Panting heavily, but catching his breath, he turned to Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide and shining, and dirt speckled her face. But when she saw him looking at her, a smile rolled across her lips.
He embraced her, held her close.
Thank God his little girl was alive.
He let go of her again and glanced around. Kanvar, Sonali, Saleem and Godwin were standing nearby. They were all unharmed.
He was about to speak to them, when he heard a shriek behind him. He whirled round in time to see a Welshman charging through one of the gaps where the wall had crumbled. A crusader jabbed the Welshman with a knife-musket, and the man vomited blood before tumbling back out of the breach.
But now further Welshmen were hurling themselves at the hole. And others began attacking the gate. Crusaders stood beneath the gatehouse, fighting off the assailants and then firing their muskets, the weapons popping and coughing smoke.
Jack motioned to the musket still hanging across Elizabeth’s back. ‘That loaded?’
She nodded.
‘Give it to me.’
She slung the weapon from her shoulder and handed it over to him.
He paused for a moment, gripped her arm. ‘Wait here.’
He glanced at both the breach and the gateway. The breach looked less well defended, so he ran across to this. Crusaders carrying muskets were already taking up positions behind the chunks of fallen stonework.
He slipped behind a slab of masonry that was just taller than him. He looked round the side, but snatched himself back as an arrow whispered straight at him. He felt the wind of the missile’s passing on his cheek. He peered round the side again and saw a wave of Welshmen charging at the breach. He raised his musket, stared along the sights and pulled the trigger. The weapon cracked, the butt kicked into his shoulder and a puff of sulphurous smoke blotted out the view for a second.
He didn’t wait for the smoke to clear. There was no time to check whether he’d hit anyone. Instead, he grasped a cartridge from his pouch, bit it open and began reloading.
The other crusaders were also firing now, stepping out from their hiding places and blasting at the oncoming Welsh.
Jack raised his musket again and pulled the trigger. The men around him continued to fire as well. A few stray bullets and arrows flew up through the breach. But for the most part, the Welsh seemed determined to run at the walls rather than return fire.
Jack reloaded and fired. Reloaded and fired. He’d practised this so many times during drills in the army that he did it without thinking. His mind was empty. Still. He was certain he could have loaded a musket in his sleep.
Musket smoke welled about the breach, and soon Jack couldn’t see more than five feet in front of him. A few Welsh attackers made it as far as the wall, materialising like phantoms from the murk, but the crusaders managed to batter or stab all those who got close.
Suddenly the guns on the wall stopped. The muskets fell silent. The smoke in front of Jack frayed and tore apart, and then he could see the marauders were retreating. Many Welsh lay dead or dying on the slope and the rest were skidding away. Several horns blasted and the mass of men began to withdraw from the hill.
A man near Jack raised his fist and cheered. Almost instantly, the others around the breach did the same. The sound flickered along the wall, and soon hundreds of people were cheering, whooping and whistling.
Jack muttered a Hail Mary, then slipped back along the wall. He found Elizabeth and the others all safe and waiting beside the horses. Godwin had drawn his longsword, but didn’t seem to have put it to any use.
Then the cheers subsided and Jack heard the slow crunch of booted footsteps behind him. Everyone nearby went silent. It was now so quiet that Jack could hear the wind whining through the broken stonework and the faint moans of the Welshmen dying on the hillside.
Even before he turned, he knew who it was.
Constable Henry Ward was pacing slowly down a set of stairs from the battlements. His face was twisted, his brow dark and his black cloak whipped about him. The rotary pistol in his belt gleamed softly in the grey light.
Everyone in the vicinity stood watching. No one moved or spoke.
Henry halted on the last step and glared down at Jack. ‘I told you to leave.’
19
Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and adjusted the musket on his shoulder. ‘I’ve come here to defend our people, not fight with you. We need to work together. We should leave anything else in the past.’
Henry narrowed his eyes. ‘That would be convenient for you, wouldn’t it? Leave it all in the past.’ He pointed his finger at Jack. ‘You want us to forget how you succoured witches? How you gave aid to the heathens?’
People were beginning to gather to watch the unfolding scene. Several muttered approval at Henry’s words. One man, to Jack’s right, slung his musket from his shoulder and held it at his side, as if he might need it in a hurry.
‘I have never given aid to the enemy,’ Jack said. ‘I have always served the crusade. You know that well enough.’
Henry scowled. ‘Served the crusade? You refused to go in search of the Grail. The one thing that could have saved us, that could have saved Lord Fitzalan.’
‘I did look for the Grail. Eventually. I’ve just come back from the search.’
‘Is that so? You refused before. Now you say you went. So … where is it, then?’
Jack paused. How was he going to explain this? ‘I’m not certain that we found it. If we did, I don’t understand how to use it.’
‘You speak in riddles.’ Henry waved his hand theatrically towards the crowd. ‘Are we just supposed to take your word for all this?’
‘No. The Sikh came with me.’ Jack motioned to Kanvar.
Kanvar’s eyes widened as the gazes of the gathered people fell upon him.
Henry clapped his hands slowly. ‘An Indian is your witness. You expect us to trust the word of one of the enemy.’ He pointed his finger at Jack. ‘You damn yourself from your own mouth, Jack Casey. You have consorted with the enemy for many months – years, no doubt. You’ve always been their servant.’ His face reddened and his eyes blazed. ‘I should shoot you and your heathen friends on the spot.’
‘Wait, sir.’ Mark pushed his way to the front of the throng. ‘Master Casey is a loyal crusader.’ He looked at the faces of the men and women around him. ‘I’ve seen with my own eyes all he’s done for the crusade. He’s taught me and the other lads how to fight the heathens. Using their own powers against them.’
Many of the apprentices from the House of Sorcery emerged from the crowd and stepped forward to stand beside Mark.
‘I can vouch for him,’ Mark continued. ‘And anyone from Folly Brook village will say the same.’
‘That’s right,’ someone called out.
Jack looked over the heads of the first few rows of people and spotted James, the tenant farmer. Beside him stood several more apprentices, who also shouted out their support for Jack.
Henry scowled at the gathering. ‘Casey has you all bewitched. You’re fools if you can’t see it.’
‘We can’t send them out there now, sir.’ Mark motioned towards the gate. ‘The Welsh will slaughter them.’
Henry’s face contorted. His eyes bulged and he took in a deep breath, as if he were about to bellow.
But then a man up on the battlements shouted, ‘Look over there!’ He pointed out at the plains. ‘There’re more of them coming.’
Henry’s chest deflated. He spun round and charged back up to the parapet. All along the ramparts men began to talk and gesture towards the enemy. Jack shuffled forward with the rest of the crowd to gaze through the hole in the wall.
Drapes of rain swept across the landscape. The light greens of the countryside were darkened to deep jade. The Welsh had retreated to about a mile and a half away, out of range of the guns. Further figures were spilling over the distant hills and swirling down towards the plains. Jack stared hard through the drizzle. There wer
e hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Welshmen arriving.
And now they were spreading out across the open ground. Keeping out of range, they marched to the left and right, bearing their standards, which included the red banner of war to the death.
Jack found himself gripping the strap of the musket tightly.
The Welsh were surrounding the hill. They were laying siege to the fortress.
Henry didn’t say that Jack, Sonali and Kanvar could stay. But neither did he return to speak about it further. So, Jack and the others simply remained in the fortress.
The lepers were assigned to an uninhabited section of the fortress, while Mark led Jack and the other new arrivals to the place where the remaining members of Folly Brook had made camp. James and the lads from the House of Sorcery walked alongside Jack, eager for news about where he’d been and why it had taken him so long to return.
Jack found himself being drawn into a labyrinth of crumbling facades, arches, passages and halls. The stonework was smothered by vines, but traces of carved arabesque designs peeked out through the foliage. He walked across chambers and galleries where the paving stones had long ago sunk beneath the earth and the roofs had melted, leaving the interiors exposed to the sky. He crossed open spaces that must once have been courtyards or formal gardens, the ponds, fountains and flower beds all now overgrown with grass. Cracked domes, shattered gazebos and rotting towers surrounded him. Columns stood alone, attached to nothing. Huge arched windows looked out into empty space.
The drizzle was easing but still cast a trembling veil over the ruined buildings.
A whole city of people seemed to have fled into the fortress. They hunched over campfires, clambered in and out of tattered pavilions, and sheltered from the rain beneath those roofs that were still relatively intact. Numerous children ran, shrieking with delight, through the tunnels and hallways – they had no idea there was a war on. To them, it was all an adventure, a game.
People’s faces dropped when they saw Kanvar and Sonali, and many tripped over in their haste to get out of the way.
Mark explained that more and more refugees had poured into the fortress over the course of the day. He’d heard there were now two thousand people sheltering within the walls – a large number, but one that the vast fortress was still able to accommodate. Many people from Clun Valley, including some from Folly Brook, had chosen not to retreat here. A few had decided to stay in Clun. Some had decided to flee to their relatives’ homes in other parts of Shropshire. Others had said they would try to escape to Wales or other regions in England. Jack could hardly blame them for trying, although he wondered how far they would get.
Finally, after meandering for about fifteen minutes, Jack’s party arrived at the Folly Brook camp. The villagers had found a spot in and around what might have been a palatial residence long ago, but which was now a jumble of collapsed masonry ensnared by ivy. Five cooking fires stood near what appeared to be the building’s main entrance. And about the flames were arrayed the inhabitants of Folly Brook.
When they saw Jack and the others, the villagers leapt to their feet, cheered, clapped and rushed across the grass. Jack greeted each person in turn and Mark lined up the apprentices for him to inspect. Jack counted off the lads and found that two were missing. One of them was Alban, the last to master Lightning.
Mark coughed and looked at the ground. ‘Alban and David didn’t want to stay here. Said they had to protect their home villages.’
Jack nodded. The two lads had made an understandable decision, but that meant there were now only ten apprentices who could use the Lightning yantra. Still, at least Jack had the power himself now. And they had Sonali and the formidable Kanvar on their side as well.
Jack heard crying and wailing behind him and instantly knew who it was. He turned and saw old Mary, the village wise woman, emerging from the entryway with Cecily in her arms.
Jack grinned, crossed himself and took the baby from Mary. Cecily looked up at him and smiled. He gazed at her perfect features, tiny fingers, impossibly smooth skin. She was alive and well. He silently thanked God. Somehow, it seemed there was still hope while the child was alive.
Without thinking, caught up in the moment, he held Cecily above his head and turned slowly in a circle, displaying the child to the villagers congregating around him.
‘This is what we’re fighting for,’ he said. ‘The future. A better future.’
‘I thought you were gone.’ Elizabeth brushed a lock of hair from her face. ‘I thought I wouldn’t see you again.’
Jack put his arm around her shoulder for a second. The two of them were sitting on a stone slab to the side of the Folly Brook encampment. Cecily lay gurgling in Elizabeth’s arms.
‘I’m sorry I left,’ Jack said. ‘I thought I might find the Grail. I was wrong.’
‘I understand. You had to try.’
‘Just remember, though, no matter where I go, I’ll always come back for you.’
Elizabeth smiled slightly. ‘I remember how you used to be gone for so long when you were in the army.’
Jack nodded. Back then, he’d only had a few weeks’ annual leave and sometimes he could go for more than a year without seeing Katelin and Elizabeth.
‘People used to start talking, you know,’ Elizabeth continued. ‘They’d say you wouldn’t be coming back. That you’d been killed in battle. But then you’d suddenly be there, walking through the door.’
Jack remembered these scenes well. In his mind’s eye he could still see the young Elizabeth running across the room as he opened the cottage door, racing into his arms. The memories seemed so vivid, but also so long ago. They were from another time, another world, when Katelin was still alive and he still served the Rajthanans. Before the crusade. Before Jhala had betrayed him …
Cecily grizzled and Elizabeth jiggled her up and down to calm her.
Jack rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted, but the relief of finding Elizabeth alive had filled him with unexpected strength. ‘You still have Mother’s necklace?’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘Of course.’
She drew the necklace out from under her dress and held it up. The ancient cross twirled slowly as it dangled from the string.
‘Good.’ He patted her on the shoulder. ‘You made it here safely. Mother must be watching over you.’
His eyes strayed across the camp. Blue dusk was falling across the fortress. The rain had finally faded and the villagers could sit outside without getting wet. Saleem was talking to his mother and sisters on the far side of the camp, while Mary was discussing something with several other women. Mark and the lads from the House of Sorcery were helping to peel and cut turnips and parsnips for the pots that stood in the cooking fires.
But there was one person Jack couldn’t see. In fact, he hadn’t seen her for more than an hour. Sonali.
He’d better look for her.
He said farewell to Elizabeth, walked across the camp and ducked through the entrance to the ruin. He found himself in a gloomy chamber that was more like a cave than something man-made. The upper storeys of the building had fallen in long ago and now the large slabs of the ceiling lay less than a foot above his head. Several villagers squatted in the darkness or lay on blankets. A collection of barrels and sacks stood against one wall. The villagers had brought a few carts of food with them when they escaped, enough to last for several days at least.
He couldn’t see Sonali, so he pressed on through an arch and made his way through a warren of further rooms formed by the collapsed stonework. The only light came from the numerous holes in the ceiling or the occasional tallow candle stuck in the ground. He saw more villagers huddled here and there, but still no sign of Sonali.
Finally, he pushed aside a curtain of vines and came out in a larger hall where the ceiling had almost completely disintegrated, revealing the blue-black sky beyond. A row of pillars paraded along one side of the chamber, although they now supported nothing.
Kanvar sat cross-legged in the shadow
s, still as a statue.
Jack crouched down. ‘Kanvar.’
He half expected Kanvar to leap up in alarm, but the Sikh merely opened his eyes slowly and murmured, ‘Ah. Jack.’
‘You seen Sonali?’
Kanvar stared into the gloom, pondering the question carefully. ‘I have not seen her. I have been restoring my sattva for some time.’
‘You all right now, then?’
‘I am better. Just troubled.’
‘Troubled? Why?’
‘I have been trying to think of the solution to our current predicament. We are trapped within the Fortress of the Djinns, as you call it. We are surrounded by the enemy and cannot escape. And more of the enemy are bound to arrive soon.’
‘Aye. I agree. General Jhala will send troops here once he finds Shrewsbury abandoned.’
Kanvar passed his hand across his brow. ‘Indeed. And the army of Vadula will march into Shropshire too. Perhaps they will come here as well.’
Jack sat back. It was a bleak thought, but it was hard to argue with.
Kanvar looked down, his eyes widening further. ‘There is something else. I told Takhat about the giant avatar we saw in the forest. And he said he’d heard other reports about the Rajthanans growing very great in power.’
Jack narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘According to Takhat, the Rajthanans appear to have many more siddhas in England than before.’
‘They’ve brought more in.’
Kanvar shook his head. ‘They couldn’t – not in such great numbers. That would leave other parts of the empire too poorly defended. And in any case, it is not just that there are more siddhas. Takhat also told me the siddhas have new powers. Powers that have never even been heard of before.’
Jack went silent. ‘You think this is something to do with the Great Yantra?’
‘I fear so.’
‘The Great Yantra is giving the Rajthanans all these new powers?’
‘That is what Takhat believed.’
Damn it. Not only were the rebels facing the most powerful army in the world, they were also confronted with siddhas with unbelievable powers.
The War of the Grail Page 19
