I turned to Christopher, and found a startling transformation. No longer was he the dull, patient, waiting man. Every nerve was strung.
The king’s mouth was open; his eyes bulged; his clutch on my arm tightened.
“Listen!” he commanded. “She is———”
“Sire, you must mount the wall. We must rescue her!”
“No, no! She is in little danger. May the gods give her strength!... Hush! What is that?... They are going forward with the beam. She is standing erect upon it.... Did you hear that?”
“What, Sire?”
“The soldiers are advancing with drawn swords.”
With a violent effort I broke the king’s grasp and sprang for the ladder, but a giant hand fell on my shoulder and thrust me back. Above the subsiding din rose a clear, unterrified call from without:
“Christopher! Christopher!”
He had been waiting for that. His answer rang keen and far, and he leaped upon the ladder.