by Barney Broom
“I didn’t have to with you because of that, but then I re-set you or Marquise Badeni to be in England in 1794. Right now, Podric will be bringing these French aristos out of France to safety unless he decides to get out of the game himself, but I rather doubt he will. I think he wants to experience the adventure for what it is. He’s in there with his Wendover school bully, who for reasons best known to himself, he’s programmed into it.”
Surprisingly, Cosima didn’t scoff her father’s words out of existence.
“So a person profiled is only subconsciously aware of the experiences they have in that state, but a programmed person is fully.”
“Bingo.”
“In that case, Pa, I want to go back in – programmed.”
Climbing over a fence, Archie took in the view.
“For that, my dear, you’ll have to wait. Although I managed to get myself out having paid just enough attention to my junior parner’s instructions, I need a further briefing from him to be able to programme you.”
“You mean you have to rely on master Podric? That’s not like you, Dr. Light, mister control freak.”
Archie straightened a piece of dry stone wall.
“I didn’t believe Podric at first. I thought all his UAR stuff was mumbo jumbo, schoolboy nonsense.”
Archie continued his wall building, and gathered up several slates lying in the field.
“He couldn’t have created anything inside a computer game without me and he knows it. He didn’t have the algorithmic abilities, but he’s got incredible games skills and an astounding imagination. I wouldn’t have created UAR without him – the feeling of living in other worlds and the fantastic adventures.”
“But you don’t actually move matter – you stay where you are.”
“Why I came here; there’s no one around and I knew I’d be alone.”
“It’s all in the mind then.”
“Isn’t so much of life?”
18
Lies & Secrets
The following morning the d’Angoulacs, Podric and Barney joined the monks on their pilgrimage. About twenty men made up the party. The two boys, clad in habits, had their hoods up against the weather. The Duc and his daughter sat inside the wagon with two friars, one of whom drove the oxen. Prior Boniface rode a donkey, his presence amidst his brothers pious and dignified.
Leaving the monastery by a small lane, their route climbed away on a track that bypassed Arras, and cut cross-country towards St. Omer. However, although their journey was remote, a troop of a dozen Citizen cavalry caught up with the clerics.
“You would challenge pilgrims of the church?”
“We’re looking for escaped enemies of the state.”
“Then go and find them.”
Prior Boniface was derisive.
“What’s the name of your abbey?”
The prior ignored the question. The Citizen captain rode up alongside him menacingly.
“I demand you identify yourself.”
“You can demand all you like. Whether I deign to oblige you is another matter.”
“What do you carry in the wagon?”
Boniface looked at the officer as if he was a retarded minnow. The captain called out to his men.
“Search it.”
“On whose authority?”
The prior had a powerful voice when he chose to use it. The soldiers approaching the wagon dithered.
“When men of God visit others of their kind in piety and faith, it is customary gifts are taken to their hosts. Other necessary items include vestments for celebrating the holy mass and also books from our library, used when entering discourse with our colleagues at St. Bertin.”
Watching two troopers peer inside the canvas, the prior spoke up.
“I am Prior Boniface. We are the Abbaye of St. Pierre under the diocese of His Holiness the archbishop who was recently consulted by the Convention.”
“Why?”
“Are you not informed, Citizen? The ignorant man is a stupid man.”
If the prior was pushing his luck, his attitude was one of disdained contempt. A soldier called back from the wagon.
“Nothing here we’re looking for.”
Prior Boniface looked at the angry captain.
“The Convention has been anxious about the church because the church holds the key to the people. Your influence is only temporal and at best, flimsy.”
The procession filed past the soldiers. The Citizen captain watched it with extreme suspicion.
“If I hate royalists, I loathe the church.”
Leading off his troop, he didn’t notice several of his men surreptitiously made signs of the benediction as they rode away.
***
“Good heavens, Dr. Light! I thought you’d disappeared.”
Archie had forgotten the appeal Kaliska Monroe’s husky voice held for him. Sitting in the Welsh cottage talking to her on his mobile, he wondered how he could explain that, in a manner of speaking, disappearing was exactly what he had been doing. She continued.
“I’m sure you’ve been busy.”
Archie agreed.
“I’ve got some details on your new company and a draft contract. I could mail them though several of the clauses are quite lengthy. If you want to discuss them, I wondered if you were in town at all…?”
The computer games man explained that he was currently in Wales with his daughter but would arrange to come to London the following week.
***
Entering St. Bertin’s abbey that night, two cramped figures emerged from behind the wagon’s tiny false partition. The Duc and Duchesse Louisa receiving care and sustenance, Podric decided that first light must see them on the road for the final dash up to Calais. A covered trap was found and pulled by a pair of strong horses, the conveyance rattled off in the early morning under Barney’s control.
The thirty-mile journey from St. Omer to the coast was made through driving rain. The horses driven at a cracking pace – whilst the windows were up and the occupants hidden – the vehicle didn’t go unnoticed as it sped its way northwards towards the channel. 1794 France was a nation of spies, betrayers and betrayed.
Calais was dismal and grey, its dwellings huddled along the shore. With blustering sea air whipping through its streets, Podric found a coaching inn near the port. Having set aside funds for the d’Angoulacs’ future, he spent the remainder of the revolution’s money securing rooms for the travellers.
Seeing the aristos ensconced and the day fading to early evening, Podric and Barney went to the bar. The bully, dressed in his potpourri attire of Jolly Jack Tar and Phrygian-hatted French revolutionary, and the computer genie in the clothes of the Supreme Being (not that anyone could say what they might be), Barney nursed his hidden weaponry. In skittish mood, Podric ordered a jug of ale.
“Jumpy, aren’t you?”
“Nah. Just don’t trust the Froggies.”
Yet another furtive landlord brought their beer. Paying him, Podric and his bullying compadre quaffed their pints.
“I thought you had a thirst for adventure. Anyway, I need you to get down to the dock and check when the next packet’s sailing for Dover.”
Barney looked at Podric blankly.
“Packet – you know, mail boat.”
Barney scowled.
“When are we splitting from here permanently – I mean outta here?”
“Oah. UAR, huh? Old time escapades too much for you, are they?”
Barney drank his ale.
“Didn’t believe me, did you? – a life in a computer game.”
Podric poured more beer into their tankards.
“Feels real, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re living it!”
He looked around the room and lowered his voice.
“Clever lad like you would h
ave worked out we’re nearing the end of this particular adventure, but we’ve still got to get them aboard.”
Podric stood up.
“Let me know about the boat and stay sharp. They’re not out of here yet.”
Walking through the inn, Podric could feel people’s eyes on him. Crossing to the stairs, he didn’t let his concern show.
Admitted to the d’Angoulacs’ suite by Louisa, Podric glimpsed the Duc lying on a bed in the adjacent room.
“Your father sleeps?”
“He is very tired.”
Putting his hand inside his jerkin, UAR’s Scarlet Pimpernel took out two pouches.
“These contain gold.”
“The last of your money.”
“It wasn’t ever mine. I just looked after it for a while.”
Podric put them into Louisa’s hands. Turning away from him, she hitched up her skirts and tied the pouch strings of each to the girdle of her undergarments.
“It will enable you to survive. The revolution doesn’t last forever and one day when all this is over, you’ll have your lands restored to you.”
“You speak with authority.”
Podric shrugged and Louisa readjusted herself.
“Why are you not coming to England with us?”
“Because hanging out with you finishes with your escape.”
“Hanging out? You use some strange phrases, m’sieur.”
She suddenly reached out to him.
“I want you to come with us, with me!”
Surprised at her passion, Podric was embarrassed. The young duchesse was intense.
“You must know that I have feelings for you.”
Hearing a noise outside the door, Podric put his index finger to his lips indicating silence. Doors banged, shouts were heard and a shot rang out. Hurried footsteps up the stairs, Barney called through the door.
“We gotta get out – now!”
Admitting him, Podric shut and bolted the door.
“There’s a ship, but the bastard Revo soldier’s about. I’ve given him a sore foot but it ain’t enough to stop him.”
“Backstairs from the Duc’s room.”
Louisa had already gone into her father’s bedroom and had begun to raise him. The old man put a brave face on things and was hustled downstairs.
The exit emerged at the side of the building and ships were berthed across the quay. The jetty was busy – traders, sailors and soldiers crowding the wharf. Barney programmed into UAR now paid dividends. He required no further prodding to put his brutish talents into action.
Grabbing a torch from a passing cart, Barney thrust it into another carrying bales for shipment. Although a light rain was falling, the cargo quickly caught fire. Spying several cages of wild animals, Barney promptly unhitched them and slipping their bars, let loose two bears and a leopard. In seconds, the whole place was mayhem.
With his twenty-first century nemesis active, Podric led the d’Angoulacs across the quay to the ship moored at the end of the harbour. The tide on the turn, the English vessel was making ready to set sail.
As they neared the gangplank, the limping Citizen captain appeared from the shadows with his soldiers. The Duc shook off his daughter who had been supporting him and stood alone before the revolutionaries.
“I thought it was you, Carl. I wasn’t certain spying you secretly on the road, but seeing you now, there is no doubt.”
Far from dismissing the old aristocrat, the Citizen captain was impassive.
“I know your mother well and I’m sure she will be proud of you. She put great store in your education.”
Although he maintained a cold bearing, to the shrewd eye, the Citizen captain was wrestling with conflicting emotions.
“Captain. We must seize these people!”
The Troop Sergeant moved forward.
“Prepare to cast off for’ard.”
Standing by the gangplank, Podric saw Arthur Johnson, Billy’s dad, on the little quarterdeck!
“Wait! Mr. Johnson!”
Arthur looked around.
“Wha…? Cap’n to you, young man.”
“Two passengers to come aboard.”
“Belay there.”
Captain Johnson addressed a seaman. The Tar stood at the bow holding a warped rope in readiness. The Duc eyed the Citizen captain.
“Do my daughter and I proceed?”
“Captain, we must arrest them!”
The sergeant was apoplectic.
“Not on my ship, you don’t.”
Captain Johnson wore a piratical look. The sergeant reached for his sword to strike the Duc but was attacked by the leopard.
So incredible a sight – sailors, guards and guarded all gawped at the spectacle. The animal ripped into the sergeant’s jugular. None of his colleagues going to his aid, it was left to Barney hurling a length of metal chain at the predator that drove it from its quarry.
The sergeant writhed on the ground, blood spurting from his throat. Two members of the troop belatedly began to help him but their efforts were feeble and too late. Guiding his daughter up the gangplank, the Duc turned back to his bastard son.
“Your mother never told you?”
The expression on the revolutionary captain’s face was intense.
“Give her my regards when you see her and tell her any assistance I gave was made with great affection.”
Without waiting for an acknowledgement, the Duc and the Duchesse Louisa stepped aboard Drinkwell Girl. It would be later that night the Duc’s daughter would ask her father to explain the denouement of their escape – a tale involving intrigue, romance, and infidelity.
Podric walked up the gangplank and approached Captain Johnson.
“They have money for their passage, Captain.”
Captain Johnson laughed.
“Of course they do. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be sailing!”
The Duchesse Louisa hitched up her skirts and, removing one of the pouches, undid its cord.
“Two silver Louis for our passage sir.”
Captain Johnson inspected the coinage.
“Three. Each.”
Louisa eyed Johnson.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“I drive you to safety from this accursed country.”
“It is my country, captain.”
“Then if you’re sailing with me, you’d better say goodbye to it. Cast off for’ard.”
Barney appeared with the d’Angoulacs’ small trunk and swung it on deck. The ship began to move. Podric gave a slight bow to the Duc, who took his hand. The boy started to do the same to Louisa but the girl kissed him.
“We’re not sailing then?”
Barney was expectant. Podric shook his head. Captain Johnson gave orders to his crew, and the two youths made for the creaking gangplank.
Drinkwell Girl caught the breeze, and Podric and Barney turned back to the quay. Soldiers carried the lifeless form of the troop sergeant away. The Citizen captain stood watching the bears being recaptured and prepared for baiting.
“An aristocratic bloodline’s certainly an unlikely credential for a revolutionary captain, particularly as you hate them so much.”
“Go to hell.”
“Don’t know whether the twenty-first century’s quite that, mate, but we’ll be making a move right enough.”
The Citizen captain looked at Barney as if he was from another planet.
“Don’t worry, cock. You can always get the frills out when the revolution’s over.” Barney slapped his hand down on the captain’s.
“High five – and look after that foot!”
19
Back to Reality
It was early morning when Barney returned to normal reality in Archie’s study.
“Oh God,
where am I?”
Looking around, he saw Podric sitting opposite in one of Archie’s expensive leather chairs.
“Find that dull, did you?”
“Ha. Dunno what you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You were programmed so you’re fully aware of the adventures you’ve just had.”
Barney got up. Stretching himself, he was a bit wobbly.
“Right dick, that Revo captain… What was he saying about letting them go?”
“The duke was obviously his father. What was he going to do?”
“I’d have taken ’im out. The old fella was on his last legs anyway. Got any coffee?”
“Yuh. Reckon you would have.”
Podric went through to the small kitchen and turned on the expresso machine.
“So it didn’t do anything for you, alternative reality?”
“S’alright. Better than school I suppose.”
“Not saying much; only activity you seem to enjoy is beating people up.”
“Paid off for you though didn’t it, in your altercating realism.”
Podric smiled and prepared coffee.
“Altercating’s good where you’re concerned. What are you going to do now?”
“None of your business.”
“True. But you’ve skipped YOI – that’ll give you grief.”
“You put me there.”
“No, you put you there.”
Barney scowled. Podric poured out two americanos.
“What’s it to you anyway?”
“Nothing.”
Podric sipped his coffee.
“Do you know why I wanted to programme you into UAR?”
“’Cos you’re a geeky burk.”
“Because you’re a con. You’re not thick, Barney, and you need a positive challenge to stop behaving like you do.”
Taking a gulp of coffee, Barney banged down his mug.
“Yeah, rock on. Finished with the psycho shit?”
“Where’s your phone?”