Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (47 page)

‘Just shut up and keep working, you fool. We break in tonight or we face the lash.’

‘My hands are a mess I can’t keep this up,’ came another. Let’s take a vote. I say we go see Captain Sleeman. He’ll speak for us. It’s dark now. What’s the rush anyhow. Tomorrow is as good as any. They can’t escape. Let them think about what’s coming.’

Laughter followed and then a heavy banging on the door. ‘You in there,
Wolver
. What are you up to? Save us all the trouble open up and we’ll let you go. Just give us the woman. No one will know!’ It was said more in humour than any seriousness and they heard the others laugh before a final voice spoke angrily.

‘Come on, I’ll risk the lash, I’m off to see Piras Sleeman.’

Sylvion and Reigin waited for a moment, but when the silence outside persisted, they returned to the last and most difficult job.

The cauldron was cold and empty. They attached its four support chains to the iron ring which Reigin lowered down till it hovered just above the centre of the now cold and empty vault. Stripped of its banners it had become a soulless place.  The oil soaked wall torches which Grundig maintained gave a flickering eerie light, and without the warmth of the fire they did little to warm the huge vault. When all was ready Reigin slowly put all his strength into lifting the cauldron to the roof. Being copper it was not too heavy, but Sylvion had to help the huge man for he was physically spent from his long and bloody battle with the door frame. They finally had the cauldron swinging from the roof.

A rope which had been attached to the cauldron was then used to pull it toward the parapet, but that’s when the first major problem became apparent. To pull the cauldron sideways to the platform at the doorway required a strength which was beyond them both. Try as they might they could only get it within a dozen cubits before they began to lose purchase and the weight threatened to pull them both into the void. After several attempts Reigin quietly suggested they take a break and think better how it could be managed. Sylvion felt a panic rising in her stomach and a feeling of nausea swept through her gut. She refused to admit defeat, but the problem was beyond her.

‘I don’t know what to do Reigin. I did not foresee this. I am sorry.’

Reigin ignored her and went down the steps to the floor. He walked around looking up at the cauldron hanging so dangerously from the ceiling far above. She knew he was trying to work out a way to get it over to the platform, but his body seemed weary and unable to solve it. She sat down on the top step and waited. At that very moment the banging on the oak doors started up once more. It made her jump. Reigin seemed oblivious to it, although she realised that every pounding blow spoke of his death. Once more she whispered quietly.

‘I am so sorry Reigin for you deserve more than this.’ Her face was wet with tears and she cried softly from deep sadness and bitter frustration.

Suddenly Reigin seemed to come to life. He sprang up the steps and was at her side in a moment.

‘Sylvion, we can do this. I think I know how. We will get only one chance and it will take all our skill and judgement. Come my lady, do as I say, and we will win through.’ He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. She took a deep breath and listened as he explained his plan. Whilst he did, the first of the timbers on the oak doors splintered slightly revealing the tip of a huge war axe. It was pulled out quickly, as the battle to breach the doors continued.

Sylvion held the rope which ran to the cauldron. From the vault floor Reigin released the ropes which held it to the roof and on his command Sylvion pulled with all her strength. The cauldron swung towards her and as it swung back  Reigin lowered it a little and then used all his strength to lift it as Sylvion pulled it toward her once more. In this manner the cauldron began to swing in ever increasing arcs across the roof, and with each swing it came closer to the platform. Sylvion stepped back out the door onto the parapet roof and continued to pull from there as Reigin yelled out a single word so that the timing remained correct.

 ‘Now!’ was all he cried. The effort was quickly sapping his strength, for he bore the whole weight upon the pulleys. Finally the cauldron was swinging almost to the platform and then a little higher, and just at the right time, Reigin cried a final word.

‘Hold!’

And Sylvion used all her strength to keep the rope taught for as the cauldron completed the final arc Reigin released his ropes and the huge container continued its flight and crashed onto the platform with an enormous clang. It hit the stonework flipped onto its side and began to roll toward the void.

‘Hold Sylvion. Hold it now woman!’

Reigin tied his rope off in case it fell, and then sprinted with all his remaining speed and strength up the steps. He caught the cauldron as it began to topple over the edge and with a final heave he held it safe. They were both spent, but Sylvion forced herself to pull her rope taught and tie it off around part of the battlement stonework. She staggered back to the doorway. They looked at each other and smiled. It had been done.

As they recovered from this last exertion two of the wall torches flickered and died, and so a deep darkness began to overtake the vault from within. Reigin roused himself and made a final trip down to the floor and carried back the last of their supplies, some food and water. Finally all they required was on the parapet roof. The sounds of the attack on the oak doors was less arduous but every now and then the sharp splintering of a timber could be heard and the harsh clang of axe on iron reminded them that at times even the hinges and inner bracing was being sorely tested.

‘We have till midnight, no longer,’ said Reigin wearily as they stood in the cold night air, refreshed by the gentle breeze which still held from the north east. Sylvion nodded but was almost too tired to speak.

‘We will be free or dead very soon. Come, let us finish the task,’ she whispered, and then paused. She went and stood before the huge and weary warrior. She took his torn hands in hers and looked up into his lovely eyes. ‘Reigin, whatever the end of this, I will be always grateful. I am now in this moment in your debt forever. I will not forget this. You are brave beyond words, and I only hope that my mad scheme does not let us both down.’

They stood for a moment, joined in such a simple manner. Reigin had never felt such affection from another human, and his great heart took in the moment like a sponge in water. He smiled happily.

‘It has been a pleasure Sylvion. I aim to live long beyond this moment in your service.’ And then he broke the spell. ‘And I too hope your plan does not let us down.’

Realising the play on words Sylvion laughed and was joined by Reigin’s own deep chuckle, which surprised the man himself for he could not ever remember laughing so easily, and never with a woman, and here he was about to be set upon by two hundred angry soldiers or dropped from a great height onto the earth. For a short time he could not hold back, and the peals of mirth rang loudly out across the land.

By the light of a few flickering torches they attached the huge canopy to the cauldron by its chains, and then filled it with charcoal. Sylvion readied the food and the canvas hammocks so that they could be attached when the canopy was full and floating above them. Reigin lit the cauldron and they waited for the fire to build. The canopy sat empty, lying lifeless on the parapet roof, waiting for the heated air which shimmered in ever increasing amounts as the cauldron warmed and sent its fire to the sky above. The hammering from below kept up a deadly rhythm. Reigin suddenly thought of something and disappeared down into the increasingly gloomy vault. He cried out as he went.

‘I will return in moment Sylvion have no fear, for I know a way we can slow down the enemy.’ Once more he surprised himself for he had called the King’s soldiers his enemy and this was unthinkable; until this woman had entered his life. He briefly inspected the oak doors and could see that there were small holes in places and the splintering was quite advanced.

‘We have a span, perhaps two,’ he whispered to himself and then quickly left. He carried the large oil barrel Grundig used for his wall torches up the steps, and as he went he spilled it generously over the stonework. Arriving for a final time at the parapet door he rested the almost empty barrel by the battlements and proceeded to refit the door he had long laboured to remove. Using pieces of splintered timber he jammed it in place. It was not a perfect fit but it felt better than an open doorway and the inner platform was wide enough for only a few men. Reigin felt that he could push the whole lot in and send some of their attackers to their doom on the stone floor far below. He emptied some more of the oil under the door and kept a little for the torches on the parapet although the cauldron fire was now roaring fiercely and lit the whole roof well enough.

‘We are done my lady,’ he reverted to his initial mode of address and Sylvion did not challenge him, for it mattered little. ‘We have perhaps a span, two if the fire on the steps holds them back. What next?’

‘We must fill the canopy Reigin, and to tell the truth I have no idea how.’ As the fire had built it had become so hot that to try and stand before it and hold the canopy high enough above it to catch the heated air and not catch alight was impossible. She had worried about it whilst Reigin was absent and once more could not see a solution.

‘Perhaps together we can manage it,’ said Reigin, immediately concerned for he saw the problem clearly.

With little talk they lifted the base of the canopy and held it above their heads facing the opening to the fire and keeping it as high as they could manage. Sylvion was right. It was impossible. The hot air raced passed the opening and only the smallest amount even ruffled the canopy at all. A look of desperation passed between them.

‘What now? ‘said Reigin with an edge in his voice. He spoke to the air for he did not expect either of them to have the answer.

‘We can’t fail now Reigin, we just can’t. All the work, we must be able to get it full!’ Sylvion paced the parapet forcing herself to think. Finally she sat weary and defeated upon the vent hole wall in the centre of the roof, not far from where they had positioned the cauldron. It was like a small well but it acted as a chimney of sorts so that the huge vault below would not fill with smoke. The iron hoop which had carried the banner canopy sat just below it, allowing much of the heated air to escape, but in a slower manner than a normal chimney. A solid iron grating prevented a foolish slip becoming a tragedy, for it was vertical drop into the cauldron space far below. The sounds of the doors giving way came magnified through the vent.

‘I hear a voice,’ she cried. ‘Reigin they are almost through.’ He came and stood by her and peered down into the gloom below.

‘I see a torch. They must have made a hole.’ He spoke quietly for now he knew he would have to die, and it held no fear for him. ‘I will protect you as best I can my lady.’ He went and buckled on his sword. Sylvion refused to take her blade, for something deep within her understood that its time had not come. It was no more than a feeling but she obeyed it without question.

‘I will slow them a little,’ said Reigin, who went and took a torch from the battlements. He was about to light the oil which he had spilled under the refitted door, but on  a whim, no more, he lifted the oil barrel and brought it to the vent on which Sylvion still sat in despair. Without a word he emptied it down into the gloom. They heard it slap upon the floor and down into the empty cauldron space. Reigin took the torch and tossed it down through the iron grill after the oil. They both watched it fall. It seemed to float, twisting and turning, its light suddenly enhanced by the rushing air around it. The vault was illuminated in fearful shadows. They caught sight of a head at the oak doors peering through into the chamber. The opening was almost large enough for a man to get through, but not quite.

The torch landed in the splattered oil and seemed to be extinguished. They waited a moment, disappointed; then suddenly a bluish flame lit the air and engulfed the floor around the cauldron opening. A voice cried out a muffled warning. The fire took hold and almost immediately the two watchers above felt the gentle movement of hot air rising to meet them through the vent hole on which they perched. The fire grew quickly and soon they had to step back from the vent for the rushing air became too hot. Below, the floor was being consumed. And in the same moment both Sylvion and Reigin saw their salvation.

‘Quick Reigin the canopy!’

He understood without a further word needing to be said. They dragged the canopy from the cauldron toward the vent and were able to hold it over the stream of hot air. Suddenly the canopy came to life. It rippled with movement. It lifted and squirmed. It filled and jumped and shimmered like Sylvion had seen over and over in her mind whilst lying chained below on her rude oak bed. It was all they could manage to hold the now bucking canopy but with every ounce of remaining strength they held it fast over the rising torrent of hot air. Down in the vault chamber the air was sucked through the splintered oak doors with a fearful sound and so fed the inferno which prevented any of the waiting armed soldiers from entry. Captain Bach was speechless with rage, but there was nothing they could do until the fire burnt itself out. The oil on the steps caught alight and raced upward till the very parapet door smoked and began to burn from the inside.

Within a short time the canopy lifted clear of the roof and swung up over the searing cauldron which now fed it a life of its own. The wind pushed it sideways and they quickly tied the opening directly over the cauldron by means of a few ropes back to the stonework. It had happened so quickly, and the amazing spectacle took them by complete surprise, for their above them swaying gently in the breeze was the biggest lantern the known world had ever seen. It carried the dancing pictures of the history of the
Iridin,
and glowing brightest was that of Iridin-Siraith and the prince whose blade had held all in thrall.