‘We’re in perfect position.’
Aubrey looked down. Lights twinkled from the houses and businesses of the spread-out city and outskirts. He could make out where the Salia River joined the Mosa River, the confluence being the reason a town grew here in the first place, the Romans knowing a good spot for a trading post when they saw one. For a moment, Aubrey had a vision of an ancient property agent pointing out the delightful river frontage to a centurion, and how the place would be close to schools and shops – when they were eventually built – and deciding not to overquote once the centurion starting fingering his well-used blade.
More sombrely, however, Aubrey took note of more recent developments. North and east of the city he could see earthworks and fortifications. The approach to the city in that direction followed the valley of the Salia River, between beetling ridges of higher land that – some thirty or forty miles away – became the Grentellier Mountains. The open land either side of the road and the river was entrenched and mounded, and sprouted barbed wire much as an ancient ruin would throw up ivy. A fortress loomed on the city side of this build-up. As well as being the centre of the military precinct, it was the gateway to the airfield beyond, where mooring masts stood lonely on the banks of the river.
He wiped his eyes. He was humbled by the confidence George and Caroline had in him. They were perfectly happy throwing themselves out of the dirigible and relying on him. The small bundle of equipment he’d managed to drop successfully, on a previous pass over their position, had been enough for them. Aubrey was their man.
As an alternative, Aubrey had asked Lieutenant Davey about the new parachute devices he’d heard of. The airman had laughed and told him that the airship corps refused to have anything to do with parachutes because if the crew could simply abandon ship, they’d do nothing to save the craft when in difficulty.
Aubrey’s opinion of the military mind was confirmed by this. Why have common sense when you can have rules instead?
Aubrey wiped rain from his eyes and tugged on his close-fitting black cap. I’m confident, he told himself. More than that, I’m confident I’m confident.
Captain Bailey was confident too. His bluff assurances that he’d had dozens of operatives who’d managed such a procedure was meant to be comforting, but was undercut when he’d declared that most of them survived.
Caroline’s voice sounded close behind him. ‘Time, Aubrey, I should think.’
Aubrey hadn’t had any ulterior motive when he arranged his friends on the rope. Naturally, he had to go first. And naturally George was the ideal rearguard man. That meant Caroline had to take the place right behind him. Of course, they’d have to bunch up before they stepped off the ledge...
‘Put your hands on my shoulders,’ he said.
‘Like this?’
Exactly like that. And can you move a little closer? ‘That’s fine. George?’
‘Right here, old man.’
They’d dressed warmly, in heavy overcoats, boots and gloves, all black so as not to stand out against the night sky. It didn’t stop Aubrey from shivering a little as he contemplated the drop, and he was acutely conscious of the weight of the gold sovereigns strapped around his waist, part of the funds to be used for their mission. He knew, intellectually, that being heavier wouldn’t make him fall any faster, but a primitive part of his brain had other ideas and it was the one that was squeezing his panic gland. ‘On the count of three, everyone. Right. One, two, THREE!’
An instant of tangling, a roaring whoosh in the ears, the buffeting of wind and hard rain, and Aubrey found he was looking up at the bulk of the airship and wondering why it was moving away from them so quickly. Then his perceptions righted themselves and he realised it wasn’t rising – they were falling.
‘Aubrey!’ Caroline tugged on his arm and her face swam into view. She was wearing an aviator’s leather helmet to keep her hair in, and her eyes were huge in the night time. ‘The spell!’
He knew he’d forgotten something.
With George flailing away nearby, doing his best impression of a crested grebe, and Caroline undulating gracefully, Aubrey found it difficult to concentrate, but the undeniable – and looming – presence of the earth beneath them gave him the necessary incentive.
He rolled out the Akkadian syllables and inserted a considered value for their rate of descent – then their plummet slowed so dramatically that he nearly lost his supper. George squawked in what Aubrey hoped was a continued approximation of the crested grebe, just in case any of the inhabitants of Divodorum were insomniac skywatchers with good hearing.
When he’d gathered himself sufficiently, and disengaged his neck from the woollen scarf that had taken on boa constrictor-like qualities, Aubrey quickly estimated how fast they were falling and was relieved to see that the treetops below were relatively stationary. The rain squall had passed, too, and if it weren’t for the wind he decided he’d be quite enjoying their position.
He turned to Caroline. Her teeth were white in the darkness. ‘Isn’t it wonderful, Aubrey! I can see for miles!’
Aubrey was enchanted all over again by a magic much more subtle than his craft. Caroline’s unashamed excitement made his heart thump even more than could be accounted for by their plummeting.
George bobbed over, pulling himself closer by the rope around their waists. He jerked a thumb at the ground and looked quizzical. Aubrey sighed. He needed to bring their fall under control.
‘Drag yourselves closer!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll get us down!’
The rope seemed like a good idea at the time, Aubrey thought as he tried to push his face away from the rough bark of the tree. The rope had tangled around the trunk, trapping him close. ‘Caroline! George! Are you all right?’
‘Up here, Aubrey.’
With some difficulty, Aubrey levered his head a little away from the trunk and peered up through the leaves. Caroline was perched on a solid branch, looking down with some concern. She’d managed to hook one end of the rope around a projecting limb. While he clung to the trunk, he was taking the weight of the other end, but if he slipped he could drag her off.
‘Where’s George?’
‘Over here, old man, upside down and swinging away.’
Aubrey tried to look to his left, but couldn’t move his head in that direction. ‘Is anyone hurt? I mean, apart from my bark rash?’
‘Uncomfortable,’ George said, ‘but unharmed.’
‘I’m quite comfortable,’ Caroline said. ‘Can you hold on, Aubrey?’
Aubrey had his arms wrapped around the trunk of the tree. He wasn’t quite sliding downward, but he couldn’t find anything to grip on to. ‘Not for long.’
‘Right. I’ll just need a minute.’
Aubrey made out a flash in the darkness. The pressure on his rope eased and for a panicked moment, he fell. Then, after barely a foot, he was brought up short and he clutched the trunk, his heart racing.
‘There,’ Caroline said briskly, as if she were discussing a garden arrangement. ‘The rope is secure now. You can climb up. George?’
‘Still dangling here.’
‘I’ve cut your rope away from me. I’m now going to drop off my branch while holding it.’
‘What? Are you sure?’
‘You’ll be hauled up to the branch. Do grab it.’
Aubrey had been inching up the trunk, but he nearly let go of his end of the rope. ‘Caroline! What about you?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me.’
He needn’t have. In the darkness, it was hard to make out, but a bulky, cursing shape shot upward, almost colliding with him on its upward passage, and somewhere overhead it thumped into a branch with enough force to make the tree shake. More cursing, then a shower of twigs and leaves fell about Aubrey’s head. ‘George?’