“Isn’t he with you?” Westley said.
Inigo leaned for a moment against the nearest wall, gathering strength. Then he said, “Help him up,” to Buttercup.
“Westley?” Buttercup replied. “Why does he need me to help him?”
“Because he has no strength, now do what you’re told,” Inigo said, and then suddenly on the floor, the Prince began struggling mightily with the sashes and he was tied, and tied well, but power and anger were both on his side.
“You were bluffing; I was right the first time,” Humperdinck said, and Inigo said, “That was not a clever thing of me to let slip; I’m sorry,” and Westley said, “Did you at least win your battle?” and Inigo said, “I did,” and Westley said, “Let us try to find some place to defend ourselves; at least perhaps we can go together,” and Buttercup said, “I’ll help you up, poor darling,” and Fezzik said, “Oh, Inigo, I need you, please, Inigo; I’m lost and miserable and frightened and I just need to see a friendly face.”
They moved slowly to the window.
Wandering lost and forlorn through the Prince’s garden was Fezzik, leading the four giant whites.
“Here,” Inigo whispered.
“Three friendly faces,” Fezzik said, kind of bouncing up and down on his heels, which he always did when things were looking up. “Oh, Inigo, I just ruined everything and I got so lost and when I stumbled into the stables and found these pretty horses I thought four was how many of them there were and four was how many of us there were too, if we found the lady—hello, lady—and I thought, Why not take them along with me in case we all ever run into each other.” He stopped a moment, considering. “And I guess we did.”
Inigo was terribly excited. “Fezzik, you thought for yourself,” he said.
Fezzik considered that a moment too. “Does that mean you’re not mad at me for getting lost?”
“If we only had a ladder—” Buttercup began.
“Oh, you don’t need a ladder to get down here,” Fezzik said; “it’s only twenty feet, I’ll catch you, only do it one at a time, please; there’s not enough light, so if you all come at once I might miss.”
So while Humperdinck struggled, they jumped, one at a time, and Fezzik caught them gently and put them on the whites, and he still had the key so they could get out the front gate, and except for the fact that Yellin had regrouped the Brute Squad, they would have gotten out without any trouble at all. As it was, when Fezzik unlocked the gate, they saw nothing but armed Brutes in formation, Yellin at their lead. And no one smiling.
Westley shook his head. “I am dry of notions.”
“Child’s play,” of all people, Buttercup said, and she led the group toward Yellin. “The Count is dead; the Prince is in grave danger. Hurry now and you may yet save him. All of you. Go.”
Not a Brute moved.
“They obey me,” Yellin said. “And I am in charge of enforcement, and—”
“And I,” Buttercup said, “I,” she repeated, standing up in the saddle, a creature of infinite beauty and eyes that were starting to grow frightening, “I,” she said for the third and last time, “am
the
QUEEEEEEEEEEEEN.”
There was no doubting her sincerity. Or power. Or capability for vengeance. She stared imperiously across the Brute Squad.
“Save Humperdinck,” one Brute said, and with that they all dashed into the castle.
“Save Humperdinck,” Yellin said, the last one left, but clearly his heart wasn’t in it.
“Actually, that was something of a fib,” Buttercup said as they began to ride for freedom, “seeing as Lotharon hasn’t officially resigned, but I thought ‘I am the Queen’ sounded better than ‘I am the Princess.’”
