The Song of the Underground

by Wendy Reakes

  Up high, birds of every type flew, from tiny blue tits to great eagles searching for prey. Ben watched a falcon swoop down. He ducked and turned and saw it land on Byron’s outstretched arm. It rested on her gloved hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “I don’t understand the method of such a place,” he said as he stepped nearer her, in fear of frightening the bird from her hand. “How has it come about and for what purpose?”

  The colonel stepped forward and pointed to the roof of the cavern. “Above is Festival Gardens, is it not, Bird Catcher?”

  She gave a single curt nod of her head just before she allowed the falcon to propel from her fingers into the air, taking flight and landing again in a faraway treetop. “Yes, the garden near St. Paul’s Cathedral is where the upsiders play and grow their flowers, just as we play and grow ours below. The wondrous notion of all...” She elaborated in such a way that it was clear she had thought of the ‘notion’ a hundred times or more, “...is that the only thing that separates us is a thick layer of earth and solid rock. I for one dread a time when they may forge deeper, below the gardens, but I don’t think they will do that. The creator of the cathedral planted the gardens so that the land would never be touched.”

  “That’s clever,” Ben interjected. He was excited by that single thought. “Gardens are nurtured for years. No one in modern day Britain would even contemplate building on its ground. It is more or less preserved as it is for...well, for eternity.” He smiled, having gained a newfound respect for the Llyn’s forefathers. Not that he ever thought any less of them. It was people like Christopher Wren who had sculpted London into the city it was today. It was Wren’s designs that had inspired Ben to study design and construction.

  Ben went to walk upon the soft grass but he was halted by Byron. “You must remove your shoes.” He didn’t question it. It made sense, seeing as how the ground was so soft and lush. He leaned down and whipped off his boots, discarding them next to the wall. Then, as an afterthought, he removed his socks too and stuffed them inside.

  The coolness and the softness of the earth and the moss beneath his feet made him sigh. And as he walked further into the forest, he imagined being there with Charlotte, holding her hand and walking with her as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  As if she was reading his thoughts, Byron said, “This is where we allow our courting couples to meet and get to know each other, away from the bustle of the city.”

  “It’s paradise,” Ben said.

  “Yes,” Byron answered with a whisper on her lips.

  Chapter 69

  “I want to talk to you,” Col. Geoffrey Barnes said to Ben who was prancing across the grass in his bare feet. Like an idiot, the colonel mused. If Mason was already way down in his estimation, he was even lower now. Lower than the dirt beneath his shoes. Mason didn’t seem to care how he was behaving. The man couldn’t control his emotions and as far as the colonel was concerned, that made Mason one big city boy.

  Mason was flippant and disrespectful in his response. “Don’t you want to take your shoes off, Barnes, you might enjoy it. Relax!”

  He was irritating as hell. The idiot needed a reality check. Geoffrey placed his hand on Mason’s shoulder, making him still and knowing that if Byron had been watching, she would assume they were having a friendly chat. “Enjoy it while you can, Mason. This won’t be here for long.” He swept his eyes over the garden, willing Ben Mason to get the picture.

  Mason’s eyes bore into the flesh of Geoffrey’s hand resting on his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

  He removed his hand and offered an exaggerated chuckle. “This place...it’s where we’ll come in. This will be the entrance to the underground housing...once we blast this lot out. Damn trees!”

  “No.”

  “No?” Geoffrey raised his brows, challenging Ben Mason’s influence over the matter. As far as he was concerned, it was none of his business. “Mason, let me tell you something.” Geoffrey confronted him, and as the two men’s eyes bore into each others, the hatred between them was without doubt. “It’s got nothing to do with you. The PM told me to get you involved in an advisory capacity, but I can do what I need to do on my own. Frankly, you’re no bloody help to me.”

  “Maybe I’m not, Barnes,” Ben Mason answered. “But I can stop you. All I have to do let your intentions known to the Bird Catcher and king Kite. They’ll chuck you out. Or, better still, they’ll throw you into that place where the American is and they’ll throw away the key. I, for one will enjoy every minute.”

  “You won’t do that. It would make you a traitor to your country. We’re working under the directive of the Prime Minister here, Mason. Or have you forgotten that?”

  “I can’t believe Alice Burton would sanction these plans if she knew...”

  “If she knew what? That the place they call Sous Llyndum is infested with vermin?” Geoffrey sneered and Ben went for him. He was about to grab him by the neck of his shirt, but the moment was halted by the voice of Byron, instructing them all it was time to leave.

  Geoffrey watched Mason sit on the floor and pull his boots back on. Mason never took his eyes off him for one minute. It didn’t faze him. He could eat people like Ben Mason for breakfast. Still, one of Geoffrey’s strict military practices was to never underestimate one’s enemy. He’d keep an eye on Ben Mason, until the time was right to execute his plans. And he was so looking forward to seeing Mason’s face when the shit hit the fan.

  Chapter 70

  They were almost there. Mark and Charlotte were panting as they pushed themselves over the last few metres to the end. Wren had come to a stop just as a light pierced a slit in the rock about a foot thick and three meters high. Through it steam was gushing like smoke from a fallen stack. They stopped next to her and leaned their backs against the walls. The wind was less forceful that end. It was as if it had regenerated inside the ventilation tunnel, increasing its energy and power of force, as it whistled around the city boundaries.

  Wren was whispering. It was a loud whisper above the noise of the wind, yet not loud enough to be overheard by anyone who may have been on the other side of the wall. “We will go through here and into a cavern where there is a pool. Do not be tempted to linger. We must pass through and go into the city quickly, for fear of discovery.”

  Mark and Charlotte nodded.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to squeeze through that gap,” Mark whispered. It just didn’t look wide enough.

  “You must. Breathe in, my Mark. You can do it,” Wren said. Then she was gone. Her slight frame slid through easily, like cheese through a slicer.

  Mark moved to allow Charlotte to go next and she, too, held in her breath, kept her head aloft and to the side and then passed through.

  Mark put one leg into the breach while he opened and closed his eyes against the force of the wind and the steam. His body was almost through and, as he strained and shuffled inch-by-inch, he finally manoeuvred himself to the other side. Momentarily blinded by the steam as it rose from a pool in the centre of the small cavern, he managed to guide himself out of the draught to where Wren and Charlotte were waiting.

  Wren took his hand and they once more passed through an opening, which was so low they had to duck to enter. And there, on the other side was the city. Charlotte pulled him to a stop. She stared at the remarkable scene in front of her, which was her first sight of Sous Llyndum.

  Wren tugged at her. “Come, quickly,” she said, shaking Charlotte out of the stupor she was in. Then she ran, weaving up lanes between buildings, up some steps and into a concealed doorway; the back entrance to the palace Atlantia.

  They didn’t stop when they were inside, even though Mark was tempted to linger on the design of the structure. He was particularly enamoured by the paintings on the walls... literally on the walls...not on canvases or in frames, but painted straight onto the fabric of the plaster, as if they had been Xeroxed on. They were mostly portraits, probably of t
he Llyns' forefathers. But unlike the pictures of the great men in London’s art galleries, the ones in that underground palace were gigantic profiles, with sometimes only half a face and the back of the head disappearing around a corner. One full length portrait, at the very end of the corridor was a gigantic figure of a man in historic garb bending at the knees. His piercing green eyes gazed the length of the hall, daring anyone to trespass. Candles burned all around the paintings of the people who dominated these corridors, casting their flickering glow and shadows over their eyes and faces, making them appear as if they lived.

  They entered Wren’s chamber and she pushed her body against the door, slamming it closed behind her. She leaned her head back, resting it on the frame, and breathed deeply. They were all panting and Charlotte, especially, looked as if she was going to collapse.

  Mark put his arm about her shoulder. “Charlotte, are you all right, honey? Charlotte?” She looked so pale, he wondered if she was going to faint. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was leaning into him, crying. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s okay.”

  As he kept hold of her, Mark watched Wren go towards the large windows at the side of the room. He watched her take hold of a shutter so that she could close the chamber from prying eyes. But just before she pulled it shut, she stopped and with a wave of her hand, she ushered Mark and Charlotte over to where she stood next to the window.

  There, as all three hid behind the shutters, they gazed out of the glassless window to the left of the palace, where Byron and a group of men were walking across a bridge.

  Mark heard Charlotte call a name, “Ben,” she whispered, before she slipped to the floor in an exhausted faint.

  Chapter 71

  Ben walked across the bridge and back into the city in a pensive frame of mind. The encounter with the colonel had shaken him up, mainly because he thought the man was out of control and that he was acting on his own authority, rather than that of the Prime Minister. Barnes was dangerous, and frankly, Ben felt powerless to prevent anything he might be planning. And yet the PM had sanctioned the project! The underground housing was her idea. But, without the approval of the king and his people, the only way to carry it out would be to take the city by force. It didn’t seem real somehow, but perhaps Alice Burton didn’t know what she was dealing with. The city, to anyone who hadn’t seen it, could be perceived as something dark and foreboding; corrupt with crime and sin; an unnatural existence for people who have nothing to offer today’s society. In reality it was quite the opposite. Ben was of the opinion the city and its people had everything to offer; in the way they lived and their principles and their policies. As far as Ben was concerned, it was a world far less corrupt than his own and it was rich with innovations and new methods. Compared to the world above, Sous Llyndum was a paradise of virtue.

  Before they’d crossed the bridge to go back into the central part of the city, the Bird Catcher had shown them another entrance, alongside the one to the forest. She told them it was the avenue to their most revered of places and that tonight they would experience its magic when all of the people of Sous Llydum collected there. Ben had been intrigued, but the Bird Catcher would offer little else. Instead, she directed them across the bridge, where Ben had a peculiar indescribable feeling of being watched.

  Inside the palace, he was left to find his own way back to his apartment. How familiar the place had become in just short space of time. He couldn’t tell if it was the location underground that made him feel like he’d been there a lot longer than twenty-four hours, or that he was simply feeling a part of the life down there.

  As he reached the door to his room, he heard a noise behind him from a darkened recess. The corridor was lit by candlelight. It weaved through the palace from the back to the front, like a wide floor of a hotel with doors either side. It was a haunting place to walk along, especially with the faces and the eyes of the wall paintings bearing down on him. The corridor was so foreboding that only when Ben entered his room, could he breathe again and enjoy the freedom from that windowless darkness. Now, as he heard a whisper and saw a figure step out of the shadows, he was so alarmed, he yelled.

  “Psst...” It was the princess. She was crooking her finger.

  He looked behind him, wondering if it was a trick, but as he realised there was no-one else in the corridor but the two of them, he began to walk towards her. She didn’t speak. Her gesture was enough for him to understand what she wanted him to do. She wanted him to follow her.

  Chapter 72

  Geoffrey didn’t return to his room in the palace. Instead, after the Bird Catcher dismissed them and they all parted, he went around the back and caught up with his men.

  He put his hand on one of their shoulders. “Did you reach him?”

  “Sir! He’s meeting us in our chambers.”

  “Good. Lead the way. We need to talk.”

  He was there when the colonel and his team of soldiers entered. He was lounging on one of the cots the Llyns had set up for his men. There were five, with another five in the room next door. He had his hands behind his head and he was grinning. On the other four beds, like the one he was lying on, each soldier had his kit neatly stacked at the bottom, all of them regimental and orderly. When Geoffrey saw his feet resting on one of his men’s kit, he flipped. He strode across the room and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to his feet.

  “Hey.”

  “Do you see that?” He made him bend so that his face was almost touching the clothes now crumpled from their once neat stack. “Do you see it?”

  He nodded frantically. “Yes, yes I see it.”

  Geoffrey let go and shoved him up against the wall. “Don’t ever disrespect me, boy, ya hear?”

  “Yes, I hear...Let me go.”

  Geoffrey grinned, released him and left him against the wall as he straightened his own clothes.

  “Right. Let’s talk.”

  Heron, the prince, was red in the face. “What about my money?”

  Geoffrey Barnes reached inside his back pocket and pulled out a set of small keys on a chain. He tossed it across the room and Heron caught it with one easy hand.

  “You know what you have to do.” He turned to his men. “Now listen up.”

  There was a hush as all of them waited for him to speak.

  “Tonight,” he said simply. And they all knew what that meant.

  Chapter 73

  Ben followed the princess through a corridor, which branched off the main one. It wasn’t as dark, as it featured a balcony overlooking the city. He could see the lights dotted around the central marketplace and in the dwellings randomly stacked three and four high. The atmosphere was humid now. The city had been lit by the hot lights since early that morning and the air felt heavy and oppressive. Ben stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “The rain will come soon,” the princess said. “It will be cooler then.”

  The rain. Ah, yes, he remembered the shower of water that had drenched the city just as they’d arrived in Sous Llyndum the day before. It was remarkable how the life they had created for themselves down there, emulated the life in the real world. Real world! Sometimes he wondered if the underground city of Sous Llyndum was a lot more real than his own. Sad as that was.

  He watched the princess open a door. She ushered him inside. He was expecting to get his bearings until he saw a sight he never thought he’d see. Not in a million years. “I can’t believe what I’m looking at,” he said as he heard the door close behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the princess sidle past and walk into the arms of the American, Mark Buzzard. Ben’s gaze remained on the woman watching him, looking as if she would crumple to the floor at any moment. Instead, she ran and flung herself into his arms. He held her. He held her so tight that if it had been a dream, she couldn’t have escaped. But as he felt the heat from her body, he knew she was anything but a figment of his imagination. “Charlotte?”

  She smiled a paltry kind of sm
ile, intended to confirm it really was she, but with no humour. “Ben...Ben, I love you.”

  He pulled her towards him and kissed her so hard he must surely have made her lips bleed. Then he pushed her away as he grappled for breath, checking her lips were intact and still pink and inviting. “Why are you here? How...”

  “They sent me to give you a message.”

  “They?”

  “Alice Burt...The Prime Minister sent me.”

  Ben shook his head. “That can’t be. Why would they send you? He looked down at her belly. You’re pregnant for Christ's sake.”

  She looked down at her stomach, almost as if she’d forgotten. “What’s that got to do with anything?” Her demeanour had suddenly changed. It was the Charlotte he knew.