The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(93)

The figure nodded. This was going to be easier than he had thought.

With his eyes, he measured the distance between his hiding place and the gate. Maybe thirty-five feet? He would have to be very quick and very silent, so the guards on the inner wall wouldn't notice him. It had been a piece of luck that he had been able to open the inner gate without anybody noticing. If he now managed to open the outer gate, too, all of this would finally be over. The Margrave would win the feud, and he would have his reward.

For a moment, he hesitated. Then three faces appeared in front of his mind's eye, and his jaw set in determination. For them! He was doing this for them!

Suddenly decided, he dashed from the shadows and across the yard, onto the path and into the shadow of the gatehouse. So eager was he to reach the safe shadows that he nearly slammed head on into the solid stone wall. Panting, he pressed himself against the stone and stared back up at the inner wall to see if any guard had noticed him down here.

But no. There was only one, and he was walking away to the west, his back turned towards him. As the man in the shadows saw that, his breathing became easier. Now for his final task. He steeled himself for what was to come. It had to be done.

Cautiously, he looked left and right to check one final time if there was anybody else in the outer courtyard who, by chance, might have noticed him. Nobody. The only movement came from the half-open door of the tower that moved a bit in the wind with creaking hinges. Reassured, he entered the gatehouse and stood before the giant wooden mechanism that was used to pull up the metal portcullis. Once it was up and the gates were open, the way would be free for the Margrave.

He gripped the first lever.

It was then that he realized something. The door of the tower had been swinging in the wind? But…there was no wind.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him.

“You! Stop right there!”

He whirled around, but it was too late. The two guards were already on him and grabbed his arms. He struggled, kicking and snarling ferociously. If he didn't shout, if he overpowered them, he could still do it! He could still earn his reward!

Then two more guards appeared in the door of the gatehouse, both wide awake and in full armor, and he realized he would not be able to overcome them. These weren't just random men out for a late night walk. They had been waiting for him.

“No!”

One of the men strode forward, an expression on his face that was as dark as the devil's heart, and raised a fist.

It's over, was the last thought the man had before the fist hit him in the head and he stopped struggling abruptly.

~~*~~*

“Check the gate mechanism!” the sergeant called to his men. “Are the pulleys still intact?”

Two of the guards went to the back of the gatehouse, and held up their torches to give everything a quick examination.

“Yes, Sir!”

“And the chains?”

“In perfect order, Sir!”

“Are the gates still closed?”

“Yes. And the portcullis is down, Sir. Everything is as it should be.”

“Good. You two, stay here.” Stepping outside, he gestured to the two guards, who immediately followed him out and took up positions on either side of the firmly closed gate. “The rest, follow me! And grab that piece of filth!”

The other two guards promptly seized the unconscious form on the floor. The traitor groaned, proving that he wasn't entirely unconscious after all. The guards didn't care. They didn't try to make him stand, just dragged him between them through the dirt.

The guards at the inner gate were already waiting, their eyes fierce in the torchlight, the gate standing wide. “You caught him?”

The sergeant nodded. “You bet we did.”

“And what’s going to happen to him now?”

“What do you think?” The sergeant half-turned to his two men, who were lagging a bit behind, hindered by their struggling burden. “Come on, you two! Milady is waiting!”

They did not choose the path to the main entrance of the keep, as one might perhaps have expected for a meeting with the mistress of the castle. Instead, they dragged their half-conscious captive to the rear of the keep, past the orchard and Sir Isenbard's grave, towards the entrance to a part of the keep that for a very long time had not been used: the dungeon.

“Stop!” the sergeant commanded. “We’re here!”

Right in front of the steel bar door that sealed the gloom of the dungeon from the outer world, they dropped their prisoner on the ground. He made a movement, maybe wanting to escape, but one of the guards slammed his foot into the traitor’s back and pressed him firmly into the ground. Soon after, the other one had managed to unlock the door. It squeaked ominously as it swung open.

“All right, men. Down into hell with him, where he belongs!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Grabbing their prisoner by the arms again, they began to drag him down the narrow staircase, not caring particularly if his knees scraped over the floor or if his head bumped against the wall. But they didn't just throw him down the stairs deliberately either, which, judging from their expressions, they were more than ready to do.

Finally, they reached their destination: one of the dungeon cells deep, deep underground, cut into the solid rock of the mountain. They unlocked one of the iron bar doors and dragged the moaning figure inside.