreating. "You must go ahead, Sire."

  "If their king has no courage, they will see it." Rufus stubbornly placed himself at the end of the evacuation.

  Alain swept his gaze in all directions, searching for stragglers, while the knights and soldiers grabbed whatever valuables they saw.

  "The fire," whispered Rufus, so low only Alain could hear, "if it is what the lady believes it to be, might do anything. It could grow and lick upward through whatever passage it could find. Yet surely it cannot consume rock. Can it?"

  "If it is truly Greek Fire, who knows what it can do?" replied Alain. "Melisande did not. We must take no chance. If it reaches the chambers from the storage rooms below, it could next take the wooden floors of the chambers. The beams are thick, but they will resist only for a while. From there, it could spread upward to the chambers, and outward to the dais, into the hall."

  Alain appraised the small windows, each a pair of narrow openings, with double arches at the top, and divided vertically by a small stone column. Shutters narrowed them further. He could make it through if he kicked out the column and shutters, but he wasn't sure about Rufus.

  Rufus caught the direction of Alain's eyes. "Forget it, friend. I've grown too fat. We'll take the stairs in an orderly manner."

  "You should have gone first, Sire. All of England depends on you."

  "Or my successor," replied Rufus as casually as if they merely strolled along the allure. "Do not forget that, Alain. All kings have successors, even if it is no more than a younger brother."

  As they dashed down the stairs, Alain's eyes roamed about for signs of fire. So far, no more than an oppressive heat. Praise God.

  Please, God, keep her safe.

  "I did not know you had changed your heir, Sire," Alain said calmly, belying his fear.

  Rufus passed him a knowing gleam as he took the stairs two at a time. "It will be Henry, no matter what I say, for he will have the crown on his head even before Robert blinks. But it keeps Robert happy to think England will be his. Henry is clever. Robert cannot even manage to keep his friends from stealing his hose. The crown will be secure with Henry."

  Smoke. Smoke wriggled through the walls, collecting and billowing, rising. The paired doors, flung wide, and the narrow kitchen exit were the only ways out. A child whimpered.

  "Never fear," shouted Rufus. "There is time. I am your king, and I come last. Do you think I would risk myself thus?"

  A mother calmed the crying child as murmurs of reassurance spread. They would make it out safely. The hall was emptying rapidly, and flames did not yet lick through the walls.

  A woman cried out. "My baby! Someone stop her!"

  Lynet!

  The red tabby, King Rufus, yowled as it dashed past them and up the wooden staircase behind them. The little girl screeched and scurried up the stairs on hands and knees after it.

  "Sweet Jesus! Alain, they're going back into the fire!"

  Rufus spun around to run back to the stairs.

  "I'll get her, Sire. Just get the people out." Alain tugged at Rufus' arm, but the king ran on.

  "You get the babe, I'll get the cat."

  "The cat? Let the cat go."

  "We promised all out safely, and the babe will go easier with the cat. Nay, I'll not risk the babe for it, do not fear, but we'll manage. Go, Alain."

  The agile king dashed up the stairs just as tongues of fire burst through the wall by the dais and lapped at the supports below them.

  "Sweet Christ, it's hot!" Rufus yelled.

  The cat ran screaming to the balcony's end before the little girl reached it. She picked up the squirming animal by its belly, while it lashed out its legs at her. No claws, Alain guessed, for the girl was still holding him.

  Alain grabbed the girl as Rufus snatched the cat. The animal suddenly turned into a screeching mass of razor claws as Rufus grappled for his grip. Rufus tore off his cloak and swaddled it around the complaining beast.

  "I hate cats!" he screamed, mounding curses atop his words.

  Flames cut them off, consuming the stairs and the supporting frame of the balcony. Trapped.

  "The far chamber!" Alain screamed to Rufus.

  "The chambers are also ablaze."

  "Aye. Stay by the outer wall. Mayhap we can make the window. It's only a short drop to the ground."

  Mayhap he could persuade Rufus to leap over the rail and out through the hall. But that would mean giving up on the cat and child, something Rufus would never do.

  Rufus eyed the spreading fire below, then the still untouched far chamber. "Aye. Go."

  Alain balanced the tiny girl her on his hip as he ran. She coughed from the choking smoke. He spotted a garment hanging on a peg, jerked it free and threw it over the child's head.

  "I can't see!" cried the girl.

  "Never mind, sweeting. It's to keep you from coughing. I won't let anything hurt you."

  Alain slid with his back against the outer wall. Smoke thickened, choking him. Fire broke through the thick planks of the floor near the center of the chamber, and the planks behind them sagged into the fire. Too late to go back.

  Rufus jammed the cat at Alain, who held both child and cat while Rufus threw all his weight into a mighty kick against the stone column. Again, again, he kicked. The post wobbled. Rufus kicked again. Once more, Rufus hurled one stocky leg and all his weight against the column. It collapsed and tumbled outward to the ground. Two more kicks sent the shutters flying to the rock below.

  The king looked down. "Sweet Jesus. You said it was but a little drop."

  "Not so far as the others. Not even the height of the balcony."

  It was probably not the drop that worried Rufus, but whether he could get through the narrow window, even with the post kicked out. But they had no other choice. The flames surrounded them.

  "You first, Sire."

  "I will go last. If I did not make it through, none would. You jump down, then catch the babe and the cat."

  "I cannot leave you, Sire."

  "Curse it, De Crency. You'll do as I say. If you can by God give that bride of yours your faith, you can give it to me. Now go!"

  Hardly a time to argue. Alain leapt into the window and threw himself through it to the rocky slope below, his feet skidding beneath him. He landed on his seat, and scrambled to his feet, kicking away the debris to gain better footing.

  Almost before he had recovered his balance, Rufus threw down the screaming bundle that contained the cat. Alain laid it aside and let the cat wriggle itself free.

  Rufus already dangled the crying child by her arms.

  "Don't cry, sweeting. Don't cry. Don't be afraid." Rufus begged the child, then let her drop. Alain caught her just before her feet reached the ground. "Run down the hill, sweeting," he said. "Find your mama."

  But from the corner of his eye, he saw Gerard came running up for the babe. He turned back to Rufus.

  "Curse it. I'll never eat another pudding as long as I live."

  Rufus was stuck.

  "A ladder!" Alain yelled. "Someone get a ladder!"

  Rufus disappeared back in through the hole. But there he was again, a leg through, his bulky body sideways, head ducked to work past the protruding middle of the double arch. One arm passed through beyond the window, and pushed against the frame as Rufus's big belly wedged again into the small cavity.

  Rufus sucked in a huge breath, then suddenly exhaled all the air he had, shoving at the same time. His body lurched past the frame. Hanging by only one leg, Rufus grabbed the remaining protrusion of the double arch, brought the free leg up while the other came away from the window. Rufus sprang away and down.

  Alain ran to his king, saying more grateful prayers than he thought knew. There had been no question of how Rufus would land. On his rump. He was merely fortunate that he managed to get enough of his massive, muscular legs beneath him to give a bit of spring to his landing.

  The heat of the rampaging fire forced them away. Running down the rocky slope, Rufus scooped up the
red tom cat from where it crouched behind a large gray boulder. Alain dashed alongside, trying to take the cat, but the king ignored him until they reached the bailey.

  The upper bailey swarmed with villeins and knights who had gathered whatever they could save. Women with children, pots and cloths scurried about seeking loved ones. Soldiers leading horses and donkeys from the threatened stables bustled toward the relative safety of the lower bailey, away from the blazing hall.