Betrayed (24 page)

“Then this will be over for us sooner than we expected,” answered Antonio dryly.

Their heads tapped the painted ceiling.

“We are about to go under,” yelled Prince Henry. “Blow your air out slowly. Then take in as little air as possible from the bladder. Don't panic. If you do, you'll only use up more air and further endanger yourself.”

“Don't panic,” Angus repeated. “Why should I be panicking?”

“And if this doesn't work,” added Prince Henry, turning his face sideways along the ceiling to catch a final breath from the shrinking layer of air, “it has been my honour to know you both. Antonio, you are and will always be my best friend.”

Antonio smiled and tried to reply but the water cut off his words. Angus looked over to their floating oil lamp. The tiny ship banged against the ceiling three times, then with a tiny hiss, the water plunged them into complete darkness.

With an eerie wave of silence, the ocean announced its claim to the Magdalene Temple.

“How long do we wait?” asked Whipper.

Connor looked at the hourglass. The prince had told him to follow the next step of the plan when both the top and bottom vessels were even with sand. “Soon,” he announced.

“I cannot imagine what it must be like for them right now.”

Connor shook his head. “If I thought about what was going on below my feet, I think I would be unable to go on. I need you to help me, Whipper. Keep me focused on the task at hand.”

Whipper nodded. He had forgotten that trapped along with the prince was this young man's best friend. It had to be torture for the young lad to know that he was up there on the surface while his friends were trapped far below him.

“Aye, lad,” he replied. “Don't worry. We'll get them out. You say the word, and I'll signal for Na'gu'set to make the dive.”

Connor nodded while he choked back his worry. “All right, men! We need to attach the block and tackle to both the trees and the top of the gate. Whipper and Ned, set up the gate pulleys. And somebody tell Na'gu'set to get into position!”

Ignoring the stinging in his eyes and his head gently bobbing against the stone ceiling of the Temple, Angus remembered Prince Henry's instructions and blew out the air from his lungs as slowly as he could. He fought the gagging sensation in his throat as his lungs began to burn, and when he felt he could no longer stand the agony, he placed his mouth on the reed and squeezed some air out of the bladder. The air, tinged with fumes from the noxious tar, was almost unbreathable. He choked, allowing some sea water to slip into his mouth, but he managed to spit it out and reseal his lips on the straw. This went on for twenty anxious breaths before he noticed a slight change in the surroundings. Then his forehead once again felt the coolness of damp air. The water was receding! Finally, his face broke through the surface.

“By the grace of God,” cried Angus, spitting out the straw, “it's working!”

“Is everyone all right?” Prince Henry's voice echoed in the darkness.

“Still here,” replied Antonio.

“And I,” chipped Angus.

The water level dropped at only half the speed it had risen, but the three prisoners were ecstatic. For the first time in days, the men burst out in raucous laughter, celebrating their temporary victory in the utter darkness of the chamber.

When the levels dropped to the point where they could stand once again, Antonio opened a water-tight sack he had kept around his neck. He pulled out an oily rag and sent
sparks from a piece of flint onto its surface. The rag quickly burst into flame, illuminating the darkness. He reignited the oil lamp, and the three men quickly returned to the lever in the doorway. Grabbing the edge, they easily widened the entranceway further. A river of water momentarily rushed by their feet before going down to a small rippled stream.

“It looks like you were right, Angus,” said Prince Henry, “it appears the seal around the gate is not perfect. There is still a constant flow of water.”

“We didn't need perfection for this plan to work,” replied Antonio. “In fact, I can't believe it is working at all!”

The prince smiled. “God willing, we'll be out of here soon. Do you have the tools?”

Antonio and Angus picked the leather bags up off the ground.

“Then let's go. We don't have much time.”

They passed through the opening and stopped once they were in the tunnel. Turning around, they lined up once again along the partially opened door and lowered their shoulders against its solid frame.

“All right now, men,” commanded Prince Henry. “Push!”

This time, it took little effort to slide the door across until the library entrance was sealed once again. The stream began to pool around their feet, the icy water steadily rising up the sides of their legs.

“We'd better move quickly,” suggested Antonio.

Prince Henry nodded, took the lead. They sloshed their way up the corridor towards the entrance and freedom. Angus took up the rear, shaking his head. “Why do I feel we just traded one inescapable underground prison for another?”

The exhausted, shivering trio marched for several minutes
to the flickering light of the single oil lamp before coming to the bend in the corridor. Prince Henry stopped them. He looked down at his hourglass and shook his head.

“We have only a few minutes left to secure ourselves. Pass out the tools and start hammering.”

Each man grabbed the improvised hammers and thick iron spikes they had scrounged from the discards back in the cavern. Finding their own large crack in the wall but still close enough to be within reach of each other, they began to drive their spikes into the space between the stones of the wall.

“Why don't we do this closer to the entrance? Won't we have a better chance of escaping?” asked Angus.

“If we tried to secure ourselves in any other place along the corridor,” explained Prince Henry, “we would be simply ripped off the wall by the force of the water that will be pouring in from the sea. Here, on the inside corner of the turn, the pressure should not be as great. The turbulence as the water tries to turn the corner will hopefully save our lives.”

“Oh,” said Angus, trying his best to understand. He raised his hammer and drove his spike into the wall an extra inch, just in case.

Connor looked on in amazement at the speed and efficiency of the Templar crew. They had dragged the raft closer to shore and repositioned it above the entranceway. Now they raised a large triangular pyramid of wooden beams, pulleys and ropes between the base of the raft and the edge of the shoreline. Connor looked down to the hourglass, then over to Na'gu'set, standing on the edge of the raft. The sand in
the two ends of the vessel reached an equal level.

“It's time,” Connor shouted. “May God be with us and our friends below!”

Na'gu'set gave a nod, put the sharpened dagger between his clenched teeth and dove into the water off the edge of the raft. One minute passed. Then two. Nervously, Connor knelt on the edge of the raft and looked down into the lapping ocean. The water was too murky to see much of anything. If Na'gu'set couldn't free the boulders from the gate, then all would be lost. He was beginning to worry that perhaps Na'gu'set had entangled himself in the netting. Connor removed his shirt, preparing to dive in himself. He wasn't a strong swimmer, but he couldn't sit on shore and do nothing as another friend died by drowning. Then, just off to the side of the entranceway, several bubbles appeared. A head splashed into view. Na'gu'set wiped his long black hair out of his dark eyes and removed the dagger from his mouth.

“Two more!” he shouted, then disappeared under the surface again.

A minute later, he resurfaced and nodded.

“The gate is free!”

Connor whooped and turned to the men on the beach. They all held ropes that led up to the pulleys then down to the eye rings that had been secured to the top of the gate.

“Brothers, are we ready?”

“We're ready!” they replied.

“Then put your backs into it! Pull for Prince Henry!”

The lines tightened, the pulleys groaned and the massive gate began to lift out of the sea.

Angus looked up into the unending gloom of the corridor.

“I hear something.”

A terrifying roar suddenly filled their ears as a huge surge of sea water bore down on them like a stampede of wild horses.

“Hold on tight!” commanded Prince Henry. “This is going to be a rougher ride than the last one!”

Angus wrapped his arm once more around the leather strap which was tied to the spike in the wall. His other arm held onto the sack of air. Suddenly, the corridor exploded in a spray of white froth, smashing up against the walls and ceiling, roaring past them as the tempest angrily plunged into the lower depths of the corridor. The deluge lashed their bodies and legs, knocking Angus right off his feet. His strapped arm was the only thing that saved him from being swept down the corridor to his death. He looked over his shoulder. To his horror, the frothing water was bubbling up from below at tremendous speed, as if some monster were regurgitating its liquid meal.

“Remember,” shouted Prince Henry, “we will have to swim in complete darkness! Use the air bladder to help you find your direction. It will want to get to the surface as badly as you!”

As the rising water swept over their bodies, the light from Antonio's oil lamp failed, plunging them into terrifying darkness. As planned, the three men let go of their leather straps. Angus was sure he was about to die. His body was thrown against the ceiling, his shoulder erupting in pain. Bouncing like a cork, he momentarily bobbed up into a pocket of air. Without time to catch his breath, he was sucked under once again. He gagged, trying desperately to
clear his throat of salt water. Somehow, over the building panic, he remembered the air sack. He forced the reed once again into his mouth and breathed in some of the tainted, but welcome, air.

Calming slightly now that he knew he could breathe, he hung on to the bag for dear life while his body was thrown, banged and twisted in the swirling, frothing maelstrom of water. After what seemed like an eternity, Angus was so battered and bruised that his mind barely registered a calming in the water. A burning sensation in his lungs brought him back to his senses. Desperate for another gulp of air, he once again put his mouth around the hollow reed. He opened his eyes and looked around. Darkness. Where was the entranceway? The air sac gently bounced up against what he thought was the ceiling. He felt the stone ceiling rubbing gently against his knuckles, then Prince Henry's words came back to him: use the motion of the air to help find your direction. He tilted his head backwards and stared in the direction of his movement.