Duel at Dawn by Kevin Berry

Author:Kevin Berry [Berry, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-11-22T04:30:00+00:00

Escape through the window

You decide to escape. You’ve heard enough of their conspiracy, and it’s probably best to get away and tell someone rather than stay and possibly be killed for spying on them.

A diversion would help. You lift the heavy drape and fling it at the advancing Henri and Jean-Baptiste. It covers their heads so they can’t see and entangles them and their swords long enough for you to slip through the window onto the balcony.

It’s too far to jump to the street without risking serious injury, so you vault over the balcony railing and grab hold of the ivy on the side of the house. Some of it tears away but most of it holds your weight. You scuttle down, hand over hand, using your feet to find further support from the ivy. A few seconds later you feel solid earth beneath your feet.

There’s no time to waste. You must get away. You race across the street and towards the nearest corner. The beggar has moved on. Shame. You could have asked him to delay or mislead the count and marquis if they pursue you, which they surely would.

You hear a door slam and the footsteps of two people after you. You run around the corner, relying only on moonlight and starlight to show the way. It’s too dark for them to be able to identify you at this distance, but you dare not allow them to get any closer.

A glance behind reveals they are about fifty yards away. You stumble on a loose flagstone and sprawl heavily to the ground. Must get up. You scramble to your feet and hurry on. They are closer now. How can you give them the slip?

You round another corner. Ahead of you, at the next intersection, is a tavern, The One-Legged Frog. Light and sounds of merriment issue forth. Maybe you could hide in there. Where’s the entrance? Is it on this street or around the corner?

But your pursuers would guess that’s where you’ve gone. There’s nowhere else to hide. You’re breathing heavily and sweating. If you go inside they’d find you, and there’d be no escape.

You round the corner, thinking hard. The tavern entrance is here. It’s busy inside. You could go in. But a better option presents itself. A handcart and some barrels stand a few yards beyond the doorway. You bound onto the handcart, leap onto the barrels and throw yourself upward, reaching for the edge of the tavern roof.

Grunting with effort, you pull yourself up and over the overhanging edge, rolling onto the gentle slope of the roof out of sight moments before Henri and Jean-Baptiste race around the corner.

They come to an abrupt stop. “Where’s that young Musketeer?” Henri says. “Disappeared?”

“Probably gone into the tavern, you fool. Let’s look inside.”

They enter the inn. You figure you’ve got a couple of minutes at the most while they look for you inside. You scurry up the roof, over the top and down the other side. The building next

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