Something Red by Douglas Nicholas

Author:Douglas Nicholas [Nicholas, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781451660074
Google: Xrz6AorNQMMC
Amazon: 1451660073
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 2012-09-18T07:00:00+00:00

Part III

THE CASTLE

CHAPTER 12

GOSCELIN DISMOUNTED. HE wrapped his mount’s reins and Mavourneen’s lead rope about his free hand and held the torch high, peering through the snowfall to see what they were doing ahead. After a bit Molly’s wagon rumbled on, and Goscelin began to trudge forward, leading the two animals toward a short movable wooden bridge.

The bridge spanned a dry moat, two fathoms deep and as wide across; on the far side a tall hedge of English thorn ran along the inner bank of the moat, an impenetrable wall of intertwined branches thick with three-inch flesh-tearing spears. Ranulf had placed men on both sides of the bridge, with the sputtering tallow-and-pinewood torches casting a fidgeting light over the snow-covered planks. To either hand the snowflakes dropped into the golden torchlight, glittered an instant, and fell from sight into the dark ditch. The boards mumbled and banged beneath the hooves and wheels, and the wagon slid a little sideways, making Hob snatch for a handhold as his balance wavered. He sent a swift wordless prayer that the side rails of the bridge might be stout enough to hold the wagon if they struck. An instant later the skid stopped.

Then they were over the gap, still on the extended tail of the bridge. This tail rested on log rollers; the bridge could thus be drawn back toward the castle if necessary, leaving no way across the moat. The wagon rolled off the bridge tail and bumped down onto the clear stretch of snow-clad earth between the hedge and the castle gatehouse.

The gatehouse was formed from two round towers, midway in the western curtain wall. The towers were conjoined by a rectangular three-story structure that housed the entrance to the castle courtyard. The valves of the outer doors stood open, and Ranulf and the advance guard had already ridden in, trailing their share of the new horses. Their hooves rang on the stone, a hollow din, booming in the enclosed space. Molly’s wagon followed them, and there was still room within the gatehouse passage for the small middle wagon. Goscelin walked them in under the ceiling, a low-arched affair of stone, pierced with round holes; each hole was perhaps a cubit in diameter. The walls on left and right had narrow vertical openings in the stone: arrow slits.

They were now in a sort of short tunnel within the gatehouse. Behind them were the front doors, already being swung shut by men-at-arms from the porter’s gatehouse guard. The heavy valves swung closed with a ponderous grace; there was a muffled thud as they met. Other men grappled with handles set into the walls. The handles were set into squared-off logs shot back into holes in the side walls; these were now drawn out, gleaming with the animal fat worked into them as a lubricant. The beams were dragged across the width of the entranceway, sliding into brackets on the doors, strengthening the seal.

Ahead of the travelers was the portcullis, a heavy latticework of oak beams clad in beaten iron.

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