The War of the Grail (27 page)

J
ack wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and adjusted the musket on his shoulder. ‘I’ve come here to defend our people, not fight with you. We need to work together. We should leave anything else in the past.’

Henry narrowed his eyes. ‘That would be convenient for you, wouldn’t it? Leave it all in the past.’ He pointed his finger at Jack. ‘You want us to forget how you succoured witches? How you gave aid to the heathens?’

People were beginning to gather to watch the unfolding scene. Several muttered approval at Henry’s words. One man, to Jack’s right, slung his musket from his shoulder and held it at his side, as if he might need it in a hurry.

‘I have never given aid to the enemy,’ Jack said. ‘I have always served the crusade. You know that well enough.’

Henry scowled. ‘Served the crusade? You refused to go in search of the Grail. The one thing that could have saved us, that could have saved Lord Fitzalan.’

‘I did look for the Grail. Eventually. I’ve just come back from the search.’

‘Is that so? You refused before. Now you say you went. So … where is it, then?’

Jack paused. How was he going to explain this? ‘I’m not certain that we found it. If we did, I don’t understand how to use it.’

‘You speak in riddles.’ Henry waved his hand theatrically towards the crowd. ‘Are we just supposed to take your word for all this?’

‘No. The Sikh came with me.’ Jack motioned to Kanvar.

Kanvar’s eyes widened as the gazes of the gathered people fell upon him.

Henry clapped his hands slowly. ‘An Indian is your witness. You expect us to trust the word of one of the enemy.’ He pointed his finger at Jack. ‘You damn yourself from your own mouth, Jack Casey. You have consorted with the enemy for many months – years, no doubt. You’ve always been their servant.’ His face reddened and his eyes blazed. ‘I should shoot you and your heathen friends on the spot.’

‘Wait, sir.’ Mark pushed his way to the front of the throng. ‘Master Casey is a loyal crusader.’ He looked at the faces of the men and women around him. ‘I’ve seen with my own eyes all he’s done for the crusade. He’s taught me and the other lads how to fight the heathens. Using their own powers against them.’

Many of the apprentices from the House of Sorcery emerged from the crowd and stepped forward to stand beside Mark.

‘I can vouch for him,’ Mark continued. ‘And anyone from Folly Brook village will say the same.’

‘That’s right,’ someone called out.

Jack looked over the heads of the first few rows of people and spotted James, the tenant farmer. Beside him stood several more apprentices, who also shouted out their support for Jack.

Henry scowled at the gathering. ‘Casey has you all bewitched. You’re fools if you can’t see it.’

‘We can’t send them out there now, sir.’ Mark motioned towards the gate. ‘The Welsh will slaughter them.’

Henry’s face contorted. His eyes bulged and he took in a deep breath, as if he were about to bellow.

But then a man up on the battlements shouted, ‘Look over there!’ He pointed out at the plains. ‘There’re more of them coming.’

Henry’s chest deflated. He spun round and charged back up to the parapet. All along the ramparts men began to talk and gesture towards the enemy. Jack shuffled forward with the rest of the crowd to gaze through the hole in the wall.

Drapes of rain swept across the landscape. The light greens of the countryside were darkened to deep jade. The Welsh had retreated to about a mile and a half away, out of range of the guns. Further figures were spilling over the distant hills and swirling down towards the plains. Jack stared hard through the drizzle. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Welshmen arriving.

And now they were spreading out across the open ground. Keeping out of range, they marched to the left and right, bearing their standards, which included the red banner of war to the death.

Jack found himself gripping the strap of the musket tightly.

The Welsh were surrounding the hill. They were laying siege to the fortress.

Henry didn’t say that Jack, Sonali and Kanvar could stay. But neither did he return to speak about it further. So, Jack and the others simply remained in the fortress.

The lepers were assigned to an uninhabited section of the fortress, while Mark led Jack and the other new arrivals to the place where the remaining members of Folly Brook had made camp. James and the lads from the House of Sorcery walked alongside Jack, eager for news about where he’d been and why it had taken him so long to return.

Jack found himself being drawn into a labyrinth of crumbling facades, arches, passages and halls. The stonework was smothered by vines, but traces of carved arabesque designs peeked out through the foliage. He walked across chambers and galleries where the paving stones had long ago sunk beneath the earth and the roofs had melted, leaving the interiors exposed to the sky. He crossed open spaces that must once have been courtyards or formal gardens, the ponds, fountains and flower beds all now overgrown with grass. Cracked domes, shattered gazebos and rotting towers surrounded him. Columns stood alone, attached to nothing. Huge arched windows looked out into empty space.

The drizzle was easing but still cast a trembling veil over the ruined buildings.

A whole city of people seemed to have fled into the fortress. They hunched over campfires, clambered in and out of tattered pavilions, and sheltered from the rain beneath those roofs that were still relatively intact. Numerous children ran, shrieking with delight, through the tunnels and hallways – they had no idea there was a war on. To them, it was all an adventure, a game.

People’s faces dropped when they saw Kanvar and Sonali, and many tripped over in their haste to get out of the way.

Mark explained that more and more refugees had poured into the fortress over the course of the day. He’d heard there were now two thousand people sheltering within the walls – a large number, but one that the vast fortress was still able to accommodate. Many people from Clun Valley, including some from Folly Brook, had chosen not to retreat here. A few had decided to stay in Clun. Some had decided to flee to their relatives’ homes in other parts of Shropshire. Others had said they would try to escape to Wales or other regions in England. Jack could hardly blame them for trying, although he wondered how far they would get.

Finally, after meandering for about fifteen minutes, Jack’s party arrived at the Folly Brook camp. The villagers had found a spot in and around what might have been a palatial residence long ago, but which was now a jumble of collapsed masonry ensnared by ivy. Five cooking fires stood near what appeared to be the building’s main entrance. And about the flames were arrayed the inhabitants of Folly Brook.

When they saw Jack and the others, the villagers leapt to their feet, cheered, clapped and rushed across the grass. Jack greeted each person in turn and Mark lined up the apprentices for him to inspect. Jack counted off the lads and found that two were missing. One of them was Alban, the last to master Lightning.

Mark coughed and looked at the ground. ‘Alban and David didn’t want to stay here. Said they had to protect their home villages.’

Jack nodded. The two lads had made an understandable decision, but that meant there were now only ten apprentices who could use the Lightning yantra. Still, at least Jack had the power himself now. And they had Sonali and the formidable Kanvar on their side as well.

Jack heard crying and wailing behind him and instantly knew who it was. He turned and saw old Mary, the village wise woman, emerging from the entryway with Cecily in her arms.

Jack grinned, crossed himself and took the baby from Mary. Cecily looked up at him and smiled. He gazed at her perfect features, tiny fingers, impossibly smooth skin. She was alive and well. He silently thanked God. Somehow, it seemed there was still hope while the child was alive.

Without thinking, caught up in the moment, he held Cecily above his head and turned slowly in a circle, displaying the child to the villagers congregating around him.

‘This is what we’re fighting for,’ he said. ‘The future. A better future.’

‘I thought you were gone.’ Elizabeth brushed a lock of hair from her face. ‘I thought I wouldn’t see you again.’

Jack put his arm around her shoulder for a second. The two of them were sitting on a stone slab to the side of the Folly Brook encampment. Cecily lay gurgling in Elizabeth’s arms.

‘I’m sorry I left,’ Jack said. ‘I thought I might find the Grail. I was wrong.’

‘I understand. You had to try.’

‘Just remember, though, no matter where I go, I’ll always come back for you.’

Elizabeth smiled slightly. ‘I remember how you used to be gone for so long when you were in the army.’

Jack nodded. Back then, he’d only had a few weeks’ annual leave and sometimes he could go for more than a year without seeing Katelin and Elizabeth.

‘People used to start talking, you know,’ Elizabeth continued. ‘They’d say you wouldn’t be coming back. That you’d been killed in battle. But then you’d suddenly be there, walking through the door.’

Jack remembered these scenes well. In his mind’s eye he could still see the young Elizabeth running across the room as he opened the cottage door, racing into his arms. The memories seemed so vivid, but also so long ago. They were from another time, another world, when Katelin was still alive and he still served the Rajthanans. Before the crusade. Before Jhala had betrayed him …

Cecily grizzled and Elizabeth jiggled her up and down to calm her.

Jack rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted, but the relief of finding Elizabeth alive had filled him with unexpected strength. ‘You still have Mother’s necklace?’

Elizabeth smiled. ‘Of course.’

She drew the necklace out from under her dress and held it up. The ancient cross twirled slowly as it dangled from the string.

‘Good.’ He patted her on the shoulder. ‘You made it here safely. Mother must be watching over you.’

His eyes strayed across the camp. Blue dusk was falling across the fortress. The rain had finally faded and the villagers could sit outside without getting wet. Saleem was talking to his mother and sisters on the far side of the camp, while Mary was discussing something with several other women. Mark and the lads from the House of Sorcery were helping to peel and cut turnips and parsnips for the pots that stood in the cooking fires.

But there was one person Jack couldn’t see. In fact, he hadn’t seen her for more than an hour. Sonali.

He’d better look for her.

He said farewell to Elizabeth, walked across the camp and ducked through the entrance to the ruin. He found himself in a gloomy chamber that was more like a cave than something man-made. The upper storeys of the building had fallen in long ago and now the large slabs of the ceiling lay less than a foot above his head. Several villagers squatted in the darkness or lay on blankets. A collection of barrels and sacks stood against one wall. The villagers had brought a few carts of food with them when they escaped, enough to last for several days at least.

He couldn’t see Sonali, so he pressed on through an arch and made his way through a warren of further rooms formed by the collapsed stonework. The only light came from the numerous holes in the ceiling or the occasional tallow candle stuck in the ground. He saw more villagers huddled here and there, but still no sign of Sonali.

Finally, he pushed aside a curtain of vines and came out in a larger hall where the ceiling had almost completely disintegrated, revealing the blue-black sky beyond. A row of pillars paraded along one side of the chamber, although they now supported nothing.

Kanvar sat cross-legged in the shadows, still as a statue.

Jack crouched down. ‘Kanvar.’

He half expected Kanvar to leap up in alarm, but the Sikh merely opened his eyes slowly and murmured, ‘Ah. Jack.’

‘You seen Sonali?’

Kanvar stared into the gloom, pondering the question carefully. ‘I have not seen her. I have been restoring my sattva for some time.’

‘You all right now, then?’

‘I am better. Just troubled.’

‘Troubled? Why?’