The Princess Bride (28 page)

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Authors: William Goldman

Tags: #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fantasy - General, #Good and evil, #Action & Adventure, #Classics, #Princes, #Goldman, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Love stories, #William - Prose & Criticism, #Adventure fiction, #Historical, #Princesses, #Fantasy - Historical, #Romance - Fantasy

BOOK: The Princess Bride
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“(a) Prince Humperdinck had some plans to kill his fiancée and hired us to carry them out but (b) the man in black ruined Prince Humperdinck’s plans; however, eventually, (c) Prince Humperdinck managed to capture the man in black, and, as everybody in all Florin City also knows, Prince Humperdinck has a terrible temper, so, therefore, (d) if a man has a terrible temper, what could be more fun than losing it against the very fellow who spoiled your plans to kill your fiancée?” They had reached the Thieves Quarter wall now. Inigo jumped on Fezzik’s shoulders and Fezzik started to climb. “Conclusion (1),” Inigo continued, not missing a beat, “since the Prince is in Florin City taking out his temper on the man in black, the man in black must also be in Florin City. Conclusion (2), the man in black must not be too happy with his present situation. Conclusion (3), I am in Florin City and need a planner to avenge my father, while he is in Florin City and needs a rescuer to salvage his future, and when people have equal needs of each other, conclusion (4 and final) deals are made.”

Fezzik reached the top of the wall and started carefully climbing down the other side. “I understand everything,” he said.

“You understand nothing, but it really doesn’t matter, since what you mean is, you’re glad to see me, just as I’m glad to see you because no more loneliness.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Fezzik.

It was dusk when they began their search blindly through all of Florin City. Dusk, a day before the wedding. Count Rugen was about to begin his nightly experiments at that dusk, gathering up his notebooks from his room, filled with all his jottings. Five levels underground, behind high castle walls, locked and chained and silent, Westley waited beside the Machine. In a way, he still looked like Westley, except, of course, that he had been broken. Twenty years of his life had been sucked away. Twenty were left. Pain was anticipation. Soon the Count would come again. Against any wishes he had left, Westley went on crying.

It was dusk when Buttercup went to see the Prince. She knocked loudly, waited, knocked again. She could hear him shouting inside, and if it had not been so important, she would never have knocked the third time, but she did, and the door was yanked open, and the look of anger on his face immediately changed to the sweetest smile. “Beloved,” he said. “Come in. A moment more is all I need.” And he turned back to Yellin. “Look at her, Yellin. My bride-to-be. Has any man ever been so blessed?”

Yellin shook his head.

“Am I wrong, do you think, to go to any lengths, then, to protect her?”

Yellin shook his head again. The Prince was driving him crazy with his stories of the Guilder infiltration. Yellin had every spy he’d ever used working day and night and not one of them had come up with anything about Guilder. And yet the Prince insisted. Inwardly, Yellin sighed. It was beyond him; he was simply an enforcer, not a prince. In fact, the only remotely disturbing news he’d heard since he’d closed the Thieves Quarter that morning was within the hour, when someone told him of a rumor that the ship of the Dread Pirate Roberts had perhaps been seen sailing all the way into Florin Channel itself. But such a thing, Yellin knew from long experience, was, simply, rumor.

“I’ll tell you, they are everywhere, these Guilders,” the Prince went on. “And since you seem unable to stop them, I wish to change some plans. All the gates have been sealed to my castle except the front one, yes?”

“Yes. And twenty men guard it.”

“Add eighty more. I want a hundred men. Clear?”

“A hundred men it will be. Every Brute available.”

“Inside the castle I’m quite safe. I have my own supplies, food, stables, enough. As long as they cannot get at me, I will survive. These, then, are the new and final plans—jot them down. All five-hundredth-anniversary arrangements are canceled until after the wedding. The wedding is tomorrow sunset. My bride and I will ride my whites to Florin Channel surrounded by all your enforcers. There we will board a ship and begin our long-awaited honeymoon surrounded by every ship in the Florin Armada—”

“Every ship but four,” Buttercup corrected.

He blinked at her a moment in silence. Then he said, blowing her a kiss, but discreetly, so Yellin couldn’t see, “Yes, yes, how forgetful I am, every ship but four.” He turned back to Yellin.

But in his blink, in that following silence, Buttercup had seen it all.

“Those ships will stay with us until I deem it safe to release them. Of course, Guilder could attack then, but that is a chance we must risk. Let me think if there’s anything else.” The Prince loved giving orders, especially the kind he knew would never need carrying out. Also, Yellin was a slow jotter, and that only added to the fun. “Excused,” the Prince said finally.

With a bow, Yellin was gone.

“The four ships were never sent,” Buttercup said, when they were alone. “Don’t bother lying to me any more.”

“Whatever was done was done for your own good, sweet pudding.”

“Somehow, I do not think so.”

“You’re nervous, I’m nervous; we’re getting married tomorrow, we’ve got a right to be.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, you know; I’m very calm.” And in truth, she did seem that way. “It doesn’t matter whether you sent the ships or not. Westley will come for me. There is a God; I know that. And there is love; I know that too; so Westley will save me.”

“You’re a silly girl, now go to your room.”

“Yes, I am a silly girl and, yes again, I will go to my room, and you are a coward with a heart filled with nothing but fear.”

The Prince had to laugh. “The greatest hunter in the world and you say I am a coward?”

“I do, I do indeed. I’m getting much smarter as I age. I say you are a coward and you are; I think you hunt only to reassure yourself that you are not what you are: the weakest thing to ever walk the Earth. He will come for me and then we will be gone, and you will be helpless for all your hunting, because Westley and I are joined by the bond of love and you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.”

Humperdinck screamed toward her then, ripping at her autumn hair, yanking her from her feet and down the long curving corridor to her room, where he tore that door open and threw her inside and locked her there and started running for the underground entrance to the Zoo of Death—

My father stopped reading. ‘Go on,’ I said.

‘Lost my place,’ he said and I waited there, still weak with pneumonia and wet with fear until he started reading again. ‘Inigo allowed Fezzik to open the door—’ ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Hold it, that’s not right, you skipped,’ and then I quick caught my tongue because we’d just had that scene when I got all upset about Buttercup marrying Humperdinck when I’d accused him of skipping, and I didn’t want any repeat of that. ‘Daddy,’ I said, ‘I don’t mean anything or anything, but wasn’t the Prince sort of running toward the Zoo and then the next thing you said was about Inigo, and maybe, I mean, shouldn’t there be a page or like that in between?’

My father started to close the book.

‘I’m not fighting; please, don’t close it.’

‘It is not for that,’ he said, and then he looked at me for a long time. ‘Billy,’  he said (he almost never called me that; I loved it when he did; anybody else I hated it, but when the barber did it, I don’t know, I just melted), ‘Billy, do you trust me?’

‘What is that? Of course I do.’

‘Billy, you got pneumonia; you’re taking this book very serious, I know, because we already fought once about it.’

‘I’m not fighting any more—’

‘Listen to me—I never lied to you yet, did I? Okay. Trust me. I don’t want to read you the rest of this chapter and I want you to say it’s all right.’

‘Why? What happens in the rest of this chapter?’

‘If Itellyou, I could accomplish the same by reading. Just say okay.’

I can’t say that until I know what happens.’

‘But—’

‘Tell me what happens and I’ll tell you if it’s okay and I promise if I don’t want to hear it, you can skip on to Inigo.’

‘But won’t do me this favor?’

I’ll sneak out of bed when you’re asleep; I don’t care where you hide the book, I’ll find it and I’ll read the rest of the chapter myself, so you might as well tell me.’

‘Billy, please?’

I gotcha; you might as well admit it.’

My father sighed this terrible sound.

I knew I had him beaten then.

‘Westley dies,’ my father said.

I said, ‘What do you mean, “Westley dies”? You mean dies?’

My father nodded. ‘Prince Humperdinck kills him.’

‘He’s only faking though, right?’

My father shook his head, closed the book all the way.

‘Aw shit,’ I said and I started to cry.

‘I’m sorry,’ my father said. I’ll leave you alone,’ and he left me.

‘Who gets Humperdinck?’I screamed after him.

He stopped in the hall. I don’t understand.’

‘Who kills Prince Humperdinck?At the end, somebody’s got to get him. Is it Fezzik? Who?’

‘Nobody kills him. He lives.’

‘You mean he wins, Daddy? Jesus, what did you read me this thing for?’ and I buried my head in my pillow and I never cried like that again, not once to this day. I could feel almost my heart emptying into my pillow. I guess the most amazing thing about crying though is that when you’re in it, you think it’ll go on forever but it never really lasts half what you think. Not in terms of real time. In terms of real emotions, it’s worse than you think, but not by the clock. When my father came back, it couldn’t have been even an hour later.

‘So,’ he said, ‘shall we go on tonight or not?’

‘Shoot,’ I told him. Eyes dry, no catch in throat, nothing. ‘Fire when ready.’

‘With Inigo?’

‘Let’s hear the murder,’ I said. I knew I wasn’t about to bawl again. Like Buttercup’s, my heart was now a secret garden and the walls were very high.

 Humperdinck screamed toward her then, ripping at her autumn hair, yanking her from her feet and down the long curving corridor to her room, where he tore that door open and threw her inside and locked her there and started running for the underground entrance to the Zoo of Death and down he plunged, giant stride after giant stride, and when he threw the door of the fifth-level cage open, even Count Rugen was startled at the purity of whatever the emotion was that was reflected in the Prince’s eyes. The Prince moved to Westley. “She loves you,” the Prince cried. “She loves you still and you love her, so think of that—think of this too: in all this world, you might have been happy, genuinely happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, not really, no matter what the storybooks say, but you could have had it, and so, I would think, no one will ever suffer a loss as great as you” and with that he grabbed the dial and pushed it all the way forward and the Count cried, “Not to twenty!” but by then it was too late; the death scream had started.

It was much worse than the scream of the wild dog. In the first place, the dial for the wild dog had only been set at six, whereas this was more than triple that. And so, naturally enough, it was more than three times as long. And more than three times as loud. But none of this really was why it was worse.

It was the scream from a human throat that made the difference.

In her chamber, Buttercup heard it, and it frightened her, but she had not the least idea what it was.

By the main door of the castle, Yellin heard it, and it also frightened him, though he couldn’t imagine what it was either.

All the hundred Brutes and fighters flanked by the main door heard it too, and, to a man, they were bothered by it, and they talked it over for quite a while, but none of them had any sound notions as to what it might have been.

The Great Square was filled with common people excited about the coming wedding and anniversary, and they all heard it too, and no one even made the pretense of not being scared, but, again, none of them knew at all what it might have been.

The death scream rose higher in the night.

All the streets leading into the Square were also filled with citizens, all trying to crowd into the Square, and they heard it, but once they admitted they were petrified, they gave up trying to guess what it might have been.

Inigo knew immediately.

In the tiny alley that he and Fezzik were trying to force their way through, he stopped, remembering. The alley led to the streets that led to the Square, and the alley was jammed too.

“I don’t like that sound,” Fezzik said, his skin, for the moment, cold.

Inigo grabbed the giant and the words began pouring out: “Fezzik—Fezzik—that is the sound of Ultimate Suffering—I know that sound—that was the sound in my heart when Count Rugen slaughtered my father and I saw him fall—the man in black makes it now—”

“You think that’s him?”

“Who else has cause for Ultimate Suffering this celebration night?” And with that, he started to follow the sound.

But the crowds were in his way, and he was strong but he was thin and he cried, “Fezzik—Fezzik—we must track that sound, we must trace it to its source, and I cannot move, so you must lead me. Fly, Fezzik; this is Inigo begging you—make a path—
please!

Well, Fezzik had rarely had anyone beg him for anything, least of all Inigo, and when something like that happened, you did what you could, so Fezzik, without waiting, began to push. Forward. Lots of people. Fezzik pushed harder. Lots of people began to move. Out of Fezzik’s way. Fast.

The death scream was starting to fade now, fading in the clouds.

“Fezzik!” said Inigo. “All your power, NOW.”

Down the alley Fezzik ran, people screaming and diving to get out of his way, and in his footsteps Inigo kept pace, and at the end of the alley was a street and the scream was fainter now but Fezzik turned left and into the middle of the street he went and he owned it, no one was in his way, nothing dared block his way, and the scream was getting just so hard to hear, so with all his might Fezzik roared, “QUIET!” and the street was suddenly hushed and Fezzik pounded along, Inigo right behind, and the scream was still there, still faintly there, and into the Great Square itself and the castle beyond before the scream was gone. . . .

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