Now, the palace was built in such a way that our youngsters hardly had a place to run.

They might have gone left to the front gate if their priority was to be shot and killed in two steps. Likewise, they may have veered right to the back entrance, if they had meant to be fired and left penniless on the streets of Britain. And in another course, they may have run straight forward and away from us, if their objective had been to see each other sliced to bits by the quick blades of cutlasses in the hands of vicious pirates.

As Anya through herself through the fence, she knew all of this. Well, she thought to herself, if we can't go left, right or forward, what is left but backward?

Behind them, it seemed, was the most suicidal option: running through the torrent of pirates, against the tide of muscle bound and metal clad bodies.

However, Ms. Goose was rather intelligent enough to see that this was the only way to escape alive.

Her poor geese. She spared them a pitying glance, leaning down to pat Annie on the bill. "Run," she told the goose. Then she took Chicken Boy's hand, tugging him away from the goose pen. Seeing his doubtful expression, she hissed, "Trust me!"

Chicken didn't have time to resist. She pulled him away from the pen, eyes burning a path through the pirates. Speed, she knew, would be imperative. They needed to into the castle, and they needed to do it fast.

Knowing the coop would likely be torn apart like the Pig Pen, she yanked her knapsack through the hole and slung it over her shoulder. On second thought, she held it in front of her like a spear.

"Are you ready?" Anya shouted. It didn't matter, though, because they were off.

Anya began to lead him, but Chicken pushed in front of her, his broad shoulders parting the sea of buccaneers. Anya followed the path made by his body, senses overloaded by piracy. The scent of salt and unwashed bodies, the grit of their skin beside hers, the sounds of their shouting and footsteps.

A million thoughts fell through her head, all interrupting one another. Who were these men? Pirates! Thieves! Murderers! The fear in her heart mounted to a great height, begging her to turn back.

Chicken, however, showed no hesitation. He shoved through the pirates, square body leaving a thin trail for Anya to follow behind. He grasped her hand, his sweaty palm pressed to hers.

She thought of the pearl. Actually, I had another idea. Anya closed her eyes, following Chicken in blind confidence. He wouldn't let her fall, this she knew. She had no reason to torture herself with the images of these brutes surrounding her.

While the two of them ran, much different things were happening in the castle.

Red Beard, still grail-less, decided to try one last spot. He tapped the floor with his wooden leg, listening for hollows in the wooden boards. He tapped the spot beside the chest at the foot of the bed, face filling with childish delight at the empty echoes coming from the floor.

He knelt down to push the chest away. Unfortunately, his wooden leg cracked against the ground as he knelt, thus waking The Queen.

"Who art thou?" her majesty demanded, sitting up with her sleep mask still covering her eyes.

Red Beard scowled to himself, scrambling away from the foot of the bed. On second thought, he did a very pirate-ish thing. Pirate-ish being a synonym for stupid-but-lucky.

So he shoved the chest out of the way and dove beneath the floorboards.

Now, let it be known, Red Beard had no way of knowing the space would accommodate his entire body. For all he knew, he would jump inside and meet the Queen Of England with his torso sticking out of a tiny hole in her floor.

But as I said, luck favored him. Without missing a beat, he dragged the chest back over him, re-fitting the floorboards.

Here is another fortuitous fact: The Queen had not made this safe herself, nor had she ever discovered it.

The Queen, in all her majesty, was not much of a morning person. Her guards knew not to bother her before nine, and her maid knew not to speak unless spoken to before noon. Even if she was spoken to, a head nod was the correct response.

Anyway, she didn't exactly leap out of bed and hop about the room, demanding to know the intruder. "Who doth intrude upon The Queen?" she asked to no avail.

Red Beard, hardly fazed by the whole thing (as is his custom -- he's a rather steady man on general terms) made a face at his Queen beneath her floor. If he had a sneaking scallywag on his ship, there would be none of this who art thou? No, it would be, Die, ye scoundrel!

The Queen, however, did not possess Red Beard's constant vigor. She frowned at the room, taking to her head that the wind had caused a creaking in the shutters. And what did the poor, dumb woman do? She went back to sleep.

Now, I cannot lie. In her position, I may have done the same. Not even the imminent threat of death can keep me from my sleep.

But this woman, she had some guts to pull the mask back down over her eyes again without even calling a guard. For this was her level of hatred for all things human at this time of morning. She even had the audacity to pull her covers far over her head to keep the world out of her dreams.

Red Beard, hardly thanking his luck for what just transpired, frowned at the floorboards above him and scratched his behind. It had been quite an impact -- at least four feet down, landing hard on his rump. The floor's cold cement teased him for his haste.

Before he could even enjoy the small victory of his evasion, though, Red Beard's face contorted into a sour expression. No Holy Grail here. Just a strangely placed crawl space with a hard-ass floor. All the same, he chuckled to himself. Yes, the hardest-ass floor he ever did see.

Startlingly near to Red Beard, our goose girl was far from chuckling. She and Chicken managed to push through the pirates, but The Queen's Guard would have none of it.

They had just reached the pig pen when a cage of three metal-encased guards stopped them. Anya ran right into the first, unable to recover before another attacked. Before they knew it, the guard was lunging for Chicken, sword flashing in the sunlight.

In her fall, Anya managed to jut out the handle of her knapsack, effectively saving Chicken's life. He dropped like a stone all the same, but not in pain. With the force of his square shoulders, he knocked the guard off his feet and kicked him to the side.

Still on the ground, Anya deflected another sword with her newfound weapon. Out the corner of her eye, she recognized her friend stealing the blade of the unconscious lad beside him.

Well, he had a sword, but the proper use of it remained beyond him. He lunged for the guard, getting in a hard hit to the torso -- which bounced right off, slashing onto Anya's cheek.

"Oh, no!" cried Chicken, the sword falling from his hand.

Anya winced, having no time to assess the wound. "Look out!" she yelled just as a thick, metal dagger darted past the boy's ear. Chicken cried out, diving for the pig pen. Anya rolled to the side, watching him rip a long board of wood from the pen, which he swung in an unreasonably wide arc that took out four or five unsuspecting guards, along with the ones who'd caused all the trouble.

One remained standing. Anya saw him unsheathe his sword, looking at Chicken. Jumping to her feet, she jutted out the handle of her knapsack, hitting the man square in the armored chest. He fell back into the pig pen, hinder enough by the empty mud that the two could run from the place and never return again.