Michael Sullivan: The Crown Tower

“Wouldn’t matter,” Hadrian replied. “These guys are professionals. They have the place surrounded. Another door or window would just make one more point of entry we’d have to secure. We’re actually lucky to have only two.”

“Two?”

“The door and the roof.”

Royce looked up at the rafters covered in widespread planking and thatch.

“Think they’ll burn it?”

“If it wasn’t pouring.”

“Rain won’t last forever.”

“No … no, it won’t.”

The pounding on the door stopped.

“Nice door,” Royce said.

“Thanks,” Tom replied. “Oak.”

“I’m guessing there’s an axe in the barn or a woodshed out there?”

Tom looked to the boy, who said, “I brought them in the house on account of the rain. Pa don’t like the heads to rust.”

“They might have brought their own,” Hadrian said. “Standard gear for a patrol is an axe, a pot, and a shovel.”

“They’ll be a long time cutting that door down. Wood is hard as stone. I dulled three saws.”

Now that the soldiers had stopped beating on it, Royce peeked out the cracks again. Four men stood right outside, including the knight, who remained on horseback. A few more lingered to the rear. The rest he couldn’t see. They spoke quietly.

“A shame we couldn’t have gotten the knight,” Hadrian said. “He’s likely the only thing keeping the others here.”

Royce took a seat at the table. He was feeling dizzy again, and the nausea was coming back. He had eaten too much too quickly. “So what else can they do? Find something to batter their way in? Figure out a means to tie on to it and have the horse rip the door off? They can climb on the roof and cut through it easily enough, or they could just wait for the rain to stop and set us on fire. Or they can do absolutely nothing. Time is on their side. They’ve likely sent a rider announcing their hounds have treed us.”

“Right.” Hadrian nodded. “The way those bells have been ringing, in a few hours we’ll have an army out there. We’ll have to make a move sooner rather than later.”

“What kind of move?”

Hadrian looked back at the door as if he could see through it. “We need that horse. We can’t hope to escape without it. If we can kill the knight and get on the horse, we’ll have a chance of getting away.”

“I think there’s about nine men out there. Nine men-some with bows-and a plated knight on horseback. What do you want to do? Throw the front door open and rush them? You with your wounded leg and me with a hole in my stomach?”

“Do we have a choice?”

Royce didn’t have an answer.

Hadrian said, “They’re going to kill us whether we sit here and wait or go out there. That doesn’t matter. But if we sit here, the rain will stop and they’ll burn these people’s home. Possibly kill them too. They didn’t do anything wrong. They gave us food, remember? If we charge them-we’ll die, sure, but this family will be safe.”

“How is that a benefit?”

“Okay, let me rephrase. We can sit here and let them kill us with fire and smoke or we can try and take a few with us.”

Royce smiled. “Better.”

Hadrian bent down and rolled the chain mail-dressed corpse over. “Looks big enough,” he said, and began pulling the mail over the dead man’s head. “Nice throw by the way. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“You in there!” They heard a shout from the far side of the door. “I’m Sir Holvin of Ervanon, Knight of the Order of Seret. Drop what weapons you have and come out. You are hereby under arrest in the name of our Lord Novron and the Nyphron Church.”

Royce glanced at Hadrian, then at the family, still clustered and terrified. He shook his head and sighed, then stood up. “We have a family in here. A farmer, his wife, and a boy. I have a knife to the man’s neck as I speak. If you try and come in again, we’ll slit their throats. Do you hear me?”

“You can’t win. You have nowhere to go. If you come out now, I promise you will live to stand trial.”

“I mean it. I’ll kill these people in here,” Royce yelled.

Royce faced Hadrian, saying softly, “Happy?”

Hadrian smiled back and nodded.

Tom looked concerned, his wife terrified.

“Relax,” Hadrian told them. “He just said that so they won’t think you’re helping us.”

“Go ahead,” the knight replied. “I don’t care-but the longer you make me wait in the rain, the worse it will be for you.”

Royce noticed the surprise on the face of the farmer’s wife. “I would have said the same thing,” he assured her, but the woman did not appear comforted.

“Give yourself up,” the knight shouted. “Trust to Novron!”

“This guy is hilarious,” Royce said, and sat back at the table. If they were going to make a suicidal charge, he wanted to rest first.

Hadrian pulled the chain mail over his head. He struggled for a bit before pulling it back off. “Too small. You want it?”

Royce shook his head. “I can barely hold up my own weight.”

“Might deflect an arrow.”

“I’ll dodge them better without it.”

“You can dodge arrows?”

“Sometimes.”

“You are full of surprises.”

“I don’t make a living doing it.”

Hadrian slipped his spadone onto his back and picked up the two swords again, feeling their weight. “I miss my own. These are awful. You about ready?”

“Wait,” Tom said, and pried himself out of his family’s grasp. He disappeared into the back rooms, then reemerged holding a huge shield and a bow as tall as he was. “I used to be an archer in the service of Lord Marbury. I fought beside him. He granted me this farm. His Lordship is a great man, but just yesterday the seret arrested him on the charge of treason-aiding fugitives from the church’s justice. You two I imagine. If Lord Marbury felt you were worth standing up for, I won’t dishonor his good name by doing any less. Besides, you just heard how concerned the church is for the safety of my family.”

“My pa is the best shot in the county,” the boy said.

“Tom the Feather.” Hadrian nodded.

Tom held out the kite shield to Hadrian. “It’s designed to stop arrows, covers the body fairly well.” Over his shoulder, the farmer wore a full quiver.

“What are you going to do with those?” Royce asked.

“Zephyr and I are going to provide some assistance-going to fight for His Lordship one last time.”

Royce closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hand. “I just convinced them you’re not helping us. We’re going out there so they don’t burn your house and kill you. If you start shooting, they’ll know different.”

“If I shoot, you might survive.”

“You’re that good?” Hadrian asked Tom.

“With Zephyr, I can hit a rabbit at two hundred yards and release six arrows a minute. And she’s made of fine northern yew-if I pull her deep, she can punch an arrow through plate armor.”

“And if we don’t kill all nine, you will be executed,” Royce said. “This is the first and last generous thing I will ever do. Don’t spoil it.”

“He’s right,” Hadrian said. “We’re just…” He looked at Royce. “We’re just a pair of no-account thieves. Think of your son.”

The old man looked down at the boy still gathered in his mother’s arms. “I am.”

“Let him do as he wants,” Royce said. “I’m in pain, and if I’m going to die anyway, I don’t see the point in suffering. Let’s get this over with.” He moved to the door and peered out. “Four right outside and the knight’s still on his horse. No idea where the archers are. Frontal assaults aren’t my specialty. Any ideas?”