Kieron, as soon as he had grasped what was happening, had the wit to lower his head for a while below water and drift on with his boat. Luckily it was not the one that was fired. Downstream, and away from the glare of the flames, he managed to scramble to the bank.
Though he was numb with cold and almost exhausted, he forced himself to run through the darkness, falling down many times, but always managing to pick himself up, somehow. His limbs ached and his skin froze. Running, he knew, would be the only way he could keep himself alive. There were times when he wished to lie down and rest, even to sleep; but he would not allow himself to do so, realising that if he did, he might never rise.
He arrived back at the Misery in a pitiable condition just after daylight. He was not the first survivor to be lucky enough to make his way back. Several had preceded him. Several would come after.
He did not recognize Petrina. He did not seem to recognize anyone or anything. His eyes were vacant; and it was as if blind instinct had kept him going and had made him seek the security of his own folk.
Someone was holding him, someone was talking to him. He did not know who, nor did he understand the words. He must be among friends, he told himself vaguely, otherwise he would likely have been killed. But in case he had fallen into some kind of trap, he tried to raise the sword that he held, the sword that had not left his hand throughout that terrible journey down the river Arun.
He tried to raise the sword, and fell soundlessly. Petrina knelt by him, stroking him, weeping. She attempted to take the sword from his half-frozen fingers; but she could not.
He had a fever, and she nursed him for several days. At one time, the neddies thought him like to die. But he was young and strong; and Petrina warmed him with her body when the fever left him and he was held by a deathly chill. Presently, the chill faded and he became conscious and reasonable. He drank nourishing soup and felt a faint surge of strength in his limbs. He discovered, with some surprise, that he was destined to live.
One morning, he desired to wash himself and make himself presentable. Petrina brought him a mirror. He looked in it and was shocked to see the face of a stranger. A man with gaunt cheeks and deep lines on his face and forehead. A man with hair turning white.
It was a fine thing to have white hair when one was eighteen years old. How would he look when he was thirty? He shrugged. No matter. There was work to be done. Much, much work. What mattered was not how a man looked but what he had achieved.
Of the hundred men who set out on the ill-starred venture, but twenty-three returned, the rest being killed or taken. Kentigern was a broken man, his ability to make decisions seemingly paralysed by the magnitude of the disaster.
7
In various ways, the other seigneuries along the southern coast had fared quite as badly as the seigneurie of Arundel. Like the survivors of Arundel, the others had taken to the woods and to the downs, establishing temporary camps from which they made costly and at times disastrous counter-attacks upon the freebooters. The seigneuries had for so long been autonomous and self-sufficient that they had developed a fatal aversion to co-operating with each other and acting in unity. Their prejudices sprang from an almost racial fear of the evils of central government. For as far back as people could remember, seigneuries were united either by blood ties or by conquest; and it was a long time since any seigneur had been rash enough to attempt to subdue his neighbour by force of arms. Loose marital alliance had been both the strength and the weakness of the seigneurs. Now, confronted by invaders under a unified command, they were at a disadvantage.
It would be a considerable time, reasoned Kieron, before the people were able to abandon their traditional attitudes. A man from the next seigneurie was still regarded as a foreigner and treated with caution. How much more destruction would it take to make people realise that their only hope lay in working together? By the time people had come to their senses and the Grand Council had sent auxiliaries to aid them, Admiral Death would have an iron grip on the land he had conquered. And the people of Arundel, for whom he had the greatest concern, would remain fugitives, people of the woods, relapsing eventually into barbarism.
He had much time to reflect while he regained his strength and recovered from his illness. He began to take pleasure in Petrina once more, rejoicing in the sweet yielding of her body, giving her the seed of his loins and the love of his spirit. He did not need her to tell him when she had conceived. He knew. He had felt her body, relaxed yet taut, quivering joyfully beneath his. He had felt his seed leap joyfully into her womb, like salmon returning to the source of a known river.
One day he went to Kentigern. Now that he had hope of immortality, there was even more to fight for and to live for.
‘I am going to build a hot-air balloon, Kentigern. A very large hot-air balloon. I am going to float it over the ships of Admiral Death and rain fire upon them from the sky. I need help. I need you to command men to help me.’
Kentigern sat on a chair with a shawl round his shoulders, like Master Hobart. And, like Master Hobart, he coughed much and drank such strong spirits as were available to him.
‘A hot-air balloon is heresy,’ he said thickly. ‘Holy Church will burn you, and possibly me also.’
‘We are all dying,’ said Kieron. ‘No man lives for ever. And what help has Holy Church given us in this time of disaster?’
Kentigern hiccuped. ‘The neddies have prayed for us.’
‘Has their prayer destroyed one of the freebooters?’ demanded Kieron angrily.
‘Who can say?’
‘I can say. I would rather have one sword in my hand than the prayers of a hundred neddies behind me.’
‘You were right about the fire-boats … Kieron, forgive me. My mind is not too clear. Construct the hot-air balloon, if you must. My judgment is fled.’
‘And I can have the men?’
‘You shall have the men.’
‘And women to sew canvas and paper?’
‘Those also.’
‘And you will allow me to choose my time and place?’
‘I will allow you all these things,’ said Kentigern. ‘There is only one thing I will not allow you.’
‘What is that?’
‘Failure. There has been too much failure. We cannot stand more. So, Kieron, my boy, understand that you stake your life upon this enterprise. If you fail I, poor thing that I am, will personally disembowel you for having persuaded me to damn my immortal soul for nothing.’
‘You ask much, Kentigern.’
‘I demand success. Kieron. That is all. When news of your enterprise goes forth – as it will – Holy Church will send to investigate. I hope I shall burn more tranquilly if the freebooters burn also.’ He gave a dreadful laugh. ‘I have seen much in my time. I have seen my master murdered and his women endure unspeakable things. Now we who live must entrust ourselves to a young man’s madness.’
Kieron gave a grim smile. ‘I would have more respect for Holy Church if it provided arms and men.’
‘The Church preaches peace and simplicity. In its wisdom it cares for our souls.’
‘Have you heard of anyone achieving peace at the stake, Kentigern?’
‘Enough, boy! Destroy the freebooters, if you can, and I will gladly stand beside you when the reckoning comes.’
‘I shall need your words, on paper, sir. I shall need words and your signature, commanding men to assist me. Without such a paper, I cannot proceed.’
‘Then bring me ink, and I will commit my sin to writing … Do not fail, Kieron. That is all … They say you loved Mistress Alyx. Is that true?’
Kieron was too surprised to dissimulate. ‘It is true. We loved each other.’
Again Kentigern laughed. ‘Forgive me. I laugh only at myself. I, too, loved her, do you see. But she was far above me. That is amusing, is it not? I would have given my life and honour to hold her, willingly, in my arms.’
‘I loved her and I held her,’ said Kieron evenly. ‘And it was sweet … Th
at is all I care to say.’
‘It is enough. But why you, Kieron? Why the prentice painter?’
Kieron shrugged. ‘I do not know. Perhaps fortune favours him who dares.’
8
It was many days before Kieron was ready to begin construction of the hot-air balloon; but they were not days spent in idleness. First, he had to design the balloon and experiment with a model of it, and then he had also to assemble the materials for construction and train the people who would help him build it. Half the people at the Misery thought him mad, and the other half thought Kentigern mad. But, until a better authority were set over them, they would obey Kentigern; and he had put his name to a paper calling upon all able-bodied men and women to assist Kieron as needed.
Brothers Lemuel and Hildebrand were filled with horror. They remonstrated both with Kentigern and Kieron. Kentigern offered to countermand his orders if or when Holy Church mustered enough fighting men to push the freebooters into the sea. On being told that his immortal soul was endangered, he observed that he was presently more concerned with mortality than immortality. He even made so bold as to observe that the Divine Boy had accomplished little as yet to justify the devotion of the neddies and the obedience of the common people.
‘Where was the protection of Ludd when my master was murdered and my mistress violated?’ he demanded. ‘Nay, brothers, I understand your concern. But it cannot have escaped your notice that we live now in a disordered world. The days of peace and the seasons of prosperity are gone from us. Desperate men seek desperate remedies. Likely Kieron is mad and I am in my dotage; and you, good brothers, must do what you must. But plague me no more. If Kieron fails, he will die; and, doubtless, I also. But if he succeeds, let there be a reckoning.’
‘There will be a reckoning,’ promised Brother Lemuel. ‘Boyish pranks are one thing; but a deliberate attack upon doctrine is another. Make no mistake. Holy Church is patient. There will be a reckoning.’
Kentigern gave him a twisted smile and took a deep draught of spirit. ‘I did not see you at the boats, brothers, when we drifted half-frozen down the Arun.’
‘It was not our place to be at the boats, Kentigern,’ retorted Brother Hildebrand. ‘We were at our devotions, praying for the success of your venture.’
‘Perhaps your prayers were not loud enough. Or perhaps the Divine Boy is deaf.’ Kentigern was quite pleased with himself. It was the first time he had ever blasphemed.
From Kieron, they got even shorter shrift.
‘For the sake of a toy, Brother Sebastian wanted me to burn,’ he said grimly. ‘But Ludd, it seems, moves in mysterious ways. Sebastian is dead, while I live. An interesting thought … And now I am free to construct a sky machine for the benefit of our people.’ He lifted his sword, which he now carried with him always. ‘So I say to you, brothers, do not interfere with me or with those who help me, either by word or by deed. Else you may join Brother Sebastian in his perpetual slumber.’
The brothers were horrified. No lay man had ever spoken to them like this before. Truly the world had changed.
‘You threaten us?’ said Brother Lemuel.
‘I warn you, that is all. It is my first and final warning. Now leave me. I am busy.’
The brothers retired in a state of shock. When they had recovered somewhat, they made plans. Brother Lemuel would go to London, to the office of the Inquisitor General. Brother Hildebrand would stay in the Misery and keep a record of all heretical acts. Then, when the Inquisitor General sent forces to re-establish the authority of the Church, Brother Hildebrand would be able to bear witness against all those who had gone against the teachings of the Divine Boy.
There were no horses available – Kentigern saw to that – so Brother Lemuel would have to travel on foot. London was at least three day’s march away. The brothers made no secret of their plans, and Kieron was fully informed of their intentions.
Petrina was horrified.
‘Kieron, this time they will really burn you. Holy Church cannot ignore a direct challenge. Abandon the hot-air balloon, I beg you. Let us be patient. In time, the grand seigneurs will assemble forces sufficient to defeat the freebooters. Then we shall take up our ordinary lives once more.’
Kieron held her close. ‘Rest easy, my love. You know, as I do, that with each day that passes, Admiral Death has a stronger hold upon our land. I will not wait for soldiers that may never come, or may come only to meet their doom. The only way to defeat the invader is in an element he cannot use. I will strike from the air. His soldiers do not have wings. He cannot elevate his cannon. I will strike from the air with fire. Holy Church will have little support if the ships of the freebooters are burning.’
‘In six days, Brother Lemuel could return with sufficient men to destroy you.’
‘Six days!’ He laughed. ‘Brother Lemuel is not used to walking. He will have many blisters upon his feet. And will the Holy Office immediately despatch troops upon the word of a poor brother? No matter. In six days I shall be invulnerable.’
‘My love, I fear for you.’
‘Dear Petrina, I fear for us all.’
9
Having obtained authority from Kentigern, Kieron was now confronted with the formidable task of translating a cherished dream into a practical reality. But a short time ago, he would have been saddened by the knowledge that the first use to which an aerial machine would be put would be as an instrument of destruction. If he had paused to reflect, he would have realised that the doctrine of the Luddite Church was not entirely spurious. Historically, the development of machines had amplified man’s ability to destroy. The First and Second Men had destroyed their civilisation with their own ingenuity. From the standpoint of Holy Church there was no reason to suppose that men had now developed a greater wisdom that would sustain them in the creation of a third machine-based civilisation.
Kieron had no time to reflect upon such philosophical problems. Brother Lemuel was bound for London, and Admiral Death was consolidating his hold upon the southern coast. Kieron knew that he would have to produce a quick justification for his enterprise or pay the penalty of failure – either to Kentigern or Holy Church. It made little difference.
The first problem was one of design. In order to rain fire upon the ships of Admiral Death, Kieron would have to wait for a light offshore breeze, which would carry his hot-air balloon from its place of launching, over the freebooters’ ships and then out to sea. Eventually, the hot-air balloon would come down in the ocean – it being unlikely that it could reach the coast of France, even if the wind held – and therefore whoever took to the skies with it would drown.
Unless the balloon carried something that could survive in the sea. A boat. A small boat. That would be the carriage in which the crew of the balloon would ride. It would have to be a very small boat and a very small crew. Otherwise, the size of the balloon would be huge beyond the ability of the people of Arundel to construct.
Kieron did much thinking, made sketches, made models. The balloon must not be in the shape of a sphere: it must be in the shape of a tapering sausage, corresponding roughly to the shape of the small boat that would be suspended from it.
Armed with Kentigern’s authority, he sent men into Arundel to bring back all the linen, all the paper and needles and thread they could find. While they were gone, he spoke with Aylwin who, though pale and weak, was recovering from the loss of his hand.
‘Aylwin, how do you fare?’
‘I shall live,’ said Aylwin. ‘I shall live to be useless at my trade and a mockery to my fellows.’
‘How would you like to live for ever?’
‘Kieron, I have no taste for jests.’
‘The bond between us still holds?’
‘You know it does.’
‘To the death?’
‘To the death … What do you require, Kieron?’
‘I require you to journey with me suspended from a hot-air balloon. I require you to rain fire upon the freebooters.’
&nbs
p; ‘You would take a one-armed man on such a venture?’ He thrust out the stump of his wrist, now mercifully hidden under clean bindings.
‘I would take a friend,’ said Kieron. ‘I would take a man I trust. I would take one whose hatred of the freebooters passes beyond fear.’
‘Kieron, I am your man, as well you know. I am not brave, and this you also know. But I would dangle from the talons of an eagle if I could cause destruction to fall on those who have despoiled our peaceful seigneurie.’
‘We may not return from the venture.’
Aylwin gave a faint smile. ‘I do not expect to. I have little reason for remaining alive … Why, then, did you ask if I would like to live for ever?’
‘Because our venture is one that men will remember. We shall begin anew the conquest of the skies and we shall strike terribly at those who have injured us.’
‘I require only one promise, Kieron. Give it, and I shall be happy.’
‘What is that?’
‘I require to know that many shall die with us and because of us.’
Kieron thought for a moment. ‘I cannot control the winds, Aylwin. And we must be sure, when all is ready, that the wind is our ally. But if we can take the hot-air balloon over the vessels at Little Hampton, I swear to you that men will perish in tens and hundreds. Is that enough?’
‘It is enough.’ Aylwin laughed. ‘The dead freebooters in Arundel are your witnesses.’
‘So, then. Rest as much as you can. I have work to do. The time will be upon us sooner than you imagine.’
10
Kieron paid little attention to the passing of day and night. He worked by daylight. He worked by the light of whale-oil lamps and torches. He drew plans, made calculations, used models. He was distressed to find that the hot-air balloon would have to be far larger than he had anticipated. It would have to be fully fifteen metres long and two and a half metres in diameter; otherwise it would not carry the load he required. He instructed men in the construction of delicate frames from slender willow shoots. He showed women how they must sew linen and paper together to make a great envelope of the size he required. He set two prentice smiths to construct four braziers. He set woodmen to make charcoal, and others to make a small, light boat. He set boys to make ropes, and girls to fashion the ropes into a great net that would harness the hot-air balloon to the boat.
Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset Page 14
