As before, Alyx was seated at the clavichord, waiting for him. A book rested on the music machine. Kieron recognised it.
‘Good morning, Master Kieron.’ He was taken aback at her civility. Besides, he was not a master, he was only an apprentice.
‘Good morning, Mistress Alyx.’
She stood up and held out the book.
‘You were interested in this volume, I recall. It is yours.’
Kieron was shaken. ‘Mistress Alyx, you are most kind.’ He took the book, fingered it lovingly. ‘You are too kind. I—’ He stopped.
Alyx smiled. ‘Let us forget the past, Kieron. How would you like me to pose?’
‘As you will, Mistress. As you will. I can take many sketches and compound them into something from which Master Hobart will discern the necessary form.’
‘Kieron?’
‘Mistress Alyx?’
‘Call me Alyx.’
He was shaken even more. ‘Yes – Alyx.’
‘Kieron, no man ever before beat me.’
‘I am sorry, Mistress – I am sorry, Alyx. I thought you commanded me to forget the –’
‘Kieron?’
‘Mistress – I mean Alyx?’
She rose from the clavichord and came close to him. Her gown rustled, and there was a fragrance about her, a redness in her cheeks, a softness in her eyes. She did not now look at all like the ice-cold girl who had goaded him beyond endurance. ‘I treated you ill, and I am sorry. Yesterday, I cried into the night because I had been cruel and stupid, and I thought you would hate me. Do you hate me? If so, I must learn to bear it.’
Kieron knew not what to say or do. For reasons he could not understand, his heart seemed to be exploding in his chest. There was sweat on his forehead and a fire in his limbs. At length he found his tongue.
‘Mistress, I do not hate you. Truly, I do not. Something has happened that … Perhaps my mind is sick.’
She smiled. ‘You forget. Say Alyx. My name is Alyx. You shall use it always when we are alone.’
‘Alyx,’ he said idiotically. ‘Alyx.’ He could think of nothing else to say. The word seemed both familiar and strange, a magic word. An incantation.
‘Your mind is not sick, Kieron. At least, no more than mine … We are friends, now?’
‘We are friends.’ Kieron was trembling. He seemed to be standing outside himself. He seemed to be listening to the voice of a stranger … Why did she stand so close? Why was there a roaring in his head?
‘We are close friends?’
‘If it is your wish.’
‘Is it not yours?’
‘Alyx, I – I …’ There was nothing to say. Nothing that made sense.
‘Kiss me, Kieron. Your lips on mine.’ The book dropped from Kieron’s hand. He did not notice. Neither of them noticed.
‘Kiss me,’ she whispered. It was a whisper that drove all rational thought from Kieron’s mind.
He held her in his arms. He felt the life in her. He felt her breasts against him, the liquid warmth of her belly. He felt her lips upon his.
This was like to earn him the donjon, the lash, the irons, the rack, all manner of tortures. He did not care. The taste of Alyx Fitzalan’s lips, the touch of her body – he did not care.
Presently, they stood back from each other.
‘No man ever beat me before. No man ever held me so before. No man ever kissed me so before.’ Alyx seemed happy, even complacent. ‘I love you, Kieron.’
‘I am terrified of love,’ said Kieron. ‘It is a destroyer. But I love you also. I thought I hated you, but the hatred was a form of love.’
Alyx frowned as reality came back to her. ‘It is but a short-lived bloom, Kieron. Let us enjoy it while we may. The child Petrina is your destiny. Talbot of Chichester – a pale, sad thing – is mine … Does Petrina kiss as I do?’
‘Alyx, I know not, I do not – I have not …’ He floundered.
‘Hush, dear one. You gave me my answer … Until this time, you were but a prentice painter bullied by a thoughtless minx, taking advantage of her father’s power. But love is dangerous, Kieron. It makes us equal in each other’s sight; but in the eyes of the world the gulf between us is wide. Talbot and Petrina, and the customs of our people, hover about us like ghosts. We must be very careful, otherwise we shall be destroyed.’
Kieron managed to smile. ‘I will be careful, Alyx, if only because I must. I am afraid for both of us.’
She took his hand. ‘Be not too much afraid. If we keep our heads, all will be well.’ She laughed. ‘I surmise my father required Master Hobart to keep me distracted for at least a two-month. Is that not so? And you were to be the sacrificial lamb.’
Kieron shrugged. ‘It is so, Alyx. Indeed, it is so.’
‘Well, then,’ she said gaily, ‘who will protest if we stretch the two-month into a three-month? Not my father, not Master Hobart. Each would be delighted at the success of the stratagem. So, in public, I will be the haughty Alyx, whose aim is to humiliate you. And you will contrive to play the poor prentice who bears what he must for the sake of his master and his art and for the sake of his future. Can you bear this device?’
‘I can bear it.’
‘Good. Today, you will make sketches; but, tomorrow, we will ride again. Doubtless, you will fall off. The people will learn of it and be satisfied. Kieron-head-in-the-air – yes, I know what they call you – will be humiliated once more. Can you bear it?’
‘I can bear deception only for the sake of truth.’
‘Well spoken, my love.’ She came close and kissed him. ‘When we are alone – truly alone – you shall command me. I will kiss your feet, if it is your pleasure. I will stroke your hair and hold your body close to mine and rejoice in your touch.’
‘Alyx, do not make me cry.’
‘The tears will come later, Kieron – when I am taken to Talbot’s bed, and Petrina comes to yours. How shall either of us bear it then?’
He held her tight. ‘I do not know. I know only that we have a little time. For that I am grateful.’
‘A little time,’ sighed Alyx. ‘Only a little time. So sad … I want to learn about you. I want to learn as much as I can. Do you truly want to be a painter like Master Hobart? Or is there something else.’
‘Most of all,’ said Kieron, caressing her, ‘I want to fly. I want to conquer the air as the First Men and the Second Men did. I want to feel close to the stars.’
‘Kieron-head-in-the-air,’ she murmured, ‘I love you. You are nothing but a fantasist, a cloud walker.’
10
Brother Sebastian gazed at Kieron, lying on his daybed, without any animosity or any attempt to inspire fear. Brother Sebastian, a pleasant-looking man of thirty years or so, concealed his ambition, his desire for power, beneath a benign exterior. He rarely bullied. He preferred to look sorrowful. People did not like to see Brother Sebastian unhappy.
Kieron’s broken leg twitched abominably. It had been set by Seigneur Fitzalan’s own surgeon. Nevertheless, Kieron remained convinced that the fellow knew little of his art. Already, when he stretched and measured his limbs, Kieron seemed to detect that the good leg was significantly longer. He would hate to exchange his present title for Kieron-game-leg. Besides, who would condescend to wrestle with a cripple?
Brother Sebastian was in a quandary. At the insistence of Mistress Alyx, Kieron had been removed temporarily from Hobart’s house and given a room at the castle. Alyx had roundly condemned Kieron to her father, for indulging in childish pranks, and had implied that Kieron had broken his leg almost deliberately in order to avoid making the sketches and rough compositions that were necessary for the commissioned painting. Why, therefore, let the prentice have an easy time of it? Better, surely, to bring him to the castle so that he could continue his work without delay. That would teach him that he could not evade important affairs merely by breaking a leg.
Seigneur Fitzalan gave his daughter a curious look. He was an intelligent man. Intelligent enough to realis
e there were certain things it were better not to know. Besides, the boy was useful. Alyx had been relatively docile since she had had the prentice on whom to vent her feelings. So Kieron had been given a room in the castle while his leg mended.
Thus Brother Sebastian’s quandary. Kieron, though a commoner, was now a person of some importance – temporarily, at least.
‘Tell me, brother, how came you to break the limb?’ This was a rhetorical question, because everyone in the seigneurie knew how Kieron had broken his leg.
‘Brother Sebastian, I was but flying a kite,’ said Kieron carefully.
‘A kite? You were flying a kite. I have been misinformed, it seems. I had heard that you were flying in a kite.’
Kieron thought for a moment or two. Brother Sebastian had flung back his cowl. His head was clean-shaven; his face, totally visible, seemed totally innocent.
‘It is true, brother,’ amended Kieron. ‘I was flying in a kite.’
‘It must have been an exceptionally large kite.’
‘It was, Brother Sebastian. It was a very large kite. I designed it.’
‘And who aided you in this project, Kieron?’
Kieron thought carefully. If he admitted that Aylwin had obtained the sail canvas, that they had both cut the willow rods and that Sholto, the smith, had been persuaded to make fastenings for the harness, it could seem like conspiracy.
‘No one, Brother Sebastian. It is true I coaxed the miller’s prentice to hold the rope. He is but a stupid fellow and fit for nothing but the grinding of corn. However, dull though he is, it pleased me to make use of him. I little recked that he would take panic when I rose into the air.’
The neddy stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘That must indeed have been a sight.’
‘Indeed it must, brother,’ said Kieron with unguarded enthusiasm. ‘There was a steady and strong offshore breeze, and I rose up from the beach, my legs dancing and seeking footholds where there were none. It was a wonderful feeling. I rose more than ten times the height of a man before the loop of cord was jerked from its hook.’
‘You were lucky, Kieron, that the sea broke your fall.’
‘That is why I waited for an offshore wind,’ explained Kieron. ‘That is why I chose to experiment on the beach.’
‘Experiment?’ Brother Sebastian raised his eyebrows. Experiment was a dangerous word. It smelled of fire.
‘Experiment in the sense of finding out how to handle the kite,’ amended Kieron hastily. ‘Nothing more.’
Brother Sebastian stroked his chin slowly. At length, he said: ‘The kite was made of sail-cloth and willow wands.’
‘Yes, brother.’
‘And the harness as you call it had metal fastenings which could only have been fashioned by the smith.’
‘Yes, brother.’
‘It was a very ambitious kite, Kieron.’
‘Yes, Brother Sebastian. It was a very ambitious kite.’
‘And you designed it alone?’
‘I designed it alone.’
‘Sholto did not know your purpose?’
‘No, brother.’
‘And the boy Aylwin helped you only by anchoring the cord and by moving as directed?’
‘Yes, brother.’
‘I am told you instructed him in the use of a pulley, by which means he could control the kite without great exertion to himself.’
‘You are well informed.’
‘Yes, Kieron. I am well informed.’
‘The pulley. It is a very simple principle.’
‘Simple principles can be dangerous, Kieron. You have been instructed in the Holy Scripture, have you not?’
‘Yes, brother.’
‘Men have burned for simple principles, Kieron. Remember that.’
Kieron wanted to rise from his bed and strangle this dull-witted neddy. But he had enough wit to say docilely: ‘Yes, Brother Sebastian.’
‘I have heard,’ went on the neddy, ‘that folk call you Kieron-head-in-the-air. Why should they call you that?’
Kieron thought quickly, gave a shrug, and laughed. ‘Since I fell from Mistress Alyx Fitzalan’s mare, they also call me Kieron-arse-in-the-muck. People amuse themselves as they wish.’ It seemed as good a time as any to remind Brother Sebastian that Kieron was permitted to ride with Seigneur Fitzalan’s daughter.
The neddy was not to be distracted. ‘You do not know why they call you Kieron-head-in-the-air?’
‘Brother, perhaps it is because I often look at the sky. The sky is a wonderful place. It is ever-changing. Its moods are always different.’
‘You are fascinated by the sky?’
‘Yes, Brother Sebastian, I am fascinated by the sky.’
‘And you wish to voyage through it?’
Now, there was a dangerous question. Kieron was immediately alert to its implications.
‘The sky, the firmament, is beautiful,’ he said carefully. ‘The artist in me is profoundly moved by its aspects, and by the subtle changes it undergoes throughout the seasons … To the greater glory of Ludd.’
Brother Sebastian crossed himself. ‘To the greater glory of Ludd,’ he echoed automatically. After a reverent pause, he continued: ‘But do you wish to voyage through it?’
Kieron’s leg was hurting, and sweat was forming on his forehead, and he did not know how long he could endure the damnable persistence of the neddy.
‘I can admire the freedom of the bird without wishing to sprout feathers. I am a man, Brother Sebastian, accepting the freedom and the limitations of men. I rejoice in my human condition.’
‘But, Kieron, my brother, do you wish to fly?’
‘Brother Sebastian, I do not wish to be a bird.’
Brother Sebastian sighed, and looked unhappy. ‘Your answers are less than direct.’
‘I am sorry, brother. I thought my answers were accurate and truthful. This accursed leg gives me pain. Perhaps I do not think too clearly.’
‘Perhaps so. I shall report our conversation to Holy Church, Kieron. Others, more competent than I, will consider it.’
‘That is well, Brother Sebastian,’ said Kieron, thinking it was far from well. ‘Perhaps my childish adventure was ill-timed.’
‘Kites are for children only, Kieron. Remember that. You are almost a man.’
‘I will remember it.’
‘Further, a kite is but a toy. But if a man should choose to ride a kite, it could be interpreted as a machine.’
‘I will remember that also.’
‘I shall pray for you,’ said Brother Sebastian. ‘You have a great future. Master Hobart tells me that you are gifted in your craft. Do not spoil that future, Kieron. Good painters are rare. Evil men are with us always.’
‘I will remember your words, Brother Sebastian, and I shall dwell upon your wisdom.’
‘Ludd be with you, my brother.’
‘And with you also.’
‘Farewell, then.’ Brother Sebastian departed. Hardly had he gone, when Alyx came into the room.
‘How went your discussion with Brother Sebastian?’
‘He is a fool.’
‘My love, I know that. But was he satisfied?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You should know. Why don’t you know?’
‘Because I too am a fool,’ said Kieron irritably, ‘and my leg twitches …’ Then he smiled, and added: ‘And it is a fine day, and I would be out walking in the woods with you.’
‘This will teach you to try to walk upon air, when we have so little time.’ She shuddered. ‘You could have been killed. Promise me to be more careful, Kieron.’
He glanced at his leg. ‘I can hardly be but careful, Alyx.’
‘Not now, dolt. In the future, as. you well know.’
‘I will be careful until you are carried off to Talbot’s bed,’ he promised rightly. ‘Then I will construct a kite that shall raise me high above your father’s castle. Then I will leap from it and dash myself to death before his eyes.’
Alyx
pouted. ‘I wish Talbot would die. I truly do. And I wish the plague or somesuch would carry off that dreadful Petrina, with her peasant breasts and a bottom like a cow’s rump. Ludd forgive me, I pray for these things.’
‘Petrina does not have a bottom like a cow’s rump.’
‘She does so. I have studied her.’
He laughed. ‘Ah, you have studied her, Green Eyes.’
‘I hate you! I hate you.’
‘Come, let me sketch you while the fire still consumes you. I must earn my keep lest Seigneur Fitzalan and Master Hobart begin to imagine the absurdity that is the truth.’
‘Peasant!’ she stormed.
‘Yes, I am a peasant,’ he replied tranquilly. ‘Be mindful that the gulf between us is great – with or without Talbot and Petrina.’
‘I love you, and I would die for you. Is that not enough?’
‘It is too much. I love you, as you know, Alyx, and we must both live in a world where such love is an affront to the minds of men … Besides, I have a destiny to fulfil.’
‘I would not stop you painting.’
‘You would stop me flying.’
She looked at him in amazement. ‘Flying! Kieron, my love. You are mad. Men do not fly. Men will not fly.’
‘Yes, I am mad – and I will fly. I will construct a machine that—’
‘Do not speak of machines! Or, if you must, to me only. Machines are evil. That is the word of the Divine Boy, that is the teaching of Holy Church, that is what all men know.’
‘And yet,’ said Kieron, ‘it is not true. Machines cannot be evil. Evil lies only with the human spirit … I will fly, I swear it. I will fly for the good of men. By the spirits of the Brothers Montgolfier, of Otto Lilienthal, of the great Santos Dumont, and of the Brothers Wright, I so swear.’
‘Who are these creatures?’
‘Nothing but ghosts. Great and friendly ghosts. Men who lived centuries ago upon earth and raised their eyes unto the stars … I read of them in the book you gave me’.
‘I had done better to burn it. My father does not read, and therefore cannot have known that his library contained heresy.’
‘Had you burned it, Alyx, I still would have lifted my eyes unto the stars. It is not in the nature of man to remain earthbound … Come, kiss me. Then I will try to be of some credit to Master Hobart.’
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