by Dan Davis
The drizzling cloud got lower and lower until they were engulfed in a thick, cold fog. She thought they were heading in the right direction, going downhill toward the Sweetwater at the bottom of the valley. Sheep bleated all around them and bare trees like skeletons loomed up out of the gloom but she had no clear idea of where in the Vale they were. Soon enough the slope soon levelled out and she became unsure of her bearing. She stopped. Cedd was evidently not watching where he was going because he bumped into her back.
‘Apologies,’ he said, his head drooping and breathing heavily.
Writer looked at him. ‘Are the soldiers still following us?’ she asked him.
Cedd shook his head. ‘Not a chance,’ he said, his voice weaker than normal. ‘But when Hopkins returns from the inn where he sought to find us he will discover the Wicungboc was taken. No matter what Thurloe says, the soldiers will tell him about us. Then Hopkins will send the horse after us.’
‘Horse means soldiers on horseback?’ Writer said. ‘We could never outrun them.’
‘Indeed not,’ Cedd said. ‘So we must continue north. Our only hope is to rouse Bede. Only he has the power to save the Vale.’
‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘If you can do magic, why can you not save us?’
‘Those conjurers tricks?’ Cedd spat onto the grass and wiped the back of his hand. ‘I can do no more than cast a little smoke and flashing lights and loud noises. Even so little as that tires me greatly, as you can see. Now, let us continue, there is not a moment to lose.’
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘You knew that man, Thurloe. The man who sat as magistrate in my trial?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Cedd said, irritably, and peering behind them. ‘I shall tell you everything if we just get moving.’
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I think I can sense the Sweetwater. This way.’ They set off. The sun was climbing, still low but diffused light showed through the fog and she could make out a little more of their surroundings. ‘I think we’re getting near to Straytford,’ she said to Cedd, who seemed uninterested. ‘That is where I live.’
‘There is no time for delay, or detour, young lady,’ Cedd said. ‘Your personal desires are secondary to the task at hand.’
Writer found herself wheeling round on Cedd, with her finger in his face. ‘You just watch it,’ she said to him. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do any more. You’re nothing but a liar. And not even a very good one. And you can’t stop me doing anything because you barely have any powers or magic or anything. I am going to my house to tell my mother and father that I am alive and after that we shall continue straight on to the northern Moon Forest. Archer was quite correct when he said we do not need your permission, not for anything.’
Cedd looked like he was going to shout at her, or worse, so she braced herself, ready to dodge to the side or run away from any blows but instead he sort of shuddered and sighed. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘A short stop, for a rest and perhaps a warming cup of your fine cider. As long as we get to Bede, nothing else matters.’
With the fog starting to thin, she recognised enough neighbouring houses, trees and bumps in the land to find her house without any wrong turns. But walking up the pathway she could tell something was not quite right. No smoke came from the chimney. The horse was not in the stable. The house was empty. The fireplace held no fire but the bricks above it retained some residual heat.
‘They must have only left yesterday or even just last night,’ Writer told Cedd.
She found the note on the dining room table.
To our dearest Maerwynn,
If you should happen to return whilst we are away, know that we have taken refuge in the Morningtree Guildhall. Today, outsiders were seen riding through the Vale. While their intentions are yet unknown, our recent experience with outsiders has taught us and our neighbours caution. We have decided the safest, most sensible course of action is to join the others and gather together in considerable numbers in Morningtree. It is to be hoped this shall afford us greater protection from these outsiders than would remaining in isolated groups.
If this note finds you before we do, therefore, please join us there.
Be safe.
With all our love and affection,
Mother and Father
‘It was written in a hurry,’ she said to Cedd as she handed it over. ‘Mother’s handwriting is usually much finer and ordinarily she prides herself on precision of her composition.’
‘I am sure she does,’ Cedd muttered.
‘But what on earth can they be thinking?’ she asked Cedd. ‘Why would gathering together make them any safer from the soldiers? I am afraid I fail to see their reasoning.’
‘We feel safer in company,’ Cedd said. ‘It is a natural response when we feel threatened to seek the company of others. Your parents, your neighbours, must have felt exposed in these scattered communities, isolated from each other and from the rest of the Vale.’
‘But they shall be no safer there than here, or anywhere else,’ she said.
‘No indeed, and unless we can revive Bede then they shall discover that fact rather sooner than would be preferred.’
They hurried on to the northwest through the empty fields and up over the hills. Sheep cried mournfully in the distance. It took them the rest of the day to get into the Moon Forest and pick their way through the undergrowth and leaf mulch. It smelled of mould and fungus and water dripped from every branch. In spite of a vague familiarity, the trees were now bare and she had trouble retracting their steps from so many weeks ago when she had walked out of the forest exhausted and hungry and afraid. She was all of those things once again and yet those feelings were diminished now. It was pleasing to her that due to her previous experiences she was now able to better cope with fear and hunger and the all-encompassing tiredness of travelling.
‘Wake up,’ Cedd yanked her back to the moment and hissed in her ear. ‘Wolves!’
The wolf pack emerged from the undergrowth, slinking from behind trees and creeping closer. The wolves were dirty and their fur sodden and clumped into spikes. They looked thin. The lead wolf bared its teeth and growled.
Cedd was squeezing her arm. ‘Do something,’ he said.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered, pushing his hand from her.
The others wolves slunk around them in a wide circle and copied the lead wolf, their lips curling back over their teeth, gums pink and breath steaming and they spiralled closer and closer to them.
‘Wait,’ Writer said. ‘It’s me.’ They crept closer. ‘Do you remember me?’
The lead wolf came closer and closer, sniffing the air. Then it bared its teeth again and crouched low.
‘Now you hold on just a moment, please,’ she said to her. ‘You helped me once before, do you not recall?’
The wolf snarled. And leapt.
Rebellion
Everyone was looking at him. It was like looking out on a field of cabbages only instead of cabbages it was faces. A field of faces staring at him waiting for him to speak. He was standing atop a wagon in Bures market square. Everyone in the town was there, it seemed, and everyone from the surrounding villages and farms. They had crammed themselves in to the square and filled the streets leading to it. People were at the windows of the houses and shops around. There were even children on the roofs above, clinging to chimneys. There was a steady, low murmuring but it seemed deathly quiet.
He cleared his throat.
As he had climbed upon the wagon he seemed to remember having lots of things ready to say but now his mind was blank.
The soldiers had been dug out of the ground and tied up and were under guard in the corner of the inn’s cellar amongst the ale casks and rats. The rest of them, the ones that had got away, had been seen riding back down the Vale toward the Tower. Knowing that they had gone for the moment, the townsfolk had flooded in to find out what happened. Weaver had started telling everyone who asked that Archer would explain everything to everyone. Archer h
ad protested.
‘You love the sound of your own voice telling people what to do so you should shut up and get on with it,’ she had replied.
Somehow, the rumour had built up that he was going to explain everything in a speech and no matter how much Archer argued that he would much rather speak to small groups the people kept gathering and gathering and stood waiting for a speech.
So here he was.
He cleared his throat again. The wind blew his hair over his face.
Winstanley was crouching in the wagon beside Archer. ‘You could begin by telling them who you are?’ he suggested, gently.
Archer nodded. Of course.
‘My name is Archer,’ he said.
‘You what?’ someone shouted.
‘Speak up,’ someone at the back yelled.
He felt his face flush red. Taking a deep breath he spoke as loudly as he could. ‘My name is Archer!’ He was surprised at how loudly it came out. And also quite thrilled. ‘Some of you know me.’ Some heads nodded. ‘Others of you know my family.’ Many more heads nodded. ‘A few years ago I went to the Alchemist’s Tower to confront him. Like an idiot.’ A few laughs. ‘And he took me prisoner. I didn’t know it but he kept me asleep or something for years before he woke me up. Then I escaped with a few of my friends. In escaping we defeated the Alchemist Bede. A lot of people have been asking since I came back how we did it. People assumed we killed him. But we didn’t. One of us who was a prisoner learned magic and she did a spell on him which turned him into something else.’
‘What?’ people shouted. ‘What was it?’
Archer hesitated. ‘She turned him into a giant basket.’
Silence. He could see people frowning and looking to each other. People shrugging.
‘It was an accident,’ Archer said. ‘Anyway, he’s not dead. Not exactly. We thought he was dead but apparently the spell can be undone and that’s where our friend, Maerwynn of Straytford is going with an alchemist called Cedd. They’re going to turn him back into a man.’
The crowd erupted in angry shouting. Fingers were pointed at him. Fists shaken in his direction. It was hard to make out what they were saying at first but the gist was clear enough.
‘We’re not having that!’
‘Never again! We’ll never suffer an alchemist again!’
Archer tried to quiet them, raised his hands but they did not heed him. He realised he had made a mistake by not starting with the danger they were in. They had to realise the danger the Vale was in before they would accept that the only solution was Bede.
Or was it?
‘Those soldiers,’ he shouted. People were arguing with each other now and Archer could see he was losing them completely. Some men over by the tailor’s shop were shoving each other. He felt his eyes burning white and next time he spoke it was with the force of a gale.
‘QUIET!’
The shock of the noise and the force of the wind staggered them, especially those at the front. Everyone fell silent. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
‘The Vale is in danger,’ he said. The air grew still. ‘We are all in danger. If we do not act we shall all lose our homes, our land and perhaps our lives.’ He saw that he had their complete attention now. ‘Those soldiers, those men on horseback who came last night and again this morning. They were just the first of many hundreds who are coming. They are coming for Bede’s Tower. They want the secrets and treasures within.’
‘They’re welcome to them!’ someone cried out. Other shouted assent.
‘I agree with you,’ Archer said. ‘But that is not all they want. They are also taking the Vale. The land beyond the Moon Forest, as we now know, is called England. It is a land at war with itself. They are all quite mad there. But they know the farming in the Vale is the best there is, the best in the whole world, and they are going to take it from us.’
‘They can’t,’ some people shouted, confused. ‘It’s ours.’
‘We work the land, we’ve always worked the land.’
Archer held up his hands again. ‘The land belongs to the people of the Vale. By common law and tradition, it is ours. But the soldiers of England have no respect for that. They do not see us as their fellows. They see us as intruders. We are nothing to them. And it is also because we have no weapons of war. We are unable to defend ourselves. They are willing to hurt all of us to take our land.’
‘We won’t let them,’ someone else said and many cheered.
‘You don’t understand,’ Archer shouted over them. ‘They have weapons that the soldiers here used, pistols and muskets that shoot out metal balls that will kill you.’
‘So you and the girl do your magic on them,’ Lots of people shouted in agreement. ‘You’ll save us, lad. Use your magic, use your magic!’
‘We will. But we will fail.’ That silenced them. ‘Their weapons have a longer reach than we do. We will be killed if we fight them alone. We can only do so much and we cannot beat so many muskets.’
They muttered again and looked nervous and afraid. And that was what Archer wanted them to feel.
‘That is why Maerwynn of Straytford is going to wake up the Alchemist Bede. His magic was powerful enough to keep all of England out of the Vale for a thousand years.’
‘Hooray!’ someone shouted and others took up the cry. ‘Bede will save us!’
Other people, however, did not look happy at the thought of the return of Bede. It was those people he had to appeal to.
‘Bede’s magic might save us,’ Archer said. People stopped cheering. ‘We cannot trust the alchemists. Alchemists, it seems to me, are not honourable men.’ That drew murmurs of assent. ‘Bede protected us, that is true. However, he also controlled us. He kept us down. He stole our hard work from us and used our wealth for his own ends. We all love the Vale but those of us who wished to leave for new pastures or to sail upon the sea were denied. Some of you were told who we could or could not marry. And always he told us how much we needed him. How we could not do without him. But since he has been gone, have we not prospered? Our yields have increased. There are no more starving children. Seems to me that we are better without him.’
‘He’s right.’
‘Hear him. Hear him!’
‘But... he did keep us safe.’ Archer was coming to the important part of what he wanted to say. He wanted to say it right but was unsure how to do so. ‘So if we allow Bede to save us, what then?’ He let the question hang in the air for a moment. ‘We shall be his! He shall sit in his tower while we provide him with our grain and wool and everything else, struggling down here in the mud for the scraps he leaves us.’
‘So what do we do?’ someone cried out.
Archer pointed into the crowd where he thought the person was. ‘We stand together,’ he said. ‘We stand up to the soldiers, and to Bede and anyone else and tell them no. No, they cannot have the Vale. The Vale is ours and no one can take it from us.’
There was a silence and, he sensed, much confusion.
‘You said we’d be killed,’’ a woman shouted.
‘Not if we stand strong,’ Archer said. ‘We go there, linked arm in arm, singing a song of defiance and they will not fire on us. I know they won’t.’
People muttered to each other. Archer knew it sounded weak and he suddenly felt incredibly weary.
‘You mean you hope they won’t,’ someone said.
‘Can’t bake your bread with hope,’ someone else said and lots of people nodded their heads.
‘I know,’ Archer cried. ‘I know but think of the alternative.’
‘Bede will sort this all out,’ someone said.
‘Yeah, she’s right. Let the Alchemist make things right.’
‘It won’t be right,’ Archer shouted. ‘We shall be living on our knees again.’
‘But we’ll be living,’ someone said, grimly. There were lots of nods and people agreeing.
‘No,’ Archer said but people were already turning away. ‘No, please wait. We have to hel
p each other.’ The crowd was melting away at the edges. ‘Don’t go, we have to stand together or else we’re done for.’
‘You’ll understand when you’re older, lad,’ someone said, not unkindly.
Archer sighed and watched as the crowd edged and then streamed away into the side streets. Soon there were just small groups of people here and there about the marketplace talking quietly to each other.
Winstanley smiled sadly as he helped Archer down from the wagon.
Weaver shook her head, her lip curled in disgust. ‘Well, you stuffed that right up,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he admitted, hanging his head.
Winstanley patted him on the back. ‘I think you did a fine job, very fine. It was a lot of new ideas for them to take on board. You never know, in time, some may come around to your way of thinking.’
‘But we don’t have time for them to come around,’ Archer said. ‘It will all be over by tomorrow, probably.’
Winstanley smiled in sympathy but said no more. He was a good man, Archer thought, but he was pretty much good for nothing.
Probably the only course of action now was for the four of them to head to the Alchemist’s Tower.
‘Where’s Keeper?’ Archer asked Weaver and Winstanley.
‘Oh yeah, he went off when you was up there yammering,’ Weaver said, picking at a food stain on her tunic. ‘He said to tell you he was sorry but he couldn’t wait around any longer and he had something he had to do.’
‘What?’ Archer said. ‘That doesn’t sound good. What did he mean?’
‘I dunno,’ Weaver said. ‘I assumed he was going for a poo.’