Conflict and Courage (16 page)

Gerry was taken
aback. Joseph was a sturdy eight year old and this would certainly
slow them down. He had intended to carry young Gavin, leaving
Lysbet to lead Anne’s two.

“I didn’t
realise things had gone quite so far in Cocteau’s indoctrination
process but we’ll manage somehow. You’ll have to carry your own lad
and Cherry can hold on to your skirt.”

Anne came out
of the inner door, crying, her arms round Cherry who clung to her
mother as if she would never let her go.

Gerry went into
the room and picked up Joseph, hefting him over his shoulder with a
grunt of effort. When he had arranged the cloak round him he
re-entered the outer room.

“Time to go,”
he said. Anne leant over Joseph’s face to give him a goodbye kiss
then bent down to Cherry. Her voice wobbled as she spoke to her
youngest daughter and kissed her in a gentle farewell.

“Do what Lysbet
and Gerry say and help look after Joseph.”

Tears were
streaming down Cherry’s face.

“Give my love
to Jessica.”

“I will,”
Cherry struggled to get the words out.

“I love you so
much kitten,” Anne continued, echoing her husband’s pet name for
his daughters, “and I am sure we’ll see each other again one day.
Now you must be very brave and go with Gerry and Lysbet.” She
stepped back and gave Cherry a little push.

Cherry stumbled
towards the door. Gerry was already there. Lysbet snuffed out the
candle so that, as he opened it, not even its feeble flicker shone
forth.

“Hold on to my
skirt,” ordered Lysbet. Cherry did and glanced back. Mother and
daughter looked at each other one last time and Cherry held out the
tiny posy of flowers she had gathered earlier.

Anne took them,
inhaling their fragrance and watched as they passed through the
door, Gerry closing it behind them.

Anne walked
blindly back into her bedroom, feeling as if her heart would break.
She walked to the drawer in which she kept her undergarments and
placed the flowers deep inside. She kept the dried blossoms for the
rest of her life.

Outside, the
fugitives stood in the darkness.

“Are we going
by the kitchen passage?” asked Lysbet.

“Yes, the one
that leads to the corrals at the foot of the cliffs,” whispered
Gerry. “I came up that way, it’s deserted.”

They were not
challenged. Michael Wallace, standing hidden in a doorway at the
opposite end of the courtyard from Anne’s rooms, watched them, his
first task to make sure they got to the passage undetected. He had
another sworn man at the foot of the passage who would make sure
the five had a clear run through to the corrals and out of the
immediate area.

Michael
listened and hearing no shouts of alarm, made his way out of Fort
by the main gateway as if he had just come off duty and was going
down the hill to experience the delights of the rough town that had
grown up at its foot. He walked casually and recognising him, the
gate guards passed him through with a wave and some friendly
banter.

“Going to try
one of the women in the encampment mate? There’s better up
here.”

“Aye,” replied
Michael, “just thought I’d take a look.”

“Try the King’s
Arms. Good grog. Give the Lord’s Castle a miss, all they serve
there is watered piss.”

“Thanks,”
answered Michael and strolled down the hill as if he didn’t have a
care in the world. He had something else to do before he might
experience the dubious delights of the pubs of the town.

Out of sight of
the guards, he checked that no one was looking then ducked off the
road and half-ran towards the wharf. When he reached the pier-head
he caught the eye of one of the loafers, incidentally a grey-haired
ex-arsonist called Sigvard. He was one of those who lived in the
hovels by the waterside and hired themselves out by the day to
whoever needed a set of unskilled hands.

Sigvard saw
Michael approach, caught his eye and nodded. Michael responded in
like manner then studiously looked away and walked towards the inn.
When the main warehouse facility went up in flames a short time
later, Michael could now honestly say the fire had nothing to do
with him. The man known as Sigvard had charged a lot of coin to
provide his fiery service. He would keep his mouth shut because
Michael Wallace might well need his services again someday and
Sigvard had an eye to the future.

Gerry in the
lead, the five escapees entered the dark passageway. It was unlit,
Gerry’s doing, he had snuffed out the torches on his way up. Lysbet
especially found the going difficult in her long skirts but they
hastened downhill, stumbling over the uneven ground. As they exited
a faint smur of rain began, which grew heavier as they passed
through the miserable livestock standing huddled against the fences
and began to climb towards the dugo bushes.

By the time
they reached the bushes where Louis and the Lind were waiting for
them, it was pouring hard.

“Nobody will
see us now,” said Gerry.

Lysbet stifled
a half-scream as Louis loomed out of the dripping darkness.

“Hush,” said
Gerry in a stentorian whisper, “he is a friend,” and he looked up
at Louis, “we’re all here lad … yours?”

The remembered
struggle ensued as they forced themselves through the bushes and
out the other side. The branches sprung back in place. Then Lysbet
and Cherry were staring open-mouthed at Ustinya, Aglaya, Alesei and
Baltvei. They all wore rope-riding harnesses hurriedly made by
Louis whilst he, Aglaya and Ustinya had waited for the other two to
reach them. Alesei and Baltvei had arrived that morning with
reports that Maurice was recovering and that neither Qenya nor Vsei
were worried about him. They would lie low and move north when
Maurice was able to ride without too much pain.

Gerry bent down
and laid the unconscious Joseph on the ground, rubbing his arms.
The boy was heavier than he looked.

Lysbet looked
about ready to drop with exhaustion. Louis took Gavin from her; the
wee lad was awake and beginning to squirm around.

“We’d better
not wait. Let’s mount up and ride through the dark, get as far away
as we can before dawn.”

“Agreed,” said
Gerry. He coughed, “now, who do you want where?”

“You’re the
only one who has ridden before,” said Louis.

“Horses lad,
quite different, but I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“You’ll manage
all right. In fact, you’ll have to and take the smallest boy in
your arms, sit him up in front of you. He can hold on to the pommel
strap. You ride Aglaya and I’ll pass him up to you. The wee lass on
Baltvei and Alesei can take Lysbet. I’ll manage this one,” he added
pointing at Joseph. “Strange how he can sleep through all
this.”

“Drugged, I’ll
tell you about it later” whispered Gerry, “now let’s ride, I really
want to be miles away from here before the Lords wake up to the
fact that we have gone. I’ll tell you what happened as we go.”

They mounted
without too much trouble after Louis and Gerry had slit open both
Lysbet and Cherry’s skirts so that they could ride astride and both
Alesei and Baltvei hunkered down so that the tyro riders could
mount. The two gasped as the Lind rose to their full height. Lysbet
especially seemed nervous about being perched so far from the
ground although Cherry didn’t seem to be as bothered. Gerry took a
look at Aglaya, eyebrow raised in challenge, daring her to do the
same hunkering-down manoeuvre then placed Gavin on her back. The
boy giggled. One fluid leap later he was up behind him, his legs
gripping Aglaya’s side as only an accomplished rider could. Lysbet
and Cherry on the other hand did not look nor feel at all secure
and Lysbet was holding on to the rope harness like grim death, a
terrified expression on her face.

“Grip with your
legs and hold on to the long hairs on the neck ruff,” Louis
advised, “we’ll start off slow so that you can get used to it.”

At a mental
command from Aglaya, they began to walk through the trees in single
file. Louis turned to Cherry and Baltvei riding behind him.

“Hang on
Cherry,” he said, “don’t let go of the straps. We’ll start running
a bit faster in a bit but Baltvei won’t let you fall.”

“I know,”
whispered Cherry, her white face staring at Louis, “Mummy said I
have to be brave and I promised her I wouldn’t cry.”

“That’s my
girl,” said Louis with a smile. “Jessica is waiting for you.”

“I miss Mummy,”
her mouth trembled.

Louis could
imagine the farewell between Anne and her daughter. Cherry’s
emotions were in a tumultuous state, she was only ten-years-old
after all and she had been through a lot over the last year and a
half. Having to say what might be a final farewell to her mother
must have seemed like the final horror.

He admired her
stoicism.

“Keep your chin
up,” he said. “We are going to run all night and you mustn’t cry
out.”

“I won’t,” she
answered. “I’ll save my crying for later.”

“That would be
best.”

: Baltvei
will look out for Cherry :
‘sent’ Ustinya
: He say he sense
her very clear :

They moved off.
Louis looked to see how the others were managing. Gerry rode Aglaya
with the ease of one reputed to have been born in the saddle.
Cherry was managing with little difficulty, a grin on her face, her
troubles momentarily forgotten. Lysbet rode stiffly, the ride was
hurting her and it most certainly wasn’t all that comfortable an
experience for Alesei. His frequent acerbic comments to Ustinya
rather bore this out.

And so they ran
on, silent as shadows in the night, the Lind weaving their way in
and out of the trees with practiced ease. When false dawn appeared
on the horizon they had reached one of the doms they’d passed on
their way south.

Even Gerry
dismounted with a wince. “Out of practice,” he said as his foot
touched the ground.

Lysbet Quirke
quite literally fell off Alesei’s back.

Cherry remained
on Baltvei’s back. Thinking there was something wrong, Louis placed
the squirming Joseph on the ground ordering him not to move and
approached her.

She looked at
the older boy shyly.

“He’s talking
in my head,” she exclaimed in joyous wonder.

Louis
smiled.

“Talk back to
him then,” he advised.

“Oh I am,” she
breathed breathlessly, “do I have to dismount?”

“I should,”
Louis replied, “we all need to rest, Baltvei included. He has been
running hard all night.”

She tumbled
down from the saddle blanket and rubbed her eyes. “I am a bit
sleepy,” she admitted and looked at her brother, who sat sullenly
on the ground where Louis had dumped him. “Do I have to sleep over
there with my brother?” she asked, “I’d really rather not. Joseph
isn’t very nice when he’s in a bad mood.”

“She can sleep
beside me,” offered Baltvei.

“Tend your
mount first,” said Gerry, handing her a currycomb. “That’s the
first rule.”

She took it and
began to brush the burrs out of Baltvei’s coat, watching Gerry and
copying what he was doing with Aglaya as far as she was able.
Baltvei seemed surprised at this unexpected attention but was
enjoying the process. Louis dealt with Ustinya as usual and then
both he and Gerry groomed Alesei.

“We must all
get some sleep,” said Louis.

“Are we being
followed?” asked Gerry.

Aglaya answered
him. “I think not. We run too fast for men and there is no Larg
smell anywhere.” Looking at Joseph, she added, “that one is
trouble. He needs a good clip round his neck-ruff.”

The sleeping
draught had worn off and Joseph had struggled for hours in Louis’s
arms before relapsing into a sullen silence interspersed with more
loud shouting and screaming.

“I want to go
back,” he kept insisting at the top of his lungs.

“I’ll deal with
this,” said a grim Gerry, motioning to the others to go and sit
with Lysbet and Gavin. “If necessary I’ll drug him again but let’s
see if I can talk some sense into him first.”

It took Gerry
an hour of fast-talking before he reported back to Aglaya. “He’ll
behave. The boy is scared and missing his mother although that’s
not the whole story, not by a long shot.”

As Gerry
unrolled his bedroll, he mused aloud and to no one in particular,
“I wonder what is happening to Anne back at Fort.”

All but Alesei
were fast asleep. He was on guard and chose not to answer.

* * * * *

Gerry’s absence
had been noticed first, Lysbet’s and the children’s not until much
later but it took Lord Sam Baker some time to put two and two
together.

Gerry was
missed at early milking. It was he who, nine times out of ten,
brought the cows into the barn and that morning when his co-workers
had appeared, lo and behold, the animals were still milling around
outside. This had made the overseer angry and he had sent one of
the men to kick Gerry out of his bedroll so that he could give him
a piece of his mind. The man had come running back reporting that
the room was empty. As Gerry, at that point, was settling down into
that self-same bedroll in the woods many miles to the north, this
was not surprising.

What the man
omitted to tell him was that Gerry’s room was more than just empty
of the missing cowman, but that it was
empty
. The overseer
therefore, did not feel any need to report his absence to anyone in
authority and ordered the man to get on with the milking and be
quick about it.

The overseer
grumbled to himself most of the morning and so did the men as they
struggled to extract the milk from a variety of cows that did not
appreciate the fact that other milkers had replaced their gentle
Gerry. His absence was not reported until mid-morning when, after
another fruitless search, the overseer climbed the passageway to
Fort to try and explain why the milk deliveries had been late that
morning.