But here in Hurnwych there were none his age – gone thirty – who hadn’t been married off years before. And it had to be faced, after what he’d seen, could he find contentment with a young and innocent village girl?
Perkyn was quiet, clearly affected by his experiences but insisted that he wanted nothing but peace and calm.
The towering vision that had seized Jared of tearing down castle walls with devil dust had now faded. Although the knowledge was within him the ambition seemed absurd and didn’t fit with this land of peace and order, so different to the surging waves of slaughter and violence he’d known. All he wanted now was blessed normality, to take up the life he once had, to fit in to the rhythms of the seasons and the lives of everyday folk in Hurnwych.
The villagers treated him with respect and deference but this was not what he wanted. In the tavern and in conversation they would hold back in awe at what he might say and his opinion on things was final. Even Father Bertrand would anxiously look his way as if in fear of contradiction if a sermon happened to mention the Holy Land.
He had to accept it: he was not of their world any more. His ordeal and adventures had separated him from them, his knowledge of the world so infinitely greater, his perspectives not theirs.
At least he had his work. He took to adding Turkish flourishes to farm tools, a warlike gleam to a scythe blade, socketed three-edged arrowheads for an appreciative Watkyn.
It brought results but not what he expected. One afternoon a hard-faced stranger took a seat in the tavern and asked for him. It turned out to be the Ravenstock armourer.
After some guarded talk it became clear that he was much impressed with Jared’s skills. The craft of armour and blades was greatly superior to pedestrian blacksmithing and Jared was putting out work with the mark of a first-class artificer. Not only that, after his experiences he could be expected to be up with the latest know-how and military fashions from out there in the wider world.
The man was concerned for his job!
If ever they heard about it, Jared would certainly be a catch for the castle. The irony was that he would spit on any offer to work up there. However, he agreed that for a useful fee he would take in work to be passed off as the armourer’s own, which would bolster his position there with its quality and modern touch.
The smithy was prosperous and busy. There was now security and a future for Jared but he was restless.
Daw was still preferring his Uncle Osbert’s company, possibly because they’d been so close for these years, or was it that the young lad was finding it hard to deal with a man so at odds with every other around him? Either way it was hurtful.
He would persevere, of course, for Daw was all he had in this world, but meanwhile there was one great need he had to satisfy.
He had to find himself again.
CHAPTER 37
It was so real, so appalling. Jared woke up breathless, heart hammering, staring into the blackness.
A desultory dream of stumbling over an endless night plain had suddenly tightened into a presence, a monstrous manifestation that had swelled yet remained unseen.
He had an awareness that something had passed into his consciousness – confronting, demanding, overpowering and insistent. With the hard question: why was he delaying? If he had a burden placed upon him why was he not doing his utmost to meet it? What was the hindrance?
He was powerless to resist the message that he’d been set firmly on a path that was leading to his destiny. A harsh but necessary act had put him on a course that had ultimately taken him to Persia and the deadly secret he had acquired. Predestined, he’d been plucked from slavery – made free in order to accomplish his purpose, which was no less than to take the wondrous and terrible powder and, for the good of mankind, go on to wreak a vengeful humbling of those who set themselves above all others in towers of stone.
He – Jared of Hurnwych – had been summoned to a higher mission.
Was this … God calling to him, or the Holy Ghost, or …?
In the darkness he grappled with the revelation.
If God had spoken, who was he to resist the call? He’d been told in church of David and Samuel and others who’d heard the Lord speak – but nowhere was there any indication what it sounded like. And his was more a conviction rather than a command – but if it was not a divine charge, who or what else could it be?
He lay back in awe, letting it all sink in while Perkyn’s gentle snores and the wafting reek of the village kept his hold on reality.
On the face of it the whole thing was ludicrous. Did he make an enormous pile of his powder and personally go forth and set this at the base of the walls of every castle in England? How long would it take – and would they let him?
This was foolish thinking. There had to be another way, one which had real prospects of success. But he, single-handed against the world?
There had been saints and others who had stood tall and achieved greatness but he was no hero. In any case, what could he do that—
Of course! A way that was so obvious: let them bring down their own walls!
Give powder to one and point out that it would be sure medicine against a rival. The advantage would be irresistible and very soon the others would demand the same. In only a short while there would not be a castle wall standing anywhere.
This was it.
He feverishly thought it through again. His role would only be to provide the means and stand aside while they hammered each other to a ruin.
It couldn’t fail!
What was he waiting for?
He couldn’t sleep.
Inside him was the secret of huo yao. It was secure and true, for all that he’d been told and seen was engraved on his heart. All he had to do was put it in motion.
There was the sulphur, the charcoal and the hsiao and the various pans and vessels, mortar and pestle. He’d have to get these from somewhere, but more importantly, a place to work that was private and not liable to interruption.
And somewhere to test the result that wouldn’t have the villagers fleeing in terror at the cataclysm.
Then came a cool breath of caution. Here he was, working to bring about the ruination of castles – if Ravenstock ever got a whiff of what he was up to his fate would not be pleasant. Therefore all that he did must be hidden from men. None – not even his friends or family should know anything of what he was doing.
A hard thing but very necessary – and near impossible to carry out.
But as the light of day began stealing in he had the answer: the old priory, deep in the forest and shunned by all God-fearing men. Its rooms could serve as workshops; the deep cellars would muffle the violence of huo yao, and with the bones of D’Amory in helpless witness to what he was doing it could not be better.
In the cold dawn he wavered. His prospects were favourable and he could reasonably look forward to a respectable life in Hurnwych. To hazard all this with a demented notion to bring to ruin all the realm’s castles was surely the act of a madman.
As Jared worked at the forge his thoughts chased each other but there was no getting away from it: he’d been called, and uniquely able to make it happen, he could not turn his back on it.
That evening in his little house he began to plan.
CHAPTER 38
‘Hey ho, the smith!’ breezed the pedlar. ‘And I heard you’ve need o’ my wares?’
‘Yes, Wagge Longface. I’ve been much troubled by lice and fleas in this new house near the woods. I’ll thank you for a half-peck of your finest brimstone.’
‘So much? And it’ll take long in the finding, God’s truth on it.’
‘Go to it, old man. Mark you, I pay well for the best.’
The charcoal was easy. Good willow cut from beside the River Dene and fed to the burner by Daw, all believing that this was yet another of his Moorish tricks, perhaps to achieve more fierce heat at the forge.
When it came, the sulphur was of reasonable quality, a thick-smelling dull-yellow
grit but with inclusions. It would need purifying.
The hard part was going to be the hsiao. Where was he to find camel stables here? And when he had it, there was the preparation process – the cauldrons, barrels and pipes – these had to be gathered together without raising suspicion.
He needed an accomplice. One who not only understood what he was going to do but was of the utmost trustworthiness. Who knew fire techniques, handling hazardous objects and would in turn trust him.
Perkyn Slewfoot was the only one he could turn to.
Could he ask it of him? He’d taken his exile hard and now wanted nothing more than a peaceful existence. This was going to be secret, exciting and frightening – and dangerous.
Supper finished and the maidservant left.
‘Perkyn, old friend,’ Jared began in a serious tone. ‘I have a matter of great consequence weighing on me. I wondered if you could help at all.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, as you are the only one who might understand.’
‘I-I’ll try.’
‘Thank you, Perkyn. I knew you’d like to help.’
‘If it eases your burden I’d—’
‘A dream was sent to me. A great and burning presence did place upon me a charge and duty that I must obey. Perkyn, I’m called to a purpose I cannot refuse.’
‘C-called?’
‘Yes. And I’m vexed to know how I can proceed.’
Jared had Perkyn’s wide-eyed attention. ‘It is my stern duty to humble those who dwell in high places and oppress the common folk.’
‘D-dwell in …?’
‘Castles, Perkyn, castles.’
Perkyn gave a saintly smile. ‘Ah. And you must humble them. I understand now.’
Jared suppressed his irritation. ‘Yes. And I will do it!
‘You remember the siege of … whatever the place was called, the last one before we were delivered?’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘And do you recall what broke the siege?’
‘I do,’ he said in a rush, ‘such magic! Thunderbolts and lightning, I was sore afeared and hid.’
‘Perkyn. It was not magic. It was the Cathayan’s artifice. And I have their secret.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I have it. And it will be the means to bring down the walls of every castle in the realm, that they must then live and bide with their people.’
‘You … you’re going to bring this magic against all the castles by yourself – and you want me to help you?’ Perkyn gasped.
‘No, no! Only to make up the huo yao for them to throw at each other. We stand aside while they’re at it.’
Perkyn stumbled over the pronunciation.
‘I don’t know what it’s called in English. A kind of dust, powder which burns with great violence. We have to make it from things – charcoal, brimstone and, er, hsiao.’
Rigid with apprehension, Perkyn could not speak.
‘Will you help me, Perkyn? It’ll be exciting work, much more than a forge-hand usually sees.’
‘Um, I …’
‘Wouldn’t you like to take a tilt at those peacocks? They once had you at the end of a rope as I remember …’
‘I’m frightened,’ he said miserably. ‘It was very loud and—’
‘We’re not using it, only making it. Let them hear it.’
‘But …’
‘I knew you’d help me! Stout fellow. Here’s my hand on it, Perkyn.’
It took a round of metheglin to seal the pact but then Jared had the priceless boon of someone to talk to, however unworldly.
CHAPTER 39
Sworn to secrecy, it was time to set to. The first business was the purifying of the sulphur, and for that they needed to get out to the priory to set up a workshop of sorts, complete with apparatus. Iron pots and kettles, coarse cloth, dippers, tongs. Flint and steel, the mortar and pestle from the forge occasionally used to grind fine sand for quality moulds, a small table, chairs. And this was only the beginning.
There was only one way to get it out to the priory. At night, without telling Perkyn where they were going, Jared loaded him down and humping his own bag stealthily led him out.
The moonless, chilly night was as still as the grave. His little house closely backed on to the woods and it took only a matter of moments to slip in among the trees to the path that he’d previously located. He could hear Perkyn’s teeth chattering and it wasn’t just the cold.
Under their feet the brush crackled and snapped but Jared knew it would be muffled by the thick greenery.
‘Wh-where are we g-going?’ hissed Perkyn.
‘A safe place,’ Jared assured him. ‘Dry and comfortable.’
In his impatience he stepped out faster, leaving Perkyn to hobble behind as best he could. He was carried on a flood tide of exhilaration. It was going forward – he was actually going to make huo yao and change the world!
The clearing was dark and mysterious, the ruins rearing up black and threatening.
‘No! You didn’t tell me it was this!’ Perkyn blurted, dropping his bundle. ‘The plaguey nuns! Christ shield me, but the ghosts and—’
‘Be still, simkin! They’ve all left long since, mark my word. Why do you think we’re here? I came … before, I know it well and there’s none of that kind any more!’
The cellar hatch opened with a long scrrreak. Jared went down the steps to the echoing space and lit a candle. Perkyn hesitantly came down.
‘As I promised. Here we’ll work our wonders.’
The table was set up and gear arranged along the walls.
The old kitchen had a hearth, suitably enclosed but open above to the night sky. Firewood in the middle of a forest was no problem and Jared soon had his sulphur heating slowly with an ungodly stench until it melted, at which he could scoop the impurities from the gently simmering dull-yellow froth.
Perkyn ladled it out over an old cloth filter and in the pot below a bright yellow began to spread. He was finding the pungency of brimstone in the confined space difficult to take, but Jared sharply reminded him that this was how physicians treated those with disease and therefore he must by now be the healthiest in Hurnwych.
The cycle continued until all the pedlar’s sulphur had been transformed.
It was enough for one night.
They slipped back into the house, startled once by an owl. Jared was thrilled: they had started on the road that led to success! Perkyn said nothing and crept to bed.
In the smithy it was hard for Jared to concentrate. In a very short while he’d assembled two of the three ingredients, had created a secret workshop and brought together what he needed to produce the powder. It was not impossible that very soon he would be master of heaven’s thunder!
There remained the last and most difficult: hsiao.
He blessed his resolve to go with the Cathayan’s servants as they hunted it out. If they located hsiao in Persia, far from Cathay, then it must be found in other parts of the world – such as England. The principle would be the same, namely, that where death and decay, vile baseness and unspeakable ordure reigned, there the precious substance would be hidden.
That night, with Perkyn obediently behind carrying a small sack, Jared began work at the catacombs at the priory ruins.
‘Wh-what are we looking for?’ Perkyn asked pitifully as they explored each underground chamber. Jared hid a wry grin; the truthful answer – dead bodies – was not the answer Perkyn needed now.
Jared led him down a small stone-enshrouded entrance at the end of the chapel.
‘Come on, we’ve work to do,’ he said, putting flame to an oil lamp.
It lit up the space with a flickering yellow that brought as many moving shadows as it did light. And it revealed rows of neatly stacked bones and skulls that stretched away into the blackness in a thick and choking atmosphere of dust and decay.
‘No!’ wailed Perkyn, clutching the sack to him as if for protection. ‘I can’t!’
‘Get he
re!’
The bones were not what Jared wanted but what was on the stone immediately under them, as he remembered from a Seljuq charnel house.
Perkyn whimpered behind him. Lowering the lamp Jared looked under the shelf and there it was. Against the wall, a line of white at a seam in the stonework, tiny icicles hanging down, just as he’d seen it before.
‘Help me,’ he muttered, and pulled at the bones, which suddenly clattered down in an unholy avalanche.
Perkyn gave a howl of fear and made for the entrance but Jared caught his tunic and yanked him back.
‘Stay here and hold the sack,’ he growled, and leant into the gap with his scraper. It came away easily and in his fist was the first of his harvest!
Gingerly he extended a tongue. It was rewarded with a sharp but sweet taste, no trace of salt at all. It was hsiao right enough.
‘What’s wrong now?’ he asked in exasperation. Perkyn was bent over, retching hopelessly. ‘A great help you’re turning out to be!’
There were just two rows of bones each side and only one had any betraying white at all. At this rate it would take forever to gather it in the quantities he’d seen in Persia. It was going to be a long night.
By the time he’d forced all the tombs he could find, it was the cold hours before dawn and he had to return with barely two handfuls of crumbling white and a near-gibbering Perkyn.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Osbert grumbled as he entered the smithy later.
Jared tensed – but then realised that he was referring more to his late arrival than anything else.
‘Oh, er, Perkyn is ailing, I thought to see him comfortable.’
Osbert gave his stooped body and red eyes a keen glance but said nothing more.
CHAPTER 40
The Powder of Death Page 13
