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Page 481
the wall where the dim light occasionally showed a brighter flash as a guard moved. Neither could determine which way the guard faced. They could only hope he did his duty and looked outward for enemies rather than looking in to where rest and warmth lay.
Sir Giles slipped across the open space, his bare sword in his hand. Another followed, then another. No sound came from the stables beyond the restless stamping and snorting of the horses. The guard on the wall ignored them aside from muttering that the devil had got into the beasts this night. He had called down twice already to ask if something was wrong and had been answered that it was nothing. The beasts sensed that there was death in the keep.
There certainly was. The guardsman and two stableboys were dead. The third boy, tightly gagged, was covered with sweat despite the cold. He had been working at full speed, urged by the bare blade of Simon's man, who had already killed the others. Twenty horses were already saddled and bridled. The boy's eyes bulged with additional terror now, but Simon ordered that he be bound and not killed. With Alinor close under his arm it was easy to be merciful. Some men-at-arms swiftly saddled the other horses that would be needed. Others cut every rein and saddle girth they could find. Alinor's maids were lifted to ride pillion behind two men-at-arms. Simon placed Alinor on her own mount, pulled her toward him for a brief kiss.
"As soon as the drawbridge goes down and the portcullis up, ride over. Ride south, toward Roselynde. You will find a camp with your men and mine."
No, her madness screamed. No. You are dead already. Let me stay and die with you.
"Yes, Simon," she whispered.
They were fortunate. The guard on the wall was so dulled by the stamping of the horses that nearly half of them were out in the bailey before the regularity of the sound roused his suspicions and made him turn.

 
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