Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset (22 page)

Kieron was dazed. Suddenly, men were shaking him by the hand, clapping him on the back.

‘Monsieur Kieron,’ said Captain Girod, ‘forgive me. I return the sword of a brave man. We are honoured by your presence on the
Marie-France.
’

Kieron took the sword. It felt good in his hand.

‘Messieurs,’ said Captain Girod,
‘je vous presente un homme de vaillance. A votre santé, Monsieur Kieron
.’

Miraculously wine and glasses had appeared, brought by a fourth man from below. The Frenchmen raised their glasses and drank deep.

Then Kieron also raised his glass.
‘Monsieur le capitaine
, I thank you for saving my life.’

‘Monsieur Kieron, it was – I say it right?– my pleasure. I am speak of this in years to come.’

The wine tasted good. No sooner was Kieron’s glass empty than it was refilled. He swallowed the good red wine of France and felt a tingling in his limbs.

‘Captain Girod,’ he said thickly, ‘can you set me upon the coast of Britain?’

‘Monsieur Kieron, name your destination.’ He laughed. ‘For you, my friend, I will sail the
Marie-France
even under the guns of
l’Amiral Mort
.’

Kieron smiled faintly. ‘I wish only to land two or three kilometres east of Little Hampton.’

‘Come below,
monsieur
, where it is warm and light. You shall drink more wine while I look at the charts … We are many kilometres from land, you see. It will take time. I do not think you may put ashore much before daylight. It will be
dangereux
– dangerous.’

‘I am familiar with danger.’

‘
Pardon. Je suis un fou. Monsieur
, come below. Rest.’

‘Captain, I would like to stay on deck a while. I would like to look at the stars.’

‘
Ah, les étoiles!’
Captain Girod shook his head uncomprehendingly. ‘My ship is yours,
monsieur. Excusez-moi
.’

Kieron stayed on deck for a time and gazed at the night sky. Truly, it was very beautiful. Truly, he had never before realised quite how beautiful those remote points of light were in the mystery that men called the firmament.

Suddenly he began to laugh. He began to laugh because he had just discovered that he was longer indifferent to his own fate. But a short time ago, he had not cared whether he lived or died. Now he knew that he greatly wished to live. To look at the sky on other nights such as this. To construct more balloons and other machines of the air. To hold Petrina close in love and desire. To see his son grow tall … To live … To create and to remember … To suffer and take joy … To live!

He laughed loud and helplessly. Perhaps it is the wine, he told himself, feeling fire in his limbs. I am unused to French wine. But he knew it was not the wine. It was – it was … What was it? The life force! That was a good phrase. He felt he had just invented it. The life force. The force that draws flowers and crops out of the earth, that makes women beautiful and causes men – some men – to lift up their eyes to the stars.

‘Some day,’ said Kieron, gazing at Sirius, the brightest star of all, ‘my chil
dren’s children will reach out towards you. Think not, bright star, that you are beyond the reach of men.’

Again he laughed, thinking how a small French ship had found him, on a great ocean, thinking how chance had brought him back from the dead. ‘By the hammer,’ he laughed, ‘the astrologer Marcus will yet confound all disbelievers.’

Down below, as Captain Girod consulted his charts, he heard the mad bursts of laughter. He shrugged. It was known that the English had always been a little mad. Clearly this one, who had himself challenged the might of an armed fleet, was much afflicted.

Captain Girod was as good as his word. He took the
Marie-France
close in to the south coast of Britain almost exactly three kilometres east of Little Hampton. The stars were fading and the sky was turning grey as Kieron clambered over the side of the French ship and prepared to row ashore in his small boat.

‘Monsieur,’ said Captain Girod, ‘we have been honoured by your company. Please accept this small gift and remember us with affection.’ He handed Kieron a flask of
eau de vie
. ‘Some day, I think, our nations will again work together. You will drink to that?’

‘I will drink to that. Captain Girod, you have saved my life, but I have no gift to offer.’

‘Monsieur Kieron, we already have your gift.
Merde, alors.
It was
formidable. Un homme du del contre les bateaux de l’Amiral Mort.
Please, we shall tell our children’s children of this thing. We have your gift.
Soyez tranquille.
Rest easy.’

‘I beg one more favour, Captain. Give me oil. Give me the means of making fire.’

‘Pourquoi? You cannot make the attack from this small boat.’

‘No, Monsieur. I wish to burn my boat when I have landed. It has served me well. No other shall use it.’

‘Monsieur Kieron, I comprehend.’

A member of the crew brought a large bottle of oil, some waste cloth and a lighted candle-cup. Kieron stored the candle-cup carefully in his boat so that the breeze would not extinguish the flame.

‘Goodbye, Captain, and thank you. May you have a safe voyage home.’

‘Bonne chance, Monsieur. We salute your audacity. It will be remembered.’

Kieron pulled for the shore. He could only see it dimly, but it seemed to be deserted. There was little swell, but the tide was with him. As he rowed, the
Marie-France
swung slowly round and faded slowly like a ghost in the pre-dawn light.

By the time he had beached, the red rim of the sun had risen above the horizon. Kieron hauled his boat clear of the water. The soft sand felt good beneath his feet. He was amazed at how good it felt. But perhaps that was because he had not expected to walk on dry land again.

He looked along the shore both ways. It was totally deserted. He sat down for a while, picking up handfuls of sand and letting it trickle between his
fingers. A sense of desolation grew oddly upon him. He felt that he was the last man alive.

After a time, his mind returned to practicalities. The candle-cup was still burning. He made a small pile of the waste cloth he had been given, then he searched for fragments of flotsam. He found a few splintered pieces of ships’ timber, not large, but enough to make a small bonfire with the waste cloth. He poured oil over it and placed the candle-cup beneath a strip of the soaked rag. The flames leaped high. For a moment or two he stood warming himself, realising that he had felt very cold.

Then he recollected the purpose of the bonfire. He turned
Mistress Fitzalan’s Revenge
upside down and kicked repeatedly at the thin strips of wood until they were stove in. Then he lifted the wreckage of the boat and let it fall upon the bonfire.

Sparks rose mightily. The wet timbers sizzled and crackled and steamed and smoked. Finally, they burst into flame; and
Mistress Fitzalan’s Revenge
was at last consumed by the very element she had carried to destroy the vessels of Admiral Death.

Kieron waited until all the wood of the small boat had been reduced to embers. By which time, the sun was well clear of the horizon. He looked at the glowing ashes and the fragments of charred wood. Soon the incoming tide would reach them, and all traces of the boat would be washed away for ever … This, too, had been a funeral pyre.

Now it was time to return to the living. The sky was blue and it was going to be another fine day. Kieron judged it time to strike quickly inland, lest he encounter any of the freebooters abroad early. He gazed westward, along the beach and out to sea; but he could see no sign of them or their vessels. Which was of no great significance, since the coast curved, and Little Hampton was out of sight.

Kieron left the shore and took to the fields and moorland, passing near the ruins of several abandoned cottages. There was still the smell of smoke and death about them. No doubt they had recently suffered the ministrations of the freebooters.

Although it would have been easier to head directly for Arundel, Kieron judged this not to be a wise course. After the onslaught from the air, Admiral Death may well have decided to march inland, exacting retribution from any who had been so bold as to attempt to reoccupy their damaged towns and villages. Better by far to make a wearisome detour through fields and woodland, perhaps eventually coming to the Misery from the east or the north.

If Kieron had not been persuaded to sleep aboard the
Marie-France
, at least he had been persuaded to eat. Captain Girod had given him good bread, and sliced meat, and Normandy cheese. But that was hours ago; and now he
felt hungry once more. He had nothing to eat, but he did have the flask of
eau de vie.
He took out its stopper and drank. The fluid set his limbs on fire and took away the pains of hunger; but it did not seem to cloud his mind. Rather, it appeared to bring clarity of thought and to supply energy.

Kieron strode rapidly across the long stretches of grassland, sword in one hand, flask in the other. Occasionally, he sang songs, occasionally he drank. Always he looked for signs of men. But the world, it seemed, was deserted. Perhaps it was no sad jest to imagine himself as the last man alive.

Now he could see the towers and battlements of Arundel castle. There was no obvious sign of activity. But he stayed well to the east of the castle and travelled north. He felt desperately tired and very thirsty. Even the
eau de vie
could no longer stave off the hunger pains.

It seemed to be a warm morning. The weather was kind. How pleasant it would be to sit down and rest a while. He was greatly tempted; but then he recollected that the only safe place to rest would be the Misery, and preferably in the arms of Petrina.

Somehow he managed to keep himself moving. With luck, and if he used his remaining energy carefully, he would reach the Misery in less than two hours, perhaps even in little more than one.

The sun had already passed its zenith by the time he reached the encampment. He approached it from the north and wondered why he was not challenged by sentinels or watch men. Kentigern, it seemed, was getting careless.

Kieron felt weak. He could not see very clearly, he could not now think very clearly, and his gait was none too steady. For want of food, he had emptied the flask of
eau de vie
given him by Captain Girod. But his wits still functioned, if slowly. When he entered the clearing, he stood swaying and taking in the scene with much amazement. Not many people remained, and there were several faces he did not recognise. Everyone seemed to be frantically busy making bundles of their belongings and loading them upon horse-drawn or hand-drawn carts.

Kentigern was there, he saw, supervising the loading of the carts. Petrina was there also. They were so busy that they did not notice him at first. He staggered forward. Petrina was the first to turn her head.

‘Kieron! Kieron, my beloved! I knew you were not dead!’ She ran to him, held him close, supported him, kissed his face and hair. ‘I knew you would come. They said you had fallen into the sea from a great height. But I knew you would come.’

‘Forgive me, I’m drunk,’ was all he could say. ‘No food. Much
eau de vie.
Forgive me.’

Great shouts went up from the people. ‘Kieron!’ ‘The Cloud Walker has returned!’ ‘Kieron is here!’ ‘Ludd protect us, he has risen from the dead!’

Kentigern came forward. Kieron felt his knees giving way but Petrina held him, strangely poured strength back into him.

‘What is this?’ he said thickly. ‘Where are the rest of our people? Who are these I do not know? What is happening?’ He raised the sword he still held, the sword that seemed now a part of himself.

Kentigern said: ‘Rest easy, Kieron. Put your sword down. The battle is over. These are slaves escaped from the shattered vessels of Admiral Death. They help us to return to our homes, that is all … I did not think that you would live. Through the glass, you were seen to fall into the sea from a great height.’ He shrugged. ‘But you, I think, are a man to confound the Devil.’

‘It was not I, but Aylwin who fell.’

‘So. Aylwin, who was your friend, was also touched by greatness … Kieron, you destroyed five vessels, so the escaped slaves tell us, and blew a leg off Admiral Death who is now near to that condition signified by his name. The freebooters have departed from Little Hampton. Perchance, they did not know that there was only one shark of the sky … So we return to our homes, Kieron. We shall rebuild the town and take some precautions against a repetition of recent disasters. This meets with your approval?’

‘I am content,’ Kieron managed to say. ‘I will live in Master Hobart’s house, and, to please a certain astrologer, I will beget three sons.’

Then, despite Petrina’s support, he fell unconscious.

The people in the Misery drew close, watched Petrina lift his head, press it to her breast.

‘Look upon this man,’ said Kentigern. ‘He is but eighteen years old, and he was known as a fool. Yet he has delivered us. I, Kentigern, kneel before him. Let no one stand at this time unless he presumes to be a better man.’

The people in the Misery knelt before Kieron. Then, after a space, they made a bed for him on one of the carts. Petrina lay beside him, stroking his white hair. Then they loosed the horses from the cart, and ten men drew him to Master Hobart’s house.

For the next few days, every man, woman and child who had returned to the town of Arundel worked throughout every hour of daylight and through many of the hours of darkness, also. Walls, doors, windows, even roofs were to be mended, new furniture and furnishings had to be sought or constructed; food had to be got; tools and weapons had to be fashioned; the sick and wounded had to be cared for; and a start had to be made on repairing the damage done at the castle.

Kentigern, in the absence of other authority, assumed responsibility for the seigneurie. He sent messengers east and west to discover if Admiral Death’s entire fleet had quit the southern coast of England or had only sought refuge farther from the source of the fire-balloon. He sent messengers with the news of the result of Kieron’s attack to the grand seigneurs at London. He organised companies of men to clear the streets of the stinking corpses of freebooters, to mend fences and walk, to round up stray cattle, to scythe the last few fields of corn, to hunt for deer, pheasants, rabbits.