“So?” Cromwell said, his face brightening once more. “News does reach you in that hole you occupy. Yes, this nation may finally come around to some sort of order, God willing. These are blessed days, my friend. The plans and schemes that we discussed in our-or at least my youth,” he said, looking Ealdstan up and down, “are bearing more fruit than even I had dared to imagine. I had thought, even at times of triumph, to be a sort of holy failure. A martyr, if God willed it. But now”-he took a deep breath and swung his arms around him-“can you smell it? There is something in the air. Men’s hearts have changed. We have moved closer to the Divine; we are climbing out from the ditch of sin that the kings and monarchists have steered us into. Through God’s grace, my ability granted through Him, and your good counsel, my friend. It is a new age of enlightenment-moral, spiritual, political. Holy times, my friend. Holy times.”
“I am glad you are pleased. With you ends the era of kings, and their confused, misguided folly.”
“In truth, Ealdstan,” Cromwell continued rapturously as they started a circuit around a rectangular reflecting pool, “when you and I talked and laid plans of revolution, I doubted. I was an unbeliever. Forgive me my foolish youth, friend.”
“Enough of that,” Ealdstan said. “Let us talk of next steps. What would you consider to be your fiercest regiment?”
“We will talk of payment later. First I must discuss my campaigns against the Irish and the Scots. You believe it is vital that we bow them to our rule?”
“Bow or break,” Ealdstan answered. “They must join. As must the Continent.” Ealdstan was drawn back hundreds of years by his thoughts. It once seemed possible-the Dane lands, the Frankish lands. . ties had been made with them that were to last until the end of the world. But the map was fragmented now. He had thought that familial bonds would strengthen ties between nations, but that was an error. Where there used to be family ties, there was only enmity. All the houses of the royals-boiled down to one big, ugly string of family disputes. This new return to a meritocracy, the way it used to be when England was young, was the way forward.
“This is the start of a golden age. I envision a union of nations across the earth. A commonwealth of spiritual holiness.”
Ealdstan blinked and bowed his head. “And then we may be able to weather the storm I see coming.”
Cromwell pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. Then he smiled and gripped Ealdstan’s shoulder with his massive soldier’s hand. “Such an ambitious vision, and one I doubt will be realised in my time,” he said. “I will try not to let you down, but this new order of government-it is a delicate thing and needs much protection. I will need all resources at my command.”
“Be not intractable,” Ealdstan said to him. “You would pay a man for giving you a house; would you not pay me for giving you a kingdom?”
Cromwell laughed. “Cursing me with one, you mean. In truth, I pay for nothing these days. What I need, I am given or I take. But worry not, old friend, due payment will come in due time, as my mother was well used to saying.”
Ealdstan bit his lip and tried to hold back a sneer.
_____________________ V _____________________
They were walking underneath the ocean and, contrary to expectations, it was extremely dry. Apart from a general damp in the air, and the odd slippery black slime underfoot and on the walls, there was nary a trickle of water anywhere.
Alex was impressed that the mechanics; while rudimentary, they were extremely effective. The strange diving mechanism involved a pool about four metres in diameter into which a massive framework dangled a greased length of chain attached to a cast iron weight. It was basic enough-you just cranked the weight up, put your feet in the stirrups, and held on to the braces, and then pulled out the locking mechanism. The weight plunged into the pool and dragged you with it-fighting the shock of the cold water and the oppressive pressure-to the bottom of the pool where you let go of the chain and navigated a U-shaped bend and climbed up into the tunnel system. The tunnel was dry since the air was in a closed system, not being able to escape out of either end. It was, however, very unpleasantly like being flushed.
To his credit, one of the Cornish knights volunteered to go first, making pessimistic predictions all the way. They waited for a breathless minute for him to return. The mechanism reset and then activated again, and he bobbed up, back on the chain. He was very wet and rather shaken, but otherwise fine. The rest of the knights pushed each other aside in an attempt not to be the last to so valiantly take this next step of the journey, leaving Alex and Ecgbryt to bring up the rear.
Dry though it may be, it certainly wasn’t pleasant under the ocean floor. The air pressure was almost unbearable; Alex kept having to clear his ears, and his eyes watered and he just felt-foggy, groggy.
Fortunately, the cave itself was well-carved and easy to traverse. It was smooth and fairly straight, yet they hadn’t gone a mile when it split. Ecgbryt made just the slightest pause at the split in the cave openings and then took the left path.
“Wait, hang on,” Alex said, flicking his torch on and wiping condensation off the map covering. “That’s south.”
“Swa swa,” Ecgbryt said, nodding. “Just so.” He and the eight newly awakened knights halted and turned to regard Alex.
“Well, so. . I don’t see this here. Surely we want to bear north if we want to get up to Ireland.”
“We’re not going to Ireland.”
“No?”
“No, we’re going to Cornouaille.”
Alex blinked. “We were just in Cornwall.”
“No, Cornouaille, in the Franks’ land.”
“The Franks’. .? You mean France?”
Ecgbryt nodded. “Just so.”
“There’s a Cornwall in France? How does that work?”
“It is a part of the original kingdom,” one of the Cornish knights broke in. Alex thought his name was Denzell. “Our people were once connected-Brytannica, Armorica, Gallaecia-a series of peninsular outposts and colonies.”
“Peninsular-?”
“I could tell you tales of King Mark and his faithful warrior-”
“Yes!” called Ecgbryt. “I would hear those tales!”
“In a minute,” Alex interrupted again. “About France-’’
“We are closer to it than we are to Ireland, and it seems doubtful to me that any other yfelgop band would make this journey.”
“Also, we can expect no love from the knights of Eire.”
There was a general murmur of agreement among the knights.
“Prickly most of the time, unpredictable at best, they have long memories and most likely would not forgive the licenses of the past. There is much bad blood.”
The knights carried on, chatting merrily, leaving Alex to tread along in a bewildered state. “Bad blood? Do they think France is going to be different?”
VI
Terrified now that she was so far out to sea that she couldn’t see the shore, Gretchen clutched tighter, resolving her dead man’s hold around the seal’s neck. This done, she then concentrated on breathing, which was fairly difficult under the circumstances.
She cursed herself. She was in a world of trouble now, and no mistake. There was a word for her creature-companion and she knew it welclass="underline" selkie. It was a word she had learned from her great grandmother when she went around to her house as a very young girl. Her great grandmother had just a couple battered children’s books kept in a box with some uninteresting wooden toys. When those stopped amusing, and Gretchen got restless, then Great Grandmother would talk to her. Sometimes it was just about what was going on with the people in the village, but on occasion she would tell one of her stories, one of the old and ancient tales of the area.
Gretchen always had trepidations about the stories and would never ask for one. That was because the stories absolutely terrified her. There wasn’t one of them that ended well for the little girls (and it was always little girls; Gretchen felt, even at five years old, that the way her great grandmother poked her in the ribs whenever she said “little girl” was needlessly heavy-handed). And, just like the situation Gretchen was in now, the heroines were always such victims of circumstance or innocent desire that there didn’t seem, at any point in the story, a way for them out of the sticky messes they had become mired in. Inevitably, that lead to their death, which her great grandmother would draw out beyond all taste or decorum, even for a five-year-old.