The Sword of Aradel by Alexander Key

bridge and burn him and burn him and burn him!”
    He did not know what post she meant till he raised his eyes and looked out of the window. It gave him a view of part of the drawbridge across the moat, and of a great iron post set in the ground just beyond it. All about the post were the heaped bones of the gaunt monk’s victims. His hands clenched, and a terrible rage mounted in him.
    â€œI’ll settle with Albericus,” he ground out. “Sword or no sword, I’ll settle with him.”
    A sudden flutter of wings and a bird’s quick cry made him turn. Only now did he become aware that a frantic Tancred must have been trying to gain their attention, and had been forced to fly all the way up from below.
    â€œOh, Tancred,” Merra whispered. “I—I’ve been so upset I didn’t hear you. What—”
    Brian silenced her with a warning finger, and swung to the doorway. He could make out the soft scrape of stealthy footsteps mounting the stairs.

5
    A Spell Is Cast
    I T WAS TOO LATE TO RUN AND ATTEMPT TO reach the upper part of the tower without being seen. Nor was it possible to fasten and secure the fire-wrecked door. Their only chance, Brian reasoned, was to put up a big pretense and act as if they had every right to be here.
    He stepped boldly out on the landing, hands on hips, and looked arrogantly down at the man on the stairway. After his years at St. Martin’s, the ways of the high and mighty were not hard to imitate.
    â€œWho are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing up here?”
    The fellow halted and looked up at him with little cold, beady eyes. He was redheaded and thin-lipped, and something about him reminded Brian of the righteous and utterly unfeeling prior back at the abbey. With his plain sword and short hauberk of chain mail he might have been a squire or one of the castle guards.
    The beady eyes narrowed and chilled. “I’ll ask the questions,” the man said harshly. “Just what are you doing here?”
    â€œThat is no concern of yours!” Brian snapped, trying hard to hide his growing uneasiness. “Nor is this any time to be annoying visitors to Rondelaine. Back to your post—or you’ll be reported!”
    â€œThen you would have to report to me,” came the cold retort. “I am captain of the guard.”
    Merra, who had come out on the landing, suddenly stamped her foot and cried, “Fie on you, you unmannered wretch! That is no way to talk to the son of a nobleman! Be gone with you! Be gone!”
    The man’s face hardened. “I don’t like the looks of you two. You are not what you seem. You are evil.” He paused, then said gratingly, “If you are not evil, how did you get up there? Answer me that!” He shook a long, crooked finger at them accusingly. “Only days ago the lord Albericus, praise God, discovered that this part of Rondelaine was still contaminated. It reeked with the rot of those sinful books we found up there! They belonged to that foul brood we destroyed. So we burned them—and locked the tower door. We wanted no foot in the place till it could be properly cleansed in the eyes of God.”
    The guard paused. His thin lips turned down, and again he shook his accusing finger. “So, how did you get up here? Did you fly, like the birds you frightened off? Don’t deny it. I know what you are. I can spot evil a league away. Evil is for burning. The stake cries for it!”
    The accusing finger made the sign of the cross, and abruptly the hand it was attached to drew the heavy sword buckled about the hauberk. Grimly the guard started on up the stairway. “You will submit and come with me peacefully,” he said, “or I will cut you down. The choice is yours. Either way you will be burned.”
    Only mounting fury prevented Brian from retreating. The guard, obviously an experienced fighter, had the great advantage of strength and weight,