Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [39]
He cautiously worked his way behind the shelter of the hedge to a clump of arbor vitae. He rested for a moment, then crawled inside the concealment of the ring of trees. It was quiet here, in a green gloom of leaf-filtered sunlight. He settled himself on a carpet of piney mold and prepared to wait until dark. Apparently the story of his having invaded the princess's bedroom was all over town. Until he cleared up that little misunderstanding, there'd be no peace and quiet for him here.
A large, peach-colored crescent moon had risen behind the church towers before O'Leary emerged from his sanctuary. The streets, inadequately illuminated by the yellow gaslights at the corners, were deserted. A few small windows gleamed warm yellow and orange against the dark facades, shedding patches of light on the cobbles below. O'Leary moved along quickly across the park and found the high wall that surrounded the palace grounds. The palace itself, of course, was located in the same relative position as the YMCA back in Plainview. The gate was half a block ahead; he could see the sentry in his bearskin shako standing stiffly at parade rest before the narrow sentry box. No use trying to get through there; he'd be recognized in an instant.
O'Leary turned in a direction opposite to that of the gate. Ten minutes later, in the deep shadow of a clump of tall elms growing just inside the wall, he looked carefully in both directions, then found fingerholds, scrambled up the wall and peered over the top. No guards were in sight. Cautiously, he pulled himself higher, threw a leg over and crouched astride the wall. The tree that provided the shadow was too high, he saw, craning his neck, to be of any help.
Below there was a sudden thump of feet, the unmistakable rasp of a blade sliding from a sheath.
"Hold, varlet!" a hostile voice barked. Lafayette, startled by the sudden interruption, grabbed to retain his balance, missed, went over sideways with a choked yell. He saw the flash of light along a bared blade, had just an instant to picture himself impaled on it as he twisted aside and landed full on the man with a impact that knocked the breath from him. He rolled free and saw the watchman stretched on his back, out cold. Someone shouted—from the left, O'Leary thought. He came to his feet, struggling to breathe, and staggered off in the direction of the deepest shadow. Running feet approached. O'Leary leaned against the three-foot trunk of the largest elm, drawing painful breaths.
"It's Morton," a squeaky voice piped. "Somebody clobbered him!"
"He couldn'a of went far," a deep voice boomed. "You check over that way, Hymie; I'll scout along here."
O'Leary tried to quiet his wheezing; he heard hoarse breathing, the whack of a sword blade beating the bushes against the wall. He eased around the trunk as the searcher passed six feet away. O'Leary then tiptoed toward some shrubbery across the path twenty feet distant.
"Grab him, Hymie!" the deep voice yelled from the other direction. Lafayette sprang into action, dived for cover, hit the dirt, wriggled through, rose to a crouch on the far side, scuttled for the shelter of an ornamental hedge.
Another man, looking tall in a floppy hat and boots, sprang from nowhere into his path, brandished a sword aloft and charged with a yell. O'Leary ducked aside and dashed for the hedge, rounded right end, leaped to a marble bench, veered barely in time to miss the lily pool. There was a yell and splash behind him; the pursuer had misjudged the water hazard.
In the clear for the moment, O'Leary sprinted for the tall shadow of the palace, angling to the right to miss a pavilion glowing with strung lanterns. Judging from the yells, he had a dozen men on his trail now,