‘Bar the door,’ Hal advised and they fell to it, moving the heavy trestles. Then they shifted the lolling Widikind, his naked, streaked body trailing fluids like a bad winesack; Kirkpatrick did not say it, but he thought the man was not long for this world. Unless they could find a way out of this place, at once prison and fortress, none of them were.
‘This Guillermo will come to talk soon,’ Kirkpatrick informed everyone with certainty. ‘He will threaten and cajole. After that will come the hard part.’
Hal was on the point of demanding to know the whole of it, annoyed at being kept so in the dark, but Kirkpatrick’s prophecy was proved true with the innocuous twitch of the hanging over the gallery entrance. Sim, watching carefully, called the warning.
‘Cover,’ he snapped and Hal, glancing backwards as he scurried behind a table, saw the figures move smoothly out on to the gallery, latchbows ready. Behind them came the tall, saturnine figure of Guillermo, a scowl on his handsome face.
‘Ach,’ Sim declared with disgust, cranking the arbalest like a madman. ‘There are times when I wish you were no’ as sharp in your thinkin’, Kirkpatrick, but I prig the blissin’ o’ the blue heaven on you for it.’
‘God be praised,’ Kirkpatrick answered piously.
‘For ever and ever.’
Guillermo stared down at them and silence fell, broken only by the harsh of breathing and the clank of Sim resting his arbalest on a steadying edge. That slight sound seemed to break the moment.
‘You would be wise not to trigger that monster,’ Guillermo warned. ‘Those tables will not stand against the quarrels from my own bows at this range.’
‘You dare not kill us,’ Rossal said quietly and stepped from behind cover. Hal moved as if to drag him back and felt Kirkpatrick’s hand on his forearm; when he looked, he was given a quiet smile and a shake of the head, which only left him more bewildered than ever.
‘You do not know which of us holds the secret of the treasure you seek,’ Rossal went on, ‘now that you have discovered the truth.’
Hal’s gaze was wide-eyed, matched only by Sim, but Kirkpatrick merely flashed them a smile and put his fingers to his lips.
‘Sand,’ Guillermo declared with disgust. ‘Boxes of sand. And some lead for the weight. Clever. Now you will tell us where you have hidden the treasure. You will do this or suffer.’
‘You should not’, Rossal flung back, ‘have left the likes of us our arms, for you cannot inflict suffering without a fight and we will neither step back nor surrender, so you will have to kill us. You cannot do that, my lord, if you want the secret you seek. So your threats are an empty mistake. And not nearly as bad as the one which led you to this betrayal. You are a serpent in Eden, my lord, whose own bite will be fatal for you.’
‘Three Poor Knights,’ Guillermo sneered, ‘one half-dead already. And three old men. A jester with a bladder on a stick could overpower you.’
‘Bigod!’ Sim bellowed. ‘I will send a bolt to rip away his liver and lights.’ He was held back only by the combined efforts of Kirkpatrick and Hal and eventually forced silent.
‘You have one hour to consider matters,’ Guillermo declared, unfolding his arms and sweeping back through the archway, the two archers filtering warily after him.
The breath came out of them sudden and together, so that it sounded like a small wind; Kirkpatrick and Hal let go of Sim, who shook himself angrily, like a bristling dog.
‘You had better explain this,’ Hal said wearily to Kirkpatrick, ‘for it seems to me everyone kens the meat of it save myself and Sim. I am sick of your close mouth, Kirkpatrick, particularly when you drag me and those I care for by your side.’
‘Guillermo is an ambitious wee scrauchle,’ Kirkpatrick answered blandly, ignoring Hal’s scowls, ‘winsome, but with a wanthrifty soul, whose sister is as black-avowed as he is. Guillermo wants to be Grand Master of his Order and the one who occupies that space is no capering fool – his name is Ruy Vaz and he had his suspicions.’
‘He might well be behind it,’ Hal pointed out and Rossal shook his head, a quiet, sad smile lifting the black beard.
‘Ruy Vaz is the one who sent warning to us and a solution. The warning came by one of his agents, one close to the sister.’
‘Piculph,’ Sim declared, remembering the hissed revelations of Widikind; all heads turned to where the German, bundled in a cloak, lay trembling and rolling-eyed. Dying, Hal thought dully.
‘So it appears, though we were not told of it,’ Kirkpatrick went on. ‘But we devised this cheatry about the gold. Even sent out decoy ships as if it was real.’
‘It is fake?’ Sim demanded truculently. ‘We came all this way – I boaked up my guts for a ruse?’
‘The fish send their thanks,’ de Villers declared, grinning as he arranged the trestles round the door leading to the belltower.
‘The treasure is here,’ Rossal answered before Sim bubbled up, ‘and we must get it to Ruy Vaz to exchange for the weapons we have promised King Robert.’