the Marshal will hunt you all down. His soldiers will scour every village, every house; nook and cranny until he erases that last trace of resistance, and he will take countless innocent lives in the process.” Nicholas looked at Simeon knowing he was a broken man. His words were hard and demanding. “You began the rebellion and you have no option but to finish it.”
Simeon looked at him. “No. I cannot ask them again, I cannot finish it… But you can. They will follow you Nicholas.”
“They will Nicholas,” said Antony beside him, as other voices around them called to agree.
Simeon almost pleaded. “Lead them Nicholas they will follow you wherever you lead.”
Nicholas was unsure. “This was never my rebellion.”
“Yes it was,” said Antony sincerely. “But you would not allow yourself to believe it.” His tone filled with passion. “I for one will follow you Nicholas Day of Boramulla. I will follow you to the gates of hell; if the gates of Quone hold closed against us.” He turned around to the bedraggled group “Who will be with me, and behind Nicholas of Boramulla when we take Quone for the rebellion?”
Nicholas saw the tired faces look at him; then one spoke firmly. “I will,” the man said unsurely: a second spoke, “Me too.” And then a third, even louder. “The rebellion lives,” and suddenly they were all volunteering. Antony looked back at him with a satisfied look “Nicholas of Boramulla; we began the rebellion without you, but now for all the citizens of Loc-Sie; you have no option but to finish it.”
Nicholas wanted to refuse, but he knew deep down that it really was up to him to finish it, one way or the other. “Take the guards weapons and lock them all in the cells,” he said unemotionally. “Maryanne, I need you to lead us to the armory then lead those who can’t fight down to the stables, and hide them there.”
“I will; shall I try and slip them out if I can?”
“No, we will not give the Marshal reason to scour the city if things go wrong. Do what you can for them and then melt back to your duties.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I will do what I can, and stay with them, by dawn we all celebrate, or die.”
Nicholas nodded and then looked at the fear on Simeons face. His friend had been beaten beyond belief. He could only imagine what it would have been like for them all, trying to block their ears to the guards opening the door to take one or another prisoner out; listening to the screams coming down the hall; mixing with the laughter of the guards torturing them; and waiting their turn. How long had it taken until the sadists had sated themselves; or had the guards eventually grown bored with their cruel games and returned to the garrison to drink themselves into a stupor with the Marshal’s ale: Nicholas had no idea, but the man before him was almost useless in what they were about to do, but Nicholas had to make him part of it. “Simeon,” he said with only a trace of friendship in his tone. “Release everyone, and stay by me. Tell me what you know of the fortress: this place is strange to me, and to be advised, is to be warned.” He turned to Antony. “Arm the most able men with the guard’s weapons; we shall get more, but not yet by open fighting. Stealth must be our purpose.”
Antony’s punished frame seemed to stand taller. “You have a plan?”
“We have better than a plan we have total surprise,” Nicholas spoke towards Simeon. “Nearly all the guard are drunk and unaware the tables turn against them. Antony and I will take only the strongest with us; those of less bulky frame, or those too badly wounded for hand fighting will stay at the armory. You must barricade and hold it at any cost to prevent the guard re-supplying.”
“It will be over my corpse if they do,” Simeon said with resolve.
Around Nicholas people began to move. They were a shadow of those who entered the courtyard, but they were still alive and ready to fight. “We must travel with speed; yet not be seen,” he said to Maryanne. “We cannot be discovered before we have the weapons we need, and far longer if we can.”
She nodded.
“We are ready?” He looked at Simeon and Antony; they too nodded in reply. “From this moment on no talking, no noise.”
Guided by Maryanne, Nicholas led them to the garrison complex. The closer they came the less any guide was needed; all they had to do was follow the noise.
“The hall has two entrances,” she said in a whisper. “One to each end.”
“Windows?”
“Large ones; they are higher than a tall man to the sills, and run the length of the western side.”
“Then they will be contained,” said Nicholas, knowing the garrison was at least two floors above the stone courtyard. “They will have no choice but to fight or die: the eastern side?”
“The door leads into a hallway and the dormitory.”
“The hallways have stairwells?”
“Yes, up and down.”
“Are there likely to be other places where there will be guards?”
“Yes the eastern hallway leads onto the dormitory, the West only to the stairwell.”
“The armory?”
“The floor below. The stairs from the hall and dormitory lead to it. Again there is a door at either end, but none in the middle, or windows.”
Nicholas nodded. “Then we go first to the armory.”
“The armory is in the next passage,” Maryanne whispered. “Wait here and I will distract the guard.” She strode confidently around the corner then stopped: turned, and beckoned them in bewilderment.
Nicolas cautiously followed. There was no guard: it really did seem the Marshal confident. He strode to the door and found it open, “This is too easy,” he said dubiously.
“You are disappointed?” smiled Simeon. “Why lock the armory, by your own words he knows he has won, and if his soldiers did need weapons urgently they would not want to wait while the key holder is found?”
“I suppose that is right?” Nicholas agreed reluctantly. “But no guard? He is too confident by far for my liking.” He pushed the thought back as the men passed by him. “Every man is to take a bow, and a quiver of arrows. Arm yourselves well, but not to disadvantage yourself.” He turned to Simeon. “Barricade the door as best you can; we are too few to fight the guard on equal terms.”
“They will get nothing from here Nicholas. I will burn the keep down before I release any to them.”
Nicholas looked at him. “We are relying on you to make sure they do not.” He waited as Antony returned carrying his chosen weapons. “Antony take some men and make your way to the western door of the hall. I will take the rest and circle to the dormitory. Once we have it secured, we will enter the hall. Be ready but wait until you hear a bow shaft strike the door. That alone will be your signal to enter the room. Make sure your men know that they must not enter, or be discovered before that bolt strikes. We must have surprise. Once inside do not leave the doorway; keep your backs to the wall and move to the left on entering. We will do the same and move to our left. Neither of us will have the luxury of time to choose targets, so if anyone moves across to the right side in the mêlée that follows, they will die with any guard that fight. Is that understood?”
Antony nodded
“Accuracy is not needed, so choose the fastest bowmen: time to reload will be in short supply, and it is critical that we have a storm of arrows in the initial volley’s to eliminate as many as we can. We don’t know what number of guard there are, but there is no doubt enough that in a rush they will overpower us. We must hit hard: without mercy, and keep the advantage.” Men were passing back out now carrying hand weapons of all kinds. Nicholas turned to Simeon and put his hand on his shoulder. “If things go our way we will meet again soon.”
Simeon smiled, “And if not, in whatever comes after this life.”
Nicholas’s group entered the dormitory quietly and found eighteen guards in a drunken sleep, who were quickly subdued, gagged and tied with strips of their own bed linen. There was a rack of arms that they removed and located to use in case of a retreat. Sile
ntly Nicholas led them from the room to outside the hall and to the iron studded timber door. His mind was entirely occupied judging what consequences the doors weight and inertia would present them. He was ready, and looked up around at their faces. His heart raced but he had no fear, yet he saw it in their eyes. They knew the odds and had draped themselves in weapons because of it. It was a mistake and he had warned them not to, but how could he tell them to discard what they were sure they needed.
Nicholas knew this was the time that everything rode on. The guard were trained and disciplined and if ordered they would charge irrespective of casualties: if they did, the pathetic band of rebels was doomed. There was no immodesty in his mind but Nicholas knew that everything rested on him. They needed a leader whoever it was, and this time it was he. He turned from them and gently gripped the door handle: it was oiled and turned easily, and silently. He pushed feeling it move almost effortlessly on its hinges; beyond he could see into the room.
One brief scan of the revelry inside told him all the facts he wanted to know; then like a magnet his eyes were drawn to a young woman beneath a carved refectory table. She crouched, legs drawn close to her body, head touching her knees: her long blonde hair cascaded over her nakedness, and from her form he estimated she was in her late teens. As he watched one of the group of drunkards standing around her shouted. It seemed to Nicholas’s ears