Battle of the Sun (20 page)
Authors: Jeanette Winterson
N
o sooner had the Magus departed than John Dee urged the Queen to take a cohort of her servants and friends, and some fighting men, and all the food and drink she could muster, and hurry to the house of Roger Rover.
‘It is the safest place in your kingdom, and you must be safe, Great Queen, until the Magus is defeated.’
At once the household began to pack its wares, and carts streamed along the Strand, packed with cheeses and wines, and cakes, and bags of flour and churns of butter. Cows, oxen, poultry were driven through the streets, and many a time the soldiers had to fight off desperate men and women whose pockets were lined with gold, and whose stomachs were empty of food.
The great caravan of the Queen clattered into the courtyards of the house on the Strand, and the Queen herself was soon in the best bedroom looking out on to the river.
‘What protects us here?’ the Queen asked John Dee.
‘The sunflowers,’ he answered, ‘for they are emblem of the sun, and the sun is emblem of the true gold that is the treasure of the soul, and not of the common gold that spoils the hearts of men.’
‘Well said, Sir!’ cried Roger Rover, who was in attendance. The Queen laughed.
‘But I think that you, Roger, have always had an eye for a certain amount of gold?’
Roger Rover blushed. He had made his fortune as a pirate, and he had made himself respectable by giving a large part of that fortune to the Queen herself.
‘There is a balance to be struck,’ said John Dee, intervening diplomatically, ‘between too much and not enough.’
The Queen was cracking walnuts between her finger and thumb. She was old, but she was strong.
‘I wish to meet this fellow,’ said the Queen, ‘the one you call the Radiant Boy.’
And that is how Jack found himself, dusty and not very clean, kneeling before Queen Elizabeth the First of England.
Truth to tell, she was not very clean herself, for she had not changed her dress for a month. Her brocade was dusty and dabbed with powder to keep the smells down. Over the sweat and the age of her were smells of rose petals and camphor, like an ancient clothes cupboard.
But her jewels shone. And her eyes shone. She was sitting bolt upright by the fire. Her yellow hawk eyes pierced him as he entered, and as he knelt she gave him her hand, crabbed, and veined, and weary and powerful. A hand that had only to raise itself for a head to fall.
‘Jack,’ she said, and her voice was like a treasure chest, rich and full and sure. ‘My advisor John Dee tells me that you have the power to defeat the Magus – but perhaps you do not know how to use that power. I will tell you something. Come close.’
Jack did not dare look up, but he shuffled closer, trying not to breathe in too much of the powdery atmosphere of her. Her voice was low. ‘Jack, when I became Queen, as a young woman, I too had power that I hardly knew how to use. And I had to put aside all my doubts, and whatever I might have wanted for myself also.’ (And here she paused, and a note of sadness crept in, but in a second it was gone.) ‘You must learn what it is to be powerful, Jack, and not be afraid to use it.’
She sat upright again. ‘Save my kingdom and ask what you will – lands, houses, honours.’
Jack finally raised his head and looked at the old Queen.
‘I will give you all I am made of: my heart, my hopes, my self. If that is enough, I will succeed.’
‘The Thames! The Thames!’ cried a voice. ‘See the Thames!’
Everyone ran to the windows and looked out at the river.
The river’s flow was slowing down. The sunset on the water made the water look gold, but that was because it was gold.
A fisherman stood up in his little craft. He took an oar and banged it on the surface of the water. The oar split and broke in two.
The man got out of the boat, and to the great marvel of all those watching, he began to walk across the water.
Others sitting in their milk-boats and poultry-boats, their wherries and sloops, likewise stood up and began to walk upwards, downwards, sideways, anyway they pleased, back to the shores now lined with people.
Jack turned away from the window. Silver was nearby but could not reach the windows for the press of people.
‘Silver!’ said Jack. ‘The Magus has turned the river into gold.’
Jack and Silver left the house on the Strand without saying a word more, and pushed their way through the thronging crowds.
‘Give us meat! Give us drink! Meat! Drink!’
The Queen’s soldiers were riding through the crowds, trying to keep order, but the numbers of desperate people were swelling the streets. They poured out from their houses and hovels like rats, and they ran to the gates of the city, desperate to escape.
From his Dark Tower the Magus watched and waited.
Jack and Silver skirted the angry crowds and ran to London Bridge, where they saw the strangest sight: the bridge was entirely twined about with sunflowers. It looked as though it were a living thing that had grown like a garden out of the water. Guards patrolled the bridge and would let no one pass, but Jack and Silver slid underneath the wooden piers, and climbed up the sturdy tendrils of a sunflower until they came within sight of the poop-house.
‘Hey!’ cried Jack. ‘Let us in!’
The Keeper of the Tides opened the windows, and pulled Jack and Silver inside. To their great surprise there was Mother Midnight, Mistress Split, and, joy, Max!
Oh, it was a licking and a running and a leaping and a jumping and a tummy in the air and a tail wagging and a barking, racing, braking, spinning, energy dog of delight.
Jack had to lie flat on the floor with the dog stretched over him like a rug, and the dog’s nose on his nose, the dog’s front paws in his hands.
‘That dog loves you,’ said Mistress Split gloomily. ‘Nobody loves me.’
‘Come, come, mistress,’ said the Keeper of the Tides, ‘I am sure someone loves you.’
‘No,’ said Mistress Split firmly. ‘I am not loved. I know that because I never loved a thing myself until I found that Boojie dog, and then I found it in my heart, my half-heart, to love, and though everything about me is half, my love for that dog is whole.’
Silver felt quite sorry for Mistress Split.
‘And because of that,’ Mistress Split continued, ‘I know that there is such a thing called love, and so I say with certainty that I am not loved.’
And she went and sat in the corner, in the very far corner, with her back to everyone, and with her head in her hands, and she was crying.
Mother Midnight was drinking a flagon of something evil-smelling.
‘It is my potion of Strength,’ she said. ‘Silver, you do not need it, for you are of another time. Jack may not drink it, for he must find what he needs in his own heart or not find it at all, but myself and this honourable gentleman must have it – here, sir, drink.’
And with great reluctance, the Keeper of the Tides drank the dreadful brew, while Mother Midnight explained that the Magus had fastened a sunflower seed to the bridge so that the bridge would not be turned to gold.
‘He will come here,’ she said. ‘He has left this place alive for some reason. We are safe here.’
‘There is no food or water left in the city,’ said Jack. ‘And the Magus has challenged the Queen.’
‘God spare her!’ cried the Keeper of the Tides. ‘And God spare me too, for she pays my wages!’
The sun was setting, flashing on the golden river, and burnishing the golden roofs and spires of the city.
‘How beautiful it looks,’ said Silver.
‘But it is not real,’ said Jack, and then his face cleared, as if he had understood something. ‘The Dragon said to me that when I showed fear or hesitation, I fell into the Magus’s power, and he could read my thoughts. If I showed no fear, and if I did not hesitate, then, the Dragon said, I would see everything as it really is – when I jumped in the filthy moat to save the Sunken King I found that the moat was not filthy at all, but like crystal, and clear. The black boiling stink was no more real than this gold is real.’
‘Then it is time,’ said Silver.
‘Time?’ said Jack.
‘Summon the Knight. Call the Magus.’
‘But how do you know it is time?’
‘Because you have understood.’
‘Yes,’ said Jack slowly. ‘The Queen is right, I must claim my own power. And now I can.’
‘Listen,’ said Silver.
And the bells were ringing – across London, from every church, from every tower, the bells were ringing, deep, urgent, as though the stars themselves were clanging through the universe.
And the Knight heard, and the Dragon heard, and Wedge heard, and John Dee heard, and the Queen in her sleep woke up, and the bells rang out across the metallic city, and what hands rang those bells no one knew, but John Dee knew what they meant, and the Magus knew what they meant, and the Magus took his black horse with the golden mane, and rode slowly towards the River Thames.
J
ohn Dee had a surprise for Jack when he returned to the house on the Strand.
Grinning and laughing and eating bread and cheese were Anselm, and Robert and Peter, and Roderick. Stone no more, but living boys. William had been freed too, but he had run away, and no one knew where.
‘How did this happen?’ cried Jack.
‘I hardly know myself,’ said John Dee. ‘I have been working day and night to free them, but then, as all the bells of London began to ring out, wild and clear, the boys assumed their usual form. But it is about you, Jack, I know that. You are ready for the Battle.’
‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘I do not know if my power is greater than his, or equal to his, but what power I have I will use.’
‘Many will help you,’ said John Dee. ‘You will not stand alone.’
Jack hugged all the boys in turn, but he had only one thought, and that was his mother. John Dee shook his head sadly.
‘The Magus has her in a deeper spell than summoning can break. Win the day, Jack, as you must do, and your mother will be restored to life.’
Jack went down and touched her face. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘if I live, so shall you. If I die, we shall be together again.’
Sir Boris had gone.
‘Where is the Knight?’ asked Jack.
‘He is awaiting his enemy,’ said John Dee. ‘There he is. Behold!’
Jack looked out on to the Thames, deserted of people, littered with boats held fast in the sleeping golden river. The Knight was mounted on his horse in the middle of the flow, or what would have been the flow, and he was still and upright, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘It is all so still, so silent,’ said Jack.
He turned to Silver. ‘Where will you be?’
‘Nearby,’ she said. ‘Have no fear, Jack.’
‘No fear,’ said Jack, smiling. ‘I will go out now, and wait for him.’
But as Jack reached the water-gate, there was a tremendous noise in the sky, like thunder, and a flash like lightning, and on wings of leather, and with eyes ancient and glittering, came the Dragon, in one mighty swoop, his voice huge and harsh over the house.
‘How now, Jack Snap?’
The Knight was waiting.
And came the Dragon, banking, wheeling, turning, circling, his mouth blowing fire that blistered the banks of the river and ran a black and burnt swathe up the river itself.
And came the Dragon, raging at the Knight, clipping him close with cruel wings, as the Knight sought to fight him off with his sword.
And came the Dragon, his breath so foul and sulphurous that the people on the bank swooned away from stink and burning. The Dragon’s wings were like a pair of leather bellows that flamed his own fire, and when he blew out in a rush of smoke, he fanned the fire he made and sent it shooting across the city, where it caught and burned whatever was left of wood or cloth, and the city that was not caught in gold ran in fire.
The Dragon flew east, and for a time disappeared. Jack ran to Sir Boris, who had been hit twice, and whose armour was damaged. Jack was strong, but the Knight had a supernatural weight to him, and try as he might, Jack could not get him back on to his horse. As Jack looked round, he saw the shadow of the Dragon returning.
But Jack was not alone. There was a huzzah and a hooloo, and right out of nowhere, like angels, like saviours, Anselm, Robert, Peter and Roderick each took a corner of the Knight, and with Jack’s help, sprung him back on to his horse.
Sir Boris surged forward, charging with his lance and catching the Dragon in his soft underbelly, at the one open point where dragons can be caught. The Dragon fell.
Men and women rushed from the bank on to the solid river to see this extraordinary sight. The Dragon lay quite still and felled, so much so that some began to climb over him, like a fallen oak.
Sir Boris cantered his horse ahead and raised his sword to chop off the Dragon’s head – but the Dragon was ancient and wily, and with a terrible flick of his scaly tail that flung twenty-one persons from one side of the Thames to the other, the Dragon roared up once more.
And as the Dragon slid backwards, splaying his gnarled feet, it was seen that his weight in the fall – the weight of a cathedral – had opened a chasm in the golden river, and as the Knight cantered forward to deal his final blow, his horse saw the chasm and reared, and the Knight in the weight of his armour had no time to stop himself as he fetched backwards off his horse, and fell down and down and down and down and down into the deep ending of the Thames.
And the Dragon snorted. ‘How now, Jack Snap!’
But Jack knew that the Dragon was wounded.
‘Go,’ said Jack, ‘you helped me once. Go and I will not stop you.’
But before any more could be said, Jack heard the unmistakable sound of hooves – metallic hooves on the metallic river. He looked up. Far away, echoing nearer, coming under London Bridge, rode the Magus on his horse that shone like a black sun.
Jack stood up. Everything was quiet but for the coming-closer clip-clop of the hooves.
Jack took the bridle of Sir Boris’s horse and leapt lightly into the saddle.
Then, walking the horse around the Dragon, he rode out to the middle of the river, and stood and waited.
* * *
In the house on the Strand, Roger Rover, John Dee and Silver were watching from the open window. The old Queen was sitting upright in a gilded chair.
‘I have read about dragons,’ she said, ‘but I did not think they existed.’
‘Everything exists,’ said John Dee. ‘It is just a matter of finding it.’
The Magus rode alongside Jack and reined in his horse.
‘Jack, my Jack, this is all folly. I have defeated you before and I shall defeat you now. Why do you try and fight me? Yet I will offer you a chance. Bow your head to me, kneel before me, and you shall have a share in my treasure and in my power. You shall not be my rival, you shall be like a prince to me. You are too young, you cannot use this unruly power that is in you. Offer it me, and you shall know what power is. I shall soon rule England, and from England, I shall soon rule the world.’
‘You will never rule me,’ said Jack. ‘I would die first.’
The Magus regarded him. ‘Die, Jack, would you? Then you shall!’
And the Magus galloped forward, his cloak flying out behind him, and from the streams of his cloak came every kind of evil – came goblins and devils, red-eyed demons and hook-faced birds, came creatures without heads, came heads without bodies, came silent furies and whistling deaths, came claws, beaks, talons, came the tearing, ripping, shearing racket of dark power.
As Jack ducked and swung his sword, Mother Midnight in the poop-house pulled her own cloak around her and flew straight out of the window, calling like a bird of prey, but the birds of prey who came at her call were light and clear and aimed themselves fearlessly at the flapping hells that covered the sky.
As soon as the window was open, the brave little dog Max, seeing his beloved Jack in the thick of the fray, jumped out and landed on fast feet and ran at hounds of hell six times his size.
When Mistress Split saw this, she thought only to save her Boojie, and springing off her one leg, she abseiled down the sunflower, and pulled out her huge sword from beneath her skirts and set to work at every monster that came near her or threatened the dog.
‘Slash Mash Crash Bash!’ she shouted. ‘Come here to be beheaded.’ BANG! went a goblin’s head. CRASH! went an imp in a cart. MASH! went a pair of evil eight-legged things with beady eyes and nasty fur. SLASH! went her sword, and down went an homunculus with a red face.
‘Bless my wig!’ cried the Keeper of the Tides. ‘Am I to be here helpless while my friends perish?’
And he pushed his ceremonial cannon into the window and began firing cannonballs into the squawking air.
‘Take that, and that, and that!’ he cried, as a hideous harpy thudded at his feet.
At the house on the Strand Roger Rover took command of the Queen’s troops and they poured out on to the river, and never were men braver, their swords flashing, their double-headed axes slashing the sky.
The Queen was on her feet, her lion heart alive with battle. Fearlessly she stood in the fully open window and shouted out, ‘The Queen of England is with you!’
And it was time for Silver to do her part.
She ran downstairs and into the armoury and fastened on herself a breastplate and helmet and took a small light sword. Then she went to find Jack.
As soon as she reached the river a thicket of suffocating brown moths covered her face, their wings like stinging nettles. She dropped the visor on her helmet and pushed on, showing no fear at the ghoulish wreckage around her.
Jack was fighting a hellish thing in a cloak that had eight arms and no head.
‘Jack! The Magus! Look!’ cried Silver.
The Magus had taken his chance in the commotion, and slipped away towards the unguarded house, empty but for the Queen. Jack looked up to see him scaling the wall like a bat.
With one mighty push, Jack shoved his horse right through the swirling cloak with eight arms, and galloped towards the house. As the horse came near, Jack stood up on the saddle like a circus boy, and leapt straight up the wall at the Magus.
The two of them fell, rolling and tumbling over each other.
‘Your power is ended,’ cried Jack. ‘Ended!’
But the Magus struggled free, and ran as swift as a wild animal through the smoking fighting crowds on the river, Jack pelting behind him.
Before Jack could reach him, the Magus took out a horn, and blew it. The noise was so frightening and eerie that everyone stopped fighting for a moment. Stopped to see what it was that was happening.
The River Thames opened like a wound, and from the deep underground wound came an army of metal men. They had no eyes, no hearts. They walked in step, mechanically, and in unbreakable ranks. The sound of them vibrated on the river. The noise was deafening.
The Magus began to laugh, and his laugh was metal, and his face was metal.
The metal men began to cut down the brave soldiers of the Queen. Lop off their metal heads and their metal bodies fought on. Lop off their metal legs and their metal arms swung their axes. Lop off their metal bodies and their metal legs kicked whatever came near.
Jack watched in panic.
Metal
, he thought.
What can you do with metal?
And then he knew . . .
Jack slipped through the confusion to where the Dragon lay wounded. He sat by the Dragon’s head. ‘Help me once more,’ he said.
‘How so, Jack Snap, why might I?’ said the Dragon.
‘I do not know,’ said Jack. ‘Melt the metal men.’
The Dragon looked at Jack as though he knew him from a long way off, another time, an older land, and perhaps he did, for there are many things that dragons know. Then, without warning, the Dragon twisted his great head, and as the ranks of metal men came near, the Dragon breathed his fierce fire.
WHOOSH! went the fireball. WHOOSH! went the purple flames. The heat was intense, the heat was as hot as the sun skimming the earth. The heat turned the air into shimmering waves so hot that a woman a mile away had her eyebrows singed off.
The metal men reddened and glowed. Their metal joints swelled and stalled. Their ungiving bodies turned molten, and as they flared and glowed and heated to a thousand degrees, they melted the solid gold of the river where they marched, and the river was turning to molten gold, and the metal men were sinking, clanking, steaming, burning.
The troops and fighters on the river were desperately trying to reach the banks. The battle had become a chaos.
Suddenly the Magus was beside Jack, his face twisted and snarling. ‘Save yourself, Jack, if you can!’ And with double fury he flung himself at Jack.
As the two fought harder and harder, Jack felt his strength growing, and his mind clearing. He had the Magus by the throat and he was looking into him, through him, it seemed, and what he saw was nothing – emptiness.
‘You have no power,’ said Jack. ‘You are empty.’
A little further away, watching the fight, was the Abbess.
She took a little silver ball from her pocket, and held it up to the light.
The false Silver
, she thought.
Let us see what happens if she joins the fray
. The Abbess threw the ball of mercury, and threw it and threw it and threw it on to the river. It rolled and grew.
‘It’s time to stop, Jack,’ said a familiar voice. ‘The battle is done.’
Silver was there. Jack looked up at her. ‘Didn’t I promise to tell you when it was time? Well, now it’s time to stop. The battle is over. I promise you. The metal men are defeated. And your mother is waiting in the house.’ Silver was smiling. ‘Come on, Jack.’
Jack hesitated and let go of the Magus, who lay winded on the golden river. Jack looked at Silver carefully; she didn’t smile like that, false and unhappy. Jack said, ‘Show me the King’s ring.’
And the shadow Silver collapsed back into a ball of mercury and rolled away. The Abbess from her vantage point was displeased. She had expected the Magus to slay Jack at that moment, and while she did not care whether Jack lived or did not, or whether the Magus succeeded or did not, she cared very much to control matters. The presence of Silver, true or false, seemed to spoil that. She wrapped her cloak about her and made her way towards the house.
