The door had barely closed behind him before a pair of hands was reaching up to help him shrug out of his heavy winter coat.
"You're late," said the voice that went with those hands. "Everyone else is already here, and I'm pretty sure they started without you, so you'd best be heading back there right away. Don't worry, though. I'll bring you a pint and something hot to eat. It'll only take a minute."
"Thanks, Helga," he said gratefully. "You're a dear, and I'm starving. You wouldn't believe the day I've had. Didn't even have time for lunch. I mean, from the moment I got to work this morning..."
"Josef Mikkelsen, what did I just get through telling you?" she replied tartly. "Stop flapping your gums and get going this instant!"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with an abashed grin. As the hostess of The Flapping Flounder shooed him forward, Josef crossed the main dining area until he reached the closed door that led to the back room of the modest seaside restaurant. He rapped twice with his knuckles, then pushed it open without waiting for a response.
The room he entered was dimly lit, with only a single oil lamp at the center of the rectangular dining table providing any illumination. It was enough to make visible the faces of those who sat near it in the middle, but it barely reached to either end. There, though dinner-stained plates and half-emptied mugs could still be made out, those who had eaten from them were largely hidden in shadow.
Those faces he could see had all turned to face the door when it had opened. They mostly greeted him with curt nods. Only one or two managed brief smiles. The reasons that had brought them all here on this night had also seen to it that good humor was in short supply.
"Sorry I'm late," he said.
"We're just glad you're still with us and not down in the dungeons," a middle-aged woman replied. Hers had been one of the smiles.
"You and me both, Karina," Josef replied most sincerely.
"Have a seat," added a man two chairs down, and he pointed to an empty space near one end of the table. "As always, we should not dally. The longer we all remain together instead of in our own homes, the greater the chance that someone will finally realize where we are and what we've been doing." A rumble of assent rolled around the room as Josef squeezed behind those already seated and lowered himself into the vacant chair, just managing to suppress a smirk at the irony as he did so. Pauli was a good man – smart and trustworthy to a fault. Yet he never uttered two words if he could say the same thing in twenty, and his long-winded discourses had been responsible for dragging out their meetings more than just about anything or anyone else.
"Now as I was saying," Pauli went on, "we have finally received a reply from the loyalists at Ingensteds." He brandished a small sheaf of papers, which he consulted as he attempted to summarize their contents. "The harassment of Ragnarr's troops stationed at the garrison continues, though it isn't clear how much longer they can keep it up. The risk grows with every passing day, and not just to the soldiers themselves. They have frequently chosen to attack the invading forces after they have raided nearby villages for supplies, since they are more exposed outside the protective walls of the fort and also encumbered by their spoils. Moreover, if our men are fortunate enough to reclaim any of the food or other goods that were stolen from the villagers, then they're able to return them to their rightful owners and help reduce the hardships the innocent are having to endure.
"Unfortunately, this generosity has not gone unnoticed by the enemy, and as of late, they have begun taking it out on the citizenry themselves. Whenever a raid is thwarted, they now return to the same village within a day, only they bring more men and they make off with even more than they did the first time, leaving the commoners with next to nothing for themselves. Some people have attempted to hide emergency stores so that at least the children won't be left completely without, but anyone caught doing so is dragged out into the town square and made to serve as an example for those who might have similar ideas.
"In response, our loyalist forces are attempting to change tactics. They're now seeking to attack before the enemy reaches their destination, hoping to drive them back before they can even begin their raids. This has proven to be considerably more dangerous, however. Ragnarr's men are fresher then, less burdened and more wary. They have also found ways to avoid the pinch points that most readily lend themselves to ambushes. And their officers are proud enough that they are less likely to call an actual retreat than they were when it was simply a matter of urging their men along faster in the direction they had already been traveling in the first place.
"Still, it is hoped that, if they can be deterred often enough, empty bellies might begin to blunt their effectiveness. How long that may take, if it works at all, I'm afraid we can only guess."
An old woman with wispy white hair and a wheezy voice leaned forward. "Just goes to show that Ragnarr isn't half as smart as he thinks. One minute, he's trying to convince everyone that he's the hero; the next, he's abusing them like the tyrant that he is. Sooner or later, even the most gullible idiots are going to realize his word can't be trusted."
"There's another possibility," said Pauli. "Ragnarr would most likely have had to scrape his little army together from wherever he could find them. Some of them might have been loaned to him by politicians from whom he managed to curry favor, but I suspect that there are likely a fair share among them who are little better than mercenaries. Either way, what loyalties they may carry are almost certainly not with Ragnarr himself. It may be that he's finding it difficult to keep them all in check, particularly those far away from the comforts of the capital. They may have been kept well in line while they were under their general's watchful eye, but now..."
"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" The interruption came from directly behind Josef, and he looked up and around to find that Helga had managed to slip in quietly, obviously not feeling the need to knock in her own establishment. She gave him a quick smile as she set down a tall stein before him, followed by a plate of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. Then she straightened and looked across the table. "After all," she continued, "if Ragnarr can't even control his own men, then surely it's only a matter of time before he loses control of Arendelle as a whole, right?"
"That's possible," Pauli conceded, "but how much damage will have been done in the meantime? How long will it take and how much will the people have to suffer before his grip finally slips and we can have any hope of restoring proper order? Besides, if he can convince enough of Arendelle's soldiery to believe his stories, then he'll soon have sufficient manpower to reinforce the outlying garrisons and bring the entire kingdom to heel."
"I don't think we need worry about that," said a voice from the shadows at the far end of the table. All heads turned to look in that direction, expecting the speaker to continue. When he did not, they all exchanged uncertain looks. And though they had been given no further reasoning to back the rather brazen claim, nobody seemed willing to contest the matter. By unspoken agreement, they all decided to move on.
"What about you, Josef?" Pauli's question suddenly caused everyone to focus upon the stablemaster. "What news from inside the castle?"
Josef, who had just shoved a forkful of salmon and eggs into his mouth, chewed rapidly and swallowed sooner than he would have liked. The food at the Flounder was always excellent, and it seemed almost an insult not to savor it properly. Still, there were more important things than a good meal. Sitting up straighter and clearing his throat, he swept his gaze once around the room, an apologetic look on his face. Then he spoke.
"Less than I'd like, though I suppose the lack of bad news is a blessing at least. I still haven't been able to get down to the dungeons to see the prisoners or deliver any messages. They aren't about to let a simple horseman down there, particularly when they hardly let anyone else go down as it is. Fortunately, Hille remains on that very short list. I tend to think it's because Ragnarr doesn't feel like he has quite enough trustworthy men to waste any of them delivering meals, so a few members of the kitchen staff are given that duty instead."
He looked across the table at Karina. "You'll be glad to know that Gerda is still holding up well, all things considered. At least Hille tells me that she hasn't lost her sense of humor, though I gather it's become a bit more pointed and tends to pretty well stick to a single target these days."
Karina smiled at him again and nodded gratefully for the consideration. Though she had left the palace's employ years ago when she'd gotten married and started a family, her friendship with her old supervisor had never waned, and she'd always been among the first to volunteer whenever the kitchen needed extra help for special occasions like the annual feast on Midsummer's Eve. She'd nearly fretted herself into a fit when she'd first heard that the old cook had been inexplicably locked up in the dungeons. Since then, any news she could get about her friend helped to ease her mind.
"So we know that the prisoners are being well fed, at least," Josef continued. "Other than that, Hille said it seems like they're mostly being ignored. Despite Ragnarr's talk of questioning them about this so-called conspiracy of his, he appears to have decided that he's gotten all the useful information he can out of them at this point. Now, he seems content to just let them rot down there, if only to make sure they aren't out here stirring up trouble."
"Heh. Right. That would be our job." The barb drew a few short, though appreciative, laughs.
"There's no question that it's made things more difficult, though," said Pauli. "Nearly all the people who hold the real power and influence in this community are being kept prisoner in there. Vendel Dyerdahl's connections would certainly have been useful to us on several occasions already. The rest of the council could have helped to sway public opinion, too. Even those like Gerda would have been an asset. She has friends on practically every single street here in town. People would have trusted what she had to say."
"It's shameful," said Helga, who was now leaning against the wall behind Josef, arms crossed over her chest. "I hear folk talking in here every day, and the number who have let themselves be taken in by Ragnarr's speech is simply unbelievable. He was just persuasive enough to convince some of those 'gullible idiots,' and now they're doing his work for him by trying to convert everyone they know to their way of thinking. Some still don't believe a word of it, but there are plenty more who can't decide what to believe. It's gotten so bad, hardly a day goes by without at least one shouting match between the two camps here in the restaurant. Once or twice, it's even come to blows, though at least they've been good enough to take those out into the street so far. I'm just afraid that one of these days, tempers are going to flare too hot too quickly, and I'll be left dealing with an out-and-out brawl and a bunch of broken furniture."
Pauli scowled. "Exactly what Ragnarr wanted, no doubt. He had to know that he'd never be able to convince everyone, but he hardly needed to. Convince just enough, and now he can sit back and let us fight each other instead of fighting him."
"Even the people who don't believe him are still afraid of him," added Karina quietly. "Arendelle has been at peace for so long, I think most of us have forgotten how to fight. And if fighting means getting thrown into the dungeon, leaving your family behind without anyone to look after them..." She trailed off. All hint of that brief flash of levity from moments before had drained from the room.
The shadows at the head of the table spoke again. "What about those contraptions Ragnarr had his men working on? Have you had any luck yet finding out what they're for, Josef?"
Regretfully, Josef shook his head. "A few more of the palace staff have confided in me that they overheard talk of engineers working on some mysterious project, but they couldn't offer any details. Unpleasant things tend to happen to anyone caught listening in on such conversations, so most people tend not to linger. It hasn't helped either that the work itself wasn't actually performed within the castle walls, at least from what I've been able to piece together. Someone might at least have caught a glimpse of something useful if it had been."
"Performed?" the unseen man prodded. "Had been?"
Wincing, Josef nodded. "Three days ago, a cart suddenly appeared in the courtyard. None of the usual staff had been expecting any deliveries, so it caught them all by surprise. No one had time to ask any questions, though. Ragnarr's soldiers swarmed all over it almost immediately and set to work unloading a number of crates. They carried them straight through to the armory, and it was locked the second the last of the crates was secured inside. Since then, there have been two soldiers guarding the doors at all times, day and night."
"Pfft! That could have been anything!" the silver-haired old lady said dismissively. "Ragnarr might have simply found another hidden store of weapons and decided it best to keep them all under lock and key. His lock and key, of course. Oh!" She blanched, then looked about worriedly. "Are all our caches accounted for?"
But Josef was already shaking his head. "No, that wasn't it. Some of the soldiers were talking on their way back to their usual posts after the unloading had finished, and a member of the cleaning staff overheard one of them say, 'Well, it looks like the engineers finally managed to save themselves from another lashing, eh?' So it seems like they've finished whatever they've been working on... and it's inside those crates."
"So it's a weapon of some kind?" asked the young man seated to Josef's right. "I mean, since they stored the crates inside the armory and all."
"Not necessarily," replied Pauli. "The armory is the most secure room inside the palace proper – at least as strong as any of the cells down in the dungeon. If I were Ragnarr and if I wanted to protect something valuable while still keeping it close at hand, I would probably lock it in there, too."
"What did these crates look like? How big were they?"
Josef again looked in the direction of the disembodied voice and shrugged. "They weren't all the same size. I'd say they varied somewhere between a meter and a meter-and-a-half long. Maybe sixty or seventy centimeters wide and about as tall."
"Did they seem to be heavy? How many men did it take to carry each one?"
"Usually just one, though the bigger ones sometimes took two. I couldn't really say for sure if that was because they were heavier or just more awkward for one man to maneuver by himself."
"Were there any markings on the crates?"
"I didn't see any, nor did anyone else I talked to. At least, nobody mentioned any."
"Hmm." Josef and the rest of the people gathered around the table waited, anticipating more questions, but the speaker was apparently too busy pondering the information he already had. When half a minute passed without any further comment, Pauli once again stepped in to fill the gap.
"Ahem. Anything else to report, Josef? No? Right. Well, moving on then. Una, I assume there's still been no progress getting some message of our predicament to potential allies outside the kingdom?"
The wispy-haired woman, who had worked at the Arendelle post office for as long as anyone could remember, gave Pauli a sour look. When she spoke, her tone was decidedly defensive.
"You know there hasn't. Ragnarr still controls all the vessels that were in the harbor when he claimed power, doesn't he? He's still cordoning off the entrance to the fjord to keep anyone from getting in or out, isn't he? Still giving any ship who tries to approach some ridiculous story about the capital being quarantined due to an outbreak or some such, isn't he? Course, traffic's always slower in the winter to begin with, but there hasn't been a mail delivery in or out of here for a month or more, and no ship even leaves the harbor without his men crawling all over it."
"What about overland?" Helga asked. "Riders have been able to exchange at least a few messages with the outlying areas, like Ingersteds. Haven't we had any luck getting word out that way?"
Una shrugged. "We've tried. Sent two out hoping they might make it across the Fjellkulingborder. Not that we were all that confident we'd find much help from that direction, but we thought they might at least be able to travel to the coast from there and then make their way by sea to one of our closer allies. Now maybe they made it and maybe they didn't. All we know is that they haven't come back and we haven't seen any sign of help yet. That could mean that help is still on its way… or could it mean that it just plain isn't coming."
"Which means we have to assume that we're on our own."
That simple statement had a profound effect on those who had assembled there in the Flounder. Half of them glanced nervously about, seeking reassurance from their companions. The rest lowered their eyes, not wanting to meet anyone else's gaze. If they were honest with themselves, they had all recognized this truth weeks earlier. Hearing it put into words, though, made the fact painfully real.
They each seemed to feel the weight of the entire kingdom settle onto their shoulders. They could not rely on help coming from outside Arendelle's borders. Meanwhile, doubt and fear was making it nearly impossible to rally others to their cause from within. Attempting to coordinate with remote pockets of resistance was slow and awkward, meaning that each group had to operate largely on their own, but every time they tried to do just that, they always seemed to be thwarted in one way or another.
In that small room on a bitterly cold winter's night, it felt to them like they truly stood alone, the sole opposition to Ragnarr's reign. Worse yet, it felt like they were losing.
"When Queen Elsa comes back," said Karina in her soft voice, "she'll put everything to rights. I'm sure of it. We just have to hold out until then. We can do that… right?"
All around the table, heads nodded. Still, it was lost on no one how long it had taken for those nods to begin, nor how quickly they subsided. None there dared to say it out loud, but the words were written plainly enough on many of their faces. If Queen Elsa comes back.
"Karina's right." The figure at the head of the table leaned forward so that the lamplight was finally able to pick out his weather-roughened features. He looked haggard. A normally well-kempt mustache had been joined by a rough and scraggly beard. His hair, which had always been cut respectably short as befitted a military man, was now catching on the back of his collar. And though there hadn't yet been time enough for stress to significantly increase the amount of gray scattered throughout the chestnut brown, he nevertheless looked as though he had aged years during that same short time.
"Arendelle has weathered the rule of terrible kings before," said Colonel Fritz Holberg, "including Ragnarr's first reign decades ago. And in the past, we've often survived by hunkering down and waiting patiently for the times to change, as they always must in the end. That King Agdar risked his own life to spare us from another twenty-odd years of his father's cruelty was the exception rather than the rule, and it proved that he possessed the perfect combination of intelligence, courage, and mercy to be one of the greatest rulers this kingdom has ever had.
"But now, here today, the fight we are facing is about more than simply removing an unjust ruler from the throne. This is about the usurpation of that throne from its rightful heir. Ragnarr boasts about how he was prepared to take us to war against the Snow Queen – to fling the lives of our brothers, husbands, and sons against her in the hope that he might be able to declare victory upon the altar of their sacrifices. Yet it was Queen Elsa who put herself in harm's way to protect both my men and innocent bystanders from the Snow Queen's magic. In that one act, she demonstrated all the same qualities that I… that we all admired so much in her father.
"I can only speak for myself, but I always had complete faith in King Agdar, and now I retain that same faith in his children. There is no doubt in my mind or my heart that they will return to us, and that when they do, they will stop at nothing until they see Arendelle set free once again.
"I know this seems like a lonely fight, my friends," he said, sweeping his gaze from face to face, "but that does not mean that we are alone. Sooner or later, help will come, and when it does, we will see Ragnarr brought low a second time. Until then, we have no choice but to soldier on. So we must aspire to the example set for us by King Agdar, Queen Idun, and their daughters. We must display the same wisdom, bravery, and compassion that they would if they were here to lead us. More than any magic or force of arms, that is what has always held this kingdom together. And that is what will save Arendelle in the end!"
Murmurs of agreement met this passionate declaration, along with a few hearty shouts of, "Hear, hear!" Even those who had been the most downhearted and depressed were now sitting up a bit straighter in their seats. Pauli in particular seemed to have grown several inches and was looking around the room with an expression of such pride and satisfaction on his face, it was as if he thought he'd been the one who had just delivered the rousing speech. Eventually, though, his love of agendas and proper order took hold again.
"Yes, yes. That's quite enough." He spoke over the many enthusiastic discussions that had broken out between neighbors regarding the colonel's words. "Order, please. Order! Thank you. Now, I believe that concludes all the business we had planned for this evening. Does anyone have anything else they'd like to add? Any other topics that they feel might need to be brought to this group's attention?" A few heads were shaken, but in the main, silence served as the general answer.
"Right then," Pauli said smartly, looking very much like he would have appreciated a gavel with which to mark the end of the meeting. "I suppose that means all that's left is to settle on the time and location of our next gathering. I don't think I need to remind anyone..."
"And yet he will anyway," someone muttered, the small bit of humor a good sign that spirits had indeed risen back to hopeful levels. Pauli shot a disapproving look in the commenter's direction before continuing as though he had not been interrupted.
"...that we should not get into the habit of meeting at regularly scheduled times, nor should we meet at the same place twice in a row. Therefore, I would propose that we hold our next conclave six days from now, which would make it a Wednesday. Would anybody like to volunteer to host the meeting, or perhaps suggest some other location where we might meet?"
Karina opened her mouth to reply. But before she or anybody else could speak, a sudden pounding noise caused half of those in the room to jump. They all turned to stare at the door, yet even though the sound had been loud enough, it most certainly had not been someone knocking on the entrance to the private dining room. Then came a shout, muffled by distance and several thicknesses of wood.
"Open up in the name of His Majesty, King Ragnarr!"
Most were still in their seats, wide-eyed in their startlement, when Fritz sprang to his feet and began gesticulating wildly.
"Out!" he ordered in an urgent rasp. "Everybody out! Now! Quickly! Through the back!"
A few, like Josef, responded instantly, launching to their feet. They immediately began urging their slower compatriots out of their chairs as well, practically dragging a few of the older members who were still too shocked to have fully absorbed what was going on. Then a second round of pounding, even louder than the first, finally spurred even the most reluctant into motion.
"How did they find us?" wheezed Una, hobbling around the table as quickly as she could while clinging to Karina for assistance.
"That doesn't matter right now," Fritz replied brusquely as he held the inner door open for the last few stragglers. "Just get out, all of you, as fast as you can."
"What if there are men at the back door, too?" asked the young man who'd been sitting beside Josef.
"Then we're trapped. But so far, they're only pounding on one, so this is the best chance we..."
"But it isn't a crime for a group of friends to eat dinner together, and they couldn't possibly have any proof that..."
"The best chance we have!" Fritz repeated in a raised voice. "Provided, of course, that you all stop talking and start moving!"
Another loud noise helped to underscore the point, for it was not a pounding knock like before. This was a single, sharp, and solid boom – the sound of someone trying to break down a door. It quite capably put an end to further questions or protests. The main dining area now emptied as everyone hurried down the adjoining hallway toward the rear exit, spurred on by Fritz, Josef, and Helga. Whoever was at the head of the line fumbled briefly with the latch, then yanked the door open. There was no shout of alarm nor call to halt, so the conspirators poured out into the street as quickly as the narrow opening would allow.
"Oh, damn!" swore Pauli, stopping on the threshold and turning around.
"What is it?" Fritz asked, having nearly collided with the older man when he'd stopped so abruptly.
"The letter from Ingensteds! I left it on the table. It's full of information about the soldiers' plans and strategies. If Ragnarr gets hold of it..."
"Go," said Fritz to Pauli. "I'll get it."
"No, I'll get it." Josef grabbed Pauli by the shoulders, spun him around, and gave him a firm push out the door. Then he turned to Fritz. "You're the only one of us who has any experience with military strategy and thinking. Something tells me that'll be more important to our cause than horsemanship."
Another boom. Josef privately marveled that this humble little restaurant was possessed of such a strong door, but he knew it wouldn't hold for much longer. "And we don't have time to argue," he added. "So follow your own advice and get going!"
Fritz looked past Josef's shoulder. "Where's Helga?"
When he glanced back, Josef let a curse slip out under his breath. He was sure the hostess had been right behind him. Now, the hallway was empty. "I'll take care of her, too," he said. And then, opting to discard all proper respect and decorum, he gathered himself. As he turned back around, he lowered his shoulder and thrust forward, catching Fritz square in the chest and sending him stumbling backwards in surprise. It was enough. Before the colonel's combat training would let him respond, Josef had slammed the door in his face and thrown the latch shut. Then he bolted back up the short corridor, skidded around the corner, and dashed into the back room.
Helga stood there, tearing the last of the sheets to shreds and feeding them into the top of the lamp. They briefly drifted down the narrow glass column until they finally met the hungry flame, where they charred and shriveled into ash.
"I'd already put the oven fire out," she explained, her panic causing her to talk much too rapidly, "and I didn't know how much time we might have left but I was pretty sure there wasn't time to start another one, so I…"
With a great, splintering crash, the stalwart door to the restaurant at last surrendered to inevitability. Josef spun around in time to see what was left of it fall to the floor before half a dozen armed soldiers came pouring in through the gap.
Helga marched past him out of the room and came to a stop two paces into the main dining area, her fists firmly planted on her hips. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded with furious effrontery. "How dare you knock down the door of a private, well-respected establishment such as..."
"Where are the rest of you?" said the officer in the lead.
Josef, taking his cue from Helga, stepped up beside her. "What others?" he asked. "It's just the two of us."
"Of course it is. And what exactly were the two of you doing here?"
"Having dinner," Helga replied sharply. "This is a restaurant, you know."
"A restaurant whose door was bolted shut. Strange way to encourage business."
Helga shrugged. "It's been slow lately. Not many people seem interested in coming out at night in this climate." Josef couldn't quite keep his mouth from quirking at her ambiguous choice of words. "Josef's been my only customer for hours, so I just closed up early and we enjoyed a quiet meal together."
"If it was so quiet, how did you manage to not hear us when we knocked on your front door?"
"We were in the back room with the door closed. It does a surprisingly good job of keeping outside noises outside."
The officer raised an eyebrow, then leaned to one side to peer around them at the open door beyond. With a gesture at his men to keep watch over the two civilians, he strode forward, purposefully bumping into Josef's shoulder as he passed. Josef resisted the urge to glance nervously down at Helga, instead keeping his eyes focused on the soldiers who stood before him. A minute later, the officer's sharp and condescending voice spoke up from behind them.
"If it's only been the two of you here for hours," he said mockingly, "then why are there a dozen plates on this table?"
"It… was a big meal," Josef improvised. "I was really hungry."
The officer reappeared in front of them, wearing a look of cruel disdain. The hard lines of his face were not much softened by the warm light of the oil lamp he now held. Lifting the glass chimney off its metal collar, he tipped the lamp so that the ash spilled out into his empty hand. A few unburnt scraps of paper came along as well.
"I don't suppose there's any point in my asking you what this used to be," he said scathingly, "since I'm sure you'll just try to feed me more of your lies. I can only assume that what you served your other customers was better prepared." He turned his hand over and let the gray dust fall to the floor, flicking his fingers to dislodge the last of it. Then he drew himself up to his full height and delivered his next words in supremely supercilious tones.
"In the name of King Ragnarr of Arendelle, I charge you both with acts of treason and sedition, and hereby place you under immediate arrest. You will be detained until such time as a royal tribunal can be convened to assess your guilt. Unfortunately, His Majesty is rather preoccupied at the moment trying to protect the kingdom from other rabble like yourselves. As such, it may be quite a while before he will be able to find the time to hold such a hearing.
"Of course," he said, shifting into a falsely considerate voice, "arrangements could be made that would significantly reduce the length of your imprisonment, provided that you were to prove cooperative. Give us the names of the others who were here with you tonight, and you can be sure that I will let His Majesty know just how… helpful you were."
His offer was met with stony silence and two contemptuous glares.
"Very well. So be it." He made another gesture and two soldiers came forward. With a quick jerk of their weapons in the direction of the busted door frame, they likewise conveyed their message without the need for words. Josef and Helga had just enough time to share a quick look of mutual apology before they were forcibly marched out of the restaurant into the empty streets and the frigid night air. Almost immediately, Josef had to suppress a shiver. The soldiers apparently did not feel that he had any need of his winter coat, despite temperatures that were several degrees below freezing.
As the little procession made its way back toward the castle and its already crowded dungeons, Josef caught brief glimpses of faces as they peered out between the curtains of nearby windows. The commotion the soldiers had made entering the Flounder must have woken the entire street, and the curious simply could not help but check on the cause of the disturbance. The expressions he saw ranged from shock to sadness, fury to fear. Yet none moved to intervene.
That was just as well, he thought. If they had, it would only have meant more arrests this night. And after all, he and Helga had chosen to stay behind just so that their comrades would be able to escape. How would it be any better if those who'd had nothing to do with their little resistance movement ended up taking their place instead?
Though the walk was not that long, by the time they passed through the castle gates into the broad courtyard, both captives were shaking with cold. Clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering, Josef nevertheless spared a glance over at the stables off to his right. In that strange way in which the human mind often works in times of crisis, he suddenly found himself worrying more about the horses there than in his own fate. As much as he trusted the other men and lads, he considered the welfare of those animals to be his personal responsibility. Yet, because of his actions, he would be left unable to care for them. In his efforts to help so many, he would now be letting down these few.
Wisdom, bravery, and compassion. Colonel Holberg's words returned to him as the soldiers escorted their prisoners through the doors of the palace. At that moment, he did not feel particularly smart nor especially brave. Still, he supposed one out of three was something – a beginning, at any rate. Moreover, as he and Helga were none-too-kindly prodded in their backs as they made their way down the stone stairs to the dungeons, he supposed he was also getting a first-hand lesson in courage. He could only hope that, if they all made it through this nightmare in one piece, perhaps he would have gained some small amount of wisdom as well.
And then, the cell door slammed heavily shut behind him.
