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Suddenly above the tolling alarm bell and the screaming men there came a crash that shook the whole keep. Simon's troop cried aloud with joy and spurred forward more eagerly. The drawbridge was down and, from the sound of it, the chain or wheel had been broken. It would not be lightly lifted again. Not that their troubles were over. The portcullis still had to be lifted, and that could not be done by breaking a wheel or chain. That had to be wound up and the winch guarded until the last man was through. |
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Sixteen men on horses were no trifle, even when three were incapacitated by female burdens, particularly when they were filled with righteous wrath. Slashing and hacking, they made their way to the gate against increasing opposition. Here they formed a rough semicircle with Sir giles at point. Rolf and Hugo at once abandoned the defense of the tower and leapt to the winch of the portcullis. Simon clutched Alinor to him once convulsively, bent his head to kiss her. His lips, finally freed of wax, were warm and tender. |
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"I must go to my men. We are safe from the bows here. I will put you back on your horse." |
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Alinor uttered a little shaken laugh. "You really are alive, Simon? Really? I am not dreaming?" His arm tightened again. "No, no, let me go." |
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A shout brought Honey. Simon lifted Alinor away from him and she slipped into her saddle, found her stirrups. In the instant he was gone, sword drawn, charging into the ranks of footmen and sending them flying. The portcullis rose a foot, two feet. Simon formed his men, charged again. Three feet up. The men-at-arms carrying Alinor's maids shouted instructions at them, turned their horses. Four feet up. Alinor held her mare steady, her eyes on her husband. He was easy to follow, so big and so quick. |
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"My lady," one of the men-at-arms called, "I beg you to come." |
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