“Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of wood like a peg.”
“Yes, it is here.”
“Push it hard—no, harder.”
Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through it with a cry of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up from the postern gate by which he had entered, just below the closed door which led into the gallery above.
“God be thanked! we are saved—saved. Elfric!
“Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will get the boat ready—door open and boat ready.”
It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase, carrying Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here; the next moment they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attention of Ragnar was concentrated on self preservation.
One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians on the further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them, seemed disposed to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, “Spare your arrows; it is Elfric of Æscendune;” and they crowded to the bank joyfully, for the purpose of the attack was known to all, and now they saw its object placed beyond the reach of further risk of failure.
The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assisted them up the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph they were conducted to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with Siward.
“Now, let the castle burn, let it burn,” said Oswy.