He heard a movement to his left and stabbed again. Again he struck blank stone.
The devil is somewhere in this part of the room.
"The door!" Simon shouted. "Mathieu, get the door open."
He heard the iron bolt shoved back, the creak of hinges, the scrape of a body being pushed aside.
But the blackness remained absolute.
He must have put out the candle in the cellar before he broke in here.
Simon heard running footsteps outside the spice pantry. Sandals slapping up wooden stairs. The creaking of the trapdoor at the top of the cellar steps. And then there was light. Gray, faint, but after what seemed like hours spent in utter darkness, it was as if the sun had suddenly risen.
God bless you, Mathieu.
Scimitar at the ready, Simon swept the room with his gaze.
A shadowy figure stood halfway along one of the side walls, holding something out before him in both hands. A miniature crossbow, a vicious-looking thing. Simon turned to see where it was pointed.