The Forest 23

doorkeeper cheerfully. Alan gestured in the manner of one who is not feeling well at all, and fled into the inner darkness.

Furtively, Alan peeked into the cells on the ground floor. Groans greeted him; he could discern nothing but suffering. The stench of the place was terrible, and he hastily made his way up the spiral stairs to the next level. Near the top ,a door was ajar. Alan peered cau- tiously around the doorjamb. In a small, bare room was a table, and on the table stood a tallow candle. The candlelight shone on a heavy ring of iron keys which hung from the wall. But between Alan and the keys a burly guard sat at ease with his back to the door.

Alan flexed his hands, steeling himself to throttle another guard. Then he realized that even if he could find Hal, it would take him half the night to find the right key. There were perhaps a hundred on the ring.

He felt for his hunting dagger, drew it from the leather scabbard and felt its razor-sharp edge. Then he moved.

Chapter Three.

Hal sat in the filthy straw of his cell, chained to its clammy stone wall by leg and wrist irons. His face was swollen and his ribs ached where they had beaten him.

But he scarcely noticed his injuries, for he fully real- ized that in the near future he was likely to face far worse. He could see only a choice between death and a fate worse than death: lifelong dishonor of a type Alan could not suspect. But Hal clung to hope. While life remained, there was a chance of escape, as he knew from his past. Though to escape from such a stronghold not once, but twice, was far beyond the bounds of what he thought his luck would bear.

He heard approaching footsteps, and stiffened in surprise and fear. Surely they would not be coming for him alreadyl But footsteps stopped at his cell door, and a cold voice said, "Open it." Despair washed over Hal;

he struggled to conceal it. Two guards were coming through the door, the first a stocky man with a can- dle and a strangely pale face, the second-Hal's jaw dropped; surprise and joy flooded him like morning sunlight It was Alan, but an Alan be had never seen.

His usually friendly, open face was set in ruthless lines. He spoke again in that voice Hal had not recog- nized: "Free him, or you die." His knife nudged the guard's ribs.

24.

The forest 25

Hal felt his arms freed, then his legs. He rolled out of the way, rubbing his numbed limbs. He could not stand up. but he was able to hold the fetters while Alan locked them on his own prisoner, Alan gagged the guard before he slipped his knife back into its leather sheath.

Instantly he turned to Hal and grasped his hand in concern, ail traces of the alien hardness gone from his face. They met each other's eyes in silence for a moment before Alan helped Hal to his feet. Pain shot through his legs as be tried to straighten himself. "There," Hal gasped finally. "I am all right Did Arundel come to you?"

"Ay," said Alan. "Can you walk, Hal?*'

"In a moment I shall be able to."

Alan divested the guard of his helmet, breastplate and cloak, then helped Hal buckle them on. The things were rather large. "Could you not find me a better fit?" Hal grumbled in mock displeasure, and for the first time that night Alan broke his tension with a smile. They took the candle and left the cell. The hapless guard glared after them. Alan locked the door and threw the keys through the grating into the straw of the cell, well out of reach of the prisoner.

'That might puzzle them for a while," he said, and smiled again.

"Keep your hands under the cloak," he instructed Hal as they moved down the corridor. "Keep your face in the shadow of the helmet, and do not let the torchlight fall on your legs." He left the candle in the guardroom, frown- ing with thought. "The doorkeeper we can silence, if need be, for he is alone. But the walls-it puzzles me what to do."

"How did you get in?" asked Hal logically.

"Climbed the cliff."

"Mighty Mothersi" whispered Hal. "We had better try the gate, since we are disguised."

The moon was darkened as they came to the door- Hal and Alan saw apprehensively that the doorkeeper was chatting with a guard. But, engrossed in their con- versation, the two men gave them only a glance and a nod as they passed out. In the dark and the flickering torchlight it was hard for them to see more than a flash of helmet and breastplate.

"So far, well enough," whispered Alan when they were halfway across the courtyard. "Pace like a guard, Hal."

26.

THE SILVER SUN.

It was by now well past midnight, and the watch was tired. The dozing sentries took no notice as they strode under the stone archway beneath the castle gatehouse. As quietly as they could, they unbarred the heavy wooden doors and spread them wide. The drawbridge was in place over the ditch, Hal noted gratefully; that unwieldy mech- anism took many men to turn. Nothing stood in their way except the spiked, iron-shod portcullis, Alaa ducked into the gatekeeper's room and started to winch it up. The noise quickly brought several surprised guards.

"What's afoot?" asked the first.

Hal blocked, without seeming to block, the gatehouse door. 'Visitors," he said gruffly. "King Iscovar himself.

Should be here any moment."

"You cannot be seriousl" protested the guard. Most of his fellows headed back toward the battlements, chatter- ing excitedly. Hal only shrugged as Alan, done hauling on the portcullis, stepped to his side.

"Come see for yourself," he barked, and moved toward the opening. Two guards, and Alan, followed.

But as they reached the outer arch, the fickle moon came out from behind her cloud and shone brightly on their faces. The guards Jumped back and shouted an alarm. "Run, Hal!" cried Alan, whipping out his sword.

But Hal had no intention of running, though he bad no weapon. As a guard lunged at him, Hal slipped under his thrust and grasped his wrist, forcing the sword from his hand. Hal wrestled the man to the ground, picked up the dropped weapon and stunned him with the hilt. Alan had his man backed up against the wall, battling bravely but clumsily with his thick-bladed sword. As Hal watched, Alan's slender weapon worked its way through the guard's

defense and stabbed him in the throat. He gurgled and fell.

Other guards were running toward them, shouting. Hal and Alan fled over the drawbridge toward the town. Some arrows followed them from the walls, and the guards pounded after them, but the fugitives ran faster. They gained the shelter of the houses and sped along the twist- ing streets, finally stopping in the shadows of an alley.

"Let us rid ourselves of this gear," panted Alan. "It does us no good now, but marks us."

His voice was tight. Hal touched his hand inquiringly.

"By the Moon Mother, I had to kill him!" Alan burst

The Forest 27

out "1 had never killed a man, Hal. . . . Can you under- stand?"

"I understand," said Hal with new respect. It was a rare man, in those savage times, who did not take life lightly.

"Keep that sword," Alan added grimly.

Hal tucked the hacking sword through his belt, and they moved on. They ran softly in their deerskin boots through the tangled streets, choosing the darkest ways, heading toward the town gate even though they knew it would be closed. Twice they heard hoofbeats and crouched in the shadows until the riders had passed. At last they came near the gate. But as they approached the main street, they suddenly heard lordsmen, quite close, to their right They started away, but then heard others ap- proaching from the left and from behind. Too late they realized that they had been driven, like cattle, to be trapped against high walls. No shadow would now be left unsearched.

Alan bit his lip. "Come," he said. "Quickly."

He led Hal through a crooked maze of back entries, stopping at last at a door near some barrels. To Hal's as- tonishment, he knocked softly. "Grandmotheri" he called under his breath. "Margeriel I have need of youl"

Presently the door was opened by the elderly dame, carrying a rushlight and blinking sleepily. She hurried them into the house, cackling with consternation, bustling to get cold towels and salves for Hal's injured face. The house was tightly shuttered, as Alan had been careful to note. No light would show. The old lady gabbled away, brushing off explanations and showing no interest in the lordsmen who passed close by the house. Hal eyed her narrowly over a bowl of excellent soup. Something in the quality of his gaze touched her composure, and her flood of gossip faltered to a stop.

"You are no fool, though you pretend to be," mused Hal admiringly. "I thank you greatly for your help."

"Almost anyone in this town would have done the same," she retorted defiantly. "We bear small love for our proud lord and his men. Our sons feel their whips, and our daughters their lust. It will be a great blow to their insolence, and the jest of the town, if you and your brother escape."

28 THE SILVER SUN.

Alan was grinning in wonder. "I'll warrant you knew what I was about all the time."

"I had a notion," she acknowledged, smiling.

"But grandmother," Alan added, "I have no brother."