“Come when I call,” he said to us.
In a moment he was on the wall. In another he had deliberately sent the ladder crashing to the ground. He studied the outer scene a moment, crouched, and sprang into the maelstrom.
Five thousand throats opened at the spectacle.
“The gate, Sire! Give me the gate key!” I shouted.
“No! It would be death. The ladder!”
I knew that Christopher must have acted intelligently in throwing the ladder. Had he done it merely to delay our ascent? When it was up, the king interposed before my clutch at the rungs.
“Your king first,” he said.
“Mount then, Sire, in heaven’s name,” cried I, cursing inwardly at the delay and my own impotence.
“Stay below until I summon you,” said his Majesty.
“Your appearance at this time may bring ruin to us all.”