Chapter 25 Strange Bedfellows #2
The strange man’s cry didn’t slow Temple down, nor did the sounds of a scuffle that followed, but when Apollo caught up with him, riding a horse, he wasn’t surprised.
“Don’t get in my way,” Temple yelled as he pushed Newton faster, weaving through carriages and pedestrians.
“Where are we going?”
He wished the cursed man would leave him alone, but that did not seem likely. “The Tower.”
At least that seemed to shut the other man up, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. Temple didn’t slow until the Tower of London rose before him. The white stone walls of the fortress seemed to go on forever in each direction.
“I hope you have a plan,” Apollo said, matching his pace.
“Siege the castle.”
“Ha! You’re a riot. Never would have expected that.” Apollo continued laughing even as Temple stopped near the west gate and dismounted, looping Newton’s reins around a nearby lamppost.
Temple checked his various pockets. All the bottles were there, unharmed by the rough ride.
Apollo’s laugher died out, then Temple heard the crunch of boots slapping against the ground behind him.
“Wait!” Apollo wheezed. “You’re not joking?”
“Either leave or take this.” Temple handed him the second bottle of stolen love potion.
“Again?” Apollo whined.
“How else do you propose we get through the guards?”
“Damn.” He looked in wonder at the bottle then with alarm at Temple. “Damn it, Knightly! You’re unarmed? What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m getting my wife back.”
“Diana’s a fine sort, I guess, but she’s not lay-siege-to-the-castle—elp!”
Temple’s hand around Apollo’s throat squeezed. “Do you think we’re friends?”
Scratching at Temple’s hands, Apollo shook his head.
Temple watched bright red creep up the other man’s neck, over his jaw, and across his entire face before a wave of white began to blanch its way downward. “Do not. Insult. My wife.”
Apollo shook his head frantically.
Temple released him, tossing him to the ground in the same motion. His strides toward the west gate were long, purposeful. He couldn’t get there soon enough, but he couldn’t run, either. Didn’t want to waste his accumulated energy.
Rubbing his neck, Apollo caught up with him. “You’re big enough at the moment. Knock the guards’ heads together.”
“I might need my energy for later. Or to carry Diana out.”
“And I’m to sacrifice myself on the altar of love.”
“Maybe you’ll alleviate a drop of guilt.”
Apollo sighed. “Call me cupid.”
“Do not use it unless we need it. Look—there.” A wagon was rumbling toward the west gate. “Get behind it. Stay low.”
Apollo followed, and they hunkered together on the side of the wagon opposite the side the guard stood. As the portcullis and ceiling of the wall that surrounded the tower swallowed them whole, Temple’s heart pounded in his ears. This was mad, too drastic a measure.
He didn’t care. Iron pumped through his blood, and he’d either rescue Diana or die trying. His family had visited last night, and he’d said his goodbyes, though no one had guessed that’s why he’d invited them.
“What now?” Apollo whispered.
They crouched between the wagon and the external wall, and above them, the white walls of the tower rose high. Few people occupied the inner courtyard, and the sparse crowd made his presence there even more dangerous.
“Couldn’t you have done this at night?” Apollo asked.
Temple pressed his hand against the stone of the fortress, hot in the summer afternoon.
Ragstone, Caen stone, mudstone. They gave him strength even if he couldn’t do much with them other than build up his own energy.
The iron in the tower had been set long and well; he doubted he’d find any rust. Didn’t matter.
Not with this new potion. He pulled the bottle from his pocket.
“What’s that?” Apollo sounded annoyed now.
“An alchemist secret.” The courtyard was clear, and Temple darted across it toward a tower door.
“This is mad!” But Apollo ran after him. “Do you know where she’s being held?”
“No idea.” Temple thumbed the cork off the bottle he held, downed the potion, and threw the empty container to the floor. He reached out for iron, felt it everywhere.
“Don’t you think your wife will be terribly upset if you die today? Damn it, man, she’ll blame me! And this time, I’m not at fault.”
Nearby, an iron bar on a window, three of them.
He strode to the window and wrapped his hands around two of the bars.
They glowed. It was working. He could melt through the setting, dissolve it entirely, leaving the iron in the bars ready for shaping.
He yanked them out of the stone and began to forge them together in one hand while he removed the third bar from the window.
“How did you… That’s impossible,” Apollo whispered. Then, “Hell. A guard is coming.”
Temple continued working the third bar loose and added it to the first two. He shaped a hammer—long handle, light but strong; a head small but heavy.
“Halt!” a guard cried, jogging across the dim interior of the tower toward them.
“Be ready,” Temple said, sending a bolt of cold through his body and into the hammer to harden the metal.
“So the plan is to either slam a hammer into their heads or make them fall in love with us?”
“Who are you?” the guard asked, stopping before them. He eyed Temple’s hammer nervously, kept his distance. “Hand that over.”
“Tell me where Lady Knightly is being kept.”
The guard tensed. “You can’t be here.”
Temple swung the hammer back.
“Wait!” Apollo threw his arm out, pushing Temple back, then he uncorked his bottle and splashed some at the guard, who winced and wiped the stuff off his face with the back of his hand. But a drop of it curved over his upper lip. He licked it off.
“What in hell… are… you…” The guard blinked, his face softening. “Who are you?”
“Your best friend.” Apollo grinned. “Now why don’t you tell me about Lady Knightly. It’ll keep the devil here on your good side and his hammer out of your head.”
“Lady Knightly? Nice woman. The king took her.”
“What?” Temple barked.
“Stand down, Cerberus.” Apollo flashed him a glare.
“Where did King William take her?” Temple demanded.
The guard shrugged. “Just took her. Earlier today.”
A chill swept through Temple’s body, and he swiped his thumb across the back side of his ring. Warm. If she were… surely it would be… cold.
He swung around and headed out of the tower. Behind him, the rapid beat of footsteps that must be Apollo.
“Wait!” the guard called out as Apollo stepped beside Temple. “Thought you might stay a while! Chat for a bit!”
Apollo raised a hand in farewell. “It’s been excellent knowing you, but I’m busy at the moment.” They didn’t try to sneak out past the wall. They simply ran.
Temple gave his hammer to Apollo as he mounted Newton.
Apollo cursed, his entire body dropping under the hammer’s weight with a panicked grunt. “Bloody hell, that’s heavy.”
“Give it back.”
Apollo waddled toward Temple and lifted the weapon as high as he could. Temple took it with a single hand and rested it on a shoulder as Apollo mounted his own stolen horse.
“Where to?” Apollo asked.
“St. James’s Palace—”
“No. We can’t—”
“To see the king about my wife.”