Beowulf and the triplets had done well. They had escaped from the dungeon using one of the keys from the key rack that opened a door which led onto a different passage and this had brought them up into a guardroom next to the front door. Things were going so well that Beowulf was tempted to quickly check out the gambling room and see if any of the gold was still there; however he (correctly) assumed that any monies left would already have been stolen. All that now needed to be done was to escort the triplets through the front door, out through the front gate and round to the back wall of the Monastery where Roscow would be waiting with the getaway vehicle.
‘Come on,’ he said. He was a little worried that he could smell a fire. The sooner they were clear of the Monastery the better. Lewis opened the front door and they both quickly looked around.
‘Over here!’ hissed Marshall Gney. The Marshall beckoned to Beowulf. ‘The way ahead seems clear, the girls have scouted ahead, and all the guards are round at the back.’
Beowulf was not best pleased to see Gney, his plan had been to steal all three Louis’, go somewhere quiet and then decide which one was the rightful King of France for Beowulf. He planned to do this without outside interference. He smiled at the Marshall,
‘That’s good,’ he said. He could always lose the Marshall in the escape. ‘Let’s go.’
The escaping group had just set off down the path away from the Casino towards the main gate when there was a loud explosion. They turned to see that almost half of the Monastery was now on fire.
‘How did that happen?’ asked Beowulf in awe, ‘I wasn’t even trying!’
As they stood looking at the flaming building there was a shout from near the stables.
‘They’re round the front!’
One of the Cardinal’s guards had come to the stables looking for water and spotted the escapees and he was now raising the alarm.
‘What do we do now?’ said Louis.
‘Run!’ shouted Beowulf. They set off for the gate.
Back in the Gambling Room, Cardinal Mascarpone was dreaming. It was a beautiful dream. He was in a great house that somehow he knew he was the owner of. It was tastefully decorated with tapestries and paintings and gold, but what he liked best was that in each room there was more and more food and drink. Each bite was more delicious and each sip more intoxicating than the last. It was heaven! The British Queen was right! He had (against all probability and Biblical admonition) ascended! Joyfully, he skipped along the corridors intent on sampling the delights of his new abode. After some time he found himself in a room that was vaguely familiar. He looked around; there was a large table and on it was a pack of cards. Something troubled him about the room. It did not feel the same as the other rooms in the house. He took a sip from a glass that was standing on the table. It tasted strange and smoky; it made him feel very tired. He rested his head on the table. He was just drifting off to sleep when his shoulder was grabbed and shaken,
‘Wake up!’ called a voice, ‘Wake up!’
Sluggishly the Cardinal opened his eyes and to his horror he saw that one wall of the real Monastery Gambling Room was a mass of flames. He had been wrong; this was not Heaven, it was Hell. Holding his arm was a black and red demon who was also shouting at him. Another black and red demon was beating at the flames and also shouting.
‘I repent!’ he shouted loudly, with a religious fervour that he had not experienced for many years.
‘Don’t leave me here,’ he shouted at the ceiling. There was no answer from above, but the demon pulled him from his seat and said,
‘I’m trying not to, but we must go!’
Realisation dawned slowly on the inebriated Cardinal and it was not until the other demon said,
‘We must go! I didn’t save you from that cupboard in order that you burn to death in the gambling room.’
That Mascarpone understood. He was in the gambling room that was somehow on fire and D’Orbergene and Heinrich, who had clearly been in the fire, were saving him!
‘Thank you!’ he shouted ecstatically, ‘Thank you! Take me from the flames! I shall be renewed! I shall be good!’
Heinrich, D’Orbergene and a number of the more fortunate guards had no time to ponder this strange exclamation as they needed all, their strength to run before the flames. They escaped down the corridor that led to the front door, just in time to emerge into the safety of the night air, at the same moment that Cardinal Bull’s group rounded the building in pursuit of Beowulf and the Louis’ who had fled to the Monastery gate.
‘I’m alive!’ screamed the transformed Mascarpone, when he saw Cardinal Bull, ‘I have been spared!’
‘For the moment, anyway,’ agreed Bull, who did not seem delighted to see him, ‘We must recapture the Louis’!’