Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset (10 page)

Kieron looked at the derelict windmill, and thought of its ghosts, and loved them. Here was the place to construct his hot-air balloon. Here was the place where Aylwin could paint in peace.

‘This is our home,’ he said. ‘Among the rats and the memories, this is our home. Here I will show you something of the art of oil colour. Here I will construct my hot-air balloon.’

Aylwin was not happy. ‘Kieron, it is far from the town.’

‘That is good.’

‘Also, the spirits may not welcome us.’

‘You believe in spirits, Aylwin?’

Aylwin crossed himself. ‘I believe that there are things in which it is dangerous not to believe.’

‘Well, then, we are at one with the ghosts. They will be friendly to us, because we, too, rebel against our destinies.’

‘I am afraid,’ said Aylwin.

‘So, also, am I. But is it not better to be filled with fear and do what one desires than to be filled with fear and achieve nothing?’

Aylwin had no answer. So Weaver’s Mill became the refuge for a miller who wished to paint and for a painter who wished to fly.

It took Kieron many days to construct the hot-air balloon, which not only gave Alyx Fitzalan some moments of terror and brought Kieron himself to the brink of disaster but also changed the course of history.

Though Aylwin and Kieron were to share the derelict windmill for their separate purposes, Kieron was now resolved not to endanger his friend by involving him in this new project. Nor would he further endanger Sholto, though he would have been greatly glad of the smith’s help in fashioning a small brazier. The message of Brother Sebastian had been clear. If anyone was to suffer because of Kieron’s desire to reconquer the air, it must be himself alone.

He bought much coarse linen and quite astounded Master Hobart with his requirements of paper. The old man loved Kieron too well, and feared for his safety too much, to enquire closely into the reasons for his demands. Master Hobart chose to remind himself that Kieron was one of the great ones, that Mistress Fitzalan’s Leap was a masterpiece by any standard, and that great ones were privileged to indulge their madnesses as best they may. Hobart drank more, coughed more and prayed more. But, otherwise, he did and said nothing.

So Kieron transported his linen and paper and needles and thread to the derelict mill; and he bought an old fire-basket from a tinker who was amazed to receive five silver pennies for a piece of useless iron. And Kieron went to work like a man possessed. He bound willow wands to make a frame – slender shoots whose suppleness was ideal for his purpose. Weight, Kieron had discerned, was all. The frame of the balloon must be so light that the hot air would triumph.

Meanwhile, Alyx rode daily, hoping to encounter Kieron at least once more before she was taken to Chichester to lie with a sad young man who was not long for this world. And meanwhile, Aylwin, whenever he was released from his duties, came to the mill to paint.

Kieron gave him instruction. Aylwin was a ready pupil: Kieron was a good teacher. Aylwin learned to paint land and sky with fire in his brush. His canvases became alive with colour and movement. Truly, Kieron saw, there was a great talent in the prentice miller. It was a pity that he was doomed to spend his life grinding corn.

Meanwhile, the construction of the hot-air balloon progressed. And Kieron’s ambitions waxed bolder. The balloon would be twice the height of a man and twice the width of a wine cask. It would be a great balloon – no longer a toy but a declaration of intent.

Meanwhile, Mistress Alyx continued to ride. And one day she rode out along the bank of the river Arun, as far as Weaver’s Mill, seeking the boy whose face haunted her dreams. And that was the day that the balloon was ready for its flight.

The balloon, slack and flapping, hung suspended from a wooden beam jutting out of a window in the mill until the heat rising from the glowing charcoal in the brazier should cause the air inside it to expand and become buoyant. When the balloon was extended and ready to rise, Kieron would release its fastenings and control its ascent by a long stout cord fastened to a length of metal wire, fastened in turn to the brazier suspended under the balloon.

Aylwin was busy sketching Kieron at work, as he checked the fastenings and blew the charcoal with bellows to a white heat. Neither of them noticed Alyx, as she rode along the bank of the Arun, until she had almost reached the mill.

‘Ludd ha’ mercy,’ exclaimed Aylwin in fright. ‘The seigneur’s daughter is upon us.’ He tried to conceal his drawing materials as if he had been detected in the commission of a serious crime.

‘Rest easy, my friend,’ said Kieron, glancing up. ‘Mistress Alyx will cause us no difficulties, I promise.’ He had not told Aylwin – indeed, he had not told anyone – of the intimacies that had passed between him and Alyx. These were matters best remembered – or forgot – only by those who had experienced them.

Alyx dismounted. ‘Well, Kieron, I wondered where you hid yourself. What is this contraption that commands all your attention?’

‘A hot-air balloon, Mistress Alyx.’ His tone was deferential, as it always had been when others were present. ‘A toy, a whim, nothing more.’

‘So,’ said Alyx, ‘we have here a prentice painter who does not paint and a prentice miller who does not grind corn. Most curious.’ She turned to Aylwin. ‘Boy, walk my horse somewhat, then let him graze. I have ridden him passing hard.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’ Aylwin took the bridle and led the hunter away.

Alyx waited until he was out of earshot. ‘Kieron, I have sought you for many days. Why do you humiliate me?’

‘Beloved Alyx, I do not humiliate you.’

‘You do not come to the castle.’ ‘I have no reason. Also, your father has commanded me.

‘He knows about us?’

‘I do not know how, but he knows about us.’ Kieron smiled. ‘He told me that you wept somewhat …’

‘It is a lie,’ said Alyx fiercely. ‘I would not weep for a prentice painter.’

‘Of this I am convinced,’ said Kieron tranquilly. ‘Yet your father is an honest man. He must be mistaken.’

She flung her arms round him, not caring if Aylwin saw or saw not. ‘Kieron, I love you.’

‘Darling Alyx, I love you also. But our paths diverge. You wed with Talbot, I wed with Petrina. You are high born, I am low born. There is nothing we can do.’

‘We will see about that,’ said Alyx. ‘Talbot will be dead within a year, that I promise.’

‘You would kill him?’

‘He will die, Kieron. That is all. He will die … What of Petrina?’

Kieron kissed her and held her close. ‘Alyx, we deal in idle dreams. You must know that.’

Alyx dabbed at her eyes. ‘Yes, we must be what we are.’ She stood back. ‘The miller’s boy – will he be a teller of tales?’

‘Rest easy. He is my friend. I teach him a new art.’

Alyx tried to laugh. ‘He is not the only one you have taught a new art, Kieron-head-in-the-air … See, your balloon fills out like a fat marrow. It strains to rise.’

‘Ludd’s Grief! Excuse me, Alyx. I must cast loose up above.’ He dashed into the mill, loosened the top of the balloon; and took the wood beam in from the window. Then he came down and regarded the balloon critically.

It was in truth like a huge marrow, bigger than he had imagined. The charcoal in the brazier suspended beneath it glowed brightly. The balloon swayed in a light breeze, straining at its mooring.

Alyx marvelled at the sight. ‘How will you explain this toy to Holy Church, Kieron?’

‘How should I need explain it?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘It is but a toy, and I am but a fool called Kieron-head-in-the-air.’

‘The neddies might call it a machine. They might think you guilty of machinism.’

‘Hang the stupid neddies!’ Kieron carefully loosened the mooring, and the balloon rose. He paid out the cord that held it very cautiously, delighting in the strong pull on his arms. The balloon rose above the windmill. Aylwin had tethered Alyx’s horse to a stunted thorn bush and stood hands on hips, mouth open, observing the wondrous sight.

Kieron felt the delicious pull of the cord – the pull that strove to free him
from the confines of earth – and rejoiced in it. Impulsively, he jumped. The balloon instantly responded, lifting him over Alyx’s head, gently returning him to the ground.

‘Bravo! Bravo!’ cried Alyx. ‘What a toy we have here. Let me try, Kieron. Please let me try.’

‘You will have to hold firmly,’ he cautioned. ‘The pull is stronger than you think … No, Alyx, perhaps it is best that you do not meddle with this thing.’

‘Don’t spoil the sport, Kieron. I must hold it. I shall. I am not a child.’

‘Nor is it a toy for a child,’ he warned. ‘Well, hold the cord, so. And wrap it round your wrist, so.’

Carefully, he gave the cord to her, and made sure that she held it firmly. As she felt the pull, Alyx gave a cry of delight. Then she prepared to jump as Kieron had done. Unfortunately, as she jumped, there was a sudden gust of wind. The balloon responded to it. Also, Kieron had forgotten that Alyx was much lighter than he.

Hanging on to the cord for dear life, she rose majestically into the air – but did not come down. The balloon drifted smoothly over the grassland, rising a little.

Alyx screamed.

Kieron was horrified.

‘Jump!’ he called. ‘Let go the cord! Let go!’

She either did not hear him or she was past hearing. She hung on desperately with both hands, kicking her legs frantically as if the very action would compel her return to earth.

Aylwin gazed at the scene petrified. Then he sank to his knees and began to pray.

Fortunately, the ascent of the balloon was very slow. It had risen no more than about three or four metres from the ground when Alyx either had the wit to let go or could hold on to the cord no longer. Kieron had been running after her, shouting his exhortations. Indeed, he leaped high, trying to grab her feet. When she fell, she landed almost in his arms, knocking him to the ground. Kieron was winded, but Alyx had hurt her ankle. She sat on the damp earth, whimpering a little, exploring the damage to her leg, and looked to Kieron for comfort.

He stroked her hair and mumbled words of comfort. But his eyes were on the balloon. Freed of its unwilling human ballast, the hot-air balloon rose majestically, trailing its cord like a long limp tail. The wind caused the charcoal in the brazier to burn more fiercely; and this, in turn, gave the balloon greater lift. It rose rapidly to about two hundred metres, then began to drift towards Arundel.

Kieron watched fascinated, full of pride. Truly, he had created a formidable thing. Had the balloon been only half as big again, he could have
harnessed it to a basket in which he himself sat; and then he might have ridden through the sky like a god – or, at least, like one of the First Men.

‘Kieron, my leg hurts.’

‘Yes, love. I will attend to it.’ But his eyes remained on the balloon.

‘I’m wet, and there is mud on my clothes.’

‘Yes, Alyx. Soon you will be warm and dry,’ he soothed, ‘and I will take you to the castle.’ But his eyes remained on the balloon.

‘I hate you!’ she stormed.

‘Yes, love. Most reasonable. I am a hateful person.’ Still he watched the balloon.

‘I love you! You are a fool but – Ludd help me – I love you.’ She kissed him and held him close.

‘Darling Alyx, indeed I am a fool. But I have achieved something this day.’

The balloon, having drifted over Arundel, now seemed to exhibit a will of its own. It changed direction and hovered over the castle. Then, apparently convinced that it had achieved its proper destination, it burst spectacularly into flame and fell in burning remnants upon the ancestral home of Seigneur Fitzalan.

Aylwin had recovered himself sufficiently to come running after Kieron. But when he saw what had happened to the balloon, he sank to his knees once more. ‘Ludd ha’ mercy! Ludd ha’ mercy! Kieron, oh Kieron, you have done for us.’

Kieron smiled at him benignly. ‘Aylwin, my friend, first collect your wits. Then collect your painting materials from the mill and return with some discretion to your master. You have not been here this day. You have not seen me or Mistress Alyx. You understand?’

‘I understand, Kieron. But we are sworn in friendship.’

‘Then let us maintain the bond. You shall not be put at risk for an accident such as this.’ He turned to Alyx. ‘Mistress Alyx, have you seen Aylwin, the miller’s prentice, this day?’ He was holding her in his arms, and he knew that Aylwin would see how he was holding her.

Alyx’s cheeks became red. ‘Not if you require it, Kieron,’ she said softly. ‘I have not seen the miller’s prentice this day.’

‘Well, Aylwin,’ pursued Kieron, ‘by the same token, you have not seen Mistress Alyx and myself. For if you claim that you have, I will surely kill you.’

Aylwin was offended. ‘We are sworn. Was that necessary?’

‘Forgive me, Aylwin. I do not think clearly. Events move too fast. Now go.’

Alyx tried to stand up, cried out with pain and fell down again. ‘The ankle – it swells mightily, and the pain is worse … What shall we do, Kieron? What shall we do?’

‘If I were to put you on your horse, could you ride back?’

‘Perhaps. I think so.’

He bent down and lifted her gently, then he carried her to where the horse was tethered. It was a greater distance than he had thought, and Alyx – though light – was still somewhat heavier than he had thought. The exertion strained his limbs and his lungs. He set Alyx down on the grass and waited to recover himself before lifting her on to the horse.

Alyx surveyed her swollen ankle, and her dirty clothes with a look of despair. ‘How shall I explain all this?’ she cried. ‘What a state I am in!’

‘You fell,’ suggested Kieron. ‘You fell from the horse.’

‘I never fall,’ she retorted regally. ‘Is it not known that I am the best horsewoman in the south country?’

‘Nevertheless, Alyx, today you fell. The truth will assist neither of us. Neither your father nor Talbot must ever learn that you rose perilously over the meadow on the end of a hot-air balloon.’

‘What if I were seen?’

Kieron shrugged. ‘The word of a commoner against the word of a Fitzalan? Besides, you could not have been seen, except with a spy-glass.’