Maddie gazed around at the four towers that formed the corners of the chateau. They were identical, each with a heavy wooden door at the base giving onto the bailey. They rose to the level of the curtain wall without any break in their walls, other than a few narrow slits to allow archers or crossbowmen to shoot down into the interior. Above the level of the fighting platform around the top of the crenelated walls, there were larger openings, denoting rooms or suites of rooms.
“Where do I start?” Maddie said. One tower looked much the same as the others.
As she spoke, they heard the door to the keep open and then bang shut. Two kitchen hands were crossing the cobbled courtyard, heading for the southwestern tower. They carried a tray covered with a napkin and a large pottery flagon and several wooden goblets. As Maddie and Will watched, they paused at the heavy door and hammered on it three times. There was a short pause, then the door creaked open. Inside, the two observers could see several armed soldiers. The soldiers checked briefly to see who was outside, then opened the door farther to allow the kitchen hands to enter. A few seconds later, the door closed behind them. Even from this distance, Will and Maddie heard the metallic jangle of a key turning in the heavy lock.
“Let’s see,” Will mused. “The midday meal is just over, and a tray of food and wine is being taken to someone in the southwest tower. I’d say that’s where you might find young Giles.”
35
“I’ll nose around tonight,” Maddie said as they headed back to the keep. “I need to work out how to get into the tower and up the stairs. Then, when you’re singing tomorrow night, I’ll get inside and see if I can find where they’re holding Giles.”
“I’d say you’re going to have to climb the outside of the tower,” Will said. “You need to get past the door guards and that seems to be the only way to do it.”
Maddie paused and turned to look back at the tower. It was constructed from large granite blocks and, from this distance, they looked to have plenty of gaps for potential hand- and footholds. She was an accomplished climber and had no fear of heights.
“I wouldn’t worry about the first three floors,” Will said. “The ones up to the level of the curtain wall. They’ll be ready rooms for defenders when the castle is under attack. Above the level of the curtain wall you can see there are apartments. That’s where you’ll find him.”
“I think I’ll take a closer look at the stonework,” Maddie said, turning back toward the tower.
Will stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Don’t go looking at the southwest tower,” he cautioned her. “If that’s where they’re holding Giles, you don’t want to arouse any suspicions. Have a look at the northwest tower. They’re the same construction. If one is climbable, the others will be.”
She nodded and strolled back toward the garden where they had been sitting. Will watched her go for a minute or so, then turned away toward the keep.
Doing her best to look casual, Maddie strolled through the grassed garden area, angling toward the corner tower. Baron Lassigny and the seneschal had gone back to their offices, and there were only a handful of people still in the garden. The rest had gone back to their workplaces now that the lunch hour was over. She stopped to peer into a fishpond set under an outcrop of rock. Large carp nosed the surface of the green water, searching for errant insects that might have fallen in, leaving expanding rings on the surface as they sank back into the depths. She took the opportunity to look around, but nobody seemed to be interested in her movements. She resumed her casual stroll, moving closer to the northwest tower.
She checked her surroundings once more. The nearest people to her were a young couple standing under a low tree, holding hands and looking deep into each other’s eyes. They definitely weren’t interested in her, she thought.
She moved closer to the tower, studying the rough gray walls and the heavy, iron-reinforced door at the base. A few meters away, a wooden stairway led up to the fighting platform that ran along the inside of the crenelated curtain wall. She nodded thoughtfully to herself, turning to look back at the southwest tower. There was a similar flight of steps there. Obviously, the steps were intended to provide access for defenders to reach the walkway that ran along the inside of the wall. Additional access would come from the towers, she realized. She looked back at the one near her. At the level of the walkway above her, she could see another timber door giving access from the tower.
Considering Will’s comment about the lower levels of the tower providing barracks for defenders, it made sense that they would be able to access the defensive walkways from within.
She checked around her again. Nobody was watching her. The young couple had withdrawn into the shadows of the tree and were locked in an embrace.
“Young love,” she muttered derisively. Then she moved close to the tower, studying its construction.
The massive granite blocks were fitted together roughly. They were unevenly shaped, leaving substantial gaps between each one—gaps that had been loosely filled with mortar. Over the years, much of the exterior mortar had worn away. She slipped her right hand into one of the horizontal gaps. It was a firm handhold, with plenty of room for her hand. Tentatively, she slipped her toe into another gap at ground level and tested her weight on it. Again, there was plenty of room and plenty of support. She would have no trouble climbing the wall, she thought, although she would be exposed to view for the lower section of the climb, up to the walkway.
She stepped back from the wall—and not a moment too soon. The heavy door, only a few meters away, suddenly slammed open, and a guard stepped out. He looked at her, a mixture of surprise and suspicion on his face.
“What do you want?” he demanded roughly. “What are you doing here?”
“Just looking around,” she said innocently. “Exploring the castle. I only got here yesterday.” She smiled at him but there was no answering smile. He continued to glare at her.
“Could I take a peek inside?” she asked artlessly, gesturing toward the dark interior of the tower behind him. “I’ve never seen inside a real castle before.”
“No!” he snapped angrily. “Do you think I’m running sightseeing tours here? Clear off out of it!”
He raised a threatening hand and she stepped quickly back out of reach.
“All right!” she said hurriedly. “I’m sorry!”
Making apologetic gestures, she hurried quickly back through the garden. She glanced back once when she was fifteen meters or so away. The soldier was still watching her. Then, as she looked back, he made a further threatening gesture and stepped back inside, slamming the door behind him. Despite the distance, she heard the rattle of a large key in a lock.
She slowly resumed her walk, rubbing her chin thoughtfully with her finger and thumb. Why was the guard so aggressive? she wondered. Why was he so keen for her to stay away from the tower? Was it because this was where Prince Giles was being held captive? That would certainly explain his overzealousness and his warning for her to keep away.
Then she considered further. They hadn’t seen any food being taken to this tower, she realized. And the towers and ramparts were essential components in the castle’s defensive structure. It was logical that the sentries would discourage random visitors and prying eyes. She had no doubt that if she approached any of the other towers, she’d receive the same short shrift and lack of welcome. But she wasn’t about to test her theory. The southwest tower would seem to be the most likely place to find the prince.
“Besides, I have to start somewhere,” she said to herself. “So it might as well be there.”
Head down and deep in thought, she didn’t notice the old beggar sitting under a tree in the garden until she was almost level with him.
“S’il vous plait, mam’selle?” he said in a gravelly voice, snapping her out of her distracted state.
She glanced quickly at him. He must have been among the many
day visitors who streamed across the causeway each morning seeking entrance to the castle, she thought. He was bent over, not looking at her, but with a begging cup held out to her. His white hair and beard were long and unkempt and he was wearing a ragged blue-and-white-striped cloak. She reached into her purse and found a few small coins, dropping them into his cup and moving on.
“Thank you, miss,” he called after her. She had gone another ten paces before it registered with her that he had used the common tongue, not Gallic—which he had used when he first spoke to her. Yet she hadn’t spoken or given him any reason to believe she wasn’t Gallican.
And there had been something vaguely familiar about him.
She turned quickly to look back at him but there was no sign of the blue-and-white-cloaked figure. She frowned.
Odd, she thought. Then she shook her head, dismissing the beggar from her thoughts. She had other matters to concern her.
* * *
• • •
“Better not do any more poking around,” Will told her as they sat in a secluded corner of the common room. “You don’t want people noticing that you’re interested in the towers.”
She nodded agreement. “I’ll keep my distance,” she said. “But I want to check out the sentries’ schedule tonight. I plan to take the stairs to the walkway at the top of the wall, then move around to the outside of the tower and start my climb from there.”
Will considered her plan for a few seconds. “Good idea,” he said finally. “You’d be fairly conspicuous climbing from ground level. This way, if you move to the outside of the tower, you’ll be pretty much out of sight.” He paused, then added, “Just make sure you don’t fall.”
Maddie grinned. “That’ll be the last thing I do,” she said.
Will raised an eyebrow. “You might like to rephrase that,” he said.
* * *
• • •
The following night, Maddie crouched in the shadows under the stairway that led to the top of the curtain wall.
She listened to the measured tread of the sentry’s feet on the wooden platform above her. The current batch of sentries had been on duty for just over two hours now, with another hour to go before they were due for relief. She had timed their schedule and their patrol patterns the night before. In her mind’s eye, she visualized the man on the ramparts above her. At this point, well into his scheduled three hours, he would be thinking more about his relief than about possible attackers approaching the castle.
It was only human nature, she thought. At the beginning of his watch, the man would be energized and motivated, ready to investigate or query any stray sound or perceived movement. But as the first hour passed, then the second, without any sign of a threat, inevitably, his alertness would be blunted, his motivation dissipated. His hands would grow cold in the brisk night air. His feet would begin to ache from the constant pacing in stiff boots on unyielding planks.
And worse than the physical discomforts of patrolling the ramparts would be the boredom that would set in. With no conversation—other than a few casual words with his opposite number as they met in the center of the walkway—his mind would begin to be dulled by the constant repetition and lack of mental stimulation.
She frowned as she thought about it. It was a useful lesson for the future, she thought: If you were assigning men to sentry duty, don’t give them all the same start and finish times. Vary them so there were always fresh eyes and alert minds coming on duty.
Above her, she heard the boots scrape as the man reached the end of his section, close to the massive wall of the southwest tower. He paused, resting for a second or two, and she heard the distinct sound of his yawning. Then the boots started again, trudging now and dragging slightly on the rough timbers of the walkway.
“Time to go,” she said.
36
She swarmed up the stairs like a wraith, staying low, a silent shadow against the dark shadows of the wall behind her. As she neared the top, she heard the sentry turning at the end of his patrol, his boots scuffing the boards, breaking the steady rhythm of his marching. Instantly, she dropped to the rough timber of the staircase, her cloak spread around her, masking her shape and turning her into an anonymous dark mass. She was still below the level of the walkway so she had no real fear that the sentry would see her. But her heart still beat faster as he came closer. Logic was all very well, but when you were only a few meters away from an armed enemy, it wasn’t possible to stay completely unconcerned.
Again, the man stopped at the end of his patrol, close to the stone wall of the tower. He stepped closer to the crenellations and peered over the side into the darkness below. Obviously seeing nothing, he sighed and turned again to retrace his path back to the center of the wall. She let him go a few meters, then, on hands and knees, she slipped up the rest of the steps and moved across the walkway, crouching in the shadows at the base of the wall where it met the tower.
She glanced down the walkway after the sentry. He was twenty meters away, pausing to talk briefly to his opposite number. She would have to remain where she was until he had returned to his start point and turned away again. At that point, the other sentry, even though he would be facing her, would be forty meters away and her movements would be shielded by the uncertain light. But she would have no time to waste.
As the sentry approached again, she huddled at the base of the wall, her cloak pulled tight around her, her face masked by the deep cowl. She hoped that this time, the sentry wouldn’t choose to peer over the wall. If he did so, he would be almost certain to tread on her.
She crouched, eyes down, listening to the footsteps coming closer, expecting any moment for them to stop and to hear the sentry’s sharp exclamation of surprise as he spotted her. But he came on, his pace unvarying.
For a few seconds, she considered waiting until he had turned and then entering the tower at this level, using the large wooden door. She was certain it was unlocked—she had heard the sentry come through it when he began his vigil and there had been no sound of a key turning after he had closed the door behind him. That would get her out of sight much more quickly than if she clambered up onto the curtain wall and climbed around to the outside of the tower.
But she quickly discarded the idea. The tower room on the other side of the door would probably be a ready room for soldiers assigned to guard duty that night. The next shift were probably dozing on bunks in there at the moment, waiting their turn to take over the watch. That was how things were organized at Castle Araluen, she knew. And at Castle Redmont. There was no reason to suppose things were any different here. If she went into the tower at this level, chances were she would be walking in on up to a dozen armed men.
Better to stick to the original plan. Go up a few floors, check to find an unoccupied room and then gain entry to the tower.
Again, the sentry was approaching. She controlled her breathing, keeping it smooth and steady and, most important, virtually silent. With her head and eyes down, she couldn’t see the sentry. But she could hear him and actually sense his presence close to her. It seemed impossible that he wouldn’t notice the dark shadow crouched at the base of the wall. He must see her this time, she thought.
But she was just a shadow among other shadows. The footsteps stopped. She heard him pivot and then begin to walk away. Incredibly, he had overlooked her, even though she was only a few meters away from him.
People see what they expect to see. She heard Will’s voice in her mind. He had spent years dinning into her brain that utter stillness was the best form of concealment in a situation like this. The sentry didn’t expect to see a small figure crouched in the shadow line at the base of the wall. Therefore, he didn’t see her.
With a start, she realized she was wasting valuable time thinking about this. The sentry was already a quarter of the way along his beat. And that meant that the far sentry was getting closer, to a point where he
might notice her moving.
Swiftly, she rose and vaulted up onto the crenelated wall. She took a few seconds to study the surface of the tower wall facing her, then selected two handholds and a gap in the stones for her right foot. She swung herself up and out over the dizzying drop, clinging to the tower wall like a giant spider.
Her left foot reached out, searching the uneven tower wall, seeking a crevice to support her. She found one and transferred the bulk of her weight to it, removing her left hand from its hold and reaching along the wall, to the left and upward. She found another sizable gap in the stones, tested it and found it was firm. Once her left hand was established once more, she removed her right foot from its purchase point and sought another.
Always keep three points of contact with the wall, Will had taught her.
As she set her right foot in a crack, she glanced back over her shoulder. She had moved out and around the curve of the tower a few meters but she could still see the sentry on his patrol path. He was turning now, having met his opposite number halfway along the wall, and heading back. She froze in place. It was unlikely that the sentry’s eyes would be on the outside wall of the tower, but any movement now might catch his attention and give her away. She huddled against the rough stone of the tower, spread-eagled, with her hands and feet wide apart. Below her, she was conscious of the small waves on the lake tumbling against the rocks. The wind out here on the tower was stronger, and it sighed around her ears.
For a moment, she had a sensation that her hands were slipping and that she was about to topple backward and go crashing to the rocks below. But she fought down the treacherous feeling. She was firmly established on the wall, with secure hand- and footholds. There was nothing to fear—other than the fear of falling itself.
The Royal Ranger: The Missing Prince Page 20
