Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Mathias rushed forward, shoving aside heavy beams and pieces of roof that were still smoldering.
His soldiers followed him and quickly, they began to tear away at the debris that had fallen down against the old iron grate.
In fact, the grate itself was twisted and soft from the extreme heat that had been burned against it.
As a smithy, Mathias knew the heat factor well.
It must have been intense. He struggled and coughed as he fought to clear the debris field near the vault entry.
“Cathlina!” Saer screamed as dozens of Englishmen tried to remove the carnage. “Cathlina, can you hear me? The key, daughter, we need the key!”
Mathias, fighting through a piece of roof that was still burning, looked at him curiously. “What key?” he asked, coughing as smoke billowed up in his face.
Saer pointed to the giant lock on the iron grate. “We need the key,” he repeated breathlessly. “I gave it to Cathlina.”
Mathias could see what he was referring to. The iron grate was heavy and old, and the key was needed for the massive lock. He gave a big shove to the burning debris so he could peer down the dark, steep stairwell into the vault. At the bottom, all he could see was more debris and darkness.
“Cathlina!” he roared.
There was no answer and his anxiety surged. Burning debris had toppled down the stairs through the iron grate and the steps were littered with it. Smoke was thick. In fact, it filled the stairwell and the blackness at the bottom. He turned to Saer.
“We must get in there now,” he said, a panicked edge to his voice. “Do you have any smithy tools?”
Saer’s mind was nearly gone, overwhelmed with what had happened to his castle and to his family, but he managed to nod to Mathias’ question.
“We did,” he said, lifting his shoulders helplessly. “I do not know what has become of it in the battle. It could be lost.”
“Show me where it was. Mayhap there is something left I can use.”
As the soldiers continued to frantically remove the debris, Saer and Mathias raced out to the bailey to what was left of the trade shacks near the stables. They had all been burned. The place where the smithy and the tanner’s sheds once stood was now a heap of rubble. Saer began plowing through it.
“In here, somewhere,” he said as he threw aside charred wreckage. “This is where the smithy and the tanner were. Any tools will be under this mess.”
Mathias just kept digging through it, tossing wreckage aside as he tried very hard not to think of Cathlina.
To do so would threaten his control and he needed that very badly if he had any chance of getting into the vault.
As he dug through the burnt timber and thatch, he saw Sebastian approach, covered with gore.
The man was looking at him very curiously. Mathias waved him over.
“Cathlina is here,” he told his brother, sounding edgy and winded. “She is in the vault but we cannot get to her.”
Sebastian could see that his brother, his cool and collected brother, was verging on panic. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Mathias returned his attention to the ruins of the smithy shacks. “If I can find pliers and a measure of wire, I may be able to turn the tumblers on the old lock.”
Sebastian was confused. “What lock?”
“The lock to the vault.”
“But where is the key?”
Mathias looked up at him and Sebastian swore he saw tears in the man’s eyes.
“She has it,” he muttered. “Her father gave her the key and told her to lock the family into the vault, the safest place during a siege. Now the vault is filled with smoke and we cannot rouse her. I must get to her, do you hear? I must.”
Sebastian began throwing aside burnt wood in an attempt to get to the bottom of the pile.
He didn’t even ask what Cathlina was doing at Kirklinton when she was supposed to be at Carlisle.
He didn’t ask any more questions because he was certain that Mathias would not take any delay, no matter how small, well.
He’d never seen such terror in Mathias’ eyes and it deeply concerned him.
Therefore, he helped them clear out the debris.
Mathias located a long, slender pair of pliers that were red-hot.
He nearly burned himself on them but tossed them aside.
Saer was still digging through the debris and Sebastian was kicking aside charred wood and other remains.
Finally, Mathias came up with two long, slender rods of iron usually used when repairing iron tools.
With the pliers in one hand and the iron rods in the other, he bolted for the great hall. Saer and Sebastian followed.
The soldiers had managed to clear away a good deal of the debris by the time they returned.
The arched entry to the vault was completely exposed and the old iron grate was torqued and hot from the fire.
Mathias dropped to his knees in front of the old iron grate, his focus on the big iron lock in front of him.
“Can’t we unhinge it?” Sebastian asked as he tried to gain a better look at the hinges.
Mathias shook his head. “It is impossible,” he said. “Take a look for yourself. They are very nearly melted to the frame. Whoever built this built it to withstand a great deal. Nay, little brother, we cannot unhinge it. I must see if I can open this lock without a key.”
Sebastian stood next to his brother as the man took the two slender iron rods and poked them inside the old lock, trying to move the mechanism inside.
Saer stood at the grate, watching in fear and anticipation as Mathias attempted to unlock it.
He kept turning his attention to the stairwell and the smoky darkness below. He’d never felt such anguish.
“Cathlina?” he called again. “Rosalund? Can anyone hear me? Roxane?”
It was pathetic, really. The poor man was trying to rouse his family when they more than likely could not be roused.
He kept calling to them and the more he called, the more the silence was truly painful.
Mathias could feel it even though he was struggling with all of his might to ignore it.
If he succumbed to the bone-numbing grief that the silence provoked, then all would be lost. And he could not, would not, give up.
Not when Cathlina’s life hung in the balance. He would never, ever give up.
Please God, he silently prayed. Please do not let anything happen to her.
You have ignored me a great deal over the past two years but I beg that you not ignore me now.
Give me the skill and strength to save the one person in my life who has given me joy and love above all else.
Do not give her to me only to cruelly take her away.
Tears filled his eyes as he prayed, clouding his vision as he struggled to manipulate the old tumblers. He tried blinking them away but they just kept coming. Soon, they were spilling from his eyes and he paused to angrily wipe them away. He didn’t have time for tears. Cathlina was waiting for him.
But it was an agonizing wait. The minutes ticked by and he continued to twist the rods in an attempt to roll the tumblers.
The roof overhead was still burning and twice, big hunks of debris had fallen dangerously close to him.
Sebastian was watching him over his shoulder and a dozen English soldiers were standing around, watching and waiting while their commander tried to pick a lock.
Saer could hardly take the strain and had taken to pacing in a circle, his head in his hands.
Just as the stress grew too great to bear, the old tumblers finally gave way and the lock sprung.
Sebastian heard the click and saw the bolt lift.
He reached out and yanked on the hot iron, pulling it back and nearly mowing his brother down in the process.
But Mathias was quick on his feet, diving down the dark and cluttered stairwell, avoiding the debris as best he could with an army of men following him.
When he came to the second grate at the bottom, he pushed his face against the slats to try and gain a better look at the room beyond.
“Cathlina!” he roared.
His voice echoed off the walls and he heard coughing.
It was thick with smoke and bad air, and several pieces of burning debris had managed to fall in between the iron bars, now burning on the dirt floor of the vault.
Mathias called her name twice more before a man suddenly appeared on his knees.
Mathias, Saer, and Sebastian dropped to their knees also, moving to speak to the man but Saer reached out and grabbed him by the neck.
“My family!” he cried. “What has happened to them?”
Before the man could answer, Mathias snatched the man’s arm. “The Lady Cathlina,” he said calmly although his voice was shaking. “Do you know who she is?”
The man coughed and gasped. “Aye, my lord.”
“She has a key!” Saer was frantic. “Get the key!”
The man nodded, hacking and gasping as he crawled back into the smoky darkness. They could hear him over at the far end of the vault, an area they could not see from their angle, and they heard a woman’s voice lifted in fear.
“Nay!” the woman yelled, her voice guttural and hoarse. “You will not let them in! They mean to kill us!”
“Nay, my lady,” the servant was saying. “It is your husband. He has come to rescue us.”
The woman was evidently still reluctant. “It is a trick,” she snarled. “It is a trap. They mean to kill us all! I will not let them have us, do you hear? They will not take us alive!”
Mathias and Saer looked at each other with great apprehension. Saer threw himself against the bars and called out.
“Rosalund?” he cried. “It is me! Cathlina has the key! Open the door!”
The woman didn’t answer but they could hear her grumbling. Then the sounds of a struggle ensued and the manservant cried out.
“Nay, my lady!” he said. “They have come to rescue us! The knife… put it away, I say! Put it away!”
“Rosalund!” Saer cried again. “Get the key! Let us in!”