Liam looked at him with respect. ‘Some day, you may be a great general, Kieron.’
Kieron laughed. ‘Some day, I shall be a general of the clouds.’
The freebooters began to ascend the hill. The darkness made the shape of their column indistinct; but their voices and the clatter of their arms could be heard clearly. They marched without any attempt at concealment, without any sign of fear. What was there to be afraid of? The inhabitants of this town were largely dead or taken prisoner. The survivors could only be a cowed and desperate few.
Now they were less than a hundred paces from the castle gate. Now they were no more than sixty or seventy paces away. Their faces began to show ruddily in the reflected glow of the funeral pyre.
‘Now!’ shouted Liam.
Three men flung torches on to heaps of cloth and straw soaked in whale oil. The rest pushed at the wheels and sent the carts careering down the hill.
Within moments, the flames rose high. Burning whale oil slopped from the barrels and on to the wheels, turning the carts truly into chariots of fire. The freebooters were confronted with a fearsome sight. The fire-carts bearing down upon them took up most of the width of the narrow street. In the terrible moments as the carts gathered speed, the column of freebooters panicked, became an unreasoning mob. The front ranks turned to flee, elbowing and kicking their fellows out of the way, trampling some of them. But the fire-carts were already moving faster than a man could run.
Four or five of the freebooters retained cool heads and pressed themselves against the castle walls to allow the fire-carts to run past. It availed them little. They fell to arrows from bows or bolts from crossbows, their positions being made wonderfully clear by the light from the flames.
Two of the carts collided and careened crazily. Their flaming barrels of whale oil shattered upon the street, creating a terrible river of fire. Men danced dreadfully in it as their legs burned, or fell into it and were destroyed with merciful speed.
The carnage was horrible, but it lasted no more than two minutes. The carts reached the bottom of the steep hill and fell to pieces in great bursts of fire.
‘We have worked a great destruction,’ said Liam. ‘Now let us go. This will be something to gladden the hearts of our people.’
‘Not I, captain. Not yet!’ Kieron brandished the sword he had plucked from the body of Alyx. ‘There are those who still live. They are burned, but if we do not destroy them they will crawl back to their ships and they will live.’
‘Kieron reasons well, captain,’ said Sholto. ‘Let us—’ He gave a great cough and looked at his chest in surprise. An arrow had buried itself deep. He sank to his knees. ‘Look after her,’ he said to Kieron. ‘But remember that a woman is—’ He fell. Kieron knelt and lifted Sholto’s head. But the smith’s spirit had already departed his body.
‘Well, then,’ said Kieron, standing up. ‘Who is for Sholto and those we have set upon the pyre this day?’
There was a great roar of approval. Liam sensed that it were better to go with the tide.
‘Forward, then,’ said Kieron. ‘Kill without mercy.’ Nineteen men, armed with bows, swords and axes went down the hill.
The freebooters, such as survived, were in a pitiful condition. The river of fire had passed by them, round them, over them. They lay in the road, some dead, some still in great anguish, beating feebly at their smouldering clothes.
Kieron, dreadful to look at, his face distorted with anger, a torch in one hand and his sword in the other, leaped skilfully among the fiery rivulets of oil, the flaming wisps of straw and crackling fragments of timber.
He found one man, barely recognisable as a man, writhing. ‘One for Alyx!’ The sword plunged into the freebooter’s chest. He coughed, choked and lay still.
Another man, though badly burned, could still hold his sword. Pitifully, he tried to defend himself. But retribution was upon him.
‘Another for Alyx!’ Kieron was possessed.
He took joy in the killing. He leaped across islands of fire to seek out fresh victims.
‘One more for Alyx!’
‘A fourth for Alyx!’
One freebooter was not so badly burned that he could not go down on his knees and hold out his hands in an obvious appeal for mercy. He babbled in a tongue Kieron could not understand.
Kieron savoured the moment, dreadfully enjoying his power of life and death. ‘Mercy, you shall have, fellow. Better than your people gave.’ With a terrible sweep of the sword, he sliced through the freebooter’s throat. The man fell, gurgling.
‘Another for Alyx!’ One small part of Kieron’s mind remained shocked at the pleasure he could take in the death agony of a human being. The rest of him exulted in blood lust, goaded on by the vision of a girl who had been violated and brutally murdered.
He continued his deadly journey down the hill. With mindless fury, he struck at those who were already dying, even at some who were already dead. Presently he stopped, drained, exhausted. There was no one left to kill.
He stared about him, as if in a trance. The flames were dying now. The battle, such as it had been, was over. More than a hundred corpses lay on the hill. The stench of burnt flesh was terrible and sweet.
He was aware that someone was shaking his shoulders. It was Liam.
‘Kieron, are you well?’
Kieron looked at him vacantly. ‘Yes, captain, I am well.’
‘Listen, then. Your stratagem was wonderfully successful. But while you have been doing your bloody work, I have taken prisoners. They are not to be killed, Kieron. You understand? They are not to be killed.’
‘Why are they not to be killed?’
‘Because they speak English. They will tell us more about Admiral Death, and his intentions.’
‘And when they have spoken?’ asked Kieron.
‘I do not know. It will be for Kentigern to decide.’
‘I have already decided,’ said Kieron, swaying. ‘It was my stratagem. They are my prisoners. The sentence is—’ Suddenly, he fell, senseless. Liam picked him up and carried him back up the hill.
6
Within three or four days, the encampment in the Misery had become itself a small fortified village. Men had cut trees to build a stockade and to build kitchens and sleeping huts. Though the freebooters had evidently chosen not to occupy Arundel, Kentigern did not deem it safe to attempt to return to the town until his forces were stronger. He had barely two hundred men who could bear arms. Against the reputed strength of the forces of Admiral Death, they would have stood little chance in pitched battle.
Also Kentigern awaited news and instructions from the Grand Council of seigneurs in London, and from the east and the west concerning the extent of Admiral Death’s invasion. The news was slow in coming; and when it came it was not overly encouraging. The grand seigneurs had had requests for help and guidance from the survivors in several seigneuries on or near the southern coast. But the grand seigneurs, besides being fortunate for the most part to hold lands at a reasonable distance from the coast, were prudent men. The forces of Admiral Death were highly mobile: the forces of the seigneuries were not. If sufficient men were committed to the south to repulse or defeat Admiral Death, what was to prevent him putting out to sea to strike at another vulnerable area of the coast? His ships could sail much faster than men could march or ride. If it were his pleasure, he could harry the entire coastline of the island of Britain, leaving its defenders to exhaust themselves marching to and fro in futile attempts to meet his invasions with strength.
So the Grand Council cautiously committed itself to raising a force of five hundred armed men within the month to march south, provided that the southern seigneuries affected by the invasion could establish a unified army which at least doubled the strength of the Grand Council’s auxiliaries. It was a diplomatic way of saying that the southern seigneuries must look to their own salvation.
The news from the east and the west was no less discouraging. A flotilla of Admiral Death’
s ships had struck with immense success as far east as the seigneurie of Brighton. Another had struck as far west as the seigneurie of Portsmouth. Each had advanced not inland but west and east respectively to join with the central assault at Little Hampton. Apparently, they were content to hold a long but narrow strip of coast.
The prisoners taken by Liam confirmed this interpretation – after they were put to the torture. The torture was not entirely barbaric. It consisted of tightening ropes about the arms and legs of the prisoners until pain loosened their tongues.
The most reliable informant was one Jethro, a favoured lieutenant of Admiral Death. His legs and arms had been already severely burned by Kieron’s stratagem. The application of ropes served only to magnify a pain that already existed.
Jethro enlarged upon the information already received. Admiral Death had a grand design. He wished not only to establish a well-defended colony on the southern coast of Britain, but he wished also to use the island as a recruiting ground. If he was mad, he was also well-informed and concluded that many adventurous young men, tired of the restrictions and authoritarianism of the Luddites, would join his forces, attracted by the military and other machines that were denied them in the seigneuries. And if enough young malcontents did not come to him voluntarily, it would be easy to impress the men he needed by making punitive raids inland. He well knew that it would take the seigneurs a long time to unite in their common defence. Admiral Death did not require a long time for any of his operations. He was impatient of time. Soon he would be overwhelmingly strong, and whatever the seigneurs did then would not matter. Having consolidated his base, Admiral Death would then send ships to conduct similar operations along the coasts of Norway, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands. Eventually he hoped to control the seaboard of Europe. When he had achieved this, he would be in a position to starve and weaken all who opposed him. And then he would be able to fulfil his great ambition – to make himself master of Europe.
Having disclosed his master’s plans, Jethro pleaded movingly for his life, swearing that, upon recovery, he would willingly bear arms against the man to whom he had sworn loyalty. Kentigern, though short of seasoned fighters, reasoned that a man who broke fealty once might well do so again. He pronounced sentence of death.
Jethro was hanged on a fine morning when the birds sang and deer leaped through the woods. Kieron, present and assisting at the execution, saw the look in the fellow’s eyes – the look of one who gazes upon the world for the last time and realises for the last time how beautiful it is. Briefly he felt pity; but then the pity dissolved in a dreadful vision of Alyx.
Because of his stratagem with the fire-carts, Kieron had become a hero among the survivors at the Misery. Men almost twice his age looked upon him with respect and listened to his ideas and opinions. He was no longer regarded as a heretic, one who had come close to the stake. All that seemed to belong to a world that had gone for ever. But his new status meant little to Kieron. He remained cold inside, cold with memories of cruelty and horror and death, cold with the knowledge of his own dreadful desire to seek vengeance.
Petrina noticed the change in him more than anyone. On their fifth day at the Misery, they asked Brother Hildebrand to marry them. Their parents were dead, and they had no one left but each other. It seemed to Kieron a logical thing to do. He and Petrina would now be able to share the same bed and seek consolation in each other’s arms without idle tongues wagging and without the censure of the neddies. Kieron went through the ceremony mechanically, his thoughts seeming to be far away. A special little hut had been prepared for them by friends, and a small and sadly gay feast had been arranged. But when Kieron and his bride retired to bed that night, he took no joy in her ample breasts and rounded belly. He performed his duty with the same remote efficiency he had displayed at the wedding. And Petrina was left to weep silently in the dark.
On the following day, Kentigern held a council of war. He was tired of waiting for help that did not come, he was tired of living in the woods like an outcast, he was tired of seeing people look to him for decisions and miracles.
Kieron, though young, was invited to attend the council because of his undoubted talent for destruction.
Kentigern spoke first. ‘Friends, you know what answer we have received from the grand seigneurs. They will help us, but it will take time; and they require us to establish an army consisting of all capable of bearing arms in the seigneuries that have already been attacked. That, too, will take time. I for one am unwilling to wait and see our people rot while such armies are gathered. Since the freebooters have shown no inclination to hold Arundel, it is possible for us to return to our homes and attempt to rebuild them. But, if we did, it is certain that our activities would be observed. Admiral Death, as we know, maintains a careful watch. At the first sign of our presence, no doubt he would send a force against us. We were not strong enough to resist the first attack. We would hardly be strong enough to resist a second. I propose, therefore, that we ourselves mount an attack upon his vessels at Little Hampton. It will hardly be expected, and the element of surprise will surely afford us some advantage. I ask your opinions on these thoughts, my friends.’
Some spoke for an attack, arguing that there was little to be lost and much to be gained. Some spoke against an attack, arguing that there was much to be lost and little to be gained. Kieron listened to all the speakers attentively, but did not himself offer an opinion.
Finally, Kentigern addressed him directly. ‘Well, Kieron, as I have observed, you have listened hard and said nothing. You have already proved yourself a man of some inspiration in the matter of inflicting losses upon the enemy. Have you nothing to say?’
Kieron smiled. ‘I am, as you know, one who desires to annihilate the freebooters utterly. My own plans would take time to put into action, assuming that you would be agreeable to them, which I doubt.’
‘Tell us of your plans, then, that we may judge.’
‘You know that I have experimented with a hot-air balloon?’
Kentigern shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Surely it is a thing best forgotten.’
‘No, Kentigern, it is a thing to remember. These facts are also things to remember. Admiral Death is afraid of fire. He commands the sea and he commands the land. He does not command the air. I desire to build a hot-air balloon capable of carrying two men. When the wind is right, this hot-air balloon would drift over the fleet at Little Hampton, raining fire upon the ships. Wooden ships will burn. If Admiral Death is deprived of his ships, he is also deprived of a means of supply and a means of retreat. Then would be the time to attack by land.’
There were murmurs of shock and disapproval. Kieron’s recent exploits had made him into a hero. Men did not wish to be reminded of matters that had brought him close to the stake.
Brother Hildebrand was among those present. ‘Kieron, my brother,’ he said mildly, ‘Ludd moves in mysterious ways, and has enabled you to redeem yourself in heroic action, of which Holy Church will take great notice. Do not, I beg of you, relapse into previous heresy.’
‘Will Holy Church send us one thousand soldiers?’ demanded Kieron caustically. ‘Will the Divine Boy smash the ships of the freebooters with his divine hammer?’
‘Peace,’ said Kentigern anxiously. ‘We are not gathered here to discuss doctrine or heresy. We are here to devise a means of ridding us of those who have fallen upon us like locusts. Will anyone else advise us?’
‘Let us make use of Kieron’s stratagem at the castle,’ said someone. ‘Let us by dead of night take small boats down the Arun. Let us take small boats loaded with casks of whale oil, straw and other combustibles. Let us tie them “beneath the sterns of the freebooters” vessels and put them to the torch. Thus shall we inflict much damage.’
‘It will not work,’ said Kieron. ‘Their sentinels will be ready for us by sea, by river or by land. They cannot be ready for us by air.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Kentigern, ‘the suggestion is a good one, and the be
st I have heard this day. I propose to commit one hundred men and ten fire-boats to this enterprise. It is my task now to seek volunteers, for I will not command men who have little enthusiasm for the venture.’
Kieron was among the first to volunteer. Not because he had any faith in the venture, but because it might offer him another opportunity to kill freebooters.
The boats were launched into the Arun at night on the ebb. The Arun flowed swiftly, carrying the attacking party towards Little Hampton at better than five knots. For the major part of the journey, the men sat in the boats; but when they neared Little Hampton they slipped over the side and held on to the gunwales.
The water was icy cold, and many men had to bite hard on cloth or leather to stop their teeth chattering. Kentigern planned to let the boats drift, with the men hanging on to them, guiding them to the centre of the river. When Little Hampton was reached, swimmers would attach the fire-boats to their target vessels and fuses would be ignited so that the boats would not burst into flame until the men had had at least some chance to make their escape.
The plan, as Kieron had foreseen, depended too heavily on an element of surprise which it would be hard to obtain. The drifting fire-boats were discovered before they reached Little Hampton. They were discovered by a small patrol of freebooters, equipped with lanterns, and marching along the bank of the river.
The boats were plainly visible by lantern light; and besides, one of Kentigern’s men had sneezed. The freebooters began to use bows and muskets with terrible effect. The men in the water were too numbed with cold, too hampered by wet clothes and too disheartened to attempt any effective counter-attack. They scrambled for the farther bank, where they were picked off by bowmen and musketeers as they dragged themselves out of the river mud.
One sharp-witted freebooter, guessing the purpose of the boats, tossed his lantern into one of them. It burst mightily into flame; and the survivors of Kentigern’s unhappy band were now exposed as if by daylight. Some men did manage to struggle up the muddy bank and into the darkness; but many were killed in the water, and a few drowned, lacking the strength to swim.
Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset Page 13
