THEY had only one hope of getting free. By some means they must cross the open courtyard, and creep round to the Castle gate before the coming dawn had time to reveal them.
On hands and knees they made for the open. With no longer the shadow of the Castle walls to conceal them, their peril was greatly increased. More than once they stopped and lay full length on the ground, so near they were to discovery. It seemed as if they would never be able to get to the point they had fixed upon, which was the precarious shelter of a few stunted shrubs growing near to the Castle gate.
It was a long while before they could reach that security. Not long perhaps in point of fact but an age in experience. Each time they lay down on the hard cobblestones to avoid some new danger they expected the dread proclamation to ring in their ears. It seemed little short of a miracle, such was their exaggeration of events, that the escape was not known already.
At last they were come to the place they sought, hard by the gate. And here it was that the Providence which thus far had used them so well seemed now to desert them. To their horror they realized that the east was already light. The only hope of getting clear had been to slip unseen through the gate at a moment it might chance to be open for the admission of others. But from the first they had known that daylight would make the risk too great to admit of any such expedient.
They must find some other way. Yet Anne well knew there was no other way. The Castle was surrounded by walls it was impossible to scale, except on the south side. Here the parapet was low, and for a sufficient reason. Beyond the south wall the Castle rock ended abruptly. A terrible chasm, hundreds of feet in depth, lurked beneath.
They had soon decided that the gate could not avail them now. Thus they crept away to the left in the direction of the south wall, taking cover as they went beneath a row of laurel-bushes. But no sooner had they reached the wall than they saw, even in the gray twilight, that it was certain death to climb it and hazard a descent of the sheer precipice on the farther side. What could they do? Every moment it was growing lighter.
By now Gervase had shaken off his lethargy. One who has lain weeks in a prison and has composed himself for death can hardly be expected to take occasion by the hand. But the fine and keen air of the morning and the almost miraculous chance of life that had been given him had done much to restore his numbed faculties. A resolve had already been born in his heart to sell his life very dearly. In the last resort he was determined to attempt the almost impassable face of the cliff.
But there was his brave companion. She seemed to read his mind. And reading it she summoned the courage of despair. “If there is no other way we will crawl down the rock,” she said.
“It would be death, mistress.”
The clear eyes that were so unafraid shone like stars through the gray light. “I do not fear death,” she said in a low voice. “Rather death than the whip or a dungeon underground.”
Dismally he realized that there was no answer to this argument. “We will go together, mistress, wherever it be—unless—” a deadly chill corroded the young man’s veins—“I walk back to my prison.”
“No, no,” said his deliverer tensely. “Anything rather than that.”
Every minute it was growing lighter. They crouched under the scanty cover of the laurel-bushes, not knowing which way to turn or what to do. All their senses were strung to catch the alarm they were ever expecting to hear. But the miracle still endured; the alarm was not yet given. Yet it was impossible that it could be much longer delayed.
In despair they crept farther along the wall. They must choose a place for the grisly descent, yet even as they looked far down over the parapet of the wall they hardly knew how to face such a hideous alternative.
“It is certain death for us both,” said Gervase. “It is better that I returned to my prison if you are sure there is no other way of escape.”
“Do you fear the rock?” The firm voice was low and calm.
“For you I fear it, mistress.”
The starlike eyes pierced him with their light. “For myself,” said Anne, “I fear only to be left alive.” Very deliberately she took the dagger from her belt. “Wherever you go,” she said as she offered it by the hilt, “I would have you plunge this into my heart rather than you left me.”
His cold fingers trembled on the hilt of the dagger, but even as they touched it he knew that such a deed was far beyond his present strength. “Better the rock than that,” he said.
“Yes, better the rock.”
Such a steadfast courage was like wine in his veins. Suddenly he flung his arms about her and folded her to him. One slow kiss was pressed upon the upturned mouth. Certain death awaited them, and they were young to die, but there was now no way of life. And at least by God’s mercy they had known one high moment which paid for all.
It was the man’s part first to mount the parapet. Shuddering in every vein, he began to climb up to it. He was not a coward, but the desire of life was running desperately high. The girl followed close after him. Her will was firmer than his because her imagination was less.
Gervase had nearly reached the coping of the low stone wall when Anne caught at his heel and drew him down again. “See,” she cried. “Is not that a hole in the ground along there by that farthest bush?”
“It may be so,” said the young man, fearing for his resolve. “But let us not look back. If this were done let it be done now.”
But sudden resolution had come upon Anne. Or was it that resolution was failing her? At least with this new and faint hope she was able to draw Gervase from the wall. His will had been strung to meet the death he feared with all his soul, but the passion of life in his pulses heeded her call in spite of himself.
There was a void, it seemed, gaping in the ground behind the bushes but a few yards off. But Gervase could scarce drag his body towards it as they crept close by the wall to see what it might be. For now he felt with a dull sense of terror that the great moment was past. His insurgent nerves told him that not again in cold blood would he climb to the parapet of the wall.
From this new errand he looked for no deliverance. But as soon as they came near they saw that the void, barely visible in the gray light, was a hole in the ground. It seemed to be a kind of cavern or deep passage burrowing far down into the very bowels of the earth. As far as they could discern it was provided with rude steps of stone, and the mouth of the cavern was protected by an iron grating.
They did not wait upon one another’s word, but at once and together put forth all their strength to remove this barrier. It was so heavy that it scarcely yielded at first. But sheer desperation armed them, so that at last they were able to move the grating sufficiently to permit first one of their slender bodies and then the other to squeeze through the narrow opening into the total darkness that lay beyond.
By the time they had descended three steps they could see nothing. Absolute night yawned under their feet. The unknown, terrible and immeasurable, began slowly to receive them. Whither they were going they did not know. Where the cavern led, what they would find at the end of it or what they were likely to encounter by the way were matters about which it was vain to speculate. All that they knew was that for the time being they were very precariously delivered from a more instant peril.
It might be perhaps that they were going to a doom more terrible, since the unknown is ever more sinister than the known. For aught they knew the stone steps might carry them through that appalling darkness to the verge of a deep well or some abyss that would shatter them in pieces as surely as a fall from the rock itself.
Sheer desperation urging, however, they prepared to descend step by step into the noisome earth. Gripping each other’s hand tightly, they started very slowly to go down the steps. And now it was that they had cause to regret bitterly that the lantern which had guided Anne to the prison had been left under the Castle wall as being a thing that had already served its turn. At this moment its help would have been beyond price.
Holding each other by the hand, their hearts violently beating, they yielded themselves to the care of Providence. The descent was sheer, slow and terrifying. Bats, undisturbed for many a long year, began to hover round them. They could not see anything; a foul miasma hardly allowed them to breathe; each step they took was likely to be their last, but not for a moment did they pause in their descent.
They were like a pair of twin souls in the avernus. The sense of nameless fear enfolding them was awful, overmastering.
“Whither does it lead?” said Gervase at last, his whole being now in revolt.
“I know not,” said his companion. “But so long as we are like this, hand in hand together, there is surely no need to care what lies ahead.”
Such an answer, spoken with the clear force of a noble resolution, thrilled in his heart. The courage that was his by nature, which the bitterness of his recent pass had overthrown, came back to him. If death must come, let it come to them now as each held the hand of the other. They began to move more quickly, and now with a sort of recklessness, far down into the chasm that yawned darker and darker below them. Minutes passed; step succeeded step, yet still they had not come to the final one.
Would this descent never end? Would they never again see the light? The desire to know what lay ahead grew so intense as to be almost unendurable. This dreadful suspense through which they were passing was neither more nor less than torture.
It began to seem certain that they would find themselves in some pit or oubliette or forgotten dungeon underground. In that case there was some hope of concealment, in which they might lie through the day. And if their pursuers had not the wit to find them, when the darkness came they might again ascend to the courtyard, and carry out their first design of escaping through the Castle gate.
At last, after at least a full hour of this torture by hope, the steep, narrow, winding stone stairs came suddenly to an end. It was impossible to go farther ... a wall confronted them. It would appear that the descent ended in a cul-de-sac. Before accepting this as a fact, however, Gervase gave the wall a kick in order to attest its nature. To his surprise he found it to be made of wood.
That fact served to tell him that here was not the natural end of those strange stone stairs. Something lay beyond. Conceivably this wall was a door. But so heavy was the darkness that it was impossible to tell.
Gervase set to work with the dagger his companion had given him, in order to see if he could not pierce this barrier and gain a clue to these hidden mysteries. But the point of the weapon was delicate and the wood was tough. It was impossible to make any progress. At last, realizing the attempt was vain, in a kind of despair he hurled the whole weight of his strong frame against the door in the faint hope that it might yield.
Sometimes it happens that when a man has grown utterly desperate, an inspired accident shows him the way! Gervase had looked for no result from that reckless, despairing fling of his shoulders against that dark wall, but to his surprise an odd creaking and cracking at once arose. The wood was rotten with age. In the next instant, to the unspeakable joy of Gervase and his companion, a faint worm of light came creeping through a rent in a door.
Daylight lay beyond! So cruelly had their nerves been fretted by the slow descent into cavernous darkness, that they could have cried out for joy at the light. Together they hurled their strong young shoulders against the door. Further rendings and tearings followed. Then came an ominous crack, and there was a breach in the door wide enough for them to pass through.
Their eyes were blinded by a flood of golden light. It was broad day, and once again were they breathing the air of morning. But where were they. They had come, it seemed, into a small paved yard. In front of them was a wall and a line of low buildings. In the middle of the yard was a large farmer’s wagon containing a number of sacks of corn. To this vehicle a pair of horses was attached.
They crept very cautiously out of the door in the rock, and not then until they had first made sure that the yard was empty.
“This is the yard of the Castle brewhouse,” said Anne. “There is a door yonder which opens into a lane that runs down to the river.”
They ran swiftly across the yard, found the door unbarred, and at once were free of the Castle precincts. They were now in a long, narrow lane. It needed but a swift glance to tell them there was not a soul in sight. Thereupon they took to their heels and started to run down the lane for dear life.
It was more than a mile in length and it led straight to the river. It was narrow, muddy and uneven, winding through swampy marshland over all manner of rough ground. But in spite of the many difficulties it presented they dashed so fiercely along the lane that it seemed as if their hearts must burst.
Providence was with them still. All the way to the river they did not meet a soul. Great as was their good fortune, it was yet less remarkable than it appeared, since the path they had taken was a rude cart-track rather than a road, with a tall hedge growing on either side.
At last the Trent in all its morning splendor lay before them. With sides heaving and breath sobbing, they flung themselves beside it, burying their faces in the icy grass.