The end of the lake came in sight. Vallon heard Hero sigh, saw him shake his head.
‘What’s troubling you now?’
Hero grimaced. ‘I loved Richard, feared and hated Drogo and for Walter felt nothing but contempt. But I can’t help being distressed at the thought of their parents waiting in Northumberland for the return of their sons, not knowing that none of them will come home again. As much as I hate the prospect, I feel it’s my duty to write and bring their futile waiting to a close.’
Vallon had nothing to add on the matter. ‘I was recalling Aaron’s pre — diction that our enterprise was doomed to failure. He was right.’ Vallon frowned. ‘Nearly right. We’re no worse off than when we started out.’
Hero snapped out of his musings. ‘We’re better off by far. We have enough silver to take us to Constantinople, and we still have Prester John’s letter.’
Vallon’s own spirits lifted. ‘Do you really believe that he dines at a gold and amethyst table and sleeps in a sapphire bed and rides into battle perched on a golden castle borne by an elephant?’
Hero laughed. ‘I suspect that his royal sublimity has stretched the truth a little.’
‘The priest-king’s a weaver of fantasies, peddling dreams to feed our craving for the unknown. He probably dwells in a mud fort and eats porridge off bare boards.’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’
Vallon eyed him asquint. ‘I would have thought that you’d done enough travelling. Haven’t you followed enough wilderness rivers and crossed enough deserts?’
‘If only a tenth of Prester John’s claims are true, it would be a journey worth making.’
‘You look as if you’re already planning it.’
Hero shook his head. ‘One day, perhaps.’
‘Don’t ask me to join you. This expedition has cured any lingering wanderlust I might have had.’
Hero smiled. ‘The day we met, you said that a journey is just a tiresome passage between one place and another.’
‘I wasn’t wrong, was I? You can’t deny that the last year has been the most uncomfortable, the most painful, the most unprofitable of your life.’
‘Also the most instructive and exciting. Admit it, sir. There’s satisfaction in having completed a journey no other man has made.’
Vallon nodded reluctantly. ‘There is that. We both have a stock of tales to last us until we turn old and grey.’
They rode on, Vallon scanning the empty ridgelines with a soldier’s caution. ‘Not all rivers end in the sea.’
Hero had been miles away. He blinked. Vallon was pointing at the lake.
‘We talked one night in England of how men’s lives follow a course like a river, finally ending weak and tired in the sea.’
‘I remember.’
‘This lake has no outlet. The rivers that enter it will never reach the sea.’
Hero saw Richard’s shrouded corpse drifting out of the Dnieper estuary. ‘Richard’s journey ended in the sea. He was only seventeen. His journey had hardly begun.’
‘Every journey, no matter how short or long, has a beginning and an end. Some travellers stride out on a journey and die happy, having failed to reach their destination. Others spend years striving to attain some blissful goal only to realise when they’ve reached it that it wasn’t the place they were looking for.’
Hero’s eyes flooded. ‘I wish they were all here. I wish the journey wasn’t over.’
Vallon took his arm gently. ‘Come on. You and I still have a long way to go.’
They reached the northern shore of Salt Lake and turned west over a fly-specked plateau, following their shadows across the empty highland. Looking back, Vallon saw the summits of the twin peaks shining with the soft lustre of a fire opal, the same colours as his gem. Far back down their trail a column of dust had appeared. He reined in, his mouth dry with hope and dread.
Miles before it reached them, the dust cloud turned north, gradually dispersing. Unknown travellers following their own path.
Vallon turned back to the west.
Hero remained where he was. ‘You hoped it was her.’
‘It wasn’t. Let’s go.’
‘You still have time to return. Tomorrow will be too late for anything but regrets.’
Vallon’s face twitched. ‘What do you know about affairs of the heart?’
Hero’s features set. ‘I know about love.’
Vallon lifted a hand in apology. ‘Forgive me. Of course you do.’
‘Sir, you mustn’t wait on her to follow you. It’s not gallant. If you love her, go back.’
‘The day we met you said I was suffering from lovesickness.’
‘I wasn’t wrong then. I’m not wrong now. If you don’t find her, you’ll never be happy.’
Vallon sat his horse, tortured with indecision. ‘I can’t leave you to travel to Constantinople on your own.’
‘I’m not the one who needs care. You can’t even mount or dismount without my help.’
Vallon looked up. ‘You don’t mind retracing our steps all that weary way?’
Hero rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve been trying to persuade you to do nothing else.’
Vallon eyed the sun, excitement rising. ‘If we press hard, we should be back at the tower before dark. With luck, we’ll reach Konya in three days.’
They were back in sight of Salt Lake’s north shore when Vallon spotted a smudge of dust approaching from the south. He watched it draw closer. ‘Two riders moving fast.’
Hero screwed up his eyes. ‘Is it Caitlin?’
‘Too far to tell.’
Vallon watched the riders approach, his heart beating with painful thuds. The riders took on shape, then form resolved into features. He covered his eyes, overcome by faintness. ‘It’s her,’ he said. ‘Caitlin and Wayland.’
Hero whooped. ‘Aren’t you glad you turned back? Now you can meet her with your honour intact.’
‘She’ll probably take one look at me and ride on with her nose in the air, just as she did the day I first saw her.’ Vallon glared at Hero. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Two days ago you fought a contest with a broken arm and a torn tendon. Yet watching your beloved approach, you quake like a timorous youth.’
‘Fighting’s easy. Giving your heart to another isn’t — not for someone with my bloody history.’
Hero sobered. They waited. Wayland and Caitlin galloped up in a breathless hurry, faces pale with dust. Caitlin wore plain garments and no jewellery. No one spoke at first.
Hero broke the silence. ‘We’re sorry you had to travel so far to catch up.’
Caitlin guided her horse alongside Vallon and stared hard into his face. ‘Wayland told me that whatever you were looking for was hidden in the tower we passed half a day since. You were riding away, weren’t you? You weren’t going to come back for me.’
Vallon contemplated the ground. ‘I was sure you’d reject me.’ He looked up. ‘But in the end I had to hear it from your own lips.’
Caitlin’s features rippled in exasperation. ‘I gave you my decision. How many times more do I have to tell you?’ She looked around. ‘I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for.’
Vallon shrugged. ‘Found it, lost it.’
‘What was it?’
‘A book. Even if we’d kept it, it turns out to be less valuable than we’d hoped. All our wealth is contained in the silver Wayland won with his hawk.’
‘That’s more silver than most folk see in a lifetime.’
‘What happened to the jewels Suleyman lavished on you?’
‘The eunuch who rules his harem took them back.’ Caitlin gave an enigmatic smile and laid a hand on Vallon’s wrist. ‘All except the gold and jade girdle,’ she whispered. ‘I wasn’t letting that go.’
Wayland extended a hand containing a purse. ‘Syth and I agreed that this belongs to you. You were too generous.’
Vallon waved it away. ‘Keep it. You have a family to consider.’
&nb
sp; Caitlin ran a finger down his sunken cheek. ‘It’s time you considered yourself.’ She rounded on Hero. ‘Whatever were you thinking of letting him chase after books hidden in castles? He can’t continue to Constantinople in that state. We’ll stop at the next town and find lodgings until he’s fit enough to travel.’
Hero made a gesture halfway between a cringe and a bow.
Vallon tried to protest. ‘I’ve outstayed my welcome in Suleyman’s territory. The sooner we reach Byzantium, the safer we will be.’
Caitlin swept his opposition aside. ‘You’re not in any danger from the Seljuks. We passed Faruq early this morning and he told me to take care of you.’
‘Faruq?’
She smiled. ‘You underestimate the respect the Seljuks hold you in. Their soldiers are already composing tales about you as if you were a hero of old.’
Wayland looked on, feeling curiously cut off from his friends as they prepared to vanish from his life. Vallon rode up. ‘Thank you for bringing Caitlin.’
‘She brought herself, and if I hadn’t gone, Syth would have escorted her herself.’
Vallon looked south. ‘Dear Syth. Just the thought of her brings a smile, and that smile will be with me for as long as I live.’ He slapped Wayland’s knee. ‘She’ll be missing you. Return as quick as you can.’
Wayland conned the landscape, postponing the final separation. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with you a little way further.’
They rode to the west and at evening time breasted a ridge to see the plateau folding away in soft greys and mauves, the sun pulsating halfway below the horizon, the peach-and lavender-coloured sky brushed with a few streaks of fiery cloud. Vallon halted and looked hard at Wayland. ‘Now it really is the last farewell.’
They said their goodbyes with no great outpouring of emotion except from Caitlin, who planted a kiss on Wayland’s lips and enjoined him to treasure Syth all his days.
Hero dabbed a speck of dust from his eye and spoke in a voice pitched higher than normal. ‘Well, the weather’s set fair.’
Vallon raised his hand to check and stared at the empty finger with dull incomprehension. ‘The ring’s gone.’ He glanced back. ‘It must have slipped off.’
Everyone turned and stared back down the tracts of barren space.
‘Do you have any idea where you lost it?’ Hero said.
Vallon shook his head. ‘I last saw it when we set off this morning. It could be anywhere.’ He shook himself and drew a deep breath. ‘It’s gone. No point looking for it.’
‘Are you sure? The ring’s valuable. It has magical properties.’
‘And that’s why I lost it. I bet the damn thing’s gone back to Cosmas.’
A last nod at Wayland, a last penetrating look and a touch of the hand and then Vallon led his party away. Hero and Caitlin kept turning to wave, but Vallon didn’t look back, nor did Wayland expect him to.
He watched them for miles, their shadows lengthening behind them, merging into one and dissolving in the creeping dusk.
A movement in the air made him look up. Caught on the cusp of remaining light, a falcon on passage skated in smooth ellipses, intent on the ground far beneath. Its wings flickered and it slid forward, bunching up into a missile that fell in a steepening curve until it was plunging earthwards as true as a plumbline. The tide of shadows engulfed it, and though Wayland waited, it didn’t appear again. When he looked west again, Vallon, Hero and Caitlin were gone.
He waited a little while longer. A single cloud with its edges burnished by the last rays of the invisible sun glowed like a scrap of charring parchment. When the flame died he turned his horse back. The twin peaks lay sunk beneath the earth and the ridges rolled away soft as lampblack.
On his solitary journey homewards he passed within yards of Cosmas’s ring, lying buried in the winter grasses at the edge of the track. The gemstone recorded his fleeting passage, his image elongating as he approached and then contracting to a dot. Gone in a trice, leaving a dark blank eye highlit by the gleam of stars.
Wayland rode on, wishing he was at home with Syth, regretting that the quest was over. He looked back only once, to record the moment, to draw the line, to seal the memories. He raised one arm in salute before turning away.
Here or in the hereafter.
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Hawk Quest Page 76