by Barney Broom
Taking Cosima’s arm, Archie led her into the hall where Braxby was already guiding the d’Angoulacs into the cellar. Ivy went over to Podric.
“I’ll say goodbye here, Podric. Braxby’ll show you a way out of the city alright.”
“Thanks, Ivy – and thank you for all your help. Couldn’t have done it without you, Eamon and friends.”
Taking a smaller pouch from his bag, Podric pressed it into her hand.
“Oh, I don’t want no money.”
“What, not from the revolution?!”
Podric and Mrs. B laughed. The sound of musket fire drew things to a rapid conclusion. Ivy tucked the money into her bodice.
“Just let them try getting hold of that!”
With a cackle of mirth, she turned on her heel and imitating Eamon’s squawk, summoned her magnificent bird. Appearing from the depths of the residence, the macaw circled once around his mistress before descending on her shoulder.
“Now, my beauty, time to put you to work. A little extra diversion. A few of Mickle’s flying firecrackers should do the trick.”
Seconds later a trap door banged shut over the escapists heads. A taper flickered into light followed by another. Giving the second one to Podric, the caretaker shuffled to the head of the little group.
“We’ll go along underground. Come out on the edge of the city. ’Bout an hour.”
With the sounds of shouts and bangs above ringing in their ears, they headed off along subterranean passages.
The hypogealic journey the little party made deep below the streets of Paris that night would be an experience that would haunt their memories for a long time to come.
In spite of being unfit the Duc was uncomplaining, as was his wife; extraordinarily, Dog sensed her collapse and the woman now rode on his back! Whilst quieter than usual, the Comtesse Louisa was stalwart and what little Podric could see of the Marquise Badeni, she also appeared to bear the ordeal with grit. At one point they came to a blockage of fallen mortar. Braxby began clearing it with a steady relentlessness.
“’Aven’t been down ’ere a while.”
Assisted by Archie and Podric, a few minutes’ work saw the rubble shifted and the fugitives on their way again.
After what seemed an age – most of the party was sleepwalking – the caretaker brought them to an abrupt halt. Podric worked his way past the others to the front of the group.
“Thanks very much, Mister Braxby.”
“That’s alright, Podric. You go forward and do as I told you. Come back by the count of sixty or I’ll send the others on.”
Podric moved forward and rounding a bend in the passage, saw that a grate ahead allowed a little light. Making his way to the end of the tunnel, he counted back several stones and pressed a slab. Nothing happened. He did the same thing again, only this time pushing a stone next to the original one he’d tried. Very slowly the grill slid open. Stepping past it, he entered what appeared to be a crypt – tombs in recesses lining the walls.
The others joining him, they explored the macabre chamber. Podric reached up to a lintel and took down a large rusty key. Fitting it into the lock, the noise seemed terrifyingly loud. Pushing the corroded hinged timbers, the ancient door swung back revealing a vestry. Standing in the empty room, Podric could hear mass being sung in the church. He turned to Archie.
“The only thing to do is lock you in.”
“Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. I love a heavenly choir.”
“The way you’re all dressed, we wouldn’t get to the end of the street.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Organise the sort of transport you’ve become accustomed to.”
“Right now my Facel Vegas are just a dream.”
“Ha. Had a change of heart? Thought you wanted to settle down in our alternate world.”
Looking tense, Archie forced a smile.
“If I’m not back in two hours, return to the residence. I’ll knock three taps of two. To reopen the grate, push the fourth stone on the left, three up from the floor.”
Podric turned to leave. Dog, now free of his aristocratic burden, pushed into him. Archie chuckled.
“Why don’t you take him? He’ll only get in the way here and might just be useful. The Frenchies love him.”
Podric and Dog left the crypt. Turning the medieval key, Archie locked himself and the remainder of the party inside.
“Well, folks – I’m afraid we’re in for a slight delay whilst our travel arrangements are finessed. I’m sorry, but this is all I can offer you by way of sustenance.” And with that, he took out a flask of brandy.
“You have an odd way of speaking, Captain Light. Some of your phrases are quite bizarre.”
Leaving him to sleep on a sarcophagus, the Comtesse Louisa began deciphering Latin ‘in memoriam’ inscriptions to pass the time. Quickly in slumber, to Archie it seemed only seconds before he was being shaken awake by the vision of his daughter.
“The tapping noise. Come!”
Stumbling towards the ancient door, Archie listened for several seconds.
“That’s not the code. We’d better get back to the residence.”
An enormous crash threw him to one side. The doorway’s timbers splintered in all directions. Through dust and debris, a platoon of Citizens rushed the chamber waving staves and ancient flintlocks.
“Rats in a trap. Let’s do ’em ’ere.”
A more senior Revolutionary appeared. The man commanded a measure of discipline.
“Cease! Bring them as instructed.”
Archie was about to remonstrate but for some reason refrained. The entrapped group left their morbid hiding place and under guard, trudged into the church.
Outside, two carriages were drawn up in a dimly lit lane. The Duc, Duchesse and the Comtesse Louisa climbed into the rear carriage while Archie and the Marquise Badeni were led to a smaller one in front.
“Why am I to travel in this coach?”
“Orders!”
The Citizen was brutal. Bundled inside, the marquise had no time to protest further as Archie was pushed in after her. Dog began to lick them both ecstatically. Sitting in the shadows on the far seat was the ‘Supreme Being’, otherwise known as Podric Moon. The coach moved off.
“Couldn’t you get the car? I’ve had enough of seeing France at five miles an hour.”
“That’s a turnaround from staying here and reconnecting with life.”
“Yeah, well – some things… Nice bit of theatre, though a tad ‘am dram’ for my taste.”
“What rubbish do you speak? I must return to the Duc and Duchesse.”
“You can later, Cosima.”
Although he was the youngest person in the coach, Podric was very much in control.
“It’s just a precaution in case there are problems.”
“That’s of no consequence. If there are it is all the more reason I should be with them.”
Podric didn’t reply. Archie tried to peer round a drawn blind.
“Where are we heading?”
“Officially, Arras.”
The partners looked at each other.
“Robespierre came from there, didn’t he?
Podric shrugged.
“When I told him I had you all, he said to take you for private interrogation.”
“As I recall, he’s in trouble – pressure’s mounting and other members of the Committee are closing in on him.”
Giving up his attempt to look outside, Archie relaxed.
“You know in history he never makes it out of Paris… Not trying to change his outcome, surely?”
Archie was tongue in cheek.
“Only where it affects the game.”
“You’re both insane.”
Cosima was angry.
“Ok
ay, okay… And our unofficial destination?
“Calais’s a port now, isn’t it?”
“Well it doesn’t have RoRo ferries yet, but the mail packets continued running during the revolution.”
He pushed Dog’s panting head to one side.
“Passengers though… sometimes they had to be slipped aboard undercover.”
Before Podric could reply the carriage swayed dangerously. Shots rang out nearby.
Releasing the window blind, Archie took in the violent view. Flames licked buildings and streets which had been quiet were now filling with people – panicking, screaming and crying. In spite of the driver cracking his whip, their way gradually slowed.
“If I’m not mistaken, we’re shortly going to see whether ‘The Incorruptible’ has become ‘The Tyrant’, in which case your position isn’t only vulnerable, it’s terminal.”
With a final lurch, the coach came to a stop.
“Get on the floor – quick!”
Pushing Archie and Cosima down, Podric threw a cloak over them and sat back. He didn’t have long to wait. Wrenching open the door, a rough-looking gamin – pimple-nosed and uncouth – appeared.
“Who goes there?”
Revealing as little of himself as possible, Podric spoke coolly.
“Know nothing, see nothing, hear nothing.”
The ruffian paused.
“You hesitate, Citizen.”
Podric was pushing his luck. The man brandished a pistol.
“On whose authority do you travel?”
“By order of Citizen Tallien.”
“Papers!”
Podric took some documents from inside his shirt.
“Wait here.”
Leaving a couple of bedraggled near-do-wells to stand guard, Pimple Nose disappeared towards a barricade. He was intercepted by another Citizen who loomed into view. A felt hat was pulled over his eyes which largely covered his face.
“These aren’t completed.”
“They give the bearer… I’m instructed to take prisoners out of the city.”
“Your destination?”
“Seine-et-Oise.”
Felt Hat laughed darkly.
“Wrong road, Citizen.”
An explosion erupted nearby. Several houses collapsed and debris flew in all directions. Some of it landed around the coach and two men were hit. Felt Hat seemed undeterred. Podric dusted himself.
“Tried moving around the city tonight?”
“No, and neither should you be. Guards – seize this man and the coach behind!”
As henchmen advanced towards the carriages, Archie leaped up and pulled out a pair of pistols. Shooting Felt Hat, he turned his other piece on the carriage’s driver. The man fell forward and the horses careered into the terrified revolutionaries. Taking advantage of the Citizen’s disarray, Archie took control of the lighter chaise they were in, and Podric ran around to the carriage behind.
Grabbing reins and whip, Podric’s experience on the battlefield at Toulon now stood him in good stead. Astride the foot rest, he brought the animals under control, driving them forward through the broken barricade.
With all around an inferno, it was hard to see where the road led. Catching sight of the smaller coach Archie was driving, Podric drove his team after it. Managing to keep his partner in sight for a bit – all of a sudden, he was gone. Peering out in desperation, he rounded a corner pell-mell. Podric realised too late that the way before him was engulfed in flame. With no time to stop, the carriage plunged through the fire and into oblivion.
16
A New Player
Struggling in the depths of the swirling river, Podric experienced a strange twenty-first century sensation of learning to swim. He was a child and in a swimming pool on one of his dad’s air bases. An image of his father flashed before him as he looked up at the dark waves above.
Becoming aware of something brushing against his side, Podric finally broke surface pulling a woman’s inert body with him. A few seconds later, his feet touched the ground and he crawled onto the muddy banks of the Seine.
Coming to, coughing and spluttering, Podric looked around to see the Comtesse Louisa bent over the body. Her father stood nearby in a stupor. Getting up, Podric stared along the shore. A filthy piece of clothing hung from a log. Taking a closer look, he recognised it as a frayed red jacket of the 4th Life Guards. Tied with it were ripped remnants of the marquise’s shawl. A dog’s collar hung on a post nearby.
The new Duchesse Louisa slowly looked up from her dead mother.
“The other coach…”
“Did you see it go down – where it went?”
Louisa shook her head. She and Podric stared at the river as the last wheel of their conveyance sank into its depths.
“Now she’s dead.”
Podric murmured, “Only in the game perhaps.”
Louisa looked at him sharply.
“Life is not a game, m’sieur. The vile revolutionaries want to exterminate our very existence.”
The young duchess was passionate.
“I have been so many miles with the marquise – the bravest woman I ever knew.”
“The captain’s gone too – and his dog.”
Louisa began to sob. Podric continued quietly.
“We’re on the edge of the city. We must find shelter away from it.”
As they prepared to depart, Podric went in search of a place to leave the dead duchesse. Finding a coffin-like box in a timber yard on the waterside, the three of them laid her body inside it. The Duc recited a few words in memory of his departed wife, then they joined the thousands of other bedraggled people trying to make their way out of Paris. Struggling through the interminable night, dawn found the exhausted little group collapsed in a derelict barn. Fatigued though they were, they had at least escaped the horrors of the revolution, if only temporarily.
***
Lying on an old sofa, Archie was inevitably welcomed back into contemporary Wales by Dog slobbering all over him. The computer man aggressively remonstrating with his animal only sent the hound into paroxysms of adoration. This resulted in him being put outside.
Padding about the cottage, Archie took a shower then lit the log burner. He readmitted Dog and fed him his dinner, before sitting down to make some notes on his adventures. Pausing over his journal, Archie reached for his mobile phone. Activating it, he viewed several messages. One was from Alannah advising him of her vacation and a couple were from Kaliska requesting he call her.
Checking his watch, Archie saw that it was Tuesday. Something he hadn’t got used to was the time differential, adventures in UAR having no bearing on real hours and days. Gazing at the Welsh mountains, Archie decided that before contacting his solicitor’s office, the person he most wanted to connect with was his daughter.
***
Inside UAR, Podric awoke to discover himself looking up the barrel of an ancient flintlock pistol! Brandished by Barney Sturridge, the school bully was clad in a striped shirt, sawn off British sailor trousers, and sported the cockaded hat of the revolution.
“Oh God. Where have you come from?”
“What’s it to you?”
Feeling tired in spite of his slumber, Podric pushed the barrel away.
“Frankly, nothing.”
Podric got up and stretched.
“I was with the cap’n and that great dog of his along with the French toffs after we got kicked out of Toulon.”
Barney seemed sulky rather than threatening.
“You didn’t make the trial though.”
“Been a bit dazed, strange.”
“No change there, then.”
Looking round the barn, Podric scratched himself and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.
“Where are the Duc and his daughter?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Is your auto reflex always so negative?”
Podric was angry.
“Up the road in a tavern. Right state they are about the other girl disappearin’. More upset than losing his old woman. Daft bugger.”
“Why? He’s old and scared, she’s young and vulnerable.”
“Got a note from her, haven’t I.”
“What do you mean, you’ve got a note? From whom?”
Barney pulled out a screwed-up envelope and handed it to Podric who quickly read it.
“She’s in England.”
“So?”
Podric began pacing about. Archie’s knowledge of UAR must have been sufficient to move Cosima around inside the game before leaving it himself with Dog. This showed that his partner had learned a bit more about UAR’s methodology.
“Last time I saw you, you were face down in the dirt.”
Barney looked at Podric quizzically.
“Toulon. The evacuation. You’d been set on by some Spanish sailors.”
Barney scowled.
“Bloody scum.”
“You said much the same then.”
Podric abruptly took hold of Barney’s arm.
“Hoy! What yer doin’?”
“Has this irritated you?”
Several scratch marks around the pellet’s insertion suggested that it had. Podric grabbed Barney’s other hand, and pressed the bully’s fingers onto his wrist. Holding them there for several seconds activated the chip.
“Wha—”
Barney rocked back, his eyes blinking rapidly. Putting up his hands, he shook his head as if trying to clear his vision.
“Sit down.”
Podric was authoritative. Barney did as instructed, and sat down on a bale of straw.
“Don’t try and look around your eyes. The detail in your peripheral vision is alternative reality information and having been programmed, you’ll now be aware of who you are in this game’s world and the adventures you experience. It’s a privilege but there’s no need to thank me.”
It took several seconds for Barney to engage in the milieu Podric had put him in – but he didn’t understand it.
“You’ll get used to it – maybe.”