He gritted his teeth and forced aside a thorny branch with his arm. Kanvar drew his breath in sharply, while Jack felt giddy for a moment.
The town below was a smouldering ruin. The larger buildings in the centre had been decimated and smoke coiled up from the husks that remained. The inn was nothing but a pile of timbers and the smaller cottages about the perimeter had all been torched, their thatched roofs burnt away and the walls smeared with black soot. All that was left of the refugees’ camp was a muddy field.
The crows circled overhead, giving grating squawks.
Kanvar stared through his spyglass for a moment before handing it to Jack. Jack swept the glass across Newcastle and spotted several corpses, all covered in crows. Troops of Welshmen marched through the streets and searched the debris, no doubt looking for loot.
He moved the glass over to the castle, which rose from a field about half a mile from the town. The walls still stood firm and the keep still thrust up from the bailey. But as he scanned the battlements, he saw no sign of any men-at-arms. And there was no sign either of the old Rajthanan guns that normally poked out from the embrasures.
When he moved the glass down, he saw that the portcullis lay in the overgrown ditch that had once been the moat. The gate had been smashed open and lay in pieces just beyond the gatehouse.
He lowered the glass. His skin crawled and he felt the bile stinging the back of his throat again.
‘We have to get to Folly Brook,’ he said, his voice cracking.
Still crouching, they scrambled back to the horses and rode downhill. Instead of taking the route through Newcastle, Jack struck off along a little-used track that led through the hills and intersected the valley of the Folly brook.
The day was hot. Jack sweated profusely and his mouth prickled with thirst. His mare was growing weary from so many days of hard riding, and she tripped and stumbled at times on the uneven path. But Jack didn’t stop to rest or even slow the pace. He kept spurring the mare into a gallop despite the treacherous ground.
His mind was on fire. His head felt hot and full of blood.
After half an hour, the mare clambered up the final slope and then the thin valley snaked away below him. He saw the trees at the base of the incline and the brook snaking into the distance. But his eyes fell instantly upon the village. His village.
And then he found himself jumping from his horse and sinking to his knees.
Tears pricked his eyes.
Folly Brook was burning. Smoke trailed from the thatched roofs and many of the huts had been completely smashed. He could tell all this even from a distance, even without the spyglass that Kanvar was now offering to him.
Folly Brook was gone.
PART THREE
16
The trees flitted past to either side of Jack as his horse thundered down the track. He caught glimpses of branches and greenery, but it all seemed far away – unreal, even. All he could think about was getting to Folly Brook and finding the answers to the questions battering his head.
He heard Kanvar’s horse galloping behind him. Kanvar hadn’t spoken a single word during the ride downhill – it seemed he’d wisely decided to maintain a respectful silence.
For a moment, an image of Katelin lying dead flashed into Jack’s mind. Then he saw the corpses lying in the streets after the Siege of London. And then more bodies scattered across the battlefield outside Ragusa. So many dead people. All piling up in his mind, as if he were being buried beneath them.
His mare reached the bottom of the slope, skidded to the right and galloped down the main road towards the village. The forest and hills were intensely familiar to Jack now. He’d lived here for four years and had come to call this place home. He’d worked the fields spreading out to his left. He’d taken Elizabeth hunting with him in the woods rippling past to his right.
He spotted the ancient stone cross standing on the side of the road and the two old elms with their branches meshing into an arch over his head.
He shivered. In a few seconds he would be in Folly Brook. And then he would know …
Would there be Welsh soldiers still in the village? He didn’t care at that moment. If he saw any, he would fire lightning at them, kill as many of them as he could. If he ran out of strength or sattva, he would draw his knife and keep on fighting until he was slain …
The first huts appeared. The thatched roofs were burnt, soot streaked the walls and the doors were kicked in. The destruction was so recent, the ruins still smouldered and cast traces of smoke into the sky.
He saw his own hut. It had been completely demolished and was now nothing more than a pile of timbers, daub and charred thatching.
Was Saleem lying dead in there? The boy couldn’t have survived if he’d been inside when the hut was torched.
But Jack didn’t stop. He had to get to Elizabeth’s cottage. He couldn’t let anything else distract him.
Tears misted his sight. His throat was so tight he could barely swallow or even breathe.
He snarled at his mare, urging her to gallop faster. Kanvar followed immediately behind him. The burnt-out huts reeled past to either side of the village’s main street. Several chickens scurried across the road. A mournful dog skulked between the smoking timbers. But otherwise Jack saw no sign of life.
Elizabeth’s hut came into view at the end of the road. The roof had been partially destroyed and the walls and door were scorched. But the walls were still largely intact.
Blinking away tears, Jack leapt from his horse. He felt a howl of rage building inside him. The blood roared in his ears.
He took a deep breath and kicked open the charred door. Inside, it was lighter than usual due to the wide holes in the roof. Ash and cinders coated the floor. The smell of soot was strong. He saw overturned pots, smashed chests, several tunics and blankets scattered across the ground. But otherwise the hut was empty. There was no one, living or dead, in there.
Jack took a breath. He realised he hadn’t been breathing for some time. He wiped the tears from his eyes and quickly composed himself. Elizabeth wasn’t in the cottage. But then where was she? Captured? Taken somewhere else and killed? The possibilities spun wildly in his head.
The door swung open and Kanvar stepped in. ‘There are no bodies.’
‘What?’ Jack said.
‘I have seen no bodies. I saw none when we rode into the village. I have just checked two other huts. There seem to be no bodies anywhere.’
Jack’s heart quivered. Was this news some cause for hope? Or was he simply clutching at straws?
He drew the knife from his belt. ‘We’ll check every building. We have to be sure.’
They both slipped outside and split up, Kanvar taking one side of the village and Jack the other. It would have been safer for the two of them to stay together, but Jack was in a rush now and had no interest in being cautious. He had to find his little girl. He had to know what had happened to her.
He gripped the knife tightly as he marched into the destroyed huts. He half expected to come across Welshmen still busy looting. But in each cottage he found only the scattered remains of household objects.
He met Kanvar on the village green.
Kanvar shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
Jack flexed his fingers about the knife. ‘There’s only one place left to check. The House of Sorcery.’
They marched across the green, splashed through the ford and wound their way through the trees. Jack’s thoughts were red with blood by the time he and Kanvar reached the glade at the end of the path. The House of Sorcery stood serenely on one side of the clearing. Strangely, there was no damage to it.
Jack strode across the grass, Kanvar loping beside him. He stopped outside the door.
What would he find in there? Elizabeth, Cecily, Godwin and Saleem all huddled safely inside? Or their dead bodies strewn across the ground?
He took a deep breath. He was about to kick in the door but decided there was no point. Instead, he twisted the ringed handle
and nudged the door open. It was dark inside. There was no fire in the hearth and all the window shutters were closed. He smelt the familiar scent of smoke mingling with the sweet perfume of the powerful sattva that rolled through the glade.
He blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted to the light. The banner of the Lightning yantra was still strung up across the wall. The sand trays the students used to practise their yantras still stood stacked in one corner of the room. Everything was as it had been when he’d last been here.
There was no one in there. No one, alive or dead.
Christ. Now he didn’t know what to think. He stepped outside and squinted at the forested slopes sweeping up at the edge of the valley. His eyes trailed along the spine of the hills, which tumbled away towards the larger valley of the River Clun. The old stone cross watched him from the nearest summit.
He saw no sign of life anywhere. Were the villagers hiding up in the forest? Had they been captured?
Damn it.
He punched the wall in front of him, putting a deep dent in the daub. His fist stung. But that didn’t stop him thumping the wall again.
Where the hell was Elizabeth? What had they done to her?
He’d been a fool. Why had he gone with Kanvar? Why had he believed he could find the Grail? Why had he believed – and this amazed him now – that he would be the one to save England?
Kanvar placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘We will keep searching. We will find them.’
Jack was about to reply when he heard horses’ hooves clopping on the far side of the brook.
A quiver ran down his spine. ‘Someone’s coming. Let’s take a look.’
They sprinted into the cover of the trees, clambered through the undergrowth and then crouched behind a blackthorn bush on the edge of the brook. Jack stared across the water and over to the village green. He saw no one, but now he could hear voices. People were shouting.
He listened intently and made out two voices. One was a man’s and the other was a woman’s.
That was strange. A woman might travel with a Welsh army as a follower, but it was unlikely she would stray far from the camp. Why would she come out to a village like Folly Brook?
Then he caught the word the two people were shouting – ‘Jack!’
He stood up quickly. The woman’s voice wasn’t Elizabeth’s. But still, these people, whoever they were, knew him. They were looking for him.
‘Let’s get over there,’ he said.
‘It could be a trap,’ Kanvar replied.
‘I’ll have to take a chance.’
Jack strode into the brook, splashed across to the far bank and stepped up on to the green. Two figures on horseback appeared from the huts and rode towards him.
His head reeled and he rubbed his eyes several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
It was Sonali and Captain Rao.
Sonali wore her usual green sari and red shawl, while Rao was dressed in the uniform of a Rajthanan officer.
Warmth stirred in Jack’s chest for a moment. Sonali was alive. And Rao appeared well. Jack hadn’t expected to see either of them ever again.
But then a shadow crossed his thoughts. Why were they in Folly Brook? And how had they got here? They couldn’t have come on their own – that would have been far too dangerous. They must have arrived with the enemy.
And after all, weren’t they the enemy? They were both Rajthanans. Could he even trust them now that there was a war on?
Kanvar crossed the brook and stood beside Jack. He closed his eyes, raised his hand and began muttering a mantra.
He was going to use a power against Rao and Sonali.
‘Wait.’ Jack shoved Kanvar’s arm down.
Kanvar’s eyes shot open. ‘We must fight—’
‘I know them. Let’s see what they have to say.’
Kanvar’s eyes widened. ‘You know them? These Rajthanans?’
‘It’s a long story.’
There was no time for Jack to explain further, because Rao and Sonali had already arrived. Sonali leapt from her horse, ran across to Jack and threw her arms about him.
‘Jack-ji.’ Sonali’s voice was husky. ‘I was so worried about you.’
‘I’m all right.’ Jack’s voice had a hint of coldness to it, and he didn’t respond to her embrace beyond patting her lightly on the back. He was pleased to see her. But, at the same time, he didn’t know what was going on.
Sonali frowned and stepped back. ‘What’s wrong?’
Jack was about to reply, but Rao was already bounding across to him, beaming and saying a namaste.
Rao extended his arm. ‘Jack, it is such a pleasure to see you again.’
Jack hesitated for a moment.
Rao’s smile widened and he waggled his hand. ‘Come on. You shake hands. It’s your custom, isn’t it?’
Jack smiled tightly. Rao’s greeting was so enthusiastic, it was hard for him not to take the captain’s hand and shake.
Rao put his hands on his hips. ‘It’s such a relief to see you.’ He glanced across at Sonali. ‘Isn’t it?’
Sonali nodded slowly. There was still a frown on her forehead. She knew something was wrong. She bit her bottom lip and looked across at the ruined village. When she faced Jack again, tears were brimming in her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened. Is everyone … safe?’
‘Don’t know,’ Jack said. ‘There was no one around when I got here.’
Her frown deepened further. ‘You just got here?’
‘I’ve been away for a few days.’ He motioned to Kanvar. ‘With him.’
Rao stared at Kanvar. ‘Are you Rajthanan?’
Kanvar pursed his lips, squared his shoulders and said something in Punjabi.
Rao’s eyebrows shot up. He clearly knew enough of the Sikhs’ language to understand. ‘A Sikh? What are you doing here?’
‘He’s a friend,’ Jack said. ‘He’s been helping me.’
Rao rubbed his moustache. ‘That is unusual. You always manage to surprise me, Jack.’
Jack sighed. ‘It’ll take a long time to explain, and I don’t have a long time. I have to find my daughter.’
‘Ah,’ Rao said. ‘We might be able to help you there.’
Jack eyed Rao closely. ‘What do you mean?’
Rao cleared his throat. ‘We have some information. Let me explain. Sonali and I have travelled up with the baggage train from Worcestershire.’
Jack felt a tremor of foreboding. ‘Worcestershire? You’ve come up with General Jhala’s troops?’
‘That’s right.’
‘The troops are here now?’
‘Yes, but they’ve taken the east end of the valley. The Welsh have moved in from the west.’
Jack tightened his jaw. ‘And Jhala? He’s here, then? In Clun Valley?’
‘No, the general has taken a force to Shrewsbury, including a siege train. The troops were split at Ludlow, you see.’
Jack sucked on his teeth. This all made sense. Jhala had only sent some of his men to Clun, as he must have known the Welsh would advance into Shropshire from the west. The attack was coordinated. It must have been planned weeks, or even months, in advance.
And now, with Clun Valley captured, Jhala was marching on Shrewsbury, the stronghold of the Earl of Shropshire. Once Shrewsbury fell and Vadula’s army swept in from the east, that would be the end of the crusade.
It might all be over within days.
But none of this mattered much to Jack at the moment. He had to find Elizabeth and Cecily. Once he’d done that, he would work out what to do next.
‘You said you had some information,’ he said.
‘Ah yes,’ Rao replied. ‘I heard from the army scouts that many of the people in this area escaped before the Welsh got here. They’ve fled to the north. In quite large numbers, I’m told.’
Jack hesitated. ‘What about this village? Did they all get away?’
Sonali stepped forward. ‘I think so. I spoke with one of the scouts
. He said he’d been up this valley. I described the village and he said he thought everyone had escaped. Rajiv and I came here to make sure. But I was thinking you would have gone with them.’
Jack felt his throat tighten. Could it be true? Could Elizabeth still be alive?
He blinked away a tear. He had to focus his mind again. Concentrate. He didn’t have much time now. Elizabeth and the others might have got away, but that didn’t mean the army or the Welsh wouldn’t go after them.
‘I’ll find their tracks.’ He spun on his heel and marched across the green. ‘If they went north, they’ll have gone this way.’
He reached the edge of the green, the others jogging to catch up to him. He crouched down. The grass was a morass of footprints and hoof marks. Numerous people had crossed it over the past few days and he couldn’t spot the tracks of any fleeing villagers amongst the markings. On the other hand, the ground to the north was covered in scrub and knots of trees. He saw no sign of any trail there at all.
He stood and faced Kanvar. ‘Get the horses. I’m going to have to search around more.’
As Kanvar strode back towards the village, Jack paced along the edge of the green, scouring the ground. There was a storm in his head. Sickness was bubbling in his stomach. He wasn’t concentrating properly.
He paused and shut his eyes for a second.
Your mind is a rippling pool. Still it.
He opened his eyes again and crept forward. And then he spotted a set of boot prints just outside the green. He squatted down, parted a clump of nettles and looked more closely. Judging by the moistness of the prints, and how clear they still were in the ground, they couldn’t be more than a few hours old.
He stood and scanned the ground ahead of him. His eyes seized upon another set of prints. He trod gingerly across to them – he didn’t want to disturb any other tracks that could be nearby. This second set of marks was much smaller than the first and had to have been left by a child. Nearby he saw further footprints, the scalloped indentations left by horses’ hooves and the ruts of carts.
As many as a hundred people could have passed this way.
This had to be the trail.
The War of the Grail Page 16
