Read Online In the Hall of the Dragon King by Stephen Lawhead - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Lawhead
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After a time he stepped onto the ramp and began the long, sloping climb to the gates themselves. On his upward journey he was passed by several ox carts and wagons bearing supplies to the castle. He noticed them not at all; his eyes were on the looming battlements and soaring towers of the fortress, which surpassed all his most daring imaginings and, in Quentinâs mind, rivaled the exaggerations men told about it. The walk took much longer than it might have.
When at last he attained the end of the ramp, right up to the end of the drawbridgeâthat retractable platform spanned a mighty gap from the end of the ramp to the gates at a bone-crushing height above the rocky rubble of the dry moatâQuentin paused. Not wanting to attract the attention of the fierce-looking guards of the gatehouse, he lingered in the shadow of one of the houses built along the ascending ramp in stair-step fashion. The last house furnished a shelter out of the wind, so he settled himself beside a friendly wall to wait.
People passed, hurrying to and fro on business of their own, but Quentin attended to nothing but the task before him. He tried to imagine what the queen would be like. Heâd heard stories of the lovely Alinea, but with his extremely limited experience of women, he had trouble thinking of anyone who would be more beautiful than the maid heâd met just that morning. Queen Alinea was said to have long auburn hair that shimmered red in the sun, and deep green eyes the color of forest shade on a summer afternoon. Her voice was held to be an instrument of enchantment; when speaking, or singing, for which she had earned wide renown, it fell like laughing water to the ear. These and other details heâd learned around the priestsâ table or from the talk of pilgrims he chanced to overhear when they camped on a summer evening outside the temple, awaiting their oracle.
Queen Alinea, it was said, formed the perfect complement in grace and beauty to King Eskevarâs strength and restless vitality.
When Quentin adjudged midday had passed, he stirred himself, glad to be moving again, for he had grown cold in waiting, and marched resolutely toward the gates. Although the main gates were closed, smaller gatesâstill wide enough to permit two wagons to pass one anotherâ were open and attended by firm-jawed guards. Quentin did not know the proper protocol for presenting himself to the queen, but he supposed heâd tell the first person he met what he intended and let the natural course carry him along.
The first person, of course, was a guard whom Quentin dutifully approached. But when Quentin opened his mouth to speak, the man waved him on with his lance. He immediately found himself in a low, dark tunnel, the interior of the gatehouse through which the road led into the castleâs outer ward.
Quentin had expected, due to his lack of military knowledge, that upon passing through the gates heâd be inside the castle as one would be upon entering the temple. He found the gatehouse road to be disagreeably frightening; the dark and ominous feel was due to the massive portcullis with its sharp teeth of iron, under which he had to pass, albeit quickly.
Once through the gatehouse, he stood on the perimeter of the outer ward, gazing on another smaller castle surrounded by its own small city of houses, stables, kitchens, storehouses, and attendant buildings. Some of these were stone; others were made of timber and wattle, as in the town below. This inner castle had its own gatehouse, and Quentin made his way there at once. Here security was more stringent, and the guard at the gate demanded to know his business. Quentin produced the folded parchment. The soldier glanced at the seal and waved him on.
Upon emerging from the gatehouse passage, Quentin hesitantly entered a courtyard of some size. The whole of this inner ward was given over to elegant gardens that contained every known flowering plant and
After a time he stepped onto the ramp and began the long, sloping climb to the gates themselves. On his upward journey he was passed by several ox carts and wagons bearing supplies to the castle. He noticed them not at all; his eyes were on the looming battlements and soaring towers of the fortress, which surpassed all his most daring imaginings and, in Quentinâs mind, rivaled the exaggerations men told about it. The walk took much longer than it might have.
When at last he attained the end of the ramp, right up to the end of the drawbridgeâthat retractable platform spanned a mighty gap from the end of the ramp to the gates at a bone-crushing height above the rocky rubble of the dry moatâQuentin paused. Not wanting to attract the attention of the fierce-looking guards of the gatehouse, he lingered in the shadow of one of the houses built along the ascending ramp in stair-step fashion. The last house furnished a shelter out of the wind, so he settled himself beside a friendly wall to wait.
People passed, hurrying to and fro on business of their own, but Quentin attended to nothing but the task before him. He tried to imagine what the queen would be like. Heâd heard stories of the lovely Alinea, but with his extremely limited experience of women, he had trouble thinking of anyone who would be more beautiful than the maid heâd met just that morning. Queen Alinea was said to have long auburn hair that shimmered red in the sun, and deep green eyes the color of forest shade on a summer afternoon. Her voice was held to be an instrument of enchantment; when speaking, or singing, for which she had earned wide renown, it fell like laughing water to the ear. These and other details heâd learned around the priestsâ table or from the talk of pilgrims he chanced to overhear when they camped on a summer evening outside the temple, awaiting their oracle.
Queen Alinea, it was said, formed the perfect complement in grace and beauty to King Eskevarâs strength and restless vitality.
When Quentin adjudged midday had passed, he stirred himself, glad to be moving again, for he had grown cold in waiting, and marched resolutely toward the gates. Although the main gates were closed, smaller gatesâstill wide enough to permit two wagons to pass one anotherâ were open and attended by firm-jawed guards. Quentin did not know the proper protocol for presenting himself to the queen, but he supposed heâd tell the first person he met what he intended and let the natural course carry him along.
The first person, of course, was a guard whom Quentin dutifully approached. But when Quentin opened his mouth to speak, the man waved him on with his lance. He immediately found himself in a low, dark tunnel, the interior of the gatehouse through which the road led into the castleâs outer ward.
Quentin had expected, due to his lack of military knowledge, that upon passing through the gates heâd be inside the castle as one would be upon entering the temple. He found the gatehouse road to be disagreeably frightening; the dark and ominous feel was due to the massive portcullis with its sharp teeth of iron, under which he had to pass, albeit quickly.
Once through the gatehouse, he stood on the perimeter of the outer ward, gazing on another smaller castle surrounded by its own small city of houses, stables, kitchens, storehouses, and attendant buildings. Some of these were stone; others were made of timber and wattle, as in the town below. This inner castle had its own gatehouse, and Quentin made his way there at once. Here security was more stringent, and the guard at the gate demanded to know his business. Quentin produced the folded parchment. The soldier glanced at the seal and waved him on.
Upon emerging from the gatehouse passage, Quentin hesitantly entered a courtyard of some size. The whole of this inner ward was given over to elegant gardens that contained every known flowering plant and
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