Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset (23 page)

During the first day of the return, Kieron was the only man in the seigneurie who rested. Master Hobart’s house had been little damaged and needed little attention. Men fitted a new door and a new window quietly while he slept. Women brought rich brocade for curtains – sent by Kentigern from the castle – and children laid bundles of wild flowers by the doorstep, as if at a shrine.

Kieron slept entirely throughout the first day and the first night. He awoke refreshed on the following morning – refreshed and very hungry, and filled with the unquenchable vigour of youth. He breakfasted greedily; and the breakfast he was given was fit for a seigneur: oatmeal porridge with cream and honey, cold pheasants’ breast with pickle and new baked bread, preserve of strawberries and a bottle of golden wine called hock, sent from the castle cellars with the compliments of Kentigern.

Kieron ate all the porridge, disposed of the breasts of two fine cock pheasants, and drank half the bottle of wine. Then he held Petrina close to him and stroked her hair.

‘I am alive,’ he said wonderingly. ‘I am still alive.’

‘And you must remain alive for some time,’ said Petrina, ‘if you are to fulfil your promise.’

‘What did I promise?’

‘To beget three sons.’ She laughed. ‘If only to make an honest man of the astrologer Marcus.’

‘I will keep my promise,’ he asserted. ‘I have need of sons. To reconquer the air will take more strength than I possess.’

Petrina’s face became grave.

‘You do not smile?’ he asked. ‘You used to be amused by the strange notions of Kieron-head-in-the-air.’

‘I thought they were idle fancies. I did not then know the terrible reality.’

He kissed her. ‘Be of good cheer, Petrina. I came back, did I not?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I will always come back. Even though the sky is my true home.’

She gave him a sad smile. ‘Your true home … You must know that it is a frightening thought for me … Ah, well, I must make the best of it. I am lucky to have you … No one calls you Kieron-head-in-the-air any more. Did you know that?’

‘What do they call me, then?’

‘The Cloud Walker. Since your foolish dream became a terrible reality, they laugh no more. They are proud of you. They ask after your health. They ask what the Cloud Walker will do next.’

Kieron laughed. ‘That is easy to answer. Having rested and eaten well and known the comfort of his wife, he will go forth to help restore life to our little town.’

‘Be not surprised at how men receive you,’ Petrina called after him. ‘There are some, even, who think you have risen from the dead.’

It was a dull, overcast morning, but the air was warm. Kieron found much activity in the High Street. Carpenters and plasterers were at work. Women cleaned steps with chalk stone and swilled pavements with water. Everywhere there was much bustle as people strove to make their town look as if the freebooters had never been.

Kieron found himself greeted with great deference. Men twice his age, who would formerly have dismissed him with a shrug or a condescending smile, touched their hats or hair and addressed him as Master or Sir. Young men of his own age, with whom he had been wont to exchange insults or jokes, looked upon him with awe, vied for his attention. No one seemed inclined to let him help at menial tasks. Kieron felt alone and uncomfortable. He was greatly relieved when he saw Kentigern approach, presumably upon his round of inspection.

‘Well, Kentigern. The town recovers rapidly, I see. Do you have news of the freebooters?’

‘Ay, Master Kieron, I have news. Better news, perhaps than we dared hope for. Admiral Death survived your attentions but briefly. He perished, I am told, in much agony in a freebooter’s vessel anchored off the Isle of Wight.
With his passing, the command of the freebooters disintegrated. They quarrelled among themselves. Slave crews rebelled. Some freebooter ships fired upon each other. But, more important, they have all left these shores.’ He grinned. ‘No doubt the story of the attack of the shark of the sky grew with the telling. They had no means of knowing that the same dreadful assault would not be made again.’

‘Well, then,’ said Kieron,
‘Mistress Fitzalan’s Revenge
has justified her name.’

‘More than that,’ said Kentigern. ‘Sir, I envy you. Mistress Alyx Fitzalan has been avenged mightily.’

Kieron was at a loss. ‘It was not for her alone, you understand.’

‘Master Kieron, let us not speak any more of these things. There are words best left unsaid … Now to more immediate matters. I have inspected the records of lineage, mercifully untouched by the freebooters. Somewhere in the Americas, there is a Seigneur Howard who will undoubtedly inherit from Seigneur Fitzalan. But until and if Seigneur Howard returns to this island, do I have your consent to remain as bailiff of the castle and steward of the seigneurie?’

Kieron was confused. ‘You do not need my consent.’

Kentigern laughed. ‘Master Kieron, forgive me, in matters practical you are still a fool. I did not save the seigneurie. You did. The people will follow you to the death. If you wish to assume the duties of administration, you are welcome. They are heavy enough, and the burden does not please me.’

‘I know nothing of such matters,’ said Kieron hurriedly. ‘Do not confuse me. You are the bailiff of Arundel. You have my allegiance.’

‘I am truly relieved to know it,’ confessed Kentigern. ‘If men did not know that you accepted my authority, there would doubtless be trouble. A true seigneur they would not question, but a bailiff …’ He shrugged.

‘Here is my hand on it, then.’

‘I take it in friendship.’ Kentigern held out his own. ‘What will you do now that the freebooters have gone? Until Seigneur Howard reveals himself, or until the Grand Council appoints a surrogate seigneur, there will be little work for a master artist.’

‘I do not wish to paint, except for my own pleasure.’

Kentigern stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘So. Then my task is easier … By the authority I hold until relieved, as bailiff of the seigneurie of Arundel for the late Seigneur Fitzalan and his heirs or assigns, I now appoint you, Master Kieron Joinerson, Warden of the Coast and Captain of Aerial Warfare. These posts to bring in fee one thousand schilling each per year, payable in portions on the quarter days … Can you and your family live upon two thousand schilling, Kieron?’

Two thousand schilling! It was far more money than he had ever seen. It seemed a princely fee. Kieron’s father had never earned more than two hundred schilling a year in all his life.

Kieron was overwhelmed. ‘Two thousand schilling is more than enough,’ he managed to say. ‘But what am I to do for all this money?’

‘Why, man, you are to construct hot-air balloons. What else? You are to make sure that never again shall we be so punished by the scum of the oceans. You are to defend us from neighbouring seigneuries; for it is certain that, with the death of Seigneur Fitzalan, there will be those who cast greedy eyes upon Arundel. Possession, you will recall, is nine points of the law. Well, Kieron, will you defend us?’

‘To the best of my ability.’

Kentigern laughed heartily. ‘That is more than a guarantee. For years to come, Kieron, your name alone will be worth more than a hundred well-armed horsemen … Of course, the seigneurie will pay for all the arms, materials and supplies you require. Also, men will be trained according to your instructions. Does this meet with your approval?’

‘It meets with my approval,’ said Kieron weakly.

‘Well, then, my friend. Go home and devise plans. Send me a reckoning of what you require in men and materials. Make us invincible, that is all.’

For the second time, Kieron was awakened with a sword-point at his chest. Petrina, lying by his side, opened her eyes and screamed at what she saw by the light of a lantern and the pre-dawn greyness that crept through the window. She saw two armoured men, wearing tabards on which were blazoned the device of the Inquisitor General of the Luddite Church. One man held the lantern, the other held the sword.

‘You are Kieron Joinerson, lately apprenticed to Master Hobart, the painter?’

‘He is the one,’ said a dark, cowled figure standing by the doorway.

Kieron recognised the voice of Brother Lemuel.

‘Silence, brother,’ said the man with the sword. ‘You have done your work. Let him speak for himself.’

Petrina desperately covered her nakedness. The night had been one of passion and desire. Kieron tried to clear his head and concentrate. He gazed at the heraldic device upon the tabards: a golden hammer upon a field of azure above symbolic flames worked in thread of gold.

‘You are Kieron Joinerson? Speak, fellow. Else I loosen your tongue.’

‘I am Kieron Joinerson.’

‘Then dress quickly. Your presence is required in the great hall of the castle.’

‘My wife?’

‘We have no instructions concerning your wife. Hurry, man! The Holy Office does not brook delay.’

‘What is the cause of this intrusion?’

‘You will know soon enough, if you do not know already. Hurry man!’

Kieron kissed Petrina. ‘Rest easy, my love. Do not offend them. Kentigern will deal with this nonsense. That I swear.’

He climbed out of bed and put on his clothes. Petrina lay under the sheets and blankets, shaking and trying to stifle her weeping, cursing her nakedness.

When Kieron was dressed, the sword was held towards his belly while his arms were tied behind his back.

‘Petrina, my sister,’ said Brother Lemuel with a gentle voice, ‘in this time of trial, do you require the consolations of Holy Church?’

Petrina raised her head from the blankets. ‘Get from my presence!’ she
hissed. ‘Go elsewhere and corrupt children. After this day’s work no woman in the seigneurie will look upon you but to spit.’

Kieron laughed. He laughed with joy to find that his wife had such spirit. He was rewarded by a buffet in the mouth from the lantern-holder. His lip bled, and he savoured the salt taste.

‘Sir, I will remember that you struck a bound man. There will be a reckoning.’

The man with the lantern laughed. ‘Ay, there will be a reckoning, Master Kieron. When the flames leap high, there will be a reckoning. March!’

Kieron was led out into the street. More armed men were waiting. They surrounded him, as if fearful that the townsfolk might move to release him. But the sun had not yet shown itself, and the people of Arundel still slept after their heavy labours. Whoever had planned this event had planned well.

But as Kieron was marched to the castle, his spirits rose. Kentigern would surely have enough authority to stop this idiocy.

At the castle, the strength of the Inquisitor General’s forces was made more apparent. Kieron saw foot soldiers guarding the castle gate; and in the yard there were ten or more horses showing signs of recent and hard travel

Kieron was taken into the great hall, where lamps and a fire burned, and where Brother Hildebrand awaited him together with officers of the Inquisitor General. There also stood Kentigern. Kieron was amazed to note that his hands were bound also.

‘Good morning, Kieron,’ said Brother Hildebrand. ‘You see now to what a condition your persistent heresy has brought you.’

‘Good morning, brother,’ said Kieron caustically. ‘Your task being what it is, I do not wonder that you come like a thief in the night.’

The soldier who had struck him in the bedroom struck him once more. Kieron reeled from the blow. ‘I will remember your bravery, fellow,’ Kieron grated. ‘Pray that I am never unbound.’

He turned to Kentigern. ‘Did you not set watch men?’

Kentigern gave a mirthless smile. ‘They were not instructed to guard us against the Luddite Church, Kieron. I truly regret the error. The freebooters at least struck as our enemies. These presume to be our friends.’

‘We shall pray greatly for you,’ said Brother Hildebrand. ‘Ludd’s will be done. Whatever may befall, rest assured that we shall save your immortal souls.’

‘With such friends,’ said Kieron, ‘we have no need of enemies.’

‘Silence, fellow!’

A man stood forward. He wore the habit of a neddy; but round his neck there hung a silver chain, and from the chain a small golden hammer was suspended. He carried a scroll which he opened and from which he then read.

‘To Kieron, apprentice of Master Hobart, painter, and to Kentigern, bailiff of Seigneur Fitzalan of the seigneurie of Arundel, greetings. I. Xavier, Inquisitor General of the Holy Luddite Church, commend your souls to Ludd, and require the servants of the Church to convey you to the Sacred College of Nedd Ludd in the city of London where you shall be tried for diverse heresies and sundry treasons. It is my wish that my beloved brother Constant, Steward of the Inquisition, shall have regard for your comfort and safety upon the journey and shall bring you in safety to judgment, which shall be given by the Inquisitor General upon the advice of ten High Stewards and such persons as may speak in your favour.’

Kentigern laughed. ‘They mean to burn us, Kieron. It is humorous, is it not? You destroyed the freebooters with your hot-air balloon, and I gave you some small assistance. They mean to burn us. That is droll – if not unexpected.’

‘By the hammer, I would like to see them try to burn us if the trial were held in this seigneurie.’

‘By the hammer, Kieron, you have the truth of it!’ shouted Kentigern. He turned to the Steward Constant, who had just read from the scroll. ‘It is an ancient right, Steward, granted to all men, that, if accused of any crime, including heresy, they may choose to be tried in their own seigneurie and in the presence of their people.’

Constant gave an unpleasant laugh. ‘It is true, fellow, that a man may choose to be tried in his own seigneurie; but first he must plead such choice in the presence of his seigneur. You have no seigneur. Holy Church, as always, acts within the law and maintains the law … Now, it is a long ride to London. Do you go peaceably, or do my officers knock you on the head and draw you like meat in a cart?’

Kieron and Kentigern looked at each other in dismay.

‘It is better to go peaceably,’ said Kieron. ‘A man with his wits about him still has the dignity of a man.’