Page 27 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘The window; it looks big enough to get through. I imagine there’s a long drop below it. Just help me to get through and I’ll do the rest.’ He panted as he spoke. His words were slurred. ‘Help me. I beg of you. You’d do it for a dog.’

His tone was pleading. The complete change from man of action, evil or otherwise, to pathetic wreck was all too evident.

‘Do it.’

Luc looked round in surprise at the sound of Aimée’s voice. She took a deep breath and repeated her words.

‘Do it. Help him.’ Her tone was insistent.

Luc looked closely at her face and saw the determination.

For a moment he still hesitated. Then he gave her an encouraging squeeze and made his way over to the window.

It was wide enough for even his broad shoulders.

He leant out as far as he dared, straining to see what lay below.

After the glow of the torch, he could see nothing but blackness.

He turned back, pulled a handful of straw from the floor, held it to the torch until it flared, and then threw it out.

He followed it down with his eyes, watching the flame fall away into space, while he started to count.

He reached eleven before a brief shower of red sparks showed where it hit the ground, hundreds of feet below.

‘It’s a very long way down.’ He was speaking more to himself than to the others.

He looked back at the two of them. On the one side stood the victim, physically and mentally scarred for life by an act of barbarism.

On the other side lay the crumpled remains of the cause of her grief. He cleared his throat.

‘I won’t be a party to murder, whatever the justification.

’ His voice gained in strength, as his thoughts cleared.

He met the eyes of the bandit leader. ‘However, I will help you to take your own life. At the same time I’ll give you the opportunity to help in some way to make amends for the terrible scars you’ve left on Aimée, and who knows how many other victims.’

The man, whose initial reaction had been one of abject despair, looked back at him in gratitude. ‘Anything. I’ll do anything.’

Luc had been thinking fast. The straw on the floor came from a bale in one corner.

Maybe, just maybe, it might work. He outlined his plan to both of them.

He was gratified to see immediate agreement from the man on the floor.

More importantly, there was a new sense of purpose on the face of the girl.

‘Listen, as a plan it’s risky in the extreme, but we’ve run out of options.

Aimée and I will somehow contrive to hide ourselves under the remains of that straw.

Once we’re covered, that’s where you come in.

’ He looked down at the agonised face of the bandit.

‘You’ll throw yourself from the window. But you only jump after making enough noise to alert and bring the guards. Is that clear?’

The other man nodded twice, rapidly, comprehension on his face. ‘How do I get over to the window?’ His eyes flicked down to his grotesquely angled legs.

‘I’ll carry you over and put you on the windowsill. But remember I’m counting on you to get the guards in here first. They need to believe that the three of us have jumped to our deaths. All right?’

He knew it was a long shot, but anything was worth trying. If all went well, the soldiers wouldn’t spot their bodies under the straw. It was tentative, to say the least.

They had some good luck when he found that the cave floor sloped away to one side.

This formed a depression, where they would be more likely to pass unseen.

He helped Aimée to stretch out as far into the corner as possible, and scattered straw loosely over her.

He stepped back and looked down critically.

She might just about escape a hurried glance, but a dedicated searcher wouldn’t be fooled for long.

Knowing there was no other option, he shrugged and prepared a line of straw beside her, which he would do his best to scatter over himself as he lay down.

Then, finally, he went over to the other man.

The bandit’s face was chalky white and his eyes unnaturally bright.

Luc stared down at him for a moment, but there was no answering glance.

There was no point in waiting any longer so he bent down and lifted the man by the shoulders and thighs.

The sudden pain must have been unbearable and the man fainted.

Quickly, before he returned to consciousness, Luc carried the body across the room and propped it right in the window frame itself.

It would take only a slight effort to slip through and over the edge.

He was turning to check his hiding place when the bandit stirred, emitting a long, low moan of agony.

His face screwed up. He tried to move a leg.

The stab of pain, caused by the movement, opened his eyes.

After a momentary delay, while his brain came to terms once again with his surroundings, a look of understanding and relief crossed his face. He caught Luc’s eye and spoke hoarsely.

‘You’re a good man. You’ve kept your word. Now I’ll do what you want me to do. I hope it helps you to make good your getaway. Don’t look so worried.’ His tone was momentarily sharper. ‘I’m not going to ask you for your forgiveness. Now give me the torch and lie down and hide.’

Luc spread straw over himself and did his best to squeeze into the inadequate depression in the cave floor.

After a few moments he heard the screams and watched the ensuing scene out of the corner of his eye.

The man by the window screamed and shouted, louder and louder, until the sound of running footsteps was heard in the corridor.

As the door burst open, the bandit turned towards the window.

‘Wait for me.’ And he launched himself into the void.

‘May God have mercy on his soul,’ Luc murmured to himself as he hugged the ground.

The group of soldiers ran across to the window. One peered out, just in time to see the blazing torch smash into the rocks below, still in the hand of the bandit.

‘Good God Almighty. They’ve jumped. Quick. Tell the archbishop.’

They streamed back out as fast as they had come in.

No sooner had the footsteps receded, than Luc was on his feet.

He pulled Aimée roughly with him, his arm round her waist, half-carrying her.

They ran out of the door and into the corridor.

They raced up the stairs that still echoed to the sound of the guards’ boots until they found themselves once more in the main entrance hall.

Mercifully it was empty at this time of night.

The main doors were solidly bolted and any attempt to open them would have taken time and made a lot of noise.

More importantly, it would have alerted the soldiers to the fact that he and Aimée were, in fact, far from dead.

The sound of approaching voices came drifting down the corridors and he made up his mind. ‘This way. Hold tight to me and run, Aimée, run for your life.’

He dragged her down the corridor, past the refectory and the cloister until they reached the door of Brother Michael’s cell.

Running footsteps in the main hall told him they had no time to lose.

Without any preamble, he threw open the door, pulled her into the shadowy interior, and closed the door softly behind them.

‘Brother Michael. Are you there?’ His voice was an urgent whisper. There was a movement and then, to his immense relief, he heard the old man’s voice.

‘May the Lord be praised. He has delivered you from the valley of the shadow of death.’

There was a rustling sound, then a small oil lamp flared into light.

The old man’s eyes glittered in the orange glow, his face split by a smile, which went from ear to ear.

He leapt up and came over to them, hugging them emotionally.

‘As soon as I heard about your capture, I ran to tell the abbot what was happening in the storeroom. Now I was on the point of trying to organise your rescue. I was just wishing I’d let you tell me who your other contact here at San Juan was.

That would have made two of us.’ He laughed shyly.

‘Well, one and a half really. I never have been much of a man of action. More of the contemplative cleric, myself. Anyway, I was all set to try, although I fear I wouldn’t have furthered your cause to any great extent. ’

Luc clapped his hands around the old man’s shoulders.

‘Brother Michael. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’ve saved our lives tonight.

’ Then he moved on to more pressing matters.

‘I would imagine we have a few hours, maybe even until first light, before they discover that there’s only one, not three bodies at the foot of the cliff.

At that point, the first thing that will happen, I feel sure, will be a thorough search of the monastery. Our luck won’t hold for long.’

‘You’re right, my son. There’s been terrible trouble here all evening with the King of France’s lackey, the archbishop, pressing for a full search and although our abbot has resisted strongly, it’ll be a different matter in the morning.

I’m fortunate to have neighbours who are older and deafer than I myself and I have little fear of detection.

However, I had a moment of blind panic a short while ago, when I found your cloak on my shelf. ’

With an embarrassed grin he handed over the heavy leather cloak.

Luc was about to put it on, as the temperature in the old man’s cell was close to zero, when he noticed that Aimée, who had lost her cloak, was shivering with cold.

He made to hang it over her shoulders, but the old monk was ahead of him.

‘No, Luc. Keep your cloak. For your friend, I would humbly offer this.’