XXV
ENTR'ACTE
There had been no final understanding between Constans and Piers Majoras to the precise line of the attack upon the citadel. That must dependupon the successful carrying of the defences at the boundary and uponthe duration of the skirmishing in the streets. Both had agreed,however, that a night assault offered the better chances of victory. TheStockaders had no siege artillery with which to batter down the gates atlong range; they would have to march straight to the walls, and thedarkness would be in the nature of a protection from the missiles of theenemy. The moon, a little past the full, rose about nine o'clock, butits light was liable to be obscured by clouds. One of the sudden changescharacteristic of the month of May was in progress, and a cold wind wasblowing from the northwest. It promised to be half a gale by midnight,and already the sky was partially overcast. The initiative lay, ofcourse, with Piers Major, and Constans must use his own judgment inmaking the diversion in the rear.
"They are throwing up an inner barricade," said Piers Minor, atConstans's elbow. He looked, and saw that the space immediately in frontof the storehouses was being enclosed by a barrier of earth andpaving-stones. The Doomsmen were prepared, then, for the possiblecarrying of the main walls by assault. What could be the weak point inthe defence?
"The gate," suggested Piers Minor.
Constans levelled his glass and examined the barrier with attention. Thevaulted archway through the walls was about sixteen feet long by tenwide and as many high. At the street end it was closed by a gateconsisting of two wooden leaves, swung on hinges in the ordinary manner,and having as a central support a stout post firmly sunken into theground. The timber construction was of the heaviest, but axe and sledgewould make short work of it could they be brought near enough foreffective use.
At the inner entrance to the archway was suspended a portcullis ofwrought-iron bars. This was the real barrier, for, even if the attackingparty succeeded in battering down the outer gate, they would findthemselves cooped up in the passageway and exposed to missilesdischarged both through the grating and from trap-doors in the vaultedceiling. A well-conceived theory of defence, but its present practicewas complicated by an unexpected difficulty--the portcullis, longunused, had become jammed in the ways and refused to descend. A squad ofmen were sweating at the task, but so far they had accomplished nothing.
"You are right," said Constans, letting the glass fall and turning toPiers Minor. "What can they be thinking of--wasting time in thathopeless tinkering? The one important thing is to close thepassageway--if possible, by means of the portcullis; failing that, toblock it up. If Piers Major but knew--nay, he _must_ know."
Piers Minor nodded; he understood the appeal.
"I am going to tell him," he said, imperturbably. "I will be carefulabout keeping out of sight until well away from the vicinity of the'Flat-iron.' So as not to spoil sport for you," he added, smiling.
Constans accompanied Piers Minor to the street entrance, going over indetail the message that he was to bear to his father. A final admonitionof caution, and they parted. It was still broad daylight, and Constansreturned to his post of observation.
Of course, the expected happened. A report of the portcullis'sunserviceable condition had been finally made to Quinton Edge, andalready he was on the scene--a master indeed. The confusion, thecontradictory babel of voices, dies away into order and silence, and, asConstans had foreseen, his orders were to suspend operations on theportcullis and proceed with all speed to the blocking-up of the archway.Choked to the ceiling with loose stones and other debris, it would be aformidable barricade to carry by assault.
Constans strode up and down the room, devoured by impatience. PiersMinor had been gone now upward of half an hour, and yet there was nosign of preparation in the camp of the allies. It would take possibly anhour longer to make the vaulted passage impassable; Piers Major mustadvance within half that time if he would take advantage of this secretweakness in the defence. Failing to do so, he would be thrown back uponthe desperate adventure of the scaling-ladders, and the whole issuewould then hang upon the effectiveness with which Constans could bringoff his attack from the rear.
The restless fit passed, and Constans leaned out upon the window-sill,watching the darkening sky. A fierce revulsion seized him as he picturedto himself the scene upon which the morning sun would look--the kennelsred with blood, the horrors huddled in every corner, all the dreadfuljetsam cast up by the ensanguined tide of war. Of necessity, perhaps,must such things be--the endurance of a lesser evil that the greaterwrong might be forever blotted out. And yet his heart was heavy.
He looked out again upon the ruined wilderness of stone that hemmed himin. How he hated this monstrous city of Doom, infernal mother oftreacheries and spoils! How weary he was of wandering through its stonylabyrinths, fit symbol of his own oft-thwarted hopes! A vision of greenfields and quiet waters rose before him, he seemed to be walkingknee-deep in the lush grass starred with purple asters and the sweetmeadow-flag--it was the old home paddock of the Greenwood Keep; therewas the copse of white beeches, and through it came the flutter of awoman's gown. Eagerly he watched as she came to meet him--Issa; then sheturned her face full towards him, and he saw that it was Esmay. Hesprang forward.
A roll of drums beating the charge, and Constans started. "At last!" hesaid.
* * * * *
Piers Minor, keeping as closely as possible to cover, worked his wayslowly to the northward and towards the Stockader camp, on the PalaceRoad. But, being unfamiliar with the topography of the district, heinsensibly kept edging into dangerous proximity to the Citadel Square;suddenly he found himself within a short block of its eastern front. Heturned to retreat, and came face to face with a slender, black-eyedyouth who must have been following close upon his heels. Discovered, hetried to dodge, but Piers Minor was too quick, and they closed. Theyouth struggled gallantly, but the Stockader had all the advantage instrength; in another moment Piers Minor had his antagonist crushedhelplessly into a corner. He looked at the boy contemptuously.
"Not a sound, mind, or I'll twist your throat as I would ameadow-lark's. Why were you following me?"
The black eyes snapped back at him unwinkingly.
"Let me speak, then--you hurt me."
Piers Minor loosened his hold upon the slender throat.
"Go on."
"You are a Stockader, and there is a young man with you, fair-haired andwith dark eyes--Constans by name? Do you know him?"
"Well, and if I do?"
"Will you tell me where and how I can see him? Just a word, or, if not,then to send him a message."
"It is impossible," said Piers Minor, stolidly. "This is a time of war,and only for life and death----"
"It is a question of that," insisted the youth.
Piers Minor shook himself impatiently.
"Speak out, can't you? What is it that he would care to know?"
"Tell him, then, that last night Esmay disappeared, and yet stillremains in Arcadia House. He will understand, for he knows QuintonEdge."
"A woman!" ejaculated Piers Minor, in supreme disdain. "Always that."
"Yes, always that," retorted the boy, and Piers Minor burst into alaugh.
"You are a bold one," he said, half admiringly. "Well, I will tell him;I promise you that. And now what am I to do with you?"
The boy made a grimace. "We may part as we have met, with no one thewiser."
"I am not so sure of that," said the other, suspiciously. "You are aDoomsman, and you know me to be a Stockader--a spy, if you like. If itwere for myself alone I might trust you, but so much may hang----"
He stopped abruptly and his eyes darkened. "The only sure way lies at myknife-point." He scanned intently the face which paled before his gaze,yet changed not in the smallest line.
"Good!" said Piers Minor, heartily. "Although, indeed, I could neverhave done it. Yet I must bind and gag you," he added.
The boy pouted. "No; I will not have you to
uch me." He tried by a suddenmovement to slip under Piers Minor's detaining hand. The shock displacedhis cap, a fastening gave way at the same instant, and a mass of long,black hair tumbled down upon the youth's shoulders. Even then PiersMinor, being of masculine slow wit, might not have guessed the truth butfor a bright blush that overspread brow and cheek, a confession thateven his dull senses could not misinterpret.
"A woman!" he said, confusedly, and blushed as unrestrainedly in histurn.
Beholding his embarrassment, Nanna was relieved of her own.
"You will have to trust me, you see," she said, coldly.
The abashed Piers Minor murmured an indistinct assent.
"And you will not forget my message?"
"No, no! He shall have it at the earliest possible moment."
"Very good--it is understood, then. Now you may go."
Piers Minor had not a word to say. He had been meditating upon athousand possible explanations, excuses, apologies, and his tongue wouldnot utter one of them. He accepted his orders meekly, but as he turnedto go he managed to stammer out, "Of course--to meet again."
Nanna, to her own infinite amazement, answered with a look that meantyes, and knew that he had not failed to so understand it. As she walkedover to the Citadel Square she could feel that he was standing where shehad left him and looking after her. She would have turned to fittinglyrebuke behavior so indecorous, but something told her that her insulteddignity would be better saved by removing it to a greater distance.
Nanna entered the Citadel Square after some parley with the sentinels onthe walls, who grumbled at the trouble to which they were put to letdown a rope-ladder; but, being a daughter of the Doomsmen, she could notbe denied.
A little crowd of women and elderly men gathered about an ox-cart in thecentre of the square attracted her attention. They were listening to aspeaker who, standing upright in the wagon-body, was haranguing themearnestly. Nanna recognized him--Prosper, the priest.
It was the old story--repentance, the wrath of the Shining One, and theimminence of the judgment. The men of the garrison, absorbed in theirpreparations for defence, paid no heed; only this handful of old men andfearful women, who crept a little closer together as they listened andsought one another's hands. "To-day, to-day, even to-day, and Doom isfallen, is fallen!"
A disquieting thought flashed into Nanna's mind, the remembrance ofthose carefully arranged broken wires in the empty house not more than ablock away from the Citadel Square. Then of those other wires in thetemple of the Shining One, spluttering their wicked-looking sparks. Shestrained her ears to catch the humming drone of the engines in the Houseof Power, but there was no sound to be heard--they could not be running.
"Yet there will be mischief worked to-night if the priest has his way,"said Nanna to herself, and shook her black-polled head safely. "I almostwish that I had told _him_ of that, too." And then, unaccountably, sheblushed again, for all that it was dark and no one was looking at her.