by Dan Davis
He looked like a farmer. He was a big, burly looking man with a fat squishy nose and oversized features, with warts and boils on his cheeks. ‘Was that Cedd, I saw?’ the big man asked. ‘He vanished into thin air.’ With his accent he even sounded like a farmer but it was obvious he was the leader of the horsemen, leader of the army behind them.
He was Cromwell.
‘Yes,’ Archer answered. ‘That was Cedd. And the Alchemist Bede. They took our friend.’
‘And who are you?’ Cromwell asked, looking down at Archer from the great height of his giant horse.
‘Archer,’ he replied, imagining how he looked to this great man. A boy, small for his age, caked in stinking mud, shivering and dead on his feet.
But to Archer’s surprise, the leader clapped his gloved hands together and turned to address his mounted companions behind him. ‘There, what did I tell you?’ the big man cried out. ‘We’ve found him.’ The men nodded, smiled. ‘And here’s Weaver, and this must be Keeper with the poor dragon. Have you ever seen a beast such as this?’ He looked at the people around him and then to the huge crowd of Bures folk. ‘My name is Cromwell,’ he shouted to them. ‘And I have come to welcome you all to England.’
‘We’ve heard of you,’ Archer told him. ‘I don’t think we want your welcome.’
‘Cedd has been filling your ears with lies about me, I don’t doubt,’ Cromwell said to him. ‘He lied to me, too. But I need you. You and all your friends, we need your powers. Charles Stuart, the former King, has landed in the north and west with a great army of musketeers, horse, ordinance and Alchemist Guild battlemages. We humble men of the New Model Army march now from London to stop him once and for all. We have come to the Vale to request your assistance.’
‘You want to force us to fight your war,’ Archer said.
‘England needs you,’ Cromwell said. ‘I ask for your assistance. I demand nothing.’
‘Hopkins and those Coalschester soldiers invaded the Vale,’ Archer said. ‘They want the land for themselves.’
‘Not on my orders. The officers shall be punished for obeying Hopkins. None but you shall take your land,’ Cromwell raised his voice and shouted at the crowd. ‘As long as my Parliament rules England, we shall protect the Vale. The Alchemist’s Guild, should they win the coming battle, will give you no such protection. They will take Bede’s Tower and all your lands.’
‘We’re not fighting a battle,’ Archer said. ‘We have to save Writer from Cedd and Bede.’
‘I, too, have business with those two,’ Cromwell said, darkly. ‘A bargain, then? If you three and your dragon help me win this battle, I will put all England’s resources into saving your friend.’
Archer hesitated. He had no idea where to start. ‘There’s nothing you can say that will make us trust you,’ he said.
‘I quite agree, young Master Archer,’ Cromwell said. ‘Words are puffs of gunsmoke in a strong wind. Actions alone have meaning.’ Cromwell turned to his men. ‘Bring me the master smith and whatever tools and assistance he needs to break chains.’ Cromwell looked at Keeper. ‘And have him free this dragon.’
Keeper looked up, his eyes glistening with gratitude. ‘Hear that, Burp, you’re going to be free!’
He threw his arms about the chained dragon.
‘Bring the prisoners forward,’ Cromwell commanded and the horsemen moved aside to allow a group of soldiers forward. They were dragging four men, bound in chains.
‘Hopkins,’ Archer said. ‘Stearne.’
They were both soaking wet and bruised and looked afraid and hunched. Hopkins was crying. He couldn’t place the third man, who was dry but just as miserable. The last man was Pym. He looked beaten up.
Cromwell nodded. ‘These men will be punished. I swear they shall never harm anyone ever again.’ Hopkins let out a great shuddering sob. ‘I may see them transported to our friends in New England where they can do no more harm.’
‘I ain’t done nothing,’ Pym shouted. Everyone ignored him.
‘Who’s that bloke?’ Weaver asked, peering at the third man.
‘Thurloe, one of my agents,’ Cromwell said, his fat lips curling in disgust. ‘His job was to keep an eye on Bede and any alchemist sympathisers in the area. He recruited Hopkins to the task then promptly allowed himself to be overwhelmed by him. I am not pleased with Thurloe.’
‘We supposed to be impressed?’ Weaver said. ‘We already beat all this lot. They ain’t a threat no more.’ Stearne’s arm writhed in her grip.
A flicker of irritation passed over Cromwell’s face. ‘Beat, yes. You are powerful indeed and that is why we need you. All I can do is see them punished. Administer justice, on your behalf.’ He raised his voice. ‘Justice, I say. On behalf of all good Vale folk.’ A few people cheered.
Weaver laughed. ‘Fair enough.’
‘That’s not you, Winstanley?’ Cromwell cried, looking shocked. ‘What’s this pamphleteer doing with you? Winstanley, you rabble rousing rogue, I heard you were working with Cedd.’
‘Not any more, sir,’ Winstanley shouted.
‘He’s with us,’ Archer said. Weaver nodded.
‘Very well,’ Cromwell said, and then raised his voice again. ‘Set camp on the hills. Have the men clear away this destruction. We march in the morning.’ He looked back at Archer. ‘Will you join us? Help me save England? Secure the Vale? Find your friend?’
Keeper nodded, happily. Weaver grinned. Archer’s parents were staring at Cromwell with their mouths hanging open.
‘Fine,’ Archer said to Cromwell. ‘We’ll save England for you.’
THE END
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