Chapter 12

Two monks sat on the seat of an old rickety cart whose left wheel squeaked considerably. Their hoods were pulled well down over their faces to block them from the hot afternoon sun. One was a tall, thin monk who had a sense of youth about him, while the other was round and as fat as an old cat that had swallowed a rat or two whole.

They rolled up to a fortress that seemed black and cold even in the middle of the day.

Looking up, the fat monk hollered, “Hello up there? Have you table and rest for two weary strangers?”

There was a murmur at the top of the wall, and slowly the drawbridge was let down and the weary little pony pulled the cart across.

A stable boy came up and took the bridle, leading the horse and cart to the edge of the courtyard.

The young monk leapt down from the cart and came around to the old monk. The man waddled over the wheel and dropped heavily to the ground.

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THE FALL WAS JARRING. Annabeth ground her teeth against letting out any sounds that would give away her hiding place. The rope chaffed around her wrists, the hay they had used to round out Song Lark’s figure made her itch, and what was worse, she could do nothing about it. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Hello, dear brothers.”

The voice made her just about turn inside out. Annabeth dug her fingernails deep into her palms and tried to think calmly.

He can’t see you. He has no idea that you are here, Annabeth. Just breathe.

She synchronized her breathing with Song Lark’s heavy panting so nothing would be detected.

“What can I do for you?” he asked with his most oily cordiality.

“Brother Matthew, here, and I, thought we packed enough food for our journey, but it turns out that we haven’t. I was wondering if we could impose upon your kindness to give us a little food for our journey.”

“Of course,” said Lord Raburn with a low chuckle. “But I will do better than that. Come feast at my table, and I will make sure that we pack you enough for the rest of your journey.”

Annabeth could tell he was satisfied with their answers, even if he was laughing at them.

“You are too kind to us; company will be a welcome thing. Brother Matthew there has taken a vow of silence, and I can tell you it has been a long journey.”

“Is that so? Well, come this way.”

Song Lark’s shuffling waddle was getting to Annabeth as she rocked back and forth, slowly growing ill.

For the better part of an hour, the men sat, exchanging stories and laughing.

Annabeth’s emotions were caught between fear and utter outrage.

At long last, Song Lark dared broach the subject. “You are a good Lord Protector. I suppose the prince says his prayers every day?”

“He most certainly does.”

“It is good to hear...” he let his voice drift off in a wishful manner.

“Would the good monk like to see the prince and hear his prayers?”

“Oh, that would be too much to ask!”

“I think not. I think he may even have a confession to make. I believe he loves a fair maiden.”

“Really?”

“Most certainly.”

“Well then, take us to him speedily. We mustn’t let the prince live with a guilty conscience.”

“Of course not, dear brother.”

Annabeth heard a snap of fingers.

“Snatchel! Bring these two dear brothers up to the Prince’s rooms at once.”

“Yes, my lord,” said a familiar voice. Everything was painfully familiar to her.

Sensing the direction they were headed, Annabeth guessed they were going towards the northern wing.

After what seemed like forever, there was a rattle of keys.

“The prince likes his privacy. The keys give him ample warning that he is about to be disturbed,” she heard Snatchel explain away the reason he was locked up.

In a moment, the door creaked open and Snatchel announced them. “Two monks come to hear your prayers, your highness.”

“Thank you, Snatchel,” the young man said, trying not to sound annoyed. “Hello, Brothers.”

“I am Brother Lucas, and this is Brother Matthew. He has taken a vow of silence, so no need to speak to him, but my, my, what cozy apartments. One could live quite comfortably here. I see why you do not wish to be disturbed.”

At last he had said the secret words she had been waiting for. It was almost safe to appear. Annabeth waited pensively for the click of the lock to be certain they were alone with the prince. Song Lark shuffled forward.

“We have come to see about your prayers.”

Annabeth couldn’t wait a moment longer, and she began wriggling free of the ropes that held her fast.

“Thank you, Brothers; you are very kind to...” Prince Alfred stopped as he watched the monk in wonder.

A moment later, Annabeth dropped to the floor. She flipped the robe off her head, her hair disheveled.

“Song Lark, next time we do this, I’ll be the monk.”

Song Lark muffled a laugh behind his hand.

A moment later, the prince was on his knees beside her.

“Anna?” he asked, half bewildered, half delighted.

“Hello, Alf,” she said, turning her head to look at him as she untied the last knot of her imprisonment.

Suddenly the prince put his arms around her shoulders. “I knew you wouldn’t fail me.”

“Sorry it took so long.”

“I am sorry you’ve had to suffer so much. Do you know anything about your father?”

She shook her head. “And yours?”

“The only news I have heard was just before my lord protector died, when Father said he was planning on staying on for a year or more yet.”

She nodded. “We are here to get you out.”

“What is the plan?”

“Ransom and I will go out the window, while you leave with Song Lark as a monk. Ransom has taken a vow of silence, so you mustn’t speak to anyone.”

“That is it?”

She nodded.

“Now say your prayers quick, and pray for a swift and careful journey,” said Song Lark with a smile.

“It’s all splendid and I am ready, but did you know Lady Christina is here?”

“No.” Annabeth winced. Lord Raburn had probably moved her up there once he found out that she and her maids were scouts for Annabeth.

“Yes.”

“I don’t like that Lord Raburn is putting you all together, you, Lady Christina, and my father...” The last word trailed off quietly.

“He is still alive—I have seen him.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “How is he?”

“Well enough. I’ll tell you more later, all right?”

She nodded in agreement, pain and hope twisting in her heart. Will he be alive after today?

“Can you get word to Lady Christina to come see you?”

“No, but she usually comes here about this time of day.”

“My only question is how in the world we are going to get her out. We planned for you, but not her.”

Ransom cleared his throat. “Sorry for the interruption, but I believe I have an idea. She can leave the same way you came in.”

Song Lark groaned. “Not again.”

“You needn’t worry. She is a lighter burden than me,” Annabeth said softly.

“What’ll we do in the meantime?” asked Ransom.

“Pray. Ransom, get ready to take off your robe should the keys rattle, and Annabeth, you go stand in the corner. They’ll not see you there right away,” said Song Lark, leading them to the far side of the room and kneeling.

There was a rattle in the lock. Ransom took off his robe and helped the prince put it on, while Song Lark stuffed a pillow up his tunic and kept on praying. The door shut almost as soon as it was open, and the keys turned in the lock. There was a rustle of soft, rich fabric. Mentally, Annabeth could feel the touch of it against her skin. It had been a long time since she had worn a pretty dress.

“Your highness?”

The prince flung back the monk’s hood.

“It’s you, Christina,” he said, rising to his feet and coming to her side. “I was hoping you would come as faithfully as ever. We are saved.”

“Do you know these men?” she asked suspiciously, resting her hands on his forearms as they came up to hold her hands.

“No, but Anna does.”

“But how do you know—”

“Hello, Christina,” said Annabeth shyly from her corner.

The girl turned in hopeful shock and flung her arms around her friend’s neck. Tears came to her eyes, and she began to cry softly. “We are saved; we are saved at last. I knew you couldn’t fail us. Oh, Anna!”

“I am so glad to see you again—but we must work quickly if we are to leave before he grows suspicious.” She blinked away the dampness that had risen in her eyes.

“Of course.”

“These are our friends, Song Lark and Ransom.”

“Hello,” she greeted with a small smile and a nod.

“There is one thing, though. You can’t escape wearing that dress.”

“Why not?”

“The way you have to hide, no ladies’ clothes would do, and with that long train in your skirt, Song Lark would be bound to trip over it. Do you have anything we could borrow, Alf?”

“Give me a moment,” he said, kneeling at the large chest at the end of his bed.

“Song Lark, give me a hand,” said Ransom, stripping back the bed.

“What on earth are you doing?” asked Song Lark as he watched Ransom unwind the coil of strong silk rope they had hidden about his waist and began tying the sheets to it.

“Exactly what you think I am doing—now give me a hand.”

Christina had paled at Annabeth’s words.

“Anna, I can’t wear his clothes!”

“Well, you won’t get out of here alive wearing that,” she said, pointing to the dress.

“I can’t do it. I won’t,” she whispered.

“If his clothes are a problem, would you rather wear mine?”

The girl blushed modestly. “I—I’d rather just...”

“It’s not an option, Christina.”

“I think I would feel more comfortable in something you have worn rather than his, and he is so much bigger than either of us. I do believe you are just a little taller than me.”

“I am sure it is the case,” said Annabeth, looking up slightly at Christina.

“Here, Anna,” said the prince, handing her an armful of clothes.

In a moment, the rope was strung across the room and the chamber was segregated. Ransom changed into princely attire while Alf finished his monk disguise. Quickly, Annabeth set to work, and in few minutes, when they said they were ready, Christina appeared, blushing, shy, and awkward in Annabeth’s boy attire.

“Song Lark, start hiding her, I’ll be out in a moment,” Annabeth commanded from behind the curtain.

She appeared a few moments later, looking like a boy with a great ambition of growing very tall, very soon. Ransom couldn’t help a smile, but immediately took down the rope and freed the sheets from it. The monks were now ready to leave.

Annabeth caught Prince Alfred’s sleeve just as they were about to ask for dismissal. “Remember you have taken a vow of silence. Do not betray it.”

He nodded his head, and she slipped into the corner as they knocked for dismissal.

The moment they were gone, Ransom was securing the rope to the bed post. They waited. They had to give them time to get away in case they were caught going down the wall.

Quietly, Annabeth put the rooms to rights, then picked up Christina’s dress. The fabric was soft and cool to her touch. She bit her lower lip in wishful thinking.

“You’d be pretty in a dress like that, Beth,” Ransom said softly.

Annabeth felt her cheek flush as she realized he had been watching her every move intently, his arms resting confidently on his hips. He looked commanding in the prince’s clothing.

“Who gave you permission to call me Beth?” she accused, trying to find fault with him somewhere.

He smiled and almost swaggered towards her, pursing his mouth.

“Nobody,” he admitted.

Then he looked down into her eyes.

“Do you mind it? Or would you rather I called you Anna?”

“I don’t mind it, I guess. Anna is rather a childish pet name they have for me,” she said, walking to the window and looking down.

“Oh, no,” she moaned with disappointed anguish.

“What?”

“I should have known he would be paranoid enough to fill the moat. What are we going to do? I can’t swim.”

“No fear. You can climb down the rope?”

She nodded. “I wouldn’t be up here if I couldn’t.”

“You are going to go down first, and hold on to the castle wall when you get down there. When I come, you will lay back and I will tow you to the far shore. All right?”

“Are you sure?”

“I am not leaving you up here to face that man’s wrath.” He tore part of the sheet, put it around Annabeth’s waist, and tied it to the end of the rope.

“There. Now, you first just in case we get caught.”

Nimbly she climbed out the window and scaled down the stone wall. As her feet touched the water in the moat, she shuddered and slowly lowered herself into it. Finding a hold in the wall with one hand, she tried to undo the knot so Ransom could pull it up again. But there was no untangling it. A moment later, the rope became taut as he scaled down.

A cry of surprise and rage came from the wall, an arrow shot from a bow, fraying the rope above their head. It quickly began to unravel, threatening to snap and send Ransom plunging into the water.

Annabeth began to pray.

Oh, God, keep us all safe and unharmed.

Before the rope could fail, he lowered himself into the water beside her.

“I can’t get this knot undone,” she whispered frantically.

“It’s not supposed to come undone,” he answered, taking his dagger from his belt. Ransom swam behind her, putting an arm over her shoulder, across her body to her waist.

“When I cut the rope, you just need to relax and breathe. I am going to pull you across.”

She nodded and in a moment she was completely wet as he severed the rope. Annabeth tried to lie perfectly still as Ransom pulled her across the moat and onto the bank.

Arrows surrounded them like hail.

Once they reached shallow water, they were on their feet. They ran onto the bank and slipped into some undergrowth.

“Now for the dangerous part—running out in the open. You ready?” he asked, panting.

“Ready,” Annabeth replied. Her eyes lit with enthusiasm.

They made a mad dash for the forest a good hundred yards away, where they had hidden their horses.

Arrows whizzed by them, tearing at them, barely missing.

Suddenly, Annabeth laughed, threw back her head, and started running harder.

They looked back at the castle. In the far off distance, they could see a horse cart ricketing its way into the forest. They had waited long enough. Once in the forest, there were horses. They’d be off in a moment. Mounting, they swiftly headed deep into the forest at a gallop.

Ransom watched as Annabeth rode low and close to the neck of her horse. She could not wait to be gone from this place.

In a short while, their trail was being hotly pursued by men from Raburn’s castle. Arrows were darting into the forest, barely missing them as they sunk into trees and whizzed by them at a hair’s breadth.

Suddenly Annabeth found herself flying over her horse’s neck as he floundered into a deep hare hole. She screamed as he fell to the ground. Her mind swooned as the world seemed to dance wildly around her.

Annabeth was raising herself to her feet as Ransom came back to her. With no time for ceremony, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her before him in the saddle.

In a moment they were making up for lost ground.

The chase was long, and before it ended the horse was white with sweat, but Raburn’s men were nowhere in sight.

Ransom pulled the horse to a walk and slid to the ground, taking the bridle.

“The poor creature needs a break.”

Annabeth made a move to get to the ground.

His hand stayed her.

“You’ve had a nasty fall, and until I know how you are I’m not letting you move.”

“Can I breathe?”

“I suppose I can allow that,” Ransom sighed, not seeming to hear her attempt at humor.

Annabeth fell into silence, watching with care for any sound or movement that would mean they were being followed. Long after dark, they settled down for camp without a fire. Ransom turned to help Annabeth down from the saddle, but she slipped down before he could even offer both his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Ransom asked with a slight disapproving frown.

“Well enough,” Annabeth answered with a sigh; she didn’t want to be bothered.

His hand touched her side. Surprised at the sudden pain his gentle touch caused her, she winced.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Just a little.”

“How is your wound?”

The tenderness in his voice made her head feel like it was spinning.

“Well enough. I have been tending to it, just the fall...I think it bruised me there.”

His eyes searched hers.

“You’d tell me if it was worse?”

“I think so.” Suddenly Annabeth didn’t feel as if she even knew her own mind. Something in his eyes confused her.

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RANSOM LET HER SLIP past him and sink wearily to the ground.

“That went well,” she sighed.

Ransom couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t imagine what your definition of bad is.”

Annabeth giggled at the prospect, then sobered.

“I think that would have been having Lord Raburn walking in and arresting all of us. He would have been so happy; all of his troubles would have been over in one fell swoop: Song Lark, you, Alf, and me. Christina would have been an unfortunate witness that would have been added to the casualty list, and my father. Then it would all have been over for him. I just hope they are all right.”

“They had enough horses once they were out of sight to get away with all speed.”

“Christina has never been out of castle walls. I just hope she doesn’t mind roughing it, and in boy’s clothes, nonetheless.”

“I am sure she’ll find some way to manage.”

“I hope so,” Annabeth sighed and, laying down, closed her eyes, pulling the cloak fully around her.

“Those clothes you gave me were for the prince, weren’t they?”

“Hmm?” she said, opening her eyes wearily.

“The clothes you gave me before we went to meet with Song Lark. You said I should look like a farmer. You had those laid aside for the prince, didn’t you?”

“What would make you think that?”

“These fit the same way those do.”

“That’s good to know,” Annabeth said dryly, and rolled over.

“You aren’t going to answer my question, are you?”

“I don’t think it needs answering,” she replied shortly.

“Good night, Annabeth,” he said, pulling his cloak about him and falling wearily to the ground, murmuring in his mind. “Only a few hours...a few hours.”

Suddenly, Annabeth’s quiet voice broke the stillness as she turned to face him.

“They were for the prince, but it makes no matter.”

Ransom caught her eyes. They were quiet, tired, and something else he could not discern.

“Your father’s going to be all right,” he whispered confidently, feeling that it was so.

“Good night,” she whispered, and turned over once again.