Va threw the rest of the cloak into the fire. It hung half in, half out, and the burning wood had already been supplemented by dry paper. Then he was distracted by Akisi coming round and struggling with his bonds.
‘This is justice, thief,’ Va said in Rus. ‘I’ve got the book and I’ve got you.’ He picked up the heavy table and jammed it against the wall underneath the window, then tied the free end of the rope to one of the table legs.
As he started to drag Akisi across the floor towards the window, the man squeaked and moaned behind his gag. He tried to twist and turn, but the rope held him excruciatingly tight, so that he was powerless to resist his progress up onto the table and head-first out of the window.
Va stepped up onto the table behind him, belayed the rope around his shoulder and waist, and pushed with his foot. Akisi tumbled out of sight, and the rope snapped taut with a creak.
Let him fall. An accident. He wouldn’t mean to break the Kenyan on the courtyard below. He could let the rope slide out of his fingers and it would be over. That particular book would be closed for ever.
Eleven more volumes, he told himself. Eleven more. He mustn’t kill Akisi. He swallowed the bile down.
When he could trust himself again, the fire had spread from the hearth to the rug. He forced his hands open a fraction, and the rope started to pay out. He was almost at the end of it when it went limp. Akisi had reached the ground.
He snatched the black bundle of cloth up from the floor, where it was starting to scorch, and slipped his forearm through the bindings. The room was filling with smoke, some of which had to be filtering down the tower. Perhaps firing the room hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He had been too zealous.
Back onto the table, turn, loop the rope once and step in, bringing the loop up across his back. Step out onto the ledge, and fly.
The rope hissed against his callused palms. He didn’t need it to stop him, just to slow him down. The ground rushed up and he pressed his knees together, bent his legs and waited for the hard earth to slap the soles of his feet.
Va rolled with the blow and sprang up. Above him, thick white smoke was billowing out of both the window and the chimney, and the flicker of wild flames lit it in bright orange and red.
Elenya ran out to him. ‘What the hell have you done?’
‘God’s work,’ he said, cutting through the rope that still snaked upwards to the tower window.
‘If the fire spreads to those sheds, what do you think will happen?’
‘I . . . don’t know.’
‘Stupid, stupid man. You’d never have won Novy Rostov like this. You’d never have lived long enough to pick up a sword in the first place.’ She kicked Akisi. ‘Pick him up and get us out of here. I came along to watch you die, not get myself killed.’
‘The harbour,’ said Va.
‘We have to get there first. You going to carry him all the way?’
‘Yes. Here,’ he said, pressing the book on her. ‘Don’t drop it.’
He sliced the rope that joined Akisi’s hands to his feet, then attempted to throw him over his shoulder. Akisi struggled wildly, jerking like a beached fish, and Va couldn’t hold him.
Elenya slapped the Kenyan’s face hard. ‘He won’t kill you, but I will. Be still.’
‘I wouldn’t let you kill him.’
‘Then you’d end up fighting me.’ The first piece of roof collapsed, sending out a shower of sparks into the night sky. ‘Can we run away now?’ she said.
They dodged through the courtyard and began to hear voices raised in panic, from both inside and outside the tower. A gate burst inwards, and it was only luck that enabled them to hide behind the still-swinging door. A group of men stopped, looked, dithered, then ran towards the tower. Slates were sliding down, shattering, as the roof timbers gave way. With the men fully occupied dodging the bombardment, Va and Elenya ran out of the compound and into the darkened streets of An Cobh.
‘Do you know which way we’re going?’ said Elenya. The book was awkwardly heavy, but not as heavy as Akisi.
‘The sea is this way. I can smell it.’
They turned a corner and came face to face with a group of people wrapped in shawls and cloaks, woken by the noise. An elderly man thought nothing of giving chase, his nakedness exposed by the blanket he held around his thin waist flapping in the wind.
The cry went up, and soon they had a stretched-out trail of followers dogging them through the streets. Only if they threw their burdens away were they going to escape.
Then, in front of them, the clan macDonnabhan blocked their way. Va turned and saw that their pursuers had formed a knot at the last junction. Elenya put the book under one arm and reached for her knife.
‘You call this a plan? Half the town is looking for you.’ said Eoin macDonnabhan. He cleared his throat and called, ‘Everything is under control. We have them now.’
‘Will you take them to the king?’ someone shouted back.
‘They’ll get what they deserve, for sure.’ In a lower voice, so that only his clansmen, Va and Elenya could hear, he added, ‘A sound hiding for getting caught. Now drop Akisi and look beaten.’
Va hesitated, and macDonnabhan stepped forward, brandishing a sword as tall as he was. Elenya held out her knife and levelled it at macDonnabhan’s heart.
‘For God’s sake, Princess, do you not recognize friends when you see them? I swore you help, and though it feels like a ceilidh is going on in my head, a macDonnabhan keeps his word.’
She poked Va in the ribs. ‘Put Akisi down. Now.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. It’s now or never.’
He slid him to the ground. Akisi’s eyes showed relief and gratitude, though only for a moment. Clearly expecting to be cut free, he squealed and kicked as two macDonnabhans picked him up as he was and rushed him away. Eoin macDonnabhan held up his hand to acknowledge the crowd and pushed Va and Elenya after Akisi’s retreating feet.
‘Go. Hurry. Did you not steal any horses? Horses would be better than a boat.’
‘We didn’t steal any horses,’ said Elenya.
‘And I thought the sons of Aeire were mad fools.’ He hurried them along. ‘We have to get you out of the town, then out of the king’s land.’
‘What about you?’
‘It’ll mean exile for us, which won’t be easy, but the clan macDonnabhan has favours owing in Ciarra.’ They reached the small port. Amongst the sunken masts of waterlogged boats there was a rowing boat, oars stowed across the seats.
Va, stumbling on beside Elenya, asked her: ‘What are they doing?’
‘They’re giving us a chance. I suggest we take it.’
Solomon Akisi was dumped in the bottom of the boat. It rocked alarmingly, and water sloshed in the bilge. Va clasped Eoin macDonnabhan to him like a brother, surprising himself more than the Aeireann. Then he stepped onto the seat and started fitting the oars in the rowlocks.
‘Goodbye, Princess,’ said macDonnabhan. ‘The world is wide and we may yet meet again. Perhaps then you’ll be able to give your heart to a man who’ll cherish it, rather than reject it.’ He looked askance at Va, who in his unintelligible tongue was already urging a clansman to untie the mooring rope.
Elenya held his steadying hand as she climbed into the bow. ‘Find comfort elsewhere, Eoin macDonnabhan. I’d make a poor wife for any man.’
‘You judge yourself harshly, Princess Elenya. May the road rise up to meet you, and the wind be always at your back.’
Va hauled on the oars, and they inched away from the dock. With his next stroke they moved further out. A wave caught the bow, making the boat bob up and down.
‘What was macDonnabhan saying?’ grunted Va. He pulled again, and slowly they headed out to sea. Lights moved through An Cobh: the tower was a ruddy beacon of flickering light, and smaller fires of torches and lanterns dashed about like bugs.
‘He was wishing us Godspeed.’ Elenya tapped the book on her lap. ‘And I was wishing him the same.’