The Princess and the Pirate, Ch 20, The Pirate Swarm

Time pressed down upon Matthew's shoulders like an oppressive, humid, summer's night. It suffocated his mind. Yes, he had had to defend himself before in his life as a pirate, but he had never before felt the burning, aching bite of a traitor's wound. Matthew had trusted Sweeney and his men far more than he had any of his own men throughout his career, so the poison of this act of deceit flowed through his veins like a snakebite.

He sat in the chair he had occupied all evening, allowing the sweat to evaporate from his body. It seemed very clear now that Sweeney and his other men were up to no good purpose. Matthew was locked in from the outside. Was Christopher in on it, too? He could not decide. He could only wait as the seconds and minutes crawled by at snail's pace.
Finally, finally, two knocks, a scratch across the door, and three short raps sounded quietly at the door.

Was it Christopher? Was it Sweeney and his men trying to get him to open the door? If the latter were the case, they were out of luck entirely - he had no key. Matthew stealthily walked over to the closet and hid there as the locks clicked.
He held his breath as the door slowly creaked open. Christopher slipped inside and quickly locked the door. His look swept the room, saw the deceased Arthur, and ran to him. "Arthur!" he cried in a worried voice. He searched Arthur for signs of life. Finding none, he stood up and called out warily, "Matthew?" He looked around tentatively as he drew his sword. "Matthew? Come out if you're still alive, and let me know if you are friend or foe."

Matthew stepped out of the closet without drawing his own sword. "He came at me without warning, Christopher. I fought him in self-defense," Matthew stated, deciding to lay out his entire case up front. He walked as calmly as he could, but uncertainty made the adrenaline pump blood through his body faster than the waterfall he had survived only a day ago. His energy and adrenaline built up with each step, so that by the time he was standing within sword's reach of Christopher, he trembled from head to toe. The veins visibly pulsated in his neck. Sweat once again found its way to the surface of his skin and slid down his back like snakes racing toward dinner. Matthew wondered whether Christopher was in on the plot or whether he was simply an innocent bystander who had Fioretta's best interest at heart.

Christopher held the sword steadily, unsure of whether or not he should trust Matthew. His intuition suggested that Matthew would have already drawn his sword if he were going to be hostile.
Matthew calmly continued, "I was just sitting in that chair right there, thinking, when Arthur came at me from nowhere. I still don't understand why. My instincts simply took over. If he would have relented, I would have, too. He would not stop." Matthew stood in front of the much younger Christopher awaiting his verdict. Christopher eyes wavered between Matthew and Arthur's body. Finally, he lowered his sword.

Suddenly, the two men heard the footsteps and stealthy noises of a large number of men trying to be quiet. Christopher and Matthew looked at one another in alarm. Who was out there? If it were Sweeney and his men, they had found company in plenty.
The sounds of the men gathering around Fioretta's bedroom door would have frightened anyone. Then they heard knocking at the door. When they did not respond, they heard Sweeney's voice calling, "Matthew, Fioretta, we got separated from Christopher. Let us in, please."
"They can't be friendly," Matthew urgently whispered as the pirate in him guided from the aspect of experience. "There are too many out there." A feeling of doom weighed down upon him. He knew there was no way out. He knew there were plenty of men to eventually break down the door. He knew there was no good place to hide. He knew that others of Sweeney's men would want to kill him since Arthur had had that inclination. In addition, after being a captain for so long, it felt very strange to look to someone else for direction, especially someone as young as Christopher.

Christopher turned his head and pointedly directed his eyes toward the closet, and the two men quietly made their way over to it.
Someone tried the door and found it to be locked. Just as Matthew and Christopher made it to the closet's doorway, the men outside began to ram into the outer door. Pound. Pound. Pound.
Though he said nothing, Matthew privately wondered at Christopher's plan. They would be easily found in the princess' closet. Then they would have to fight a great crowd of men. Of course, there being no way out, Matthew could not really think of a better plan. He wondered if Fioretta and her ladies in waiting were safe. He wondered how long the thick door would last against so many.

Christopher walked silently into the large closet. Instead of preparing to fight, he walked straight to the back of the closet after closing the door behind them. The interior of the closet was made of the same kinds of slate-gray stone as were all the walls in the interior of the castle. Each stone was a little larger than a grapefruit. He stepped on one stone that jutted out, along with it fellows, helping to form a baseboard. At the same time, he pressed in a stone at waist level and spun another that was at eye level. Part of the wall, about the height of a five-year-old child, slid back with only the smallest of gravelly sounds. Obviously, Christopher knew this private part of the castle intimately.

Following Christopher once more, Matthew found himself inside a tiny inner chamber barely large enough for four men to stand next to one another. Christopher stepped on a stone inside the chamber, and the door closed as quietly as it had opened.
Pound. Pound. Pound. The men outside the door rammed it undauntedly. They had to be using some kind of battering ram. The sounds echoed across the large bedroom and found their way into the little chamber like demon-possessed children with a single purpose in mind.

Rubbing his fingers across the grout between two sets of two stones, Christopher revealed yet another surprise: two sets of peep holes. Matthew bent down to watch through his. Christopher stood at his normal height to watch. Pound. Pound. Pound. Matthew wondered at how calm Christopher kept taking this intrusion. He seemed entirely confident in whatever plan rattled about in his brain. Pound. Pound. Pound. The sounds maddened Matthew. He had never felt so trapped. He watched as the stout door began to crack and splinter. As this happened, Christopher turned away from the peep hole and did something at the back of the chamber. Matthew did not pay any attention to him as he was riveted to the action at the door. He did not even notice when Christopher returned.

The men watched, entranced. Who would come through the door?
Finally, they broke through. Matthew lost count of the number of men pouring through the broken door after thirty-five. Sweeney, his men, and pirate after pirate swarmed into the room.