The Weaver & The Loom – complete

The Carter Seagrove Book Boutique Edition

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

2nd Edition

Contents

Author’s Note

The Weaver & The Loom

Chapter One – Cruse’s visit

Chapter Two – The young man and a conversation with Jason

Chapter Three – Jason’s visit that evening

Chapter Four – Elam’s Visit

Chapter Five – The delivery to Father Abraham

Chapter Six – The Egyptians

Chapter Seven – The wheel turns

Chapter Eight – “... and you will pay the price ...”

Chapter Nine – An act of pure kindness

Chapter Ten – something will be born

Chapter Eleven – and something will die

Epilogue

The Weft – Journey to Deuxfleurs

Chapter One – Departure

Chapter Two – The stop at Angus and Dilly’s

Chapter Three – The Inn at Dreihus and the Incident at the Horse Shoe

Chapter Four – The Ford Inn

Chapter Five – Aubade

Chapter Six – The River Journey to Saint Clair

Chapter Seven – Saint Clair and the Arrival of the Aeronaut

Chapter Eight – The Journey to Deuxfleurs

Chapter Nine – Deuxfleurs

Chapter Ten – Elam

Chapter Eleven – Elam’s Choice

Epilogue

The Doom Clock

Chapter One – The Scales of Justice

Chapter Two – The Assassin

Chapter Three – The Doom Clock

Chapter Four – Revelations and Preparations

Chapter Five - Spectacle

Chapter Six – Engagement

Chapter Seven – Desolation

Chapter Eight – Arrivals

Chapter Nine – Departures

Chapter Ten – A Vision of the Future

Epilogue

Author’s Note

'The Weaver & The Loom - complete' is the single volume which contains all three parts of the story: 'The Weaver & The Loom - the warp', 'The Weft - Journey to Deuxfleurs' and 'The Doom Clock'.

Each of the individual stories has been published standalone. The decision to combine the individual stories was taken to make it easier for you, the reader, to enjoy this love affair between Jonah, the weaver and Jason, the boatwright.

The prequel to the ‘The Weaver & The Loom’ has also been published; ‘The Boatwright’.

Feedback is always welcome so please feel free to email me:

alpmortal@hotmail.com

And visit the website:

www.alpmortal.weebly.com

www.carterseagrove.weebly.com

Thank you,

Alp Mortal

August 2014

The Weaver & The Loom

Part one – the warp

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

2nd Edition

Chapter One – Cruse’s visit

“Jonah, are you there?”

A moment later, Jonah appeared at the door.

“Cruse, what brings you here?”

“News from the village ... someone has taken over the old workshop. Henrietta said it was a young man and he was unloading a loom from Jason’s cart which had carried him and his belongings from the jetty.”

“A weaver!”

“A rival.”

“That remains to be seen; I am grateful for the news. Are you thirsty? I have the kettle on the fire ...”

“No, I have to go. The Tithe Sargent wants me to audit the granary this day; the Collector comes soon.”

“Right you are; I’ll be seeing you then.”

“Goodbye, Jonah.”

“Goodbye, Cruse.”

Jonah re-entered the cottage to contemplate the news which the thresher had carried to him. He removed the kettle from the range and sat at the table; in front of him his loom. The loom his great-grandfather had made; the loom used by four generations of his family.

The loom was made of oak; a box-frame loom of the simplest design, but to Jonah’s mind that was what made it even more beautiful. The brass pins gleamed in the half-light of the cottage; seventy-two pins along the top edge and the same number along the bottom, at half inch intervals. The frame was three feet square, pegged and braced across the corners. It was mounted on a frame which sat on the table for easier working.

The wood was dark and as smooth as skin; the rich grain radiated warmth, glowing like amber in candle light. It reminded him of Jason’s back as the young man sanded the boards in the boatyard. The muscles of the young man’s back were powerful but not pronounced. They worked beneath the skin and the skin was a window; a lustrous, dark glass, a crown glass, showing the grain of the oak upon which it had cooled in the vitrine maker’s shop.

And he was always reminded of the clock in his grandfather’s house. The case of the clock had a panel of glass, behind which the pendulum swung. On rare occasions his grandfather would remove the mechanism for cleaning and the cogs and gears were bright and silent. This is how he saw Jason; bright and silent gears running in a beautiful oak case; his arms moving the plane or the sanding block from side to side like a pendulum.

On the loom at this time was the last of the sleeves for the new prayer cushions for the church. Thirty-six he’d been asked to make. The last, like the first, woven from wine red wool in a worsted weight and around the yarn was wrapped the finest gold thread. It was a tight weave, to withstand the use of decades to come. His grandfather had made the last ones.

He sat squarely and straight and addressed the loom. Picking up the shed stick, a piece of rosewood, he wove it across, picking up the alternate warp threads and when he reached the last thread, he twisted the tool so that the threads were lifted, creating the shed through which he passed the shuttle. This was the simplest loom and the simplest weave. The shuttle, a flat stick with a notch at each end, was wound with the yarn. He passed it through the shed, from one side to the other, and when he had pulled the yarn to take up the slack, he turned the shed tool again, clamping the weft thread between the alternate warp threads. He pushed the new row, called the ‘pick’, down with his battening reed. It looked like a comb, the teeth fitted between the warp threads and he pushed down hard to compact the threads. He repeated the operation, first from one side then from the other, creating his web of dark wine red and gold. In the centre of the piece, there was to be a cross which he would embroider by hand with gold thread after he’d cut the piece off of the loom.

As the shed stick was woven across from one selvedge to the other, it first flew over the first warp thread and then ducked under the second, flew over the third and ducked under the fourth. He chanted to himself, “over ... under ... over ... under ... over ...” He never missed a warp thread and each one took less than a second to fly over or duck under and he was quick, taking a minute for each pick; the bizarre ticking of a clock. With work to keep the tension even and battening the fell edge after each pick was woven, he managed forty-five picks an hour. Each piece took eight hours to make; three hundred and sixty rows, ten per inch when he used the worsted weight and he was satisfied with that. After a day in the chair, the piece would be finished, bar the cutting off, which he would leave until the following day when the morning light streamed into the cottage.

His mother had taught him how to sew and embroider. He remembered her smiling at him as he sat as a child at the worktable, barely able to see over the edge, copying her, making tabards for the wooden soldiers that his grandfather made; white linen tabards with an embroidered red cross. His grandfather sold them in the market. He still had one, but the linen was a little grubby and the cross more than a little faded but it stood on the table in the corner. It was often used as a paperweight for the bills from the merchant for the yarn and the thread. In front of the soldier, his spoils: two wax candles, three gold needles, a box of pins, scissors of silver, a magnifying glass, a thimble and a pin cushion.

He wove an inch and then stopped; Cruse’s news paralysed his hands.

“I should walk to the village tomorrow and introduce myself to the young man. He is a weaver after all; we may help each other.”

But for all of his upbeat tone, the shadow of rivalry passed across his face and settled on his brow where the furrows and creases looked like the weft and warp of his destiny being woven.

Chapter Two – The young man and a conversation with Jason

He did no more work that day and busied himself in the garden. He had the time; the Father of the Church did not need the new cushion sleeves until just before Easter, in ten days’ time, when a blessing by the Bishop was expected. The Tithe Sargent had already white-washed the walls of the church and Jason had repaired the pulpit steps using the Squire’s timber. All paid their tithe, all paid their dues and all cursed their good fortune.

Jonah rose early the following day and dressed in his best work attire; the shirt of plain linen without a collar like his grandfather’s, a waistcoat of sage green wool which he’d woven himself with buttons of pewter, breeches of black silk, dyed blood red socks and his leather boots. The walk to the village took less than an hour and the weather was very fine. Taking the lane from the cottage, he passed the orchard and joined the high road at the cross. He was passed by a trap travelling at some speed; the driver was whipping the horse, needlessly in Jonah’s opinion. The men in the trap were not local and he had never seen them before.

It wasn’t the Collector, he never travelled at speed; a steady pace suited him, much like his manner of counting the coin handed over at the counting house each quarter.

Jonah hadn’t finished the last prayer cushion sleeve and therefore carried no pack. He walked smartly, the pain across the middle of his back, the curse of weavers like himself, felt easier today. His brow was no less furrowed but he said to himself that there was no point in worrying unduly until he had met the new weaver. If he had a big loom then maybe he was only interested in making the new blankets and winter coats for the Battalion at Tilly.

Jonah entered the village from the south end, the pond end, where the drovers watered their sheep and cattle. He skirted the green and headed for the store to see Henrietta to pay his tithe and buy bread. After that, he planned to visit Jason at the yard and then call on the weaver. If Jason had ferried him from the jetty he may know more, at least the man’s name.

The trap which had passed him on the high road was stationed outside the shop. He entered and was almost immediately called upon by Henrietta to provide assistance.

“Jonah, you speak the language of the City; what is it these gentlemen want?”

Jonah asked one of the men, the older of the two, to repeat his question; which he did.

“He is looking for the new weaver and is asking for directions, Henrietta.”

Jonah gave the man the desired directions and after thanks was given, the two men left.

“Good morning, Henrietta.”

“Good morning, Jonah. Did Cruse call on you yesterday and give you the news?”

“Yes, he did. I intend to call on the new weaver myself and I am intrigued by these visitors. But first I must pay the tithe and buy some bread.”

Henrietta was a relative of Jonah’s, a cousin on his mother’s side, daughter of Olivier, the apothecary’s wife, though Henrietta was not the apothecary’s own daughter. The apothecary, now deceased, was the Squire’s brother and had married Olivier for the money, the house and the horse.

“The tithe is twenty florries, Jonah.”

“Twenty!”

“The Battalion must be re-armed.”

“What good will that do?”

“I argue not, Jonah; I just collect the tithe.”

Jonah handed over his share and bought bread, his revenue from the loom barely covered his expenses. It was only due to the fact that he grew his own vegetables, had inherited his father’s stock of cloth and his mother’s frugalness that he survived at all; though he was luckier than most ... the cottage was his, inherited from his aunt.

He recalled her funeral. His father had woven the cloth which had covered the coffin; black wool, very soft, embroidered with her initials and the family crest. Jonah had been her favourite. The son, William, had died in the last war; she had no one else to leave the cottage to.

Prior to that, Jonah had lived in the village. His family had lived in the village since the dawn of time. When he inherited the cottage, he’d given the house in the village for the new school. The workshop, the one which the new weaver was now occupying, had been sold to the Squire to pay off a debt incurred by his father in some dealings with cloth merchants from the City. The worry of the debt had sent both of his parents to an early grave. The Squire had loaned his father the money but the hold the Squire then had was like a gauntleted fist around their hearts; a fist which literally squeezed them to death. Relations between Jonah and the Squire were barely cordial and a perpetual hoar frost existed over all their dealings.

Jonah left the store and headed for the workshop first; his curiosity pricked. It was probably too early to find Jason at the yard in any event. The workshop was by the river. His father had planned to install a water wheel and drive a big loom; it was just a dream. Jonah had no desire to do it; he preferred to sit at the table and weave at the frame. He walked through the village and turned at the church; Father Abraham was at the gate.

“Jonah, good morning.”

“Good morning, Father.”

“On your way to meet the new weaver?”

“Yes, I am off there to pay my respects. I gave some gentlemen directions to the workshop from the store ...”

“Engineers, advising him on the installation of the waterwheel.”

“Ah; that follows.”

“When can I have the cushion sleeves?”

“The day after tomorrow; the last one is ready to be cut from the frame.”

“Excellent!” But there was a tone in the Father’s voice which betrayed his good humour.

“What is it, Father?”

“I fear you will suffer; the prayer cushion sleeves are probably the last commission I can put your way. This new fellow has already said to the Squire that he will produce the best quality at a very good price; and with water power, he will have all the advantages over you.”

“But I couldn’t weave the blankets or the coats for the Battalion in any event.”

“That is understood; but if he gets business of one kind, I’m pretty sure he’ll get the rest … and the Squire will give him all of the civic commissions.”

“Yes, of that I’m certain. Still, I have my customers and I specialise in the finest work, not in the production of acres of blanketing.”

“Think on, Jonah.”

Everyone it seemed, advised Jonah to worry for his daily bread. He continued on his journey, less smartly and the pain across his back returned, as if someone had suddenly laid upon it the cross of the crucifixion.

He continued along the road that led to the workshop and the river. He could see the trap and the horse, which was unharnessed and munching on the sweet grass by the bank. The workshop had double doors which opened onto the road side and they were pushed fully back. Jonah could see the interior and the three men were standing in the middle of the room, deep in conversation.

They saw him and the older of the visitors said something to the young weaver, who stepped out.

“Good day, villager,” said the young man.

“Good day! I am Jonah.”

“I am Elam.”

“Welcome to the village. You already know that I am a weaver; this used to be my father’s workshop.”

“Yes, Jason told me ... we are having some difficulties; I cannot make myself fully understood. You speak their language do you not?”

“Yes, I am fluent. I can help you if you wish.”

“Oh, please! I would be very grateful.”

Jonah was introduced to the two men, City engineers, John and Claude. Within an hour, they had explained the difficulties. Jonah had translated everything and the solutions were agreed upon. The men left to meet the train at Chokley, which was bringing the equipment they needed. Jonah was left with Elam, who looked uncertain of his ground.

“You look pensive, Elam. This will be a fine business if, as you say, you have the contract for the Battalion.”

“Yes, I do; the Squire assisted with the negotiations but this is my first foray into the proper world of commerce.”

“It is daunting but you have the contract; and a water-powered loom, such as the one you are planning, will produce a good quality and for that you can demand a reasonable price ...”

“I am very fortunate ... tell me of your loom.”

This figure of speech was common between weavers; it bound them as securely as the woven warp and weft.

“It is very simple; she works hard and is very patient with me. Drop by the cottage and I’ll introduce you. The day after tomorrow I will be delivering goods to the Father at the church; come by in the morning and see them before I package up the sleeves for the prayer cushions.”

“I will ... I would be honoured. Thank you for your assistance today ... but I suspect the real challenge has not yet begun. If your customers are loyal to you then I might have my work cut out to win myself any friends, or business, once the Battalion has been re-clothed.”

“I do not think there will be any difficulty there; we are hardly competing. I do not weave as you do; I only take small commissions, one-offs ...”

“The Squire hinted that other civic commissions would come my way if the Commander was satisfied with my quality.”

“Of that there is no doubt; concentrate on getting the loom installed, Elam, nothing will happen until it is ... a word of advice ... respect the authority of the Squire but do not put yourself in his debt ...”

“Thank you for the warning.”

“Merely sound advice; be in no one’s debt.”

“I’ll drop by tomorrow then, Jonah.”

“Turn right at the cross and follow the road past the orchard. It is the only cottage for miles, you can’t miss it.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Jonah walked along the bank of the river to Jason’s yard. He was there now.

“Jason ...”

“Jonah, how goes this day?”

“Very fine; I have met Elam, the new weaver.”

“A water-powered loom ...”

“Yes, something my father dreamed about his whole life.”

“Look to your business, Jonah.”

“We shan’t compete. I never wove the cloth that he plans to weave; there is room for us both.”

“The Squire may think differently.”

“He has sway but not everyone listens to him.”

“May I call upon you tonight?”

“Of course!”

“I have missed you, what with the repairs to the pulpit and the Squire’s refurbishment of the dock.”

“Come after seven; I must finish the prayer cushions in time for the Bishop’s visit.”

“I yearn for those arms to be around me.”

“I yearn for that and much more.”

The men parted and Jonah felt lighter in his spirits for the conversation with the young weaver and for having seen Jason. He wandered back to the village and intended to call in on Henrietta before heading home. The Squire was outside the store, talking to the Tithe Sargent.

“Jonah, how are things?” the Tithe Sargent asked.

“I cannot complain, though the tithe was pretty steep this time.”

“The Battalion needs to be re-armed,” interjected the Squire.

“For what purpose, Squire? There is no threat of war. No one wants war anymore, it interferes with trade.”

“Threat or no, they need to be re-armed and re-clothed.”

“Yes, I have met the new weaver. A sound business he shall have, if he pays attention.”

“Will yours be so sound once he is up and running?”

“I see no competition.”

“I say wait until you see his quality and his prices.”

“I say there should be enough for us both, if contracts are awarded fairly.”

The Squire said nothing and the momentary pause was a little awkward.

“I have work to do, excuse me,” said Jonah, his point having been made and he entered the shop, “Henrietta ...”

Henrietta was in the back.

“Coming, Jonah ... what can I do for you?” she asked as she came through from the parlour.

“The commission for the Father is almost done. I will finish it today so the loom will be free. Do you still wish me to make the new table linen?”

“Of course, Jonah.”

“Good, I’ll start it tomorrow and bring you samples on Friday.”

“The Squire has convinced the Father to give the new weaver the commission for the new altar cloth.”

Jonah was momentarily stunned.

“But ...”

“You should speak to him; the Father I mean.”

“Yes, I will, when I deliver the prayer cushion sleeves.”

Jonah left and thankfully the street was empty. Henrietta’s news was very upsetting. His family had always woven the altar cloth; it both asserted his status and his merit; this shook the very foundations of his belief in his worth. Of course he knew that the Squire was meddling; but not everyone understood the games that they played and some would assume that he was no longer ‘the weaver’.

By the time he got home, his head ached and his heart felt as if the Squire had his fist around it; he knew now how his mother and father had felt and how they had suffered.

Chapter Three – Jason’s visit that evening

Jonah worked on into the afternoon to complete the commission and by the time that Jason called at a quarter past seven, the task was complete and the sleeves were folded and ready to be delivered. As habit dictated, he had cleaned the loom; it was polished and wrapped in its cloth, awaiting the next commission.

“Come in, Jason.”

“You look tired, Jonah.”

“I had a headache and work to do; everything is fine now.”

Jason closed the door. It was twilight and Jonah lit the candles; earlier than he would have done if he had been alone, but he lusted over the sight of Jason in the flickering amber light.

For a time they said nothing and just held each other, wrapping each other in their arms, soaking up the pure love that they had for one another.

“I still say we should declare our love to the world, Jonah.”

“Is the world ready for that? I barely feel ready for it ...”

“Do I not give you strength and courage?”

“Both, in spades; I never felt a purer love in my whole life. I wonder if I am worthy of such a gift.”

“Do not doubt that.”

“Do you need to eat?”

“No, I ate with Henrietta. I brought some wine. The City engineers gave me two bottles; dark and smoky it looks.”

“From the south west I expect.”

“Did you go there?”

“Once, with my mother to see her mother before she died.”

“I wish I had travelled.”

“There is still time … you are young.”

“We should go together.”

“Perhaps we should ... open the wine whilst I tend to the fire; it is cooler tonight.”

“I will keep you warm.”

For the first time in so many days, Jonah smiled.

“That’s better.”

They sat for a time and drank a little of the wine, analysing the weaver’s prospects. Once Jonah had disclosed that the Squire had given the new weaver the commission for the altar cloth, it was Jason’s turn to look tired and pained.

“He meddles and excuses away his games as the proper conduct of a Squire and a Magistrate.”

“It is for that reason that no one meddles with him; no one wants to be sent to the Hole!”

“Don’t talk of these things; I need you.”

“I am so much older than you, Jason. I sometimes think you are blind.”

“I can see perfectly well … and I cannot argue with what my heart tells me.”

“No, nor I. I wish to forget the troubles in store ...”

“Let me smooth away some of the furrows tonight. Did you notice how the weaver has his hair short?”

“Yes, perhaps it is the custom where he is from.”

“I cannot imagine anything better than having my hands in your curls, wrapping them around my fingers, like serpents, smooth, silky serpents ...”

Jonah stood up and moved to behind Jason’s chair, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the young man, kissing his head, taking in the scent of the wood and the varnish and the soap. Jason leaned his head back so that they could kiss.

“I taste the wine on your tongue, Jonah.”

“I wish to taste you on mine.”

This love, which remained hidden, was no less powerful or pure than any declared love - perhaps stronger for it - the public restraint merely fuelling the needs and desires rather than dulling them.

The cottage was small but it had a tiny bedroom upstairs to which they stepped lightly; Jonah leading Jason by the hand. It was nearly dark but still possible to make out the bed and the small table beside it where there was a candle, which Jonah lit.

“I love you, Jason.”

“I love you, Jonah.”

Jonah stepped up to the young man and began to unfasten his shirt; the same collarless style they all habitually wore. Jason always had his sleeves rolled up, except in Church. As the buttons were undone, the oak case of the clock was revealed. His daily toil of sawing, planning and sanding had given Jason a body to envy; the colour of oak but not hard like oak, firm, yes, but yielding. Jason contorted with the pleasure of the sensation of Jonah tracing lines across his torso; first with his fingers then with his lips and then with his tongue.

Jonah pushed the shirt off Jason’s back and tugged it free from the trousers and placed it on the chair. He continued to trace lines all over Jason’s upper body and all the while Jason had his arms stretched up, but at a certain point, he brought his arms down and took hold of Jonah’s face and kissed his lips as if he should starve or die from the lack of oxygen if he didn’t. They untied each other’s hair, loosening the ribbon which all men of the village wore. None had their hair cut; it was scrapped back and tied in a ponytail with a black ribbon. Jonah’s hair was curly and beneath the ribbon, where his hair was free flowing, it resembled a mass of seething black serpents, soft, shiny serpents, twisted and contorted as if they were in their death throes.

With hair free from the ribbon, Jason indulged himself and plunged his hands into the mass of black snakes and brought handfuls to his lips to caress. Need had been expressed and now demanded to be satisfied. Jonah knelt in front of Jason and undid his trousers; one hand undoing the buttons and with the other caressing the stomach. Of all things, he loved the man’s stomach. It was where he fancied the cogs, springs and gears which moved the arms were held in their elastic, oaken casing. The trousers slipped down and he pushed them all the way down so that Jason could stand free of them.

Jason, like all the men, wore the underwear that had been fashion for centuries in those parts; fairly loose shorts made of cotton blended with silk. They had a pouch that made them very comfortable to wear, especially during hot work. His manhood filled the pouch even when he was soft. Hard as he was now, it strained against the fabric and stretched the pouch to its limit. His underwear was green, like young oak, and his manhood looked like a sapling trying to break through the weave of moss and ivy and brambles. Jonah looked up to catch his eye.

“You are more precious to me than life itself.”

He didn’t wait for the reply, nor did he expect or need one. He undid the cord and slipped the shorts down to liberate the young oak; and he never tired of it, neither the sight nor the scent, the scent of all green things. Jason was swelling but not yet fully hard, nevertheless his peg was thick and hot. The young man’s scrotum was high and dense like a moss covered stone, so Jonah massaged it down, separating the fruits and as he began to knead the sack, leaning forward to envelope the cockhead in his mouth.

“Jonah, slowly, I am rising!”

The smell and the taste in his mouth was what Jonah had asked for: hemp rope, pitch, varnish and wax, paint, wood and bark, salt, honey and Jason’s seed.

He believed that if he had Jason’s seed in his mouth, in his throat, in his system, then they would find each other after death.

“Jonah, I can’t stop it, it rises!”

And his voice was like the rolling boil of the pitch, the sudden escape of the steam at the hot spring, the foam floating off from the base of the cascade, the screaming horses in the crest of the aegir.

“JONAH!” Jason screamed as he delivered up his seed.

They slumped and Jason stumbled back and threw himself onto the bed. Jonah crawled over, half on the floor and half on the bed. They hugged and kissed until no fibre in their being could deny the love they felt. Jonah moved up onto the bed and lay beside Jason, cradling him in his arms, rocking him gently; and all the while, Jonah’s lips were pressed to Jason’s temple, his eyes tight shut in case any of the precious energy should escape.

He recalled how it had all started and his remembrance of it was his dearest and fondest memory of any in his head. He had been working at the loom all morning that day, but the weather was fine and he toiled in the garden after lunch and by three, when the sun was a little cooler, he decided to walk through the orchard to breathe in the scent of the blossom and take a wash at the spring that fed the rivulet that watered the garden before slithering off to meet the river behind Henrietta’s store.

He had walked and the boughs were hanging low and the blossom trailed over his shoulders and his head was filled with their perfume. He came to the spring where he’d installed a trough and he shed his shirt to wash, first dunking his head and then, as he reached for the ladle to scoop the water over his back, he felt Jason’s hand in his own. Even though he hadn’t heard or seen him, he didn’t start. Turning, he straightened and Jason was stood there, naked, his hair down and Jason had made love to him there and then. Afterwards, they had washed at the trough and walked back through the orchard hand-in-hand and had lain all night together until the morning when they professed their undying love.

These images came back to Jonah now as he held Jason as he had then. Jason’s thirst had been satiated but his remained; a burning flame at the back of his throat and his loins the fire that gave birth to those flames. Jason sensed it and moved. He rode his lover and the flaming flower of that desire grew until it swelled and burst like the magnolias at the pond and Jonah’s seed was deep inside him and he too believed that if he had the seed of his lover inside his body that they would find each other after death.

All was still and quiet again.

“I invited Elam to visit the cottage. He has the commission for the new altar cloth and the Battalion order. The Squire believes he can orchestrate everything.”

“He should be challenged,” countered Jason.

“He has powerful friends.”

“I am afraid for you; the business of nearly two hundred years will disappear overnight.”

“I can do nothing else, least nothing as well as I weave. What should I do?”

“Partnership?”

“It crossed my mind. Perhaps I will ask him what he thinks when he comes.”

“I am busy at the dock tomorrow. I shan’t see you when you deliver the commission to the Father.”

“I will see you on Friday. I have samples to show Henrietta; she still wants my skills.”

“Others will too, but your standing is impaired … you are ‘the weaver’.”

“Let us see what happens. There is no loom in the shed yet ... are you staying tonight?”

“Yes, I need you … separation hurts me.”

“In the City they say two men can live together and no one thinks anything differently ... perhaps one day it may be the same here.”

“It is not against the law.”

“This is not the City and the City has no narrow-minded and power-hungry Squire with a key to the hole.”

“We should not have to live in fear, beating ourselves down like the stalks before Cruse’s flail.”

“You become poetic; it is a bad sign!”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jason ... just be patient.”

If trees sleep then these trees slept, their branches woven together and within the nests of leaves, the clusters of acorns ripened.

Chapter Four – Elam’s Visit

Jason left early to get started at the dock. Jonah made him tea and watched him dress.

“Elam comes today. Tomorrow I will see the Father and the day after I will be in to see Henrietta ...”

“Stay on Friday.”

“I will; it is market day on Saturday.”

“Talk to Elam about a partnership.”

“I plan to.”

“I know you say to be patient but it is very hard to pretend that we are just friends.”

Jonah just picked up Jason’s hands and kissed them; nothing else needed to be said.

It was barely after sunrise so Jonah cleaned the cottage and set out the loom, ready for Henrietta’s commission. He selected the yarns and threads for the linen, planning to weave a small sample to show her. He knew she’d want it embroidered; he still had faith in his hands.

At nine or just after, Elam appeared.

“Jonah ...”

“Come in. Did the engineers return with the equipment?”

“Yes, it is going better. I have a confession; the Father gave me the commission for the new altar cloth.”

“Yes, I know. It hurts me but that is vain pride, though my family wove that cloth for nearly two hundred years ...”

“Would I insult you if I offered you the task of embroidering it? I do not have those skills.”

“You do not insult me; you make me very happy ... tea?”

“Yes, thank you ... is that the loom?”

“That is the loom.”

“I had one as a child just like it … smaller of course.”

Jonah knew that the comment was not intended to belittle the apparatus or his skill.

“This one is two hundred years old. I think it will be buried with me.”

“You never married?”

“No ...”

Jonah served the tea and they sat at the table.

“I am sorry if my business hurts you.”

“Don’t be sorry. In a way I am glad; my father dreamed of it. I really want to see the water powering the loom … it is fascinating.”

“Why did you never do it?”

“I don’t really know; fear of change I suppose. I understand this,” and Jonah placed a hand on the loom which sat on the table as if he had placed a hand on his lover’s arm. “I think my father was the same, fascinated but afraid.”

“It may upset the balance of things.”

“It will ... perhaps that is a good thing too.”

“Thank you for the tea and for showing me the loom. What are you weaving?”

Elam had espied the pile of threads and yarns.

“Table linen for Henrietta. I want to show her samples on Friday ... and here are the prayer cushion sleeves I told you about.”

Jonah fetched the last one he had cut from the loom.

“Your embroidery is first class.”

“My mother taught me.”

“The engineers inform me that the loom will be working by Tuesday … although I have my doubts. Please come by and I will show you how it works and we can agree on the work for the altar cloth.”

“Thank you, I will … and you are welcome to visit here anytime.”

Elam left and Jonah felt less unhappy, though they hadn’t discussed a formal partnership. Perhaps after jointly working on the Church fabric it would be better; once he’d seen how the young man managed things and how the Squire reacted.

Jonah prepared the samples for Henrietta with a lighter heart and fingers than he was expecting. He also had the money for the sleeves to come and the prospect of staying with Jason on Friday. He admonished himself for getting so depressed.

As he tended the garden in the afternoon, he returned to the subject of moving and Jason’s idea. But moving, especially to the City? That filled him with dread and on the rare occasions when he had visited the big merchants, the City had crushed him; it was noisy and stank. But his advice to Jason to be patient was really just fear, like the fear that had prevented him from installing a power loom; and his fears never lessened, which he took to mean that he was getting old.

Chapter Five – The delivery to Father Abraham

The following day, dressed for church, he delivered the sleeves to Father Abraham.

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, Jonah.”

“Here they are; all thirty six.”

“Thank you ... the Squire has your money.”

The words were like splinters under his nails.

“Why does the Squire have my money?”

“It was he who requested that they be changed and he is paying for them.”

“To impress the Bishop and get his name written in the book?”

“Though we might question his motives, Jonah, he is generous and he has the drive to get things done. Look at the dock for example.”

“I don’t deny that, Father, but he believes he controls this village and what of the Council; when did it last meet?”

“No one else is complaining, Jonah.”

“No ... what about the altar cloth?”

“Ah ...”

“Henrietta told me … I’d rather it had been you who had told me.”

“I’m sorry; I think the Squire thinks of Elam as his protégé.”

“He would have made a great crusader.”

The Father laughed dryly and Jonah left to find the Squire and get his money. He knew he would be with Cruse, completing the audit for the Collection on Friday, so he headed for the granary.

Though he could not see the works at the river site, he could hear the cries of men straining to lift something heavy and the clang of a hammer and for all the positivity that he had imbued himself with the day before, the clang felt like his doom being rung out.

The Squire’s horse was outside the granary and he garnered himself and compressed his emotions into something the size of an acorn and swallowed them. The count was over and the Squire was loading the box whilst Cruse filled out the journal which would be posted to the ledger.

“Gentlemen,” Jonah called, as a way of announcing himself.

“Jonah!” hailed Cruse.

The Squire said nothing and ignored him for the time being until the box was locked and the wax seal had been applied.

“What can I do for you, Jonah?” he asked eventually.

“I delivered the commission to the Father and he informed me that you had my money.”

“Ah yes, that’s right. How much was it?”

“Eighteen florries.”

“Was it as much as that?”

“It was eighteen, Squire; the cost was minuted at the last meeting of the Council,” advanced Cruse.

“So it was ...”

The Squire fished for the coins and practically flung them across the table at Jonah, as if he were throwing scraps to the dogs; even the poor got their alms in their bowl.

“Many thanks!” But in reality, Jonah was thanking Cruse and he nodded to him as he left without a further word to either. Outside he was steaming; no one else was treated so shoddily. He strode to the dock to burn off the heat of his indignation, rather that than risk saying something that might earn him a night in the hole.

Jason was at the dock, superintending the installation of the new crane which he had built from seasoned oak which his father had left him; wood that he had lain down at the time of his son’s birth. Jason’s father had died in an accident, skating on the frozen river. It had collapsed under his weight, near the centre where the ice was thin, and no one could reach him. Jason’s mother had left soon after to stay with a sister; she never came back and Jason rarely visited her.

“Jason!” he hollered.

Jason turned and was smiling, having recognised the voice.

“Jonah!”

Jason gave some orders and left the gang to it for a minute and he strode over.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I had to see you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No ... no nothing; I meant, I had to see you.”

“Ah; I wish I could break off but this needs my full attention.”

“It’s fine; I’ve seen you. I have work to do at the cottage. I will see you tomorrow.”

“And you still plan to stay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Until tomorrow then.”

Jonah left and headed in to see Cruse, who he knew would be alone now.

“Cruse ...”

“Jonah, I cannot tell you how angry I am at the Squire’s behaviour.”

“Forget that; nothing will ever change him. If the entire Council is bowing and scraping then there is no hope.”

“He has too much power.”

“He is a wealthy man.”

“A vain man.”

“And a Magistrate.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Can you help me prune some of the fruit trees?”

“Of course, when?”

“Next week, as and when you have the time.”

“You look pensive, Jonah, and I know you better than most and this isn’t to do with the weaver ...”

“I am thinking about moving ... this came before the weaver and it has nothing to do with him. I want to see things and travel a little before it gets too late.”

“Will Jason go with you?”

Jonah couldn’t help himself and gasped, trying to hide it with a cough.

“You know?” he asked, once sufficiently composed.

“All know, Jonah, and, the way you keep things as they are, none care.”

Jonah had to laugh.

“We thought we were so careful.”

“Your love shines like a beacon; some would like to celebrate it and I am one. Most are happy to ignore it. A few, should the cat be officially let out of the bag, would be very difficult about it ... but leave, Jonah; go where and do what?”

“The City.”

“Vile place.”

“They are more tolerant.”

“Not of the poor and you would be that if you have no income.”

“I may not have that here for much longer.”

“You have your land and the wheel turns.”

“Yes, it does; a two hundred-year-old loom has had its day.”

“You know that I will employ you if it comes to that.”

“I know and thank you. Please keep-”

“My tongue? Of course, you are my friend and Jason is my friend too ...”

“Thank you.”

“Are you in town tomorrow?”

“Yes, I have to see Henrietta.”

“The Egyptians are here tomorrow, in time for the market on Saturday ...”

Jonah’s face lit up.

“... at last, I see you smile; come early to Henrietta’s and have breakfast with us.”

“I shall ...”

Jonah skipped home; even the weight of his troubles could not dampen his spirits now that he knew that the Egyptians were coming.

Chapter Six – The Egyptians

Perhaps some were Egyptian. The band of men, women and children in the painted carts were certainly as foreign as most village folk saw in their whole lives. Jonah remembered them coming more often when he was a child, it was a rarity now but he didn’t know why.

At Cruse’s invitation, he left early and walked to the village to have breakfast with him and Henrietta. The babble of excitement reached his ears before he was even on to the green; obviously the children had been told! No one had arrived yet, almost certainly not before lunchtime.

“My mother always bought something from them; it was a kind of superstition in a way,” said Jonah as they breakfasted.

“What are you going to do, Jonah?” asked Henrietta.

“Well, the new weaver has given me the task of embroidering the altar cloth and I’m happy to accept it. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Cruse kept his own counsel, knowing what was going through Jonah’s mind.

“He’ll be busy with the work for the Battalion at the start; you’ll still have plenty of business, of that I’m sure,” was Henrietta’s conclusion.

“I hope so too.”

An increase in the noise outside told them that the travellers must have arrived and the school was closing early so that everyone could enjoy the spectacle.

“Sounds like they’re here; let’s throw off all these cares and bob for apples like we did when we were children.”

Everyone came, including the Squire, smiling benignly as if the show was of his making. There were games and music and races and stalls selling things no one had ever seen; magical moving toys, confectionary, books, wooden musical instruments and there were story tellers and the fortune teller.

Jonah toured the show, like everyone else, and he recognised a few of the older travellers and they him. There was some banter and general merry-making. The woman, of uncertain age and lineage, who told the fortunes, invited him into her tent.

“Go on, Jonah, what’s the harm?” urged Cruse.

Johan stepped into the Aladdin’s cave, which was lit by heavily scented candles. The light bounced off of strategically placed mirrors, shining onto intricately woven hangings, brass and silver artefacts, piles of stones and bones, cards … and on the table, the crystal ball.

“Sit, Jonah,” she said.

He sat opposite her and smiled a little self-consciously.

“Change comes not when we expect it, rarely is it a welcome guest ... a darkness descends but there is light too ... he is young and impetuous; he will act out of love but you will pay the price ... something will be born and something will die ... that is what I can see.”

Jonah assumed she meant Elam, and the price was his business failing, and the light maybe his moving on with Jason; a new life born and an old life dying. He was astounded that the words meant so much, despite wanting to see the sense in them; they did strike a chord and she couldn’t have known anything.

“Thank you ...”

“Do you recognise this?” She asked as she rummaged in a box and brought forth one of the soldiers which his grandfather used to make, with the white tabard embroidered with a red cross.

“Yes, of course! My grandfather made them; I used to help him.”

“He gave it to me when I was a child, here in this village on a day such as this. It was an act of pure kindness on his part, which I have never forgotten.”

“He was a kind man.”

“There will come a time soon, Jonah, when you too will need to act out of pure kindness, out of love and nothing else will make sense ... now, escort me to the booth and buy me a lemon ice.”

He did and he felt simultaneously that his life made sense and yet no sense, he felt both strong and weak, completely sure of his footing and like the man who finds himself above the deepest chasm and yet there appeared to be nothing under his feet.

The moment passed and he was caught up in the gaiety of the afternoon like everyone else and he saw Jason towards five o’clock.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” Jason apologised.

“I did not expect to see you until much later.”

“The work goes well; I am content.”

“I have given much thought to the idea of moving away from here but I wonder if we should find a place. You have a thriving business, Jason, maybe now is not the time to gamble with our prospects. The weaver has employed me to work on the altar cloth and Cruse can always use another pair of hands.”

“Let’s not worry about that for now. I spy the machine which will test a man’s strength and I believe I can hit the bell this time.”

“Only Cruse’s father did so before; and as the blacksmith, you might say he had the unfair advantage.”

They wandered over to the rig and Jason paid his penny for the privilege of wielding the hammer. He stripped off his shirt and a good many pairs of eyes were suddenly in his quarter, like a hundred weather vanes had swung on the change in the wind. Jonah was hard-pressed to keep his composure as his young lover limbered, playing to the crowd a little. He swung the hammer and just missed the bell.

“I believe I hit it but you are deaf, sir,” he jested with the man.

“Try again on the house.”

Maybe it was vanity or love that gave him the incentive, but he hit the footplate with all his might and he just managed to ring the bell.

“Did you hear it that time?” he laughed.

Everyone was laughing and the man fetched his prize. It was a carnival mask, the mask of the jester.

“I am no fool,” he jibed.

“All are fools for love,” came the reply, but it was lost in the hurly-burly.

Things began to wind down to the evening and the delicious aromas of the food wafted over the green; corn on the cob, roasted hog, mulled wine, spicy apple fritters. The bonfire was lit and the lanterns were hoisted into the trees. No one saw Jason and Jonah disappear. Jason lived at the yard on a house boat which his father had made. It was lacquered black with panels upon which were painted scenes from Revelation; above each panel, a moulding in plaster of an angel with a trumpet, painted gold. They crossed the plank and clambered down into the living quarters.

“You look better, Jonah, less tired ... my muscles are tired.”

“Lay on the bunk and I will ease them for you.”

Jason stepped up to him and wrapped his arms around him.

“This is what I want; better than a vat of the penny-a-bottle medicine they would sell me at the apothecary.”

Jonah pulled back a little so he could look into Jason’s eyes.

“I love you, Jason”

“I love you with all my heart, Jonah, never doubt it.”

They kissed, at first slowly, savouring the taste of the wine mixed with apple and cinnamon, then deeper, and breaths came as gasps which were joined by shudders. Jason broke off to light the stove in the corner but quickly returned.

“I need you, Jonah … I need your seed deep inside me.”

They undressed in the dim light; their touches amplified a hundred-fold. When Jonah slid the shirt off of Jason’s back, his hands continued downwards to feel the thick leather belt under his fingers but he found the velvety skin of Jason’s buttocks instead; those warm mounds which held within them the crucible. The melting pot, the furnace into which the vitrine maker thrusts his rod and withdraws the molten bulb of glass which he spins and draws until he has a form into which he blows hot breath; and the form grows, and back into the fire it is thrust.

He fell to his knees and pressed his cheek against that velvety skin, to feel that heat, to taste the salt of the raw glass mix.

“Take me, Jonah, please! I can’t bear it.”

Jonah rose and half carried Jason to the cot and laid him down. The fire within the crucible drew him in like oxygen, sucking in his member where all was liquid heat.

As deep as he could go, did Jonah take them and at the end he planted his seed, and when he withdrew, it was as if the air was glass and the oxygen he needed, the bubbles suspended in the film. Pressing his lips to it, the glass did not shatter; it melted on his lips and where he expected it to be sharp, instead he found the softness of Jason’s own.

“We will find each other in the afterlife, of that I have no doubt now.”

“Did I leave enough?”

“Enough … but never enough.”

Chapter Seven – The wheel turns

The words of the fortune teller came back to him often in the next few weeks.

“... he will act out of love but you will pay the price ...”

Jonah assumed that she meant Elam, and the act of ‘love’ was giving him the work on the altar cloth, and the ‘price’ he paid was the feelings he had when, as was often the case, someone would visit the workshop and see him sat on the lower chair, like the apprentice.

He worked and Elam prospered once the wheel turned and the loom sang and the cloth spewed out like a river. The Squire paid frequent visits, barely acknowledging Jonah’s presence but making sure that he heard all that was said, especially the giving of new orders. Some of those Jonah would most definitely have been given in the past and the effect was contagious amongst the villagers, bar Henrietta and Cruse; but a man cannot make a living from that.

Jason kept his own counsel in the main. He saw the effect, and each commission which was lost to the young weaver was a splinter in his palm. To make ends meet, Jonah helped Cruse and he was grateful but the work was very demanding and it was Jason who was called upon to apply the liniment to the aching muscles and joints.

The loom in the cottage was rarely out of the cloth bag in which it was kept. Henrietta’s table linen had taken a fortnight, other sundry articles a week. It had lain dormant for a month. Jonah grew his vegetables and put on a brave face at the bread counter.

Elam was caught between warp and weft as weavers say. He needed the business to repay the loan he had taken to buy the equipment so he turned none away. He saw the effect and what little work he could give Jonah felt like alms for the poor and Jonah was too proud to accept charity. Despite that, they soldiered on.

Perhaps fuelled by the Squire, or born out of some latent pride, vanity or naivety, but Elam began to treat Jonah with less respect. It reached a head when he criticised some work in front of a customer. There was no fault in reality, the work was excellent, but Elam wished to create a reputation and Jonah revisited the words of the fortune teller and supposed that they meant that Elam acted out of ‘love for himself and money’ and Jonah certainly felt he was paying the price for it.

“Elam, I admire your industry and I respect your authority but your haranguing in front of the customer was uncalled for. The work is some of the finest I have produced.”

“I think your eyes deceive you, Jonah.”

“I do not believe that and I think our partnership has run its course.”

Jonah left and went straight home, grateful that no one saw him and stopped him to ask how he was. Mighty oaks are felled; he’d seen Jason and a crew take days to cut down a mature oak and he’d seen the wind topple one in seconds; but felled they were, as was he, and in a moment of madness, anger, shame and powerlessness, he dragged out the loom and in the yard of the cottage, he smashed it and burned the pieces on the fire.

Jason came that evening, jubilant that the dock was completed finally.

“Jonah!” he called out as he approached the door, for the door was open, “Jonah ...”

He stepped in and all was dark, the fire was low and Jonah was nowhere to be seen. Then he heard a muffled sob.

“Jonah, is that you?”

He heard the sob again and judged, rightly, that it had come from the corner. There he found Jonah, curled up, hugging the toy soldier to his chest, spasmodic sobs erupting over his lips.

“Jonah, what in the Devil’s name has happened?”

But Jonah couldn’t reply and when Jason knelt at his side and wrapped his arms around him, the man collapsed. Jason rightly guessed some of the cause; talking softly, he lifted Jonah up and put him to bed where he lay beside him and just held him.

“I cannot stand by and watch this destroy him.”

In the morning, Jonah was calm but embarrassed.

“Jonah, please stop apologising ...”

“You need to go, Jason. I’ll come to the boat tonight; we need to talk.”

“Agreed. I hate to leave but I must pay the men.”

“Go … I am fine now.”

Something will be born and something will die.

Jason left and headed for the yard and Jonah occupied himself in the garden, all his thoughts turned to the idea of moving away, selling the cottage. If Jason sold the yard then maybe they could have a good life somewhere else. These thoughts buoyed him up a little.

As arranged, he went to the boat and the yard was deserted. Jason didn’t lock the boat and Jonah let himself in, busying himself with lighting the fire. Only when Jason didn’t show by eight, did he actually question it but almost immediately thereafter Jason appeared.

“Sorry I am late.”

“You are here now. There was soup left; I am warming it … are you hungry?”

“No, thank you … you eat though and tell me what is on your mind.”

“I have been thinking a great deal about moving, Jason. What is the point in staying?”

“Where do we go; the City?”

“Yes, perhaps, or the south west. I have family there; it might be in our interests for the short term.”

“Will you sell the cottage?”

“I think so; the Squire will buy it; it will enable him to join up his land at last.”

“I will rent out the yard. It would provide a useful income and the capital from the sale of the cottage will set us up in almost anything.”

“It sounds easier than I expected; it makes me think about what I have feared all of this time.”

“We will be together.”

“Let us sleep on it then.”

Chapter Eight – “... and you will pay the price ...”

They rose early.

“Go back to the cottage, Jonah, and I will see you later and we will discuss things again; but I have no doubt or fear.”

“They speak of a place where there are great weavers and boat builders, where they built the ships for the crusaders and where kings go to order their coronation robes. That is what they say and even if it is only partly true, I would rather be there, picking up the lint from under the loom, than here a ghost of my former self.”

“Then that is where we shall go.”

Jonah left and it was very early and he saw no one on his way home but his thoughts were like busy bees in his head and he was rehearsing the conversation with the Squire. At nine, Cruse and the Tithe Sargent appeared.

“Jonah, are you there?” Cruse called out from the yard.

Jonah stepped up to the doorway.

“I am here ...”

“Jonah, though I know it cannot be true, and only by hearing it from your own lips would I believe it … and then probably not ...”

“Cruse, what is this babbling?”

“Jonah, we are here to arrest you. The weaving mill has been burned to the ground; the Squire is convening the Court as we stand here.”

“You ...”

But Jonah stopped his tongue dead in its tracks and he heard the fortune teller in his head.

“... he will act out of love but you will pay the price ...”

“... will allow me to fetch my coat.”

For the sake of expediency they had come on horseback and Jonah rode behind Cruse to the village with the Tithe Sargent bringing up the rear.

“Please tell me it isn’t true, Jonah,” Cruse whispered.

“You know me better than any man in this county, Cruse.”

They escorted him into the Court, the building which was used for the counting of the tithe and the meetings of the Council. All were present and seated at the long table.

“Jonah, you are charged with the wilful destruction of the weaving mill and the stock of cloth … how do you plead?”

“Where are your witnesses, Squire?”

“How do you plead?”

Jonah heard a whisper in his ear muffled by the sound of his own pathetic sobs.

“I cannot stand by and watch this destroy him.”

And all was then clear.

“Guilty!”

The shockwave was felt at the end of the village and even the Squire wasn’t entirely sure of his ground.

“You know what this means, Jonah?”

Jonah said nothing more.

“You will be sentenced to nine months in the county prison and your property will be confiscated and sold to pay for the damage. Be grateful no one was killed, else you would be swinging from the gallows ... take him away.”

Chapter Nine – An act of pure kindness

All heard it and no one could believe it. Cruse sat with Jonah in the prison wagon and begged him to tell him the truth.

“Jonah, you will not survive this, they treat stray dogs better. For God’s sake, tell me the truth,” he pleaded, and the tears ran down his cheeks.

“It was an act of pure kindness, Cruse.”

The wagon delivered up the prisoner to the gaol and being known to the men on the gate, Cruse was allowed to accompany Jonah inside. He wished he hadn’t after he had seen the man stripped and clothed in the convicts’ garb; and if that had not been enough, he was almost sick when they shaved his head.

“Men of the village are allowed to keep their hair,” he cried in anguish.

“The Magistrate specifically ordered that this one be shorn.”

Cruse had to leave save they saw the tears coursing down his cheeks.

He left and went to Henrietta’s side.

“I do not think we will ever see him alive again, Henrietta, and he acted so strangely.”

“Where is Jason?”

“At the station; he doesn’t know yet.”

“We must find him and tell him before anyone else.”

“Agreed ...”

When they did, he collapsed, and it was providential that Jason was at the station collecting the doctor, for he alone recognised the signs and he alone could restart Jason’s heart, for it had stopped beating before he had hit the ground.

When he recovered, he woke to find himself in Henrietta’s parlour on the settle, she and Cruse by his side.

“He did it for me.”

Neither Cruse nor Henrietta understood that and it was weeks later before Cruse began to work things out.

“You know me better than any man in the county, Cruse.”

Those were the first words he recalled.

“Yes I do and I know you are not capable of this.”

“It was an act of pure kindness ...”

The last words which Jonah had uttered.

“You sacrificed yourself, but for who?”

“He did it for me.”

Jason’s words.

“He didn’t burn down the mill for Jason; which makes no sense in any event. He pleaded guilty so that Jason did not go to prison ...”

Nine months in the hole for love. Even Cruse, who knew Jonah better than anyone else, struggled to believe that he could love Jason that much. Jason had to accept it, which showed how much he loved Jonah, knowing how he would be treated in the hole; death would have been kinder.

Chapter Ten – something will be born

Cruse visited the gaol once and he was so shaken that when he saw Henrietta and Jason, he forbade them to visit.

“You will not recognise him and the sight will haunt your sleep; do not go. I left money with the Warden for better food, he is a reasonable man. Let us pray Jonah has the strength to endure.”

Jason visited once and the Warden allowed it. Jonah was kneeling, crushing rocks in the yard, smashing them together with his bare hands. Jason’s heart nearly stopped again when the Supervisor poured cold water over the kneeling man; punishment for some imagined slight. Jonah had caught Jason’s eye but the look was one of feral madness and Jason did not recognise the chained beast. Only by pressing the model of the knight into his chest did he get any sleep; the screams of the demons almost drowning out his prayers.

The cottage was sold and Elam was compensated for his loss. It sickened Cruse to see the Squire parade these things and Elam believed himself elevated as a consequence; wasn’t he the injured party after all?

The day of Jonah’s release approached and Cruse visited him, taking a set of clothes for him to wear home. The Squire had insisted that Jonah’s head be kept shaved, ‘as a reminder of his fault’ apparently, like any were necessary. When he saw Cruse in the final days he said, “I have neither lice nor fleas, Cruse, unlike my brethren.”

They actually laughed though Cruse sobbed all the way home.

“Bring him here, Cruse,” Henrietta had pleaded.

“Yes, you’re right. I cannot take him to Jason’s boat and I should have the doctor on hand for that reunion.”

Something happened the day before he came home; Elam met Cruse in the main street.

“I hear Jonah returns to us tomorrow, Cruse.”

“That is correct; he is coming home tomorrow.”

“Are we safe? He has lost everything; will not bringing him back here merely remind him of his crime? He has no home or occupation-”

“He will have both soon enough, Elam. There is something you should probably know … if you have a quarter of an hour, I would ask you to walk with me.”

“Gladly ...”

As they walked, Cruse told him the truth.

“Jonah didn’t burn down the mill, Jason did. Jonah took the blame because he did not want Jason to go to prison; a young man with excellent prospects, a thriving business and good standing in the community."

“Why should Jonah take the blame for Jason?”

“I will not spell that one out for you, Elam; and when you’ve worked it out you’ll be a better man for the knowledge.”

He left Elam standing in the cemetery.

“What time is he due to arrive?” Henrietta asked Cruse the following morning.

“At eleven if the stage is on time.”

“I cannot wait to see him but I’m sure my heart will stop.”

“I hope the Squire does not show.”

“Please God let him not be changed.”

“He will be changed, Henrietta.”

No one had seen Jason, and Cruse still debated if a reunion was sensible in a public place; but he hadn’t seen Jason and could therefore offer no counsel.

The time of the stage approached and one of Cruse’s prayers was answered and the Squire was absent, believed to be at Tilly.

“Henrietta, the stage approaches,” Cruse called out from the pavement outside the shop. She joined him, holding his hand for strength, for she had wrung the strength out of her own.

“He is alive and he is back; he will recover.”

“Brace yourself, Henrietta, for the shock; and try not to let him see it, though I shall be the first to cry I’m sure.”

Even though Cruse had let it be known that a welcoming committee was not appropriate in his view, many villagers came out to see Jonah. Elam was there, but stood at the very back of the throng, looking a little less smug than of late.

The coach drew to a halt and everyone strained a little to see the man they once had called a friend step out of the carriage; the door opened and Jonah clambered out. His appearance caused some to gasp and one woman fainted. Jonah turned and faced the crowd.

“Good day, villagers.”

The air was holding its breath. Henrietta did what needed to be done and ran forward to throw her arms around him and it was like the dam on the Tress had burst and everyone came forward to greet him, save Elam, who stood back.

“It is good to be back,” was all that Jonah could say, least, all that could be heard over the cries of joy. Then there was silence and the crowd parted from the back edge of the circle that encompassed Jonah and a man approached whom no one had seen before, least they didn’t think so, but something was familiar about him. He walked steadily towards Jonah and the crowd parted further and those closest to the man gasped anew.

“Jonah ...”

Jonah stared into his face and, for the first time in nine months, he smiled.

“Jason ... you’ve shaved your head. I’d say it suits you but I would be lying.”

Those who saw the two men embrace were touched so profoundly that the moment stayed in their memory until death and probably long after.

“I love you ...”

“I love you too ...”

Chapter Eleven – and something will die

The celebration was raucous and impromptu; this declaration of love between two men that the village held dear to its heart ignited something. The revelry continued long after sunset and a fire was lit on the bonfire site and more of the villagers came now that the work day was over. Jonah looked for Elam in the crowd but he couldn’t see him and then he was grabbed by Henrietta to dance the Quad’.

Though no one was unhappy, many remarked that the Squire had not shown his face. Many expected him to; a few hoped he would and in some way heal the wound. No one else looked for Elam. The party continued until it was very late and Jonah, Jason, Cruse and Henrietta headed in.

“Please stay here tonight,” Henrietta begged Jonah and Jason as they loitered in the hall. They agreed for it had been emotionally draining for both; not long after they were asleep. Before they sank into oblivion, Jason had tried to put something into words.

“Jonah, I don’t know how to begin. What can I say; ‘thank you’ is the smallest possible word for what you have done for me.”

“There are some things which we need to discuss, Jason, none of them are unpleasant and tomorrow is soon enough. I love you; you know that and all will come right again.”

“I missed you so much. God how I missed you and every day I prayed so hard that you would survive.”

“I did; your prayers and mine were answered. Enough, I need you in my arms this night and no more tears must wet our cheeks.”

In the morning, the Tithe Sargent came and Henrietta let him in and their voices woke the men. Shortly afterwards, Henrietta came to the door of the room.

“Jason ... Jonah ... I think you need to come and hear what the Tithe Sargent has to say.”

The dressed hurriedly and met Cruse on the stairs.

“What is wrong?”

They gathered in the parlour and the Tithe Sargent addressed them.

“Something has happened and I wanted you to know first … the Squire is dead.”

Henrietta let out a gasp.

“He killed himself; hanged himself from the big oak that stands at the end of the driveway to the manor. The stagecoach driver saw him and came to me directly ...”

“Hanged himself? Why?” asked Jonah.

“He left no note, at least, none we have found yet ...”

“Where is the body now, Tithe Sargent?” asked Cruse.

“At the house; and I wonder if you can come and help me, Cruse.”

“Of course.”

He left and promised to return later with such news as he could glean.

“I don’t believe it,” ventured Jason first.

“It will bring about many changes.”

“And the first will be a considerable improvement in your fortunes, Henrietta.”

She inherited everything, being the closer relative.

Cruse came back two hours later.

“What news?” they asked.

“Nothing much. It is as the Sargent reported it; he had hanged himself from the big oak. Sometime last night, says the doctor who has just examined the body.”

Henrietta retired from the room, for though there was very little love lost between her and the Squire, he was her kin. Jason followed her, leaving Cruse and Jonah alone.

“I don’t believe it, Cruse. He was many things but not depressed.”

“No, I don’t believe it was suicide. Tell me how a man ties his hands behind his back, climbs a tree and puts the noose around his own neck?”

“What?”

“His hands were tied behind his back and he couldn’t have done it himself for they were too tight.”

“So he was murdered.”

“The doctor has entered suicide on the death certificate and no one is going to argue with that.”

“But who?”

“All fingers would have pointed here had I not been staying under this roof last night. There is one who is absent ...”

“Who?”

“Elam …”

“You can’t be serious.”

“If it is the case then I say ‘see it as an act of great kindness’ ...”

“I do not understand. Why would Elam murder the Squire? He relied upon him.”

“If I said that I had told Elam that it was Jason who had burned down the mill, and not you, and that you had admitted to the crime to keep Jason from prison, perhaps you’ll understand better.”

“He murdered the Squire for me?”

“You took the punishment for Jason.”

“That was for love.”

Cruse said no more and Jonah was left with too many thoughts and questions and was happy when Jason suggested that they go to the yard.

When they arrived at the yard office, Jason found a letter, poked into the gap between the door and the frame. It was addressed to him and had obviously been delivered by hand, sometime after he had left the yard to welcome Jonah home. He opened the letter and read it and then passed it to Jonah to read.

“Do we stay or do we follow him?”

Epilogue

“Thank you, Henrietta.”

“You do not need to thank me, Jonah!”

“But today would not have happened had it not been for you.”

“That’s as may be, but you and Jason are too dear to my heart for me to let you go and not insist that your hands are bound for a year and a day. These promises, Jonah, may be all that you can rely upon.”

“We will come back.”

“I know.”

“Goodbye, Henrietta.”

“Goodbye, Jonah.”

Despite what the law said, the Bishop had point-blank refused to allow Jason and Jonah to marry in the Church. The entire village had signed the petition, but it made no difference. Jason had insisted that they formalise their union before they undertook the journey which they were now embarking upon. Henrietta had had the idea to stage the ceremony in the woodland and resurrect the ancient pagan hand-fasting ritual. It was well received and a few more couples were thinking along similar lines now.

Elam had given Jonah the mill but he’d issued them with an invitation to join him.

“... where they weave the coronation robes of kings and build the ships which sail over the Ocean ...”

At the beginning of the Spring, they decided to leave but not before the ritual had taken place on the Spring Equinox and it had been done.

The Weft – Journey to Deuxfleurs

Part 2 of ‘The Weaver & The Loom’

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

2nd Edition

Chapter One – Departure

The entire village came out to see the men depart, for most never made such journeys. Their send-off was more akin to the triumphant return of gladiators from the ring than the departure of two village sons on a journey to the other side of the World, least the World they all knew. Most thought the city was a fairy tale kingdom.

Their first stage was to Aubade, the city they did all know and most had ventured to at least once in their lives, usually as young men or women, to see the finery and perhaps a glimpse of the King. Most returned disappointed and considerably poorer in the pocket for the experience. To this city Jonah had travelled more than once. It was where the merchants had their warehouses and he’d traded in the bourse. He had no kin there but a name or two, merchants to whom he could apply for lodging at least. Jason had been some handful of times but retained the trepidation of most villagers, though for a different reason. He and Jonah were together, pledged to each other and both had agreed that it was a fact that they would not hide but neither flaunt. The cost of their love had been very great and won with too much pain; it could not be buried now.

They had new horses, packs of stout leather, money from the sale of the mill and an income from the rent of Jason’s yard. Jonah had asked Henrietta to keep the cottage for him. In truth, she owned it, but she never planned to dwell there or sell it; it would always be Jonah’s cottage. It was rented to the new teacher of the school, a young man and his new wife.

Chapter Two – The stop at Angus and Dilly’s

Four days it would take to reach the local city, stopping at the inns that everyone knew. The first stop, a mere thirty miles from the village, was well known to both men. Their arrival had been anticipated by Angus, who invited them to dine privately with him that night.

“I predict tales of swashbuckling adventure; but seriously, Jonah ...”

“What? You were going to say ‘at your age’; fear not for the strength of my bones or the suppleness of my muscles. But yes, that is our plan. We need a good map and I am hoping Garbling can provide us with one when we reach Aubade ...”

“Aubade is too noisy for me; I like the tranquillity of the country.”

“We have to leave early, Angus; we should retire soon.”

“Of course; the loft is made up. Dilly will bring you hot water at six.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodnight, gentlemen; remind me to ferret something out for you before you leave.”

“Goodnight, Angus.”

The men made their way to the loft … and the prospect of sleeping in the best bed in the County. The clock in the hall struck eleven as they crossed the threshold.

“Jonah, my mind is uneasy. It is one thing to have dinner and share the banter with Angus, he is a life-long friend; but I fear the reaction of folk, especially beyond Aubade.”

“Jason, we can be no one except ourselves … and in being ourselves we have strength … folk respect honesty.”

“Jonah, you went to prison for me. I owe you everything that I call my own and I love you beyond the power of words to convey … but do you not have fear too?”

“Of course, Jason, but I do not know the folk beyond Aubade and I will not pre-judge them. We are men, we have guild trades, we have money and our own horses. Have faith, Jason, we bound our hands at the fasting and made promises. I will seek to honour the gifts you bestowed upon me and I will not let a single strand of your hair come to harm if I have strength and wit to prevent it.”

The months in the County gaol had affected Jonah in many ways; his fears were of a different shape but he understood Jason’s worries and sought out the younger man’s lips.

“Yes, Jonah, kiss me. For months they lay cold and lifeless and each breath pricked them, like the spear in the side of the Lord at his crucifixion.”

Jonah placed his lips on Jason’s and sought to quell the trembling. Their hands ducked and dived and clothes were shed until they stood naked in just the light of the moon. Their bodies twisted together and in the light they resembled the tree in the cottage garden, the tree which Jason had felled. Once felled, he’d sawed, planked, planed and polished the wood to make the bed in the houseboat upon which he and Jonah had consummated their union.

Both had their arms around each other and pulled in to feel the hardness of the peg. Jonah was first to kneel and he took his lover in his mouth, ate of the fruit which the tree had borne and let the ripeness fill his throat and the juices run down his chin. Jason’s seed came like the milk from the teat.

Dilly brought the water at six and the men washed side by side and jostled for the mirror.

“It grows longer now that the Spring sap is rising.”

“You should not have cut your hair, Jason.”

“You had no choice ... it grows the same together now.”

Once dressed, they presented themselves in the parlour to have breakfast with Angus and Dilly and on the table was a leather tube with a close-fitting cap over one end.

“What is this, Angus?” asked Jonah.

“My grandfather, whom you did not know, journeyed to the cold seas of the north and hunted the narwhal; it belonged to him ...”

Jason picked up the tube and prised off the cap. The tube was heavy and the leather was worn very smooth. Tilting the tube gently, the contents slid out and it was a telescope, made of brass.

“... he said the Alchemist at Dreihus made it; I do not doubt it.”

“But Angus, this is too precious ...”

“Nonsense! What use is it to me here ... take it, use it.”

The rest of their breakfast was taken up with less weighty matters and for the most part it centred round the tithe and the doings of the Bishop.

“Goodbye, Angus.”

“Goodbye, Jonah, be seeing you ... goodbye, Jason.”

“Goodbye, Angus.”

They rode off. The sun was shining and the breeze was light.

“I am less fearful, Jonah.”

“I am grateful for it ... no care should prematurely crease that brow and we avoid the tithe for the year; now there is something to celebrate.”

They laughed and exchanged a loving smile.

Chapter Three – The Inn at Dreihus and the Incident at the Horse Shoe

Elam’s invitation to Jonah and Jason had been clear.

“Join me in the city where they weave the coronation robes for the kings and build the ships which sail over the oceans. Such welcome as you gave me, I will give you. Such were my faults that I could not remain in the village and the greatest of them jealousy and vanity and I would excuse them by saying I was naïve and even if that were the case, I feel the prick of it in my conscience not the less ...”

They travelled steadily, for there was no cause to race into this destiny; and it was rare enough for both to see some of this country and re-make acquaintances. The news of their nuptials had travelled too and many sought them out to add congratulations to the growing pile. By five that day, they reached the Inn at Dreihus, another which they knew, but the landlord was less well known to them; Peter was his name.

“Gentlemen, you are welcome … and it has been a while.”

“It is good to see you, Peter; how is trade?”

“Very fine; come, Amelia wishes to see you.”

Such welcomes quietened Jason’s nerves and it was he who described the pageant at the wedding to the table assembled that evening. However, one of the men was a distant kin of the Squire, and a smudge lay on the clean cloth that drew everyone’s eye.

“How is Henrietta?” he asked, knowing full well that Henrietta had inherited the Squire’s wealth.

“She is very well and making considerable progress in improving the school. There is a new teacher.”

“A strange business ...”

The words hung in the air like smoke from a snuffed candle; Jonah would have ignored them, but Jason was quick to respond.

“We can never truly know a man’s mind, Farmer ...”

“I knew him better than most and I never knew him to suffer with depression.”

“Then you did not know him as well as you thought.”

The candle may have been snuffed out, but the smoke lingered and tainted the air all evening. In the bed chamber, Jonah spoke quietly.

“Jason, we do well to forget the past once the lesson has been learned.”

“He insinuated that you had something to do with the Squire’s death. I could not let that go unchecked.”

“I have been in prison, Jason; men will judge. You and I know the truth and that is all that matters. Men such as Peter are not swayed by the opinion of Farmer; he is bitter and he did lose his kinsman.”

“I know, I’m sorry if my tongue was too hot or too quickly between my lips in your defence.”

“Worry not … as to whether your tongue is too hot or quick, I should like to be the judge of that.”

Jason smiled very broadly, and Jonah very wickedly, and it wasn’t long before the test was applied.

“Hot and quick, yes, but how should we cool them if it were not a sin to cool such ardour?”

“Undress and lie down, Jonah.”

He did and Jason was upon his back within an instant, his hot tongue and lips finding ample employment as he delved into the private places of their sex. Jonah lay not flat but had the bolster under his groin to lift his buttocks high and Jason was between those mounds without hesitation and feasted on the softest parts. His ardour could not be cooled and hotter still he made it in Jonah’s crucible.

Months in the hard labour yard at the gaol had given Jonah the body of a god but the contours were chipped away and rough-hewn. Jason had a body of wood; carved, sanded, polished and waxed by a craftsman. They lay, bathing in the glow, fingertips idly tracing lines, joining the knots by following the grain.

“Jonah, I know you prefer not to speak of it but how can I call myself a man, your friend and chosen partner if I do not try at least to make amends.”

“Do you wish to spend nine months in the gaol, Jason? I would not wish it on the Squire, least of all you ... I did what I did for you, it’s true; I love you and no sacrifice will ever be too great ...”

“But Jonah-”

“Shush; it’s done. You, now, by my side, is payment a hundred thousand fold.”

“When Cruse and Henrietta came to the station, I was convinced that they had come to warn me that the Tithe Sargent was close on their heels ... their words still haunt me; I know my heart stopped.”

“It did; the Doctor restarted it, Cruse told me ... let it go, Jason; we survived and look where we are.”

“I know and I am grateful beyond words.”

“You can repay me by being happy.”

“Never release me from that debt then.”

The following day, they left after breakfast but not before they visited the Alchemist who had made the telescope for Angus’ grandfather.

“He must be ancient, Jonah.”

“They say he is a hundred and fifty years old, though I doubt that; but he is very old.”

They stopped by the workroom come shop and paid their respects.

“Yes, I remember making it for Angus’ grandfather; his name was Alistair ... where are you going?”

“To the city on the ocean.”

“Ah! My youth was spent there, making toys for the King ... let me show you something.”

He rummaged in a cupboard which seemed to Jason and Jonah to be full of dust and very little else. However, from some dark corner, he withdrew a box which he placed on the workbench. The box was wooden and had a hinged lid which was locked.

“Where is that infernal key?” the Alchemist asked himself.

Further rummaging brought forth a little golden key, with which he unlocked the box, and from within, he drew out a globe that stood on a foot, fashioned like four dolphins. Jason and Jonah stepped closer to see. The old man inserted the key into a slot in the back of one of the dolphins and turned it two or three times, after which the globe slowly turned on its axis.

“A toy fit for a king.”

“It is magic!” exclaimed Jason.

“Take it ... go and gaze upon the jousting Narwhal in the frozen wastes, watch the leopards catch sand mice on the edge of the World ...”

“But, Sir, this is worth a king’s ransom.”

“A poor king he would be ... it is just a toy.”

They left and sensed that they had stepped into a different part of the World, for when they reached the church, the clock told them it was a full hour before breakfast.

“This journey already proves to be wonderful,” announced Jason.

Jonah smiled and nodded, no less enrapt.

The country they traversed these handful of days was easy country, mostly lanes that wound between the margins of the fields, the orchards and the hop gardens. But as they approached their third stop, it began to change as the market gardens gave way to the plain. Sixty miles they were now from the front door of the cottage and a further seventy lay before them after an evening at the Horse Shoe. Neither Jonah nor Jason knew the man that owned the Inn. Saul was his name. It had been a long time since either had passed through the hamlet.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen ... John will take care of the horses and you are welcome to join the common board for dinner tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Freshen up in your room and we eat at seven.”

The men in the common room watched them enter at the appointed time and all murmurings ceased. Jonah took no notice but Jason felt like a poor field mouse being eyed up by twenty hungry cats.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Saul.

“Good evening, Saul,” replied Jonah, “Put ale on the table on our account.”

The gesture was well received and a few came forth to introduce themselves. Soon conversations were springing up and once the ale and the beef appeared, the humour of the table was much more relaxed and songs burst out from lips like doves taking flight from their nests in the pear trees.

“Are you kinsman?” asked a man during the meal.

It was exactly the question which Jason feared.

“No, we are not kin … though both of our families have lived in the village since the dawn of time,” replied Jason.

“We travel together because we head for the same place,” said Jonah; and he went on to tell them of the journey. It ignited many tales and questions. Jason was aware that the man who had asked the original question just stared at them, scrutinising them with eyes like the viewing scope of the Alchemist’s magnifier.

“Gentlemen, your company was welcome at the table,” Saul announced as they quit the room, for the travellers started out early again.

“Our thanks for the hospitality you have shown us.”

Once in the room, Jonah placed the heavy chair by the door and wedged it under the handle.

“What are doing, Jonah?”

“Protecting us from unwelcome guests.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Deadly serious; the man who asked the question I do not trust.”

“No; he stared at us all evening.”

“Once he tries the door and finds it locked, I’m certain he will leave.”

Two hours later as the clock struck eleven, they heard the noise of the party leaving the Inn … and also the sound of two or three pairs of boots on the stairs. They watched, holding their breath, as the handle of the door was pressed down; the ‘click’ of the lock made them start. The chair arrested the progress of the posse outside; there was a brief moment of silent debate and then the handle was released. Neither of the men drew breath until they heard the retreating footsteps.

“We will leave here earlier than planned, Jason; an hour before dawn I should like to be away.”

“Agreed.”

It meant saddling the horses themselves, and, without breakfast, they left. By an hour after dawn, they were some ten miles from the Inn and only then did they relax. It was premature because as they turned a sharp bend in the road, three men on horseback stood in their path. All had been at the table the night before.

“Whoa!” signalled Jonah and he raised his hand, “You are out early, Squire ...”

“Best time to catch the filthy vermin which inhabit this place.”

“Is it rats? You’d do better to employ a cat.”

“Worse than rats ...”

The man advanced two paces.

“You remind me of someone, Squire,” said Jonah very calmly.

“Who?”

“A man I met in prison ... one night he accused me of stealing his share of the fire and he advanced upon me, just as you are now.”

“I hope he taught you a lesson.”

“I broke his back before he could utter another word; he has plenty of the fire now.”

The Squire stiffened in his saddle, now unsure of his ground; and even with two confederates by his side, it was evident he was looking for a way out without losing face.

“We have business to attend to ...”

“Yes, the hunting down of your vermin ... we need to be on our way ... another time, Squire.”

Jonah prodded his mount and moved forward, forcing the three to move aside, and he and Jason rode on through their midst. Jonah looked straight ahead but Jason made the mistake of looking the Squire in the eye. In a flash, he whipped his crop across his face, and, before either man could react, the Squire and his companions raced off.

“Jason!”

Jonah was at his side and caught him before he fell. In truth, he hadn’t lost consciousness, but the stars were out and the bells were ringing.

“Let us get off the road, Jason. I need to tend to the wound.”

Jason allowed Jonah to lead him and they found a stopping place near the outlet of a spring. Soaking his handkerchief in the cold water, he pressed it to Jason’s cheek to stem the flow of blood and reduce the swelling.

“I should go after him and flay his flesh from his back,”

Jason hadn’t spoken and he was deathly white and only his shaking any clue that he still in fact lived.

“Jason ...”

“Jonah, I cannot bear this ... what other horrors did my cowardice bring down on your head?”

“Jason, listen to me ... you were not a coward. I won’t say you were not impetuous … but you were not a coward. When I stood in front of the Magistrate and told him I was guilty, I knew full well what horrors waited for me; and that was my choice ... I did it for love and that love protected and nourished me ... we are together now and nothing will ever come between us again. I fear the crop will leave a scar; it is clean, but deep … we may find a doctor who can treat it in Aubade.”

“You are more than I deserve, Jonah.”

“Do not say that. God gave me to you and you to me and He alone will decide if we were deserving of the gift.”

“I love you but the words sound too small.”

“They are like the ears of wheat, Jason, or the pips in the heart of the apple, they grow into big things and feed us ... I love you more each day. Come, we have many miles to go before we reach the ford and the open arms of Henry and Evelyn.”

In Jason’s mind, Jonah grew like a giant and he was hard-pressed to find within his younger heart all the respect he wanted to feel … but he tried and he realised it was how you grew as a man.

Chapter Four – The Ford Inn

They made the ford by five in the afternoon and Jonah found the Inn just as he remembered it. Henry was the most convivial host and a friend; the last they might expect to see before they reached Aubade.

“Jonah!”

“Henry, it has been two years or more.”

“I reckon three. Come ... Evelyn will be overjoyed to see you.”

“Henry, I would like you to meet Jason. Jason is my chosen partner.”

“Welcome, Jason ... what happened to your cheek?”

“A branch whipped across it as we cantered through Ford Wood.”

“Evelyn will have a salve to treat it. Come, this is a joyous occasion and William and Jessica are back from school.”

The reunion was completed and Jonah was taken off by the children to be shown their menagerie of animals and Jessica had a loom, much like the one Jonah used to have.

“Use this salve every day, Jason, and the scar will lessen over time, even fade completely.”

“Thank you, Evelyn.”

“I have never seen him look happier.”

Jason just smiled.

“If you are the culprit - and I know you are - don’t be so coy. Love is something to celebrate and share.”

“Not all agree.”

“Their opinions don’t matter, Jason, though that is not to say that great gifts like love do not come with great pains at times.”

“Sometimes there is pain.”

“Love is like weaving, Jason, warp and weft woven together. Just be sure that after each pick is woven, you push it down with the battening comb and make it strong and fast ...”

“Jonah made a sacrifice for our love - for me - so big that I do not know if I shall ever feel worthy.”

“Don’t think that you can never be worthy, Jason, strive to be so; it’s the striving that counts. If repayment is necessary - and I’m sure Jonah is looking for none - but if you feel the need, then do it every day in every way, however small. Henry married me against the wishes of his parents; they cut him off. I felt like you for years but I strived. The children came and the business thrived. Some years ago, Henry fell sick for a time and I had to manage all of this by myself and care for him … which of course I did ...”

“I just hope I am equal to the test when it comes and I am sure it will come.”

“Your love will give you the strength and the endurance, just as mine for Henry did.”

“I do love him.”

“I know; it is plain to see … even the trees in Ford Forest can see it.”

He knew that she knew and nothing more needed to be said. He felt better for the conversation with this comparative stranger to him.

The table at dinner was loud and jovial with songs and story-telling. Soon it was time to retire, for the men had the longest stage ahead of them and the city would provide their bed and board the following night. They left the table with many blessings and good wishes.

“I am happy to have met your friends, Jonah; they are fine people.”

“Yes, they are; and I shall be lucky to make any more as good and true.”

“I haven’t even thought about that; we have stayed only one night in each place so far.”

“It remains to be seen how long we stay in Aubade; much needs to be prepared.”

“Are you happy, Jonah?”

“The happiest I have ever been ... and you? I saw you talking to Evelyn earlier whilst Jessica showed me her loom.”

“I am happy; and happier for the wise words she dispensed.”

Jonah had moved closer, on the pretence of examining the wound on Jason’s cheek.

“It already knits together,” he pronounced, as he peered at it in the candle light, his lips very close to Jason’s skin.

“Perhaps if you kiss it the process will quicken.”

“Yes, that is possible,” and Jonah was grinning but trying to suppress it. “Let me put down this candle; move into the light from the window.”

Jason was grinning too and almost ashamed at how quickly he had become aroused and hard.

“Kiss me, Jonah and take me to the places in the stories.”

They kissed and shed their skins, the dead cells, the creases and the furrows, the aches and the pains, the scars and the welts, the blisters and the pricking splinters. Naked and bathed in the moonlight from the window, they explored every inch of their bodies with their lips and tongues, writhing like snakes dancing to the sound of the pungi.

They soared on the winds and rafted the rivers, planted their seeds in the rich earth and gorged themselves on the harvest. Fought giants and dragons and dived into the mouths of whales, flew as the arrows over the battlefield, flitted like swallows and glided like swans, masqueraded as princes, kings and gods, tamed lions and tigers, rode griffins and jousted with knights; told every story until spent they lay, shining like pearls on the beach and their chests were covered with pearls and each sucked the beads into his mouth to taste the fruit of his labours.

“I love you, Jonah ... every fibre in my body is singing its song.”

“You are more precious to me, Jason, than any other living thing on this Earth.”

The edges of the wound knitted tightly.

Chapter Five – Aubade

When they had crossed the ford to alight at the Inn, they had passed out of their home county and into the district which came under the jurisdiction of the city. The city of Aubade lay at the heart of the region; fifty miles it sat from this stretch of the border by the ford. They left before dawn and Henry and Evelyn, with the children half asleep in their arms, waved them goodbye.

“You would do well to split the journey, Jonah, and camp at the grotto.”

“We shall certainly think on it, Henry. Let it not be three years before we see each other again.”

“Come back this way.”

The men rode off across the plain and by dawn the Inn was a speck on the horizon.

“Do we stop, Jonah, or press on; what is this place Henry speaks of?”

“The grotto is a cave within an outcrop of rock, thirty miles from here; travellers often use it. Let us see the time once we are near. I would prefer a bed under my back tonight but a night on the heather would bring back good memories.”

They rode on, sometimes trotting and occasionally resting under a lone tree, for the plain was mostly grass and heather. By three in the afternoon, they saw the outcrop. Beyond, just visible in the distance if they craned their necks whilst stood in the stirrups, they could see the top of the cathedral spire at Aubade.

“It is another hour to the outcrop, Jason, then three more to Aubade but at a quicker pace. I’m tired of the saddle and the horses need rest.”

“Agreed; let us stop at the grotto and camp there tonight.”

“It is warm now but I wager it will be chilly before dawn tomorrow.”

“I have my blanket,” Jason replied, turning and grinning.

“I have mine too but it needs a good shake out ... c’mon!”

They galloped to the rocks, arriving breathless and exhilarated.

The rock outcrop was the size of the tithe barn and jagged like a broken tooth. Legend had it that the giant which had made the Earth, lost his tooth as he sank his jaws into what he thought was an apple.

The cave was small and simple with a spring running out of it. The rivulet meandered across the plain and on its journey, became broader and deeper, so that, once it reached Aubade, it was fit to carry the barges and join Aubade with Saint Clair.

They stopped and surveyed the rock and chose their place. Whilst Jason tended to the horses, Jonah collected some heather and made their bed. There wasn’t much wood thereabouts for a fire, just enough to heat some water for a tea.

“Evelyn gave us bread, cheese and dried fruits; it will suffice until we reach the city.”

“I am excited!” offered Jason.

“It will be the start of the adventure ... our first call will be on Garbling for the map.”

“Do we take the barge to Saint Clair?”

“I think so and then it is many days ride.”

“What of Elam?”

“What of Elam indeed! There are some serious questions to ask.”

“Do we wish to know the answers to them?”

“Some yes, but others perhaps not.”

“I struggle to believe that he killed the Squire … and if he did, then why?”

Jonah thought he knew the answer to that question but he kept his own counsel.

“Let us find him first.”

“I cannot believe I shall see Deuxfleurs; it was just fairy tale until now.”

The sun sank in the west and cast long shadows across the plain; the tooth of the rock stretched out until it touched the horizon.

In the morning, washed and dressed in clean clothes, they prepared for the final stage to Aubade. There they needed a good map and perhaps advice, for there were choices over the route; and the first was whether to take the barge to Saint Clair. As far as Jonah knew, Oswald was in the city but he knew other merchants and certainly he was on good enough terms with some to apply for bed and board for a few days, maybe even get a little work.

They approached from the west and the river curved around the city and almost encircled it, creating an island. They crossed the river and five hundred yards farther on, they passed through the west gate into Aubade. The road had become decidedly busy as they had drawn closer; and they were certainly not the first or the only travellers to pass under the arch that day; the city drew folk in like bees to pollen. The centre of the city was at least two thousand years old, probably older. The cathedral sat in the middle of the central square and from there, arms radiated out to the walls, gates and bridges; a hub-and-spoke design they called it. All who entered clasped their fortune to their breast as the wheel turned.

Raucous and noisy it was, bustling with people, hundreds and thousands of people. More people than lived in all the villages of the county from where the men came; men, women and children, horses and livestock, carts and wagons, paupers and princes, merchants and vagabonds ... though they weren’t always so easy to distinguish from each other.

“Let us get livery for the horses, Jason; it’ll be easier to move.”

Livery was easy to find and they left the horses to investigate the streets and search out the merchants.

The men were the object of some scrutiny being ‘overners’, the word used to describe people from the far side of the plain; their mode of dress gave them away as such. Plain garb was not the fashion in the city; the women dressed extravagantly, theatrically and the men more so. Like a muster of peacocks, they strutted up and down the thoroughfares, sneering at their neighbours from behind fans and handkerchiefs. Jason was spell-bound and drew more attention than Jonah; young prime rump was high on the menu for entertainment in some quarters.

They headed to The Market, following the canal which fed water to the tanneries.

“JONAH!” boomed the voice from the steps of the bourse.

A rotund man of florid complexion hastened towards them, securely fixing everyone’s gaze in their direction.

“Oswald!”

“My dearest, Jonah ... and Jason … I’m especially pleased to see you!”

They greeted each other with bear hugs and kisses on both cheeks. Jason was unsure why Oswald was so pleased to see him; their exchanges had always been so … polite as a rule.

“Oswald, have you lost weight?”

“Jonah; remind me to leave you everything! As it happens, I have … doctor’s orders!”

Jonah knew very well that Oswald never consulted the doctor; there was only one reason why Oswald would ever consider losing weight!

“Don’t tell me that you’re finally getting-”

“Hold your tongue, dog … if word gets out, I’ll be ruined! Where are you staying?”

“Where do you recommend?”

“My home of course! And you’d be welcome. Where are the horses?”

“Graveney’s”

“Ah, leave them there; he is one of the few that doesn’t mix sawdust with the oats. Give me until the clock strikes, Jonah, and I will take you to the house.”

“Right you are, Oswald; find us at the coffee den.”

“That was a stroke of luck to have found him so quickly and we have beds ... he is a rogue, but a good rogue.”

“Is he truly getting wed?” Jason queried.

“He has a partner but I did not think they were that serious. If I recall correctly, the man’s name is Persia.”

Jonah navigated them to a street, between the bourse and the tanneries, and into a quaint looking shop with a bow-fronted window, glazed with crown glass. They had to duck to pass through the door because it was so low. As they stepped over the threshold, the smell of coffee and chocolate assaulted their nostrils and as their eyes became accustomed to the light, they were presented with a feast for all the senses!

“Come in, gentlemen!” hailed the woman who was serving, “Coffee?”

“Coffee, Magdala, yes.”

“Jonah! Jason!”

“Hello, Magdala.”

“Oh! It’s been too long … find a table, gentlemen, and I’ll bring you coffee the like of which you have never tasted and chocolate flavoured with spices that they say will-”

“Never mind what they say!” interjected Jonah, laughing.

They found a table and waited for Magdala to return. The den was a shrine to coffee and chocolate; the aromas were overpowering. Everywhere there were piles of rich brown beans on brass trays, chocolates on wooden platters, dishes piled high with hand-painted sugar paste fruits and fondants wrapped in gold foil. The tables were formed from barrels and the seats were just simple cottage chairs.

Magdala came back with a tray, upon which were three small cups and a pile of the chocolates.

“Sip first and then toss it back, let a chocolate melt on your tongue and say your prayers!” Were her instructions.

Jason had partaken of the mix only once; served by Jonah at the cottage; now, as then, his face betrayed every mind-numbing and ecstatic sensation.

“That’s-”

“Magdala’s secret recipe,” she winked. “What news of the real world … and why are you here?”

Jonah explained their plans.

“Deuxfleurs will swallow you whole and spit out the pips, Jonah.”

“Don’t scare us, Mag’.”

“Have your wits about you. I’d best give you a supply of the beans; you won’t be caught napping with those inside you.”

“We have a friend there.”

“What will you do?”

“See what there is to see and decide then.”

Oswald arrived.

“The trio is complete!” exclaimed Jonah.

“We were a little riotous in our youth; it is true, Jonah.”

“Don’t make me blush by recalling the escapades.”

Eventually, after more coffee and chocolate bombs, the three men left and made their way to Oswald’s house. His villa was very fine, perched on the hill, above the stink of the tanneries and the dust of the streets.

“Jonah, I need your help with some negotiations. You were always better at the barter table than I; and I have a sheave of commissions that I would trust no one else to execute in Deuxfleurs. But this will be laborious stuff for Jason to sit through ... I will ask Persia to look after you tonight, Jason; what say you?”

“Of course; if Persia doesn’t mind dragging round the simple shipwright-”

“It will be a pleasure,” announced Persia, arriving at that precise moment.

Introductions were made and not long afterwards, without any ceremony, Oswald dragged Jonah away to assist in the transaction of his business. Jonah was carried away on the tide and he barely got the chance to press his lips to Jason’s before Oswald had him out of the door.

“Plenty of time for that later ... Jonah!”

“He is a brute at times; but no purer heart will you find within these city walls.”

Jason could now look upon Persia without the distractions and bustle of Oswald’s business deflecting his attention. The man was younger than himself, blond with the deepest and richest blue eyes which held you like the eyes of idols in the shrines at Saint Clair. His skin glowed as if he were made from mother of pearl; the aura around him was like the rainbow cast by the waters of a fountain in the full sun.

“Come, Jason, I’ll show you to your room and you can freshen up.”

“Thank you.”

The man moved like a cat, thought Jason; a sleek, agile cat. He recalled the one and only time he’d seen a big cat; when he was a boy, at the circus; a white leopard it was, majestic and disdainful, sure of its power and ever watchful.

“Freshen up by all means but I can take you to the hot baths if you wish to bathe and we can eat in The Market Place; whatever you want … we can stay here if you prefer ...”

“I’d like to go out and a hot bath would soothe away some of my aches and pains. We rode all day - these last four days for that matter - but don’t you have better things to do?”

“No, I’m happy to entertain you … more than happy. If we plan to go out then can I suggest a different set of clothes? I’ll lend you something; overners are preyed upon by the scum; though you wouldn’t recognise most of them; they dress and act like kings.”

“Oh, thank you. When I came to the city in the past it was always to work or study and I was marshalled by the shipwrights and rarely left the vicinity of the dock.”

“Then you have a treat in store ... let me fetch the clothes.”

Persia left Jason a little bewildered - no - intoxicated was more accurate. The man was like the coffee and chocolate served by Magdala; sensational and dangerously addictive.

Jason busied himself with his pack and shed his waistcoat and shirt for a quick splash before they left for the baths. He didn’t hear Persia come back.

“These will fit you, though you are bigger across the chest.”

Jason started and turned.

“Thank you ... how long have you and Oswald been together?”

“Three years … and you and Jonah?”

“Four or five but only in spring did we wed and celebrate the union.”

“Oswald wants to wed me but he knows everyone will think that I persuaded him to do it just to get my hands on his money.”

“Do you love him?”

“With all my heart.”

“Then wed and mind not what other folks say.”

“It’s what I say but he thinks he protects me this way ... get dressed!”

Persia seemed not to be moved to leave the room and Jason felt a little shy of shedding his breeches; but as he was due to see everything at the baths anyway, he cast off his coyness and his leggings, careful not to catch Persia’s eye whilst he did, feeling the man’s eyes devour him all the while. The loaned breeches had braces which Jason was struggling to untangle.

“Let me help you.”

Persia moved swiftly to his back and began to untwist the straps. Jason could feel his breath on his neck and the heat from his body and it stirred him, much to his surprise and embarrassment. Persia caught sight of the ‘protrusion’ as he moved in front of Jason to untangle the straps which lay over his chest.

“We are men, Jason … and grown men. Don’t be afraid of your reactions; they are healthy and I am flattered.”

“I am still learning to be myself with Jonah; for a long time we kept everything hidden.”

“You don’t need to here.”

Persia had reached the waistband of the breeches and had to unbutton one of the straps to completely untangle it. His hand moved to Jason’s groin and he rubbed very slowly, never taking his eyes from Jason’s own, robbing him of his strength and willpower. Persia moved to kiss him and despite the screaming protests in his head, he couldn’t resist and responded savagely.

“Persia!” he gasped as he came up for air.

“It doesn’t mean that you love him less or that I love Oswald less.”

“What does it mean?”

“We are attracted to each other … and that is perfectly natural. We are young and vital. I think you have enough passion for us both … and it was just a kiss ...”

But Jason knew he wanted more and wouldn’t deny Persia - or himself - anything at that moment.

“... let us go to the baths … though they won’t cool your ardour …”

He moved and the spell was broken.

“... come ...”

They quit the villa and headed for the spa baths which fronted the square called The Market. The merchants gathered there during the day, but in the evening it was taken over by the entertainers, offering every kind of pleasure. Jason had never ventured there and he was mesmerised.

“Ignore the peacocks, Jason, they wish only to give you a sore arse in exchange for a gold penny.”

Jason laughed.

“That’s better; no serious face tonight.”

Persia thrust his arm in Jason’s and they sauntered to the spa, grabbing attention from all corners of the square. They entered the baths and paid a silver penny to obtain a kind of sarong to wear around their waists, which barely extended below the mid-point of the thigh, and sandals for their feet. They changed in one room and then exited into the bathing hall, which was dominated by the pool fed by hot springs. Around its edge were seats and sofas, upon which lounged men of all shapes and sizes, often in groups, talking and taking tea.

“Take a quick bath, Jason, and then we’ll go to the steam rooms to melt all those aches and pains.”

It was customary to bathe naked and Jason pulled the wrap from his waist and strode quickly into the pool, submerging himself to the neck as rapidly as possible, observed by all the men who were not otherwise engaged. Persia joined him at a more sedate pace.

“There are no women here?” queried Jason.

“Men and women are not permitted to bathe together; we each have our allotted days … married couples may bathe together on a Sunday.”

Persia had picked up a body scrubber en route and began to rub Jason’s back and shoulders.

“Stand up! Show the world that you are unafraid.”

Jason rose up out of the water. When he stood up, the water came to just above the base of his manhood, his pubic hair showing tantalisingly. Persia continued to scrub him, first his back and shoulders and then his chest and arms.

“Your body is magnificent … like the trees in the King’s Forest,” he purred as he lifted Jason’s arms to scrub his pits, one after the other.

“Where do you come from, Persia?”

“A very long way from here, to the south of Deuxfleurs.”

“We are going there.”

“I envy you ... the city is beautiful, wondrous ... the art, the machines, the sheer scale of the buildings, the people ...”

“Why do you not go with Oswald?”

“He prefers to be a big fish in a small pond. He would be a nobody there, just another merchant.”

“And you?”

“Here I am a curio, there I can breathe and I have friends ... I miss it.”

“Perhaps you’ll go back.”

“Perhaps ... scrub me, fair exchange!”

The tone had become more relaxed and playful; more to Jason’s liking and his ardour cooled before they went to the steam rooms. There was a succession of rooms, from warm to very hot; many of the bathers moved from one to another, up the scale and then back down, before ending with a bath. Persia headed for the ‘hot’ room.

“Melt in here then I’ll massage you with the oils; the skin will absorb the healing properties better …” Persia’s voice caressed Jason’s manhood.

Jason was grateful for the steam, if only to hide his painful erection. Faces appeared out of the clouds of vapour and he found it difficult to relax. Then it seemed that the room was empty, save for him and Persia.

“Are we alone?” he asked.

“It would seem so; the early crowd has departed, the later crowd doesn’t appear for another hour usually ... do you want me to massage you?”

“My back and shoulders would be eternally grateful!”

“Lie down then.”

The voice sounded like oil being poured into his ears. He lay down on his stomach and placed his arms by his side, resting his head on a thin pillow which was filled with fragrant herbs such as lavender and rose petals. Persia retrieved the oils and spread a little of them on his hands, readying himself to begin the therapy. He started at the shoulders, kneading them quite firmly. Jason needed the pummelling; a lighter touch would have driven him mad. The hands descended down his spine and Persia made fists of his hands and dug deep to release the knots.

“What happened to your cheek?” Persia asked.

“I was attacked on the road. Three men accosted us who we had met the night before at the inn; they were waiting for us as we left the following morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jonah scared them off but as they fled, one whipped me across the face with his crop.”

Jason felt Persia’s lips gently and briefly touch his cheek.

“No one should be permitted to defile such beauty.”

“Jonah would have broken his back had he caught him.”

“He loves you very much; that is plain to see.”

“He does and I scarcely feel worthy of it; he made a terrible sacrifice for me and I feel the dead weight of it.”

“All you can do is love him back with all your heart.”

“I try ...”

Persia’s hands had reached his lower back, which was the sorest.

“Go gently … it is sore.”

“Are his hands rough?”

“No, smooth; he is a weaver; mine are rough from working the wood all day.”

Persia continued to massage Jason’s back; then he kneaded his buttocks and upper thighs until Jason was fairly contorted with a fresh set of pains. As lightly as if a feather had landed on his skin, he felt Persia’s hands on his crevice, gently spreading his mounds apart; the oily fingers dove into the depths and connected with the softest of the skin there.

“No ... please don’t.”

The hand was withdrawn just as lightly and Persia continued down his legs to his calves and feet.

“Turn over, Jason.”

He could not resist the command; every fibre of his self-discipline snapped and he relinquished himself to the power of the voice. He turned and allowed the young exotic to devour his manhood until his rich seed ebbed out.

“You love Jonah and I love Oswald; this is not love nor is it betrayal ... this is pleasure, Jason. We are men with passions; don’t deny them, feed them … and then give them to Jonah.”

Persia continued to touch him, kiss him and caress his muscles and his sex.

“Persia ... I don’t know ...”

“Shush ... speak not, think not, feel, sense, awaken the man within; shrug off the wooden cloak and don your lover’s armour … the heart, the shield; the member which throbs between your legs, the spear in your hand ... buckle the gauntlet of need to your wrist and do not be afraid of who you are.”

Persia moved to place his lips on Jason’s own and they kissed; it was as if the sun had brought every bud to life at once.

Not long afterwards, there was noise in the hall and it signalled the arrival of the later assembly. Jason composed himself and got up.

“You have awakened something in me, Persia, and I am afraid of it. Jonah will doubtless see it and question.”

“He will see only love in your eyes.”

“I gave myself to you.”

“And I to you; it is our gift to each other.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“There is nothing to tell ... now, I’m hungry and need good wine, meat and music!”

Like the man climbing out of the abyss, Jason ascended and found strength and vitality in his body, high spirits and joy in his heart. They made merry all night and arrived back at the house as dawn broke, whispering loudly in the hallway, trying to stifle laughter.

“Go to your bed before Jonah wakes up; he may believe you were there all night.”

Jason crept into the chamber, shedding his clothes and slipping into the bed beside Jonah.

“Do not slink in like a scolded dog, Jason; your whispers were loud enough to wake the dead.”

“Jonah, I’m sorry.”

“For what; enjoying yourself?”

“Yes … without you.”

“Worry not on that score; Oswald and I know how to enjoy ourselves too!”

Jason doubted that they had mirrored each other’s actions.

“I feel different.”

“It was time to let the past go, Jason ... we both suffered under the yoke of our fathers’ expectations … rebellion crushed before it had a chance to bloom and fade as it should. I know you are afraid … but you needn’t be.”

“I …” Jason coughed, unsure of everything; “Are you disappointed?”

“Oh, Jason … if I could but share the contents of my heart and mind with you without the shackles of words, you would see the joy so deep within me and you’d know that you have only ever made me the happiest soul on God’s Earth … you will only ever disappoint me if you deny yourself the greatest gift which man was given … the capacity to love. Before we … joined … I saw a bleak future, filled only with responsibility and expectations like millstones … now the future is a wonderful place …”

“I see the future better.”

“Side by side?”

“Always.”

“Then I say I owe Persia a bag of gold pennies for his pains last night.”

For the next hour Jason held his lover and let the weight of the past, the denial, the angst, the guilt and the pain flow out and he filled the empty space left behind with the love he knew Jonah felt for him which he could not accept before. The doors of all the chambers were flung open and the light flooded in.

At breakfast, Oswald teased the younger men and when the laughter had died down they agreed upon the business for the day. Jonah planned to see Garbling and Jason wanted to go to the docks and look up old masters and make some sales of timber held at the yard. Oswald rose from the table and headed for the bourse and Persia headed straight back to his bed.

Two or three days were passed in similar fashion and soon it was time to make the decision about how they planned to proceed.

“If you take the barge to Saint Clair then you’ll shave a week off of the journey,” offered Oswald.

“We would; and there is a barge that we can sail … one of the masters needs someone to take one down and he would be happy if we sailed it for him … and it would save us the price of the passage,” reported Jason.

“What of the horses?” asked Jonah.

“We can stop and exercise them. We cannot leave them behind because we will need them after Saint Clair.”

“That sounds like the best plan then.”

“I have cargo which you could usefully deliver for me too,” threw in Oswald, “and I’ll pay you for that.”

“Do not talk of payments, Oswald. We have stayed with you and contributed nothing for the food and board; we will sail to Saint Clair with the cargo and the horses.”

“... and Persia.”

“Persia?”

“Yes, he needs to go back to Deuxfleurs … maybe even home.”

“Why?”

“He is caged here and I cannot leave to go with him.”

“But you are together.”

“We are, Jason, but sometimes you have to let the thing you love the most go in order to get it back.”

“Where is he?”

“Packing ...”

Over the next few days, Persia was largely absent and according to Oswald, he was saying goodbye to friends. One evening, one of the last, Jason and Jonah were alone in the house.

“We did not reckon on a passenger, Jonah.”

“I see no difficulty, Jason; the barge is certainly big enough.”

“It is sad in many ways.”

“Oswald is a shrewd judge of the situation. If he refuses Persia this then he will lose him for good. This way he will get him back and then he will wed him.”

“He risks all.”

“You have no choice when you play for love.”

“I will never need to be parted from you, Jonah.”

“We are luckier than most.”

Jason couldn’t help thinking that the incident in the steam room had precipitated Persia’s decision to leave and therefore he was partly to blame for it. The following day, he sought out Persia to ask him some questions.

“No, Jason, you are not to blame. This parting has been coming for a long time and it is healthy for us.”

“You both risk so much.”

“It is worth the risk ... are you worried about anything else, Jason?”

“I am worried that my feelings will become confused.”

“Do you mean your feelings or mine? ... I am not a Market whore, Jason, or a renegade. I do not plan to sabotage your relationship with Jonah; I respect you both too much for that.”

“I know that but you also know that I am attracted to you.”

“Yes, I know that ... we’ll find some way to distract ourselves.”

Jason laughed with him but he was still apprehensive. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist Persia if he approached him in the same way.

Chapter Six – The River Journey to Saint Clair

A day or two later they left Aubade. The farewell between Oswald and Persia was brusque thought Jonah and Jason, until they were thirty feet from the house; Persia rushed back and flung himself in Oswald’s arms. Oswald was overcome and dived back into the villa.

The three men collected their horses from Graveney’s and headed to the river dock to pick up the barge. Jason had built and sailed many as an apprentice. It was a big river barge, sixty feet long and twelve feet across. It had a sail but also a new apparatus which Jason and Jonah had never seen before; a propeller turned by a screw which was powered by a treadmill mounted on the deck which the horses operated. It took an hour to encourage the horses to participate in the scheme however!

Once loaded and provisioned, they headed out and Jason steered them into the middle of the river and very quickly they left Aubade and Oswald behind. The weather was fair and the wind was sufficient to fill the sail and they glided effortlessly along the waterway. They had no deadline and they needed to stop and exercise the horses daily. At this pace, Jason estimated it would take about a week to ten days to reach the town of Saint Clair, where they would hand over the barge and continue on horseback. Then more than one hundred days would stand between them and Deuxfleurs.

An hour from the dock and it was the farthest that Jonah and Jason had ever been from the village in their whole lives. Persia stood and looked out from the front of the barge, smiling to himself; each hour brought him closer to his home. Once the journey was underway and the initial tasks had been completed, Jason presented Jonah with a gift.

“What is this?” queried Jonah, eyeing the package.

“Open it and find out!”

“Why have you-”

“Just because ...”

Jonah opened the package and gasped, quickly raising his hand to his mouth, and as he did, he looked up at Jason with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Persia was looking on bemused at the seemingly odd assortment of polished mahogany spars and brass fittings.

“What is it, Jonah?”

He couldn’t speak.

“It’s a new loom; Jonah’s family loom was destroyed ...”

Jason couldn’t continue his explanation for Jonah was crushing him in a hug and their lips were welded together. Persia took the horses off and left the pair to their ‘thanks giving’!

“Why; I haven’t picked up a shuttle for months?”

“Because I saw how your eyes lit up when Jessica showed you her loom.”

“This is of the finest quality, Jason; I would not dare to sully it with my feeble efforts.”

“Your efforts were never feeble, Jonah … and Oswald said that some of your work adorns the cathedral.”

“Thank you; this is almost as precious to me as you.”

“I am glad.”

Having moored to let the horses off, they stayed put for the rest of the day and that night. Jonah assembled the loom and Jason investigated the apparatus which had been installed which drove the screw and propeller. Persia sat and meditated, quietly chanting to himself, fingering a string of counting beads made of jade and ivory.

The following day, they rode to the village that was not far from the bank to buy fresh vegetables and bread; but in reality it was just an excursion. Now there was only freedom to enjoy; something Jason and Jonah had never had that much of; and never so much time together just being themselves.

Later, back on-board, Jonah looked pensive.

“Jonah?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Jason ...”

“Tell me ...”

“I sometimes think I clip your wings ...”

“What do you mean?”

“I am older than you, Jason; I am past my zenith and you’ve barely started that ascent.”

“What nonsense is this, Jonah? Show me another man who would embark on this journey.”

“Perhaps I am just a fool trying to recapture his youth.”

A thought clanked in Jason’s head as loudly as the church bell; had Persia said something, perhaps to Oswald and Oswald had told Jonah?

“You are no fool ... besides, we love each other, nothing else matters.”

“Yes, we do love each other but back in the village we had fewer choices.”

“I never thought you were the best I was ever likely to have unless I moved on. I would choose you if all the men in the world were stood in front of me now and offered me their hearts.”

“Then I am truly blessed and you are the best I am ever likely to have because you are the best of men and if the rest were all lined up, I should say ‘find other mates amongst yourselves, I have chosen mine’ ...”

“Then let us not plague ourselves with doubts, they consume the spirit and leave us weak.”

“I will agree to that on one condition, that if another should offer you his heart, you will consider it carefully.”

“I promise to consider it but I know what my answer will be.”

“Then I am sorry to be less grateful than I should be; doubts are not what I wished to sow.”

Jason’s fears were somewhat quelled but not entirely. They ate and moved below decks to spend the evening in the comfort and solitude of the bedroom, playing cards and just listening to the lap of the water slap against the side of the boat. There was a tranquillity they had rarely felt before, despite the three grains of anxiety that plagued one corner of Jason’s mind.

After moonrise and checking on the horses, they retired. Persia was chanting in deep meditation and they did not disturb him. They undressed and neither donned a slip; they slept naked always now. They were lying in each other’s arms, just watching the moon shadow creep across the room, when Persia entered their berth. He was naked, save the string of beads which he wore around his neck. Jason’s heart skipped a beat but Jonah seemed uncommonly relaxed, almost as if he was expecting him.

The young exotic man approached and climbed onto their bed, reaching out his hands to clasp theirs. The light from the Moon shone through the skylight and illuminated him; the aura around him danced and his satin skin radiated rainbow coloured fire. They reached for his hands and drew him to themselves and without words or questioning looks, they wrapped him in their joint embrace and fed on his flesh; he the sacrificial lamb and they, the acolytes learning the mystical crafts.

He writhed between them; a sinuous ribbon of iridescence, both cool and hot, a river of pearls flowing between their banks. He bloomed like an orchid and they kissed his stamen and kissed each other, collecting the pollen to make their honey.

He, the glowing, hot flux which welds and fills the spaces, bridging the gaps and forging the bonds. He, the earthing rod sucking their current into the loam, he the lightning bolt sending up a final shower of scintillating blue white sparks before dying in their arms.

Their lips, once hot and bruised, now burnished by the hard wood, lay cooling. Their once erect stamens, the ‘thread of the warp’, having released their pollen, died their little death.

In the morning when Jason and Jonah woke, Persia was gone from their bed and when they went above decks, they found that he had left.

“We let him go to get him back.”

“All have let him go.”

“And all will get him back.”

“Did you know?”

“That he had made love to you? ... Yes.”

“Are you angry?”

“No, just as Oswald lets Persia go to get him back, so I let you go to get you back.”

“You had more faith in my resistance; I had none myself.”

“I had every faith in you, Jason; it was the last test of us.”

“I could not resist him.”

“Few can.”

“You did.”

“Not last night.”

“Are we weaker for it?”

“No, stronger; you are here and he has gone.”

With one fewer pair of hands, there was more for them to do but the craft was simple and the weather was fine; indeed it grew hot, for they inched south all the while. Jonah set up the loom and for the longest time, he just stared at the polished wood and gleaming brass, afraid to touch it, uncertain of his skills. He picked up the yarn and set the warp, careful to adjust the tension. Loading a shuttle, he wove two or three picks to get the feel of the frame and to feel muscles work which had slept for months. His back ached within minutes and he smiled at the remembrance of Jason kneading his back after eight hours weaving at the loom in the cottage. Two or three picks became fifteen or sixteen, then forty or fifty and three hours he had been sat before Jason appeared, curious as to what had kept Jonah below the deck.

“How is it?”

“Like a faithful friend who welcomes you after a long absence.”

“I am happy to see you working at it again, but come ... I have something to show you.”

They went back upon the deck where Jason had made a tripod for the telescope and it was placed at the front of the barge.

“Take a look.”

Jonah placed his eye on the viewing scope and after a second to adjust the sight, he gasped.

“Those are the crystal domes at Saint Clair.”

“We move out of the familiar into the unfamiliar, Jonah.”

“How far are we from there now?”

“Two days, no more; the propeller is cutting the normal time by half.”

After exercising the horses and picking a punnet of the first strawberries which grew along the bank, they rested under the awning on the deck.

“How did you feel when you killed that man?”

Jonah knew the question would eventually come.

“I was not myself at that time. Certainly you would not have recognised me; we were animals, trying to survive. If I had not killed him, he would have killed me.”

“Did he value his life so little that he would risk it for a greater share of the fire?”

“He believed he was stronger and in that place, strength was currency.”

“I would have been rooted with fear.”

“I thought I would too but I guess I valued my life more than he did. It was a necessary show of force, the weak were – are - always preyed upon ... the guards came and asked what had happened ... someone said he had fallen and it wasn’t questioned.”

“No one mourned his passing?”

“No one, not even me.”

“My heart threatens to stop again when I think of it.”

“Then don’t ... I am not proud of myself. I did what I needed to do to survive; afterwards I kept to myself and no one bothered me.”

“The worst part was not being able to tell the truth … no, the worst was being separated, but-”

“When I realised what had happened, what you had done, my heart was fit to burst. You had done it for me, reckless a deed as it was, you had still done it for me and I had no hesitation in accepting the blame. Perhaps that was reckless too, but I knew how much I loved you and how much you loved me and I knew I would survive the ordeal. Your love flowed in my veins and nourished me, without that I would have died.”

“Nine months in the hard labour yard; I do not think I would have survived that.”

“Smashing stones with a hammer is easy, Jason, being alone is the mind killer. Only a hard bed and a rough blanket to clutch to your chest each night … but I knew you would be there when I returned. The man I killed had no one inside or out who cared for him.”

They sat quietly for a time and then Jason needed a hand to oil the gears.

“Press down on that lever to disconnect the shaft from the screw. I’ll grease the gears and the bearings … be careful, it’s heavy.”

“This is not that different from the wheel and gears which drove the water-powered loom.”

“Persia said the city is full of great machines.”

“And there are buildings higher than the domes at Saint Clair.”

“We shall be like ants!”

Hot and sweaty from their labours, with their hands covered in grease, they moved to ascend the ladder to jump in the river. Jason went first and was at the foot of the ladder, both hands on a rung above the level of his head and one foot on the bottom rung. He was poised to lever himself up, when he felt Jonah press up close behind him.

“When I see you, I am like a man who comes across an oasis in the desert ...”

“Then drink of me and then shake the palm nuts from the tree and feed your hunger ... and mine.”

Jonah just pressed himself up against Jason’s back at first, laying his cheek on the skin to feel the warmth on his own and dispel the memory of too many cold nights with only a rough blanket to keep out the chill. He took in the smell of the grease and sweat. He snaked his arms around the broad chest and placed his hands on the mounds of Jason’s breast and hugged tightly. Jason tilted his head back and rested it on Jonah’s shoulder. They were already hard and beginning to twist like the screw.

“Jonah ...”

They wore just linen shorts, loose fitting, and held by a drawstring. Jonah slid his hands down to the knot, relishing the feeling of the contours under his hands; Jason’s grooves were like the rungs of the ladder, carrying Jonah down. He brought one hand up and cupped Jason’s chin, turning his head so that he could kiss the mouth askance, dipping his tongue into the nectar cup like a humming bird.

Jonah pulled the string to let the shorts fall.

“Climb a little higher,” he whispered into Jason’s ear, who raised himself up three or four rungs, until he felt Jonah’s hands on his hips.

“Just there.”

Jonah kissed his buttocks and licked small patches, which he then blew upon to cool the skin and Jason shuddered as much from the anticipation as the sensation. Jonah moved his hands from Jason’s hips and laid them on the mounds close to the crevice and then pushed the two halves apart. At once, he dived in and found the centre of the target with his tongue and Jason was hard-pressed to keep hold of the ladder.

“Jonah, you propel me like the screw with your tongue.”

Jonah had learned what Jason liked and he licked first with the broad flat part of his tongue and then he probed with the tip, pushing as deep as the tight ring would allow, licking and probing until Jason begged him to stop. Then, as now, he rubbed the soft skin with the tip of a finger, pushing to feel the gateway just open and then he would replace the finger with his tongue again.

He moved a hand to grasp Jason’s shaft and he massaged it, rubbing his slick hand over the head, and cupping the heavy mass of his scrotum, gently kneading to elicit growls and purrs. Jason was held thus, moving his hips intensified one sensation or the other. Jonah entered him again with two fingers, one crossed over the other, to stretch the opening and allow his tongue the ecstasy of being gripped by the muscle as it clenched and unclenched. Slowly, Jonah pulled him back down the ladder, one rung at time and when Jason’s feet touched the planks, he entered him with his manhood, swiftly and deeply, never letting go of the pulsing shaft in his hand and his hips beat a steady rhythm.

Jason became taut like a wire, barely able to stand. Stretched up on tiptoe, he released his seed into Jonah’s palm, who then plunged the hand beneath them. Reaching back under, he let his fingertips graze the surface of his rod until he became taut; pushing in with all his strength, he delivered up his seed, feeling the muscles inside spasm like a throat gulping down the fluid it yearns for so desperately. Barely able to climb, they ascended and dived into the river with cries of unbridled joy and splashed and larked about, much to the amusement of the day trippers picnicking on the banks.

Chapter Seven – Saint Clair and the Arrival of the Aeronaut

Saint Clair was not a city but a market town and the gateway to the South Way. It sat on the river and a thriving dock handled goods, from the east and the west, noisy with bartering, the constant creak of timbers and the screech of winches loading and unloading the cargos of the barges. Jason navigated them into the assigned dock and they headed off to find the master and organise the unloading of Oswald’s cargo. Once that was underway, they moved off of the boat and brought the horses to the livery, taking a room at the Inn for a few days. Oswald had given Jonah a few commissions to transact for him and the men needed to apply to the Magistrate for permits to travel south. Some difficulty was encountered when asked by the Magistrate if either had spent time in prison; Jonah replied that he had.

“Luckily for you, Jonah, Oswald has vouched for you and I will issue you with the permit. Strictly speaking, you should observe a curfew whilst you stay here and attend me daily to report all your movements. I will not insist upon that, but tread lightly and make little noise ...”

Jonah was quiet for a time after they left the office and Jason, knowing the cause, did not know how to broach the subject; this prejudice had not been anticipated.

“I say he was fair but I feel like the criminal anew. Was it not enough to pay the debt once?” Jonah muttered, as much to himself as to Jason.

“He was fair and it was enough to pay the debt once; we have the permits, Jonah ...”

“Yes; we will not stay longer than necessary.”

“I only wish to see the grotto and the idols and climb to the top of the domes; there is no profit for us in dallying here.”

“I wish to see the caves too and scale the domes and then we leave, the day after tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, Jonah ...”

“It’s fine, Jason; let us not dwell upon it.”

But there was a trace of bitterness wrapped around those words and perhaps for the first time, regret.

Only the excursion to the caves and the prospect of gazing upon the idols and climbing to the top of the crystal domes dispelled the clouds which had gathered. That was agreed for the following day. There was an afternoon ahead of them, which begged for some pleasant activity to be found.

They wandered around the market square which was full of the usual bustle and noise. The stall holders cried out, tempting everyone to taste their wares, and being visitors, the sellers doubled their efforts to attract their attention.

“I am loath to buy anything, Jonah. We will struggle already to carry everything on the two horses.”

“I wonder if a wagon would not suit us better.”

“Slower ...”

“But it would provide accommodation too.”

As they toured and cogitated on the choice of whether to proceed on horseback as planned or get a wagon, a huge cry went up from the crowd and everyone was looking into the sky and pointing. Jason and Jonah looked up automatically and they beheld a sight as alien to them as any found in their memories, dreams or nightmares.

“What is it?” asked Jason.

A stallholder answered the question.

“The balloon ... from Deuxfleurs.”

They watched enrapt as the craft sank lower and lower.

“Come, Jonah, let us see it land ...”

Like excited children, they ran to the landing field and very soon thereafter, the craft sank down and landed; however, not without some bumps and attendant curses from the man who was piloting it.

The balloon was immense, easily four times the size of the tithe barn and beneath it was slung a basket the size of the cottage.

“What keeps the balloon aloft do you think?” asked Jason.

“Let’s ask him!” urged Jonah, already on the move.

By the time they had reached the landing site, four men had tethered the craft to huge metal rings fixed to the bedrock and the pilot was exiting from the basket, already surrounded by a clutch of children, young and old.

He was a young man, slightly younger than Jason.

“A raven,” said Jonah quietly.

It was impossible to get closer and ask the man any questions, so Jason and Jonah followed the rest of the crowd and marched with the aeronaut back to the square. Later, after the hubbub had died down, they found him in the inn, enjoying some solitude, and they asked if they could join him.

“Certainly, gentlemen!”

They had a hundred questions and he was happy to answer all of them.

“What is the balloon filled with; not hot air?”

“No, a gas produced by pigs and cattle.”

“How do you navigate it?” asked Jason.

“In truth you don’t, you are prey to the winds. Only at this time of the year dare I risk the journey north. Now I have to wait for the winds to turn before I can go home.”

“You cannot tack the wind like a sailing boat?”

“I cannot influence its direction and I have no other means of propulsion.”

This got Jason thinking, who then sat quietly with some paper and a pencil whilst Jonah asked the aeronaut about the fabric used to make the balloon.

“It is linen, covered with pine resin to make it gas-tight, but there is some loss of gas from the bladder; the stitching of the seams was not the best job I have seen.”

The whirring inside the men’s heads was practically audible and it was Jason who spoke first as he handed the man his drawing.

“Take a look at this; it is a new type of propulsion system much like the one fitted to the barge. If we could fashion a propeller that was light enough, we could turn it like the propeller on the barge and effect some degree of propulsion … tarp’ sails at the front might also help.”

The aeronaut, whose name was Hugo, was intrigued with the idea and they headed to the dock to show him the barge’s system.

“Can you make it?”

“Without doubt!”

“If you can make it and it works, then I will take you to Deuxfleurs.”

Jason looked at Jonah.

“Agreed, else we are more than one hundred days in the saddle. I will willingly work a week here to save them.”

“What of the sealant, Jonah?”

“I need to test some alternatives. The resin makes the cloth hard and inflexible and once worn, prone to cracking ... let me think on it.”

They ate together and finalised the plan to make the huge propeller which would drive the balloon through the air. Organising work space and labour took up all of the next day. They reconvened for dinner.

“Work starts tomorrow, Jonah, and it will take a week.”

“I can see one improvement which might prevent some of the gas from being lost ... smaller balloons made of silk, filled with the gas and placed inside the larger balloon. The silk is able to be woven tighter but as for sealing them, most things, like resin, are too heavy ...”

“What of rubber?” Hugo suggested.

“Rubber? What is rubber?”

“The product of a tree, which is used to waterproof a material.”

Neither Jonah nor Jason had heard of this wonderful stuff called ‘rubber’.

“Is there any here?” Jonah asked.

“Doubtful; but even the idea of filling smaller balloons is a good one, because if the big balloon is punctured I lose all of the gas … and plummeting to my death from one thousand feet is not how I wish to meet my Maker.”

“A thousand feet!”

“Sometimes higher, depending on the thermals.”

“We can get the smaller balloons made; I can supervise that. What of the cost, Hugo?”

“There is plenty of money for this. My father sees great potential and this will be an investment ... and gentlemen, if you are in at the start, I see your fortunes made.”

“Let us build the propeller and make the balloons first, then we will talk fortunes,” replied Jonah sanguinely.

“Agreed, let us aim for the end of the week and then we will test it.”

“And you agree to carry us to Deuxfleurs.”

“I do.”

The men retired to their rooms.

“The wheel turns, Jonah; this is exciting and perhaps profitable.”

“Indeed ... and our skills get an airing and perhaps a chance to shine.”

“What if ...”

“Ah, Jason, I see the future in your eyes which are as big as the magnifiers on the telescope and I see some of those things too; let us get the propeller turning.”

“Wise words, Jonah … and you at last will supervise a power loom.”

“My hands are shaking at the prospect and I wish Elam was here ... I feel the lack of my skills before I start.”

“Nonsense! You don’t need to build the loom, just supervise the weavers; and none has an eye for quality as sharp as yours, Jonah, not even Elam.”

Jonah thought it was very gallant of Jason to praise him as he did and he smiled.

“What?”

“I feel the love you have for me, Jason; in this moment I feel it, a feeling so solid it is as if your lips were pressed to mine.”

“If I kissed you, would you be no more convinced of it?” Jason replied grinning.

“I should need to judge it after the event.”

Jason moved and quickly sought out those lips and there was no need for any judging or convincing once they were done.

The works put paid to the excursion to the caves and the domes and all three men were busy from before sunrise until well after sunset for a week but it had a profound effect on the two villagers.

Jonah regained his self-worth as a weaver. When he had taken the blame for Jason’s crime and had been sent to the gaol for nine months, it was because he had lost all faith in everything except Jason’s love for him. There had also been strange moments when he had relished not being the weaver anymore, happy to lose that distinction, content to be no one of any particular importance. Now, reconnected with his heritage, he doubled and redoubled his efforts to honour its gift.

Jason excelled at working the wood and directing the men. His skills were admired, and by wrights and carpenters far more experienced than himself. Now he believed himself capable of great things and he had the chance to make Jonah proud, though he needn’t have worried on that score.

Hugo was overjoyed with the works and the potential and he had no qualms in taking these men to the city where he believed they would enjoy a glorious future. Perhaps, finally, his father would be proud of him; no longer the reckless adventurer, but a man capable of shaping the future and the lives of the people who dwelt there.

The end of the week was very tense as the apparatus was assembled for the first test flight. Hugo had supervised the refilling of the small balloons and he and Jonah awaited the delivery of the propeller eagerly. Two vast sails were also fitted to capture the wind. Jason brought the assemblage on a caravan of carts and the scene was reminiscent of a carnival or the circus arriving for the summer fair. One whole day saw the gear assembled, but by then it was too late in the day to launch the craft and all retired.

“Gentlemen, you have exceeded my expectations. I did not believe this could be achieved outside of the city,” admitted Hugo at dinner.

“Judge our achievements by the success of the launch tomorrow, Hugo; but speaking for myself, I believe it is a job well done,” replied Jonah.

“When do we leave, Hugo; if all goes well tomorrow?” asked Jason.

“Two days, Jason; time to provision, then we leave for Deuxfleurs; a journey of ten days, maybe less.”

“Saving us one hundred days ... just think of the potential.”

“I do ...” Hugo replied cryptically.

“And what happens when you return, Hugo?”

“That depends on my father ...”

They broke up to retire and snatch such sleep as they could, though none did, the anticipation was thick, like the air before a summer storm breaks.

“I have never seen you look happier, Jonah; no, the day we wed, but save that day.”

“I am happy, Jason; as much for you as for myself.”

“Elam is in for a surprise!”

“Yes; and I am keen to see him. There are things which we need to discuss and some which need to be laid to rest.”

“If he admits to murdering the Squire; what then?”

“It is his conscience, Jason. If I am keen to see him, then I am keener to see how he lives with the deed, if he did it.”

“No one else is a candidate, Jonah; and he left without saying a word.”

“I acknowledge that but I will not judge him until he has told me himself.”

“And the future?”

“Building ships which sail over the oceans may mean something different now!”

“Do you think we will ever go back to the village?”

“Yes, we will go back; we have friends and kin there.”

“Landing a craft such as Hugo’s on the village green; that would be my preferred manner of return.”

Neither could sleep so they just lay together, loosely held in each other’s arms, both on their backs just looking up at the ceiling and putting into words such thoughts as came into their heads.

“I have written to Oswald to tell him that Persia left us and all that has happened since.”

“A reunion with Elam and Persia,” Jason mused out loud.

“A veritable constellation in the making.”

Chapter Eight – The Journey to Deuxfleurs

Well before sunrise, the three men were at the site to test the apparatus.

“The first test will be a tethered flight,” announced Hugo.

They clambered into the basket and with a tether line secured, the anchors were dropped and the balloon rose slowly into the air. Jason and Jonah could not help laughing with the sheer unadulterated joy of the moment. They rose one hundred feet and the breeze began to pick up and swing them round.

“Here’s your chance, Jason ...”

The idea was to manoeuvre the craft and sail in a broad circle. A test of the sails, which could be operated by ropes and winches, slackened and tightened as required; and a test of the propeller. The energy needed to turn the propeller was not that great. Jason had made the propeller very light and Jonah could operate it from within the basket, turning the wheel by hand. The sweat broke out on his forehead after some fifteen minutes. It took all their concentration and labour to steer the craft and handle the winds, even though they were light and constant at this altitude.

“What do you think, Hugo?” they cried out.

“I say we are ready to drop the line; but first, we celebrate!”

They went back to the inn and breakfasted like kings.

“Once the tether line is dropped, she will rise to a height of five hundred feet and there the winds will be stronger and expect some buffeting. To rise higher, we need to fill the balloon with more gas, but to descend again means emptying the ballast tanks and I’m loathed to waste the gas because there are no reserves here to replace it. Gentlemen, I have a plan ... we leave today!”

“An hour to pack and we are ready, Hugo.”

“You wanted to see the grotto and the domes; do that, and we will leave after lunch. I’ll get the provisions.”

Jason and Jonah packed and then left to visit the grotto and the domes. Outside of the town, after a ride of a half an hour on horseback, they arrived at the caves. For hundreds of years, folk had visited the caves and many had left behind offerings. In the distant past, before Christianity had spread, the act of placing a figurine in some nook was common and there were thousands, from the size of a thumb to life size.

In one part of the cave there was a collection of skulls and in their empty eye sockets, crystals or painted stones had been placed. These eyes seemed to stare into their faces and left a haunting impression which was not easily forgotten. Above the skulls were the crystal domes.

The roof of the cave was made up of crystals. Not that folk knew how they had been formed; the forces deep in the Earth, which had forged these jewels, were not understood. But at some time, deep in the ground, molten rock had cooled very slowly and the crystals had grown large. Over time, the rocks with the crystals embedded in them, had moved, in fact, had been forced up within a pipe, emanating from a vast subterranean lake of molten lava. Subsequent collapses and erosion had exposed the crystals, creating a skylight. The light, transmitted through the crystals from the surface to the interior of the cave, broke into beams of red, green, blue, yellow and a fiery white. The lake of molten rock still bubbled away deep inside the Earth; its energy heating the water for the hot baths at Aubade.

Curiosity satisfied, they returned to the inn but not before Jonah had placed the old soldier, with his white tabard embroidered with the red cross, in an alcove.

“The crusader, Jonah?”

“Yes ... he’s earned his rest.”

“We shall earn ours I think.”

With some pomp, the three men were accompanied to the craft and after all the things had been stowed, they were ready to leave. The clock struck one and Hugo ordered the tether lines to be released. The ropes slipped through the rings and the balloon rose majestically into the sky. The extra gas and the thermals carried them to a thousand feet and then the work began in earnest.

At times it took all three to turn the propeller fast enough to combat the winds; and with trimmed sails, they reached alarming speeds. Fear had long been overtaken by invigoration; and muscles, which should have been crying out, relished the challenge of mastering this new art of ‘sky sailing’ as Hugo called it.

When they needed to rest, they let the balloon drift. Sometimes they hit ‘dead air’ and remained virtually stationary, hovering like a vast bloated hawk. During one such repose Hugo asked, “Tell me of your love.”

Jonah immediately looked at Jason and smiled and Jason looked lovingly back. Never before had anyone asked them to recall the earliest events.

“I knew Jason since his birth, for we lived in the village our whole lives, like generations before us. I didn’t pay him any more attention than any of the other youngsters. I was eighteen when he was born and I remember his mother showing my mother her new born baby. I had work and skills to learn and no thoughts of love found space in my heart. He grew and I grew older; we inhabited different spheres and I don’t recall speaking to him at length until he was at least eighteen.”

“I told you of my first visit to the city because you asked me where I had come by the waistcoat.”

“Yes ... that was it, and having punctured that bubble, it must have awakened something very deep in my chest; but it was a small thing, a scared thing ...”

“Did you not have a sweetheart?”

“No, I shied away from the girls, except Henrietta, but she was more boy than girl in those days. When she met and started courting Cruse, I was devastated of course,” admitted Jonah, chuckling to himself.

“Why?”

“I had a crush on Cruse. I secretly watched him thresh the corn, bare-chested in the sunshine-”

“Cruse?” interrupted Jason, smirking.

“Yes, Cruse! But I knew he was madly in love with Henrietta so I banished those thoughts and made of him the best friend a man could have, for all our sakes, and it was the right decision.”

“So ... how did it go with Jason?” Hugo urged.

“Years went by and I watched him grow. He is the finest specimen of manhood in the county-”

“Jonah!”

“You were - still are - I think my feelings grew slowly, like ice crystals, not cold but hot and they were clear like ice, not darkened by shadows of some temporary lust. I knew he was someone I could love but I dared not hope.”

“Until?”

“Oh, when was it, four or five years ago ... Jason came to the cottage and asked me to make a saddle cloth ...”

“For Champion ...”

“... and I agreed; there was a moment, as he stood there, when I saw his flame burning bright in his chest and I realised that it was for me. I worked at the loom the following morning and I thought of him and nothing else. I did some work in the garden and then walked through the orchard to smell the scent of the apple blossom and bathe at the trough ... I knew he would be there. I shed my shirt and dunked my head and as I reached for the ladle to scoop the water over my back, I found his hand in mine. Turning and straightening up, I beheld him, naked as a dewdrop, his hair cascading over his shoulders and I made love to him. Afterwards, we walked back to the cottage hand-in-hand and we lay together until the following dawn and as the sun rose, I told Jason that I loved him and he told me that he loved me ...”

All contemplated the words.

“What of you, Hugo?” asked Jason.

“Oh, my father never approves of my choices, so I have given up trying. It is easier to be alone for the time being ... I find peace of mind up here.”

“I hope that changes, Hugo,” said Jonah.

“That he approves of someone and I can live my life with them? I hope for that too.”

The balloon had drifted into a strong current of air and it was all hands on deck to check the craft and tack across the air stream and bring her safely back on course above the South Way.

“How far have we come?” asked Jason.

“Each day and night in the air is the same as ten or twelve on the ground by horse. We are a quarter of the way to the metropolis, Jason, and soon you will see the very tips of the Minster spires shining in the sun.”

They put down only once, at Shelton, where Hugo had reserves of the gas, and they needed water and fresh food. Stepping out of the basket, they staggered like men drunk.

“You lose your land legs, gentlemen!” cried Hugo.

Aloft, they had no such difficulties. For the largest part, Jonah powered the propeller and Jason tackled the winds, Hugo assisting one or the other as needs dictated.

“There!” hollered Hugo, on the morning of the eighth day abroad.

On the horizon they detected a light, more of a beacon, flaming gold.

“It is the light reflecting off of the tops of the towers of the palace.”

“The palace is made of gold?!” exclaimed Jason.

“Not the whole palace ... the pinnacles of the towers are gilded.”

“It must be vast.”

“The city covers an area equal to the size of the county where you are from. Five hundred thousand people live there.”

“And the ocean!”

“Yes, the ocean laps at her feet.”

“How long now?”

“Two or three days; we will have to fight the winds as we approach, for they blow straight off the ocean unchecked and around the city, they swirl. The landing site is not within the city walls, it is too dangerous.”

“We will need somewhere to stay, Hugo ... can you recommend a place to us?” asked Jonah.

“Stay with me, at least at first, whilst we agree on the plans for the future. My father will want to speak to you ... everyone will want to speak to you.”

“That is very generous, Hugo ... and we may need your help to locate our friend.”

“Don’t worry about that. The news of our arrival and your descriptions will be circulated in the penny paper the instant we land ... don’t look so worried, Jason; and in any event, you can’t have an adventure without scuffing your boots!”

Jonah chuckled when he heard the proverb which he hadn’t for a very long time. Though he smiled, he was a little apprehensive too. Not because of the prospect of the gawping crowds; no, because the words ‘convicted felon’ appeared on his permit and despite his best efforts, his thumb had not yet left a smudge which rendered the words indecipherable.

Hugo was right, and the winds were keener and swirled as the final furlong approached and they kept the trio fully occupied for a whole day and night; but only laughter filled the air and the sweat flung from their brows as they tossed their heads. So busy were they, that none had a proper chance to survey the city, and as they dropped, they could see less and less, save the golden pinnacles of the palace and the blinding white spires of the Minster.

“Pull up and deploy the air brake,” bellowed Hugo.

Once they had checked the craft, they dropped the anchors. Four men on the landing site fed the ropes through the massive bedrock-mounted rings and hauled the craft down, tying her off securely once the basket had touched down.

“Gentlemen, welcome to Deuxfleurs.”

Chapter Nine – Deuxfleurs

Unlike at Aubade, there wasn’t a large, excited crowd waiting for them, just a handful, mostly youngsters, and the four men who had hauled the craft down.

“No throng I’m afraid. The city is bored of the balloon but wait until they hear about the propeller, then they will come flocking. Come, my friends.”

The site was someway outside of the walls and Jason and Jonah didn’t immediately comprehend how they were to journey into the city.

“The men will fetch your things; climb aboard the coach. I am eager to see my father and tell him of our progress ...”

“A coach?” queried Jason quietly.

“We step into a different world, Jason.”

The coach stood at the side of the field; a covered landau, drawn by four jet black stallions, with a livery-suited driver waiting patiently for them.

“Gentlemen, worry not; I will personally make sure that you are looked after … but be prepared for the odd shock; and at some point we will have to introduce you to the Court.”

“The Court?” asked Jonah, alarmed.

“The King’s Court, Jonah. Things in Deuxfleurs are very formal and without the King’s favour the engineers will scarcely pay you any attention. All is show and favour; it drives me mad and into the skies ...”

They left the airfield and headed towards the gates of the city and as they passed by, folk walking or riding or standing by the carriageway, took off their hats and the women curtsied.

“Hugo, why do these people defer to you?”

“It is due to my station in life, Jonah.”

“Which station is that?”

“Second born son of the King and a Prince of the Empire.”

“WHAT!”

“Yes, not the unruly and renegade offspring of a wealthy merchant; sorry, I did want to tell you but what difference should it make?”

“None between us until now, but here, all the difference imaginable I should think.”

“Ignore all the pretence, Jonah, and concentrate on what is really important, the future, building the ships that will sail over the oceans and perfecting the balloon.”

“We are hardly fit to be presented to the King, Hugo; we haven’t washed for three days.”

“That is easily remedied ...”

Jason was gazing out of the window.

“This city is like the fairy tale come true ...”

“There is nothing you cannot achieve here, Jason ... the finest of everything sits within these walls. How big a ship do you want to build; that is all you have to decide.”

“We pass through the gates; I have only dreamed of this,” murmured Jonah.

As they proceeded through the city, the crowds moved to allow them to pass and they made swift progress through along the corridor.

“I will not subject you to the full glare of the Court before we are prepared. The coach will drop us at my guest quarters ... rest, bathe and eat. I will go to my father and make a report and agree with him the time when I will introduce you.”

Jason and Jonah were practically dumbstruck. In each street alone there were more people than in the entire village … and there were streets upon streets. The coach deposited them at the guest quarters and Hugo rattled off orders quickly to the servants who had rushed out. The three men entered and all was suddenly peaceful and calm.

“I will be gone an hour or two; make yourselves at home and ask Theodore for anything that you need.”

The man made himself known to them but for the time being the two of them wandered about the rooms, afraid to touch anything, conscious that they left grubby footprints on the rugs.

“Gentlemen, may I suggest something to eat and drink and then take a bath?” suggested the man, gesturing to a table laid out with food and drink.

The men ate ravenously and emptied the water pitcher twice; though neither touched the wine, afraid the King would smell it on their breath. Once hunger and thirst had been despatched, they looked more closely about them and babbled like brooks until Theodore advised them that the bath had been drawn and they were at liberty to wash.

“There are clean clothes, gentlemen, laid out in the dressing room. Ring this bell if you need anything.”

Jason and Jonah investigated the rooms more thoroughly now and came across the bath, a sunken tub from which clouds of steam rose.

“A hot bath ... did we land in Paradise?” asked Jason.

“Surely I will wake soon and this will have been a dream.”

“Am I beside you when you wake?”

Jonah just grinned and began to shed his clothes which stank.

“I am not unhappy to be rid of these.”

They eased themselves into the bath and agreed that they had landed in Paradise. They scrubbed each other and washed each other’s hair. It was a necessary re-forging of the bond, for they had not lain together for ten days and their hearts ached more than their muscles.

“Tonight,” whispered Jonah.

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know.”

And they laughed in whispers.

Clean and dry, they surveyed the clothes and raised their eyebrows.

“Are we employed as the Court Jesters do you think?” quipped Jason.

“If I could produce such fabrics then I would call myself a weaver,” replied Jonah, handling the cloth with near reverence.

They dressed and when Theodore returned he simply raised an eyebrow.

“Did we put something on wrong, Theodore?”

“On the contrary, gentlemen, I am just amazed at the transformation.”

“Tell us that ‘work attire’ is more practical.”

“Much more; but before you can hope to work, you have to meet the King and the Chief Engineer. That is why I have come back, to escort you ...”

They were led through a seemingly endless succession of rooms and lobbies and corridors, until they reached a courtyard, deep within the palace. In the courtyard, were the King, the Chief Engineer, Hugo, and another man.

“Ah, Jason ... Jonah!” cried Hugo.

The men advanced and bowed stiffly before reaching for Hugo’s out-stretched hands.

“Father, these are the men who will forge the future.”

Jason and Jonah bowed again.

“Your Majesty,” they sang in unison.

“Gentlemen, forget the pomp, of necessity as our time is brief, at least for now. Tell me that you can build me a fleet of the flying ships capable of being propelled across the ocean, large enough to carry my army.”

“We believe we can, your Majesty,” replied Jonah.

“Then draw up plans and once Oliver, my Chief Engineer, has approved them, work will begin.”

At which point the King left and all bowed.

“Hugo’s craft was adapted quickly but it should provide a reasonable template for the design,” began Jason.

“My craft is being moved to the hanger at the quayside and I suggest we convene there tomorrow and take a look. What say you, Oliver?”

“Very good.”

He left and only the unintroduced man remained.

“Gentlemen, this man is assigned to protect you ... his name is Forester.”

Jason and Jonah looked slightly alarmed.

“Have no fear, gentlemen, it is precautionary only.”

“From what do you potentially protect us, Forester?” asked Jason.

“The Empire’s spies and enemies ... the village from whence you came does not feel the threat; here it is different.”

“Tomorrow, dear friends, breakfast with me and then we’ll show Oliver the craft. Worry not; well, if you need to worry then concern yourselves with how you plan to spend the fortunes you will make.”

Hugo left and the men were alone with Forester.

“Do you stay with us in our quarters, Forester?”

“Those are my orders ... shall we?”

They wandered back and without Forester to guide them, they would have been lost within two minutes.

Once back, Jonah asked, “Forester, we need to find our friend. It was by his invitation that we came here ... he is a master weaver by the name of ‘Elam Essay’ ...”

“I will make enquiries; the weavers have their workshops in one particular quarter.”

“Thank you.”

With that exchange, Forester left.

“Paradise found and lost, Jonah; I do not like this bodyguard.”

“It unnerves me too and it makes me suddenly yearn for the safety of the cottage garden ... but let us not worry too much, Jason, things were bound to be different here.”

“I agree ... we are very small fish.”

“Maybe not so small if we manage to do this.”

“Can we?”

“We cannot afford to doubt our skills, Jason, for I am sure there will be plenty who will until we have proved our worth. If what Hugo says is true, and that the finest of everything is to be found within these walls, then I for one will make the best use of the gift.”

“Hold me, Jonah.”

He did and they held each other for a very long time.

“Can we go to bed now?” he asked.

They undressed and lay their new clothes down as if they were placing sleeping new born babies in their cribs. Naked, they slipped under the sheets and blankets and pressed themselves tightly to one another, searching out each other’s lips for the first proper kiss in over a week.

“My seed will erupt soon, Jonah ... I must be inside you.”

“Enter me, Jason ...”

Jonah rolled onto his stomach and Jason swiftly mounted him, almost frantic that his seed would spill out. Within seconds his seed was flowing.

“Jonah ...” the name of his lover gilded his lips.

When Jason ejected his seed it was usually like the quick bright flash of the shooting star, streaking across the night sky. This time it was like the strange lights seen in the north, undulating and rippling; a release like an inundation of a river, heavy with sediment, breaking its banks. And he wanted Jonah to enter him quickly after, to fill the space left behind. Only by sharing their seed in this way would they find each other in the eternal life after death.

“Jason ...” and the name of his lover rose like the lava in the pipe and his seed erupted in a fiery fountain.

“I will find you now.”

“And I will find you.”

Chapter Ten – Elam

The following morning just after sunrise, the men woke and, finding that they had not dreamt it all, embraced each other and planted soft kisses on each other’s lips. When they left the bed, they found two young servants waiting to assist them with their ablutions and dressing. Both wore impassive masks, unlike the men, who blushed to their roots, stammering their way through their preparations. Forester appeared and escorted them to the same courtyard where Hugo was waiting.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, gentlemen?”

“Perfectly, Hugo ... though more privacy would be my only request. The shock of finding servants standing by the bed in the morning is-”

“Easily remedied … and once work starts, I suggest we move you to a house nearer the quay, maybe one of the villas which overlooks the ocean.”

Jason’s eyes grew very wide.

“A house overlooking the ocean?”

“Yes, but perhaps after working on the ships all day, Jason, you might be glad of a different view.”

“I do not think I should tire of the sea.”

“Grab a bite; we need to find Oliver and head for the quay and I suggest we walk; riding in the carriage robs you of the wonders of this city.”

After grabbing bread and butter and stuffing their pockets with more, they left, with Forester like a shadow behind them. Jason was right, they were like ants! The city dwarfed them. Buildings higher than the crystal domes lined the streets. Squares the size of the village opened out on their left and right. Many contained fountains and there were aviaries of birds and pools of fish. There were markets and shops selling every kind of commodity, some they had never seen before, an endless stream of wagons piled high with merchandise and swarms of people! And all bowed before the Prince.

“Did you have any luck in finding our friend, Forester?” asked Jonah.

“I sent a runner; he will be found.”

“Who is this?” asked Hugo.

“A master weaver; and one who I should be very pleased to be working alongside.”

“You are the master here, Jonah; let him work for you by all means but you will be responsible for the fabric and the making of the sealant. I do not trust a man whom I have not seen work and I have seen you work.”

They neared the quay and it was the first time that either Jonah or Jason had seen the open water.

“It is truly the end of the World!” they exclaimed.

“Folk believed that for centuries; but let me assure you, we stand on but the threshold of the known World.”

The docks were like a city; and in each berth, a ship, of the orthodox kind, but the size of them, like cathedrals. They edged towards the hanger where the balloon was stored and saw Oliver, the Chief Engineer, waiting for them.

“I have taken a cursory look at the apparatus, Jason. It is a marvel in itself but the size of the propeller to drive a ship as big as those in the dock and the means to turn it ... I cannot begin to comprehend how you will achieve it.”

Neither did Jason at that point but he was never more at home than when the smell of the wood filled his nostrils.

“How big a ship do you want?”

Oliver scanned the quay and pointed out the pride of the fleet.

“See there; that is ‘Constellation’, the largest ship afloat; two vessels, five times her size ...”

“Why so big?”

“To carry the army.”

“How far?”

“Ten times the distance from Saint Clair to Deuxfleurs ... there and back!”

Jason looked at Jonah, reaching out to grab his hands.

“Shall we begin?”

“I am ready.”

They kissed, oblivious to their entourage and the gangs of dockers, as lovers on the verge of battle might kiss; never to see each other again.

“I will find you.”

“And I, you ...”

After some basic decisions were made, Oliver and Hugo went back to the palace, leaving the men to ferret in the yards and both wished to stand on the beach and feel the water lap over their toes. Forester took them to the bathing sands and they tore off their clothes and dived in.

“We fly as the birds and swim as the fish,” screamed Jason.

“Do you see the house?” asked Jonah, pointing to the villa at the end of the cove.

“What of it?”

“That is where I want to live.”

“Forester?”

“It is yours ...”

Jason and Jonah had no idea if the house belonged to Hugo or not; they cared not.

It took a few days to install them in the house and organise an office at the dockside and then the work started. Forester was never far away, but one afternoon, two or three days after the work began, he disappeared briefly and when he returned he was accompanied by another man.

“Elam!”

“Jonah ... Jason ... I read of some adventurers falling out the sky ...”

“It is good to see you!” Jonah cried.

“What are your plans?”

They painted the picture and left Elam both speechless and gawping.

“... with you by my side, Elam, if you agree.”

“You do not need to ask, Jonah; the honour will be mine.”

“Have dinner with us tonight and we will sign the papers.”

“I am sorry that I did not stay to see you and Jason wed ...”

“We were sorry too ...”

All knew what those words signified.

“Later; I will close the workshop and return.”

The men left the yard for the house.

“I am so happy we found him.”

“Think on, Jonah, there is a question that needs to be asked.”

“And I will ask it.”

An hour after sunset, Elam returned and the reunion was replayed. Dinner was taken up with their respective accounts of the journey to Deuxfleurs. Elam had travelled by horse but his adventures had been no less exciting.

“... I was left for dead and stripped of all my possessions.”

“How were you saved?”

“The Bishop came past a few hours later and found me. I woke up in the sickbay with the Bishop praying by my bedside ...”

Jonah showed him the loom which Jason had given him.

“Me thinks we need something bigger, Jonah.”

“The loom we will build will be myth, Elam ... but I have a question that begs to be asked before we continue ...”

“Yes ...”

“Before I ask you to sign these papers and bind yourself by the contract, I need to know the truth ...”

The room darkened, as if half the candles had been snuffed out.

“... the truth, over the Squire’s death and any part that you played in it.”

“He did not kill himself ... ’tis strange to recall the events now ... in many ways he was begging me to help him. I think he felt the weight of the wrongs he had committed at last ...”

“A strange way to find redemption wouldn’t you say? By default, he condemned himself to eternal damnation.”

“I believe he thought himself worthier of no better fate.”

“I struggle to believe that ...”

“I assisted him.”

“Was he willing?”

“Until the end and then I think he was afraid.”

“You tied his hands behind his back, put the noose around his neck and hauled him up into the tree ...”

“Yes, that is how it was ... he began to kick vigorously but I could not make out what he was trying to say; he became still after a few minutes.”

“What motivated you to assist him; why did you not try to dissuade him?”

“He was a cruel man, Jonah, and crueller to you than most.”

“I would have dealt with it.”

“He laughed when he told me that he had demanded that your head be shaved; out of his own pocket he paid the barber to do it ...”

“My hair grows back.”

“He urged me to undermine you ... I was pleased when the mill was burned down; I had release from it.”

“There were other ways, Elam.”

“Not to show you how much I loved you.”

“You killed the Squire out of love for me?”

“Yes ... Jason burned down the mill out of his love for you, you went to the gaol out of your love for him and I killed the Squire. Anything less would not have been equal to my feelings.”

“But you ran away, Elam. How, by avoiding your punishment for the crime, did you hope to win my heart?”

“Jason did not suffer for his crime.”

“Believe me when I tell you that Jason suffered.”

“Did he spend nine months in the hard labour yard?”

“That is of no consequence; there are harder labours than smashing stones ...”

“Did my act not move you?”

“Yes, it moved me but not to love you.”

“Then it was to no avail.”

“Nothing good was achieved by it, Elam.”

“What now?”

“What now indeed!”

Throughout this confession, Jason had been sat, silent and hardly breathing, just watching Elam’s face.

“But Elam, when you heard that the mill was burned down, you believed that Jonah had committed the crime, did you not?”

“Yes, I believed he had done it and I knew it was my fault, for wronging him as I had. When the Squire told me he had sent Jonah to the prison, it was easy to forgive the crime; mine had been worse ...”

“What did you think when Cruse told you that I had burned down the mill?”

“I could scarcely believe that a man would sacrifice himself as Jonah had done; to condemn himself in that way, it could only be for love.”

“And knowing that Jonah did it for me and for his love for me, you believed you could win him to your heart with a greater crime ... did you think he would take the blame for that too?”

“It sounds like a kind of vanity, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds like madness ...”

Jonah swallowed hard and then moved to grab Elam’s attention, who had turned to look at Jason and the look had fangs.

“Go home, Elam, and think. If the Squire felt the burden of his own guilt then you robbed him of the chance to make restitution and maybe he would have done it. He cannot look his faults in the eye and decide what he should do but you can and you must.”

“I will go, Jonah, and I will come back tomorrow.”

“Come back when you have decided how to make things right.”

“I cannot bring him back to life.”

“No, you can’t do that, so your task will be harder.”

Elam left and the men sat in perfect silence until the candles burned down to the cups and snuffed themselves out.

Chapter Eleven – Elam’s Choice

Elam did not come back the following day or the day after or the day after that. He did not come back at all. Jonah and Jason had work to do and teams of craftsmen scurried over the yards like ants to the constant bark of orders. It was symphonic; the clang of the anvil and the toll of the bell, the rasp of a hundred saws, the squeal of a thousand drills and the mighty thud of the hammer, hitting the heads of pegs the size of men, the groaning of the winches under the weight of the timber; and such timber as Jason had never seen, sawdust piled up in the yard like a mountain.

Jonah’s workshop resembled that of the Alchemist; pungent and lurid concoctions bubbled in cauldrons to make sealants to be tested and this strange substance called ‘rubber’ was found. When he wasn’t cooking up his glue, he was supervising the weaving of the fabric and the loom. Oh the loom; it was as wide as the village’s barley field and to power it, a river had been diverted from its course. Such things could not be contemplated elsewhere, but here, miracles could be performed.

The propulsion system gave them the biggest challenge and Jonah was sat in the workshop staring at the globe which the Alchemist at Dreihus had given them. Often he wound it up and watched as the globe turned.

“Fabien, fetch Jason for me, please.”

“Yes, Jonah.”

Half an hour later the young assistant came back with Jason.

“What is it, Jonah?”

“What would you say if I said that I have solved the problem of driving the propellers?”

“I would say I stand before a man either mad or genius.”

“Both, I should say ... observe ...”

Jonah wound the mechanism of the globe and both watched it turn.

“The globe turns, Jonah ...”

“Yes, but how?”

“There is a spring inside that is wound up by the key ... and ... the spring unwinds and drives ... a gear ... you’ve done it!”

“What say you we send for the Alchemist?”

“I am due to report to Hugo later; I will inform him. I think, Jonah, this is the day we earn our fortunes.”

“Go to Hugo.”

Jason left and Jonah sat contemplating the globe until Fabien interrupted him.

“Jonah, you are needed in the shed.”

“I am coming, Fabien.”

Two or three hours later, Jonah had finished in the shed and he closed the workroom and headed to the house, sure that Jason would be there by now.

“Jason!” he called out but no answer came back.

They had dispensed with the servants which Hugo had provided, preferring to look after themselves, so Jonah lit the candles and went to the kitchen to light the fire and heat the soup.

“Jonah ... JONAH!”

It was Fabien.

“What is it?”

“You must come to the sickbay.”

“Who is hurt?”

But Fabien had already started to run back and Jonah followed quickly on his heels.

“I pray to God it is not Jason, it can’t be Jason, what harm could he have come to ... FABIEN, slow down ... who is hurt?

“I don’t know; Forester merely commanded me to fetch you.”

They arrived at the sickbay which was housed in an annex of the Minster; there the nuns tended the sick and injured. Forester was outside.

“Forester ... who is hurt?”

“Take a moment to catch your breath and garner your strength; you will have need of both.”

“Is it Jason?”

But Forester didn’t need to answer and Jonah rushed inside.

“Where is Jason?” he called out.

The matron intercepted him.

“Jonah, be calm; I will take you to him.”

“What happened?”

“I do not know what happened.”

“How is he hurt?”

But the matron said nothing and led Jonah to a room away from the ward.

“He is asleep ... the Doctor administered a draught so that he could operate.”

“Operate!”

The Doctor was still in attendance.

“Why did you need to operate, what happened ... TELL ME!”

The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Jonah, calm down and let me explain.”

Jason lay in the only bed in the room, draped in white, his pale face barely discernible against the pillow. His hair lay around his head like a grotesque halo.

“He was attacked-”

“Attacked? Who by?

“Elam ...”

Forester was at the door and it was he who had answered.

“Elam?”

“Yes ...”

“... but ...”

“I do not know why yet; we haven’t questioned him. He is held in the cells, and I go there now to question him.”

“I would go with you but I cannot leave Jason’s side until I see his eyes open.”

“Quite right; I will return later, Jonah.”

Forester left and Jonah looked down at Jason and then he noticed something that he didn’t understand.

“Why are his hands bandaged?”

Jason’s arms were outside of the coverlet, lying by his sides. Each hand was heavily bandaged and Jonah caught the tell-tale smell of honey.

“Doctor ... please tell me ...”

“I had to amputate his hands, Jonah … though Elam’s blade had nearly done the job.”

“You jest with me! How could he have lost his hands?”

“Elam attacked him with a blade ... from what I can see, Jason raised his hands to protect himself and Elam sliced through them, slashing one way and then the other ... I had to amputate what was left and cauterize the wounds because he was losing too much blood.”

Jonah moved to the side of the bed and sat down on the chair. Bent forward with his head bowed and his hands clasped together, he began to pray. There he remained for three days and nights until on the morning of the fourth day, he heard a groan from the bed.

“Jason?”

There was the hint of some movement and then slowly, Jason opened his eyes.

“Don’t speak ... I’ll fetch some water; your throat will be parched.”

Jonah fetched some water and helped Jason to sip a little.

“Jonah ...” he moaned before the cup was taken away.

“Forester and the Doctor have told me what happened ... just rest.”

“He was crazed.”

“He is in prison awaiting trial.”

“My hands are so cold.”

Jonah stifled a scream and barely held onto his tears.

“The Doctor will come soon ...”

“We must get back to work; and what of the Alchemist?”

“Shush ... Hugo agreed to send for him. The apparatus to turn the propeller will be the greatest triumph of the project.”

Despite the pain, Jason smiled.

“Our fortunes are made, Jonah; dare we dream what the future holds for us now?”

“Many great and wondrous things, but you need to rest.”

“Why are my hands so cold?”

Jonah did not think he could tell him but he had to be told and better by him than by the Doctor; he waited for the Doctor to arrive.

“He is awake, Doctor.”

“Excellent and no fever, which means no infection.”

“Why are my hands so cold, Doctor?” Jason repeated.

The Doctor looked at Jonah and then back to Jason.

“I had to operate on them, Jason, they are bound with bandages soaked in honey. It draws any infection and the inflammation away from the wounds. That is why they are cold.”

Jason just nodded, a smile of relief flickered around his mouth.

“I’ll come by later, Jason ... just rest.”

The Doctor left the room and searched out the matron to agree on the protocols which needed to be followed.

“NO ... NO!”

Hearing the screams, he rushed back in to find Jonah struggling to pin Jason’s arms to the bed. Without hesitation, the Doctor sedated him again and within a minute, Jason collapsed back, unconscious.

“It is better that he knows, Jonah.”

“His hands were always a little rough; it was working the wood all day. Henrietta said he should use the lanolin balm and she gave him some but he never used it ...”

His tears flowed now, unchecked, and sobs erupted in his chest, forcing cries into his throat which he vainly tried to stifle, but in the end they broke through and shattered like glass on his lips.

Epilogue

“Open your eyes ...”

He did and for once, Jason was speechless. The anticipation of this moment had been filled with his jabbering, but now he was speechless.

“Alchemist ... what have you done?” he managed, eventually.

“I have given you back your hands, Jason ...”

He held them up and marvelled at the spectacle. Where there had been stumps, he now had hands. He looked at Jonah and smiled with wet eyes.

“The saw and the plane are waiting impatiently.”

He looked back at the Alchemist.

“Thank you.”

The old man kissed him on the forehead and left the room.

“What now?” asked Jonah.

“Back to work; we have still so much to do.”

“Not so much, but yes, there are things to do.”

“I cannot believe it ... I have hands again!”

“They will need oiling every day.”

“And does the propeller turn?”

“Come and see for yourself.”

They headed to the yard so that Jason could see the progress which had been made during his absence. He’d directed much from his bed and latterly from the villa but until he had the new hands, he stayed away from the yard to spare himself the agony and the frustration. In any event, it had taken weeks of working with the Alchemist to perfect the mechanism … and that had not been without pain.

After touring the yard, they went back to the villa.

“They ache ... the stumps get rubbed raw ... they will get tougher but I will take them off now.”

Jonah unbuckled the cuffs which fixed the mechanical hands to the stumps at the end of Jason’s arms. The stumps were raw from overexertion.

“You did too much; I’ll get the balm.”

Each evening, since the bandages had come off, Jonah had rubbed the stumps with a balm to condition the skin and reduce the scarring; and it was even more necessary now. He didn’t mind doing it and it had helped him to get over the worst. The skin felt less strange now and the feeling of the blunt rounded ends was becoming familiar.

Jason had refused to touch him at first. Afraid, because he could not feel anything and he believed a kind of death crept upon him. The loss of his hands robbed him of one of his most precious gifts, the sensation of touch. In his nightmares, he had hands and he could feel his lover under his fingertips, it had threatened to send him into the abyss again. Jonah had persevered, and little by little the numb blankness was replaced by a sensation, like ants running over his skin.

“The nerves heal, Jason.”

All things had to be adapted, not least, making love.

“Use them, Jason, touch me!” he had pleaded.

Awkwardness, loathing, fear, morbid fascination and repulsion threatened to wreck everything.

“Please touch me,” Jonah begged.

He had, at last.

“Nothing has changed, Jason. I still desire you, I still need you and I still love you.”

Jonah had then kissed the soft underside of Jason’s wrists.

After Jonah finished rubbing in the balm, he laid their food out on the table.

“I should have waited before taking them off, it would have been good practice.”

“There is plenty of time and ample opportunity.”

Jonah served the food onto one plate and fed them both. Each time he held the fork to Jason’s lips, Jason leaned forward a little and once he had taken the food into his mouth, Jonah kissed him before he leaned back to chew.

The Doom Clock

Part 3 of ‘The Weaver & The Loom’

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

2nd Edition

Chapter One – The Scales of Justice

In the city of Deuxfleurs, a man, guilty of a crime, stands before a Court and is judged and punished. The judgement and the punishment are decided by the man wronged if he lives, else the King if he doesn’t. Jason lived and he alone will decide the fate of Elam, the man who attacked him and cut off his hands.

The day approaches when the Court will sit and hear such words as Elam choses to say in his defence and Jason decides what becomes of Elam. In a city the size of Deuxfleurs, it is not without precedent that one man should have attacked another and many times the Court has heard such words and victims have handed out such judgements. In cases where the man died, the King decides and always he hands down the death penalty.

In many cases, the principle of ‘an eye for an eye’ has been adopted to decide the fate of the accused. Having its foundations in the Holy Bible, most do not argue and most deem it fair.

“All rise!” ordered the clerk.

Jonah and Jason rose to their feet along with everyone else as the King and the Prince, Hugo, entered the chamber. They wore black. The inevitability of this moment did nothing to quell the terrible apprehension. The King and the Prince were accompanied by two judges; they sat on a raised dais. Directly in front of the dais, twenty feet from its edge, was the chair and upon it, Elam. He was dressed in black, hands cuffed and resting in his lap, eyes downcast. To his right, sat Jonah and to his left, Jason, Forester and Theodore. Behind them, ten ranks of seats for the nobility and behind them, ten further ranks for the commoners.

“The Court is in session,” announced the clerk, and all sat down.

The King spoke first and addressed himself to Elam.

“Accused, you are charged with assaulting and maiming a fellow citizen. How do you plead?” The tone was neutral.

Elam looked up and stole a glance at Jason, well, not Jason, his hands, the ones the Alchemist had made. Resting as they were in his lap, it looked to Elam as if Jason had a jumble of clock parts in his hands: cogs, springs and levers. A clock counting down to his doom.

He swallowed and looked directly at the King.

“Guilty.”

“Do you wish to say anything before judgement is pronounced?”

Elam stole another glance, this time at Jonah.

“To the man Jonah, I say, ‘had fate been kinder, I would have righted past wrongs’. To the man Jason, I say, ‘if your pain in being denied the sensation of feeling your lover’s skin respond to your touch’ ...”

Murmurs broke out in the ranks.

“Silence!” bellowed the clerk.

“... ’is equal to mine, knowing that he suffers it out of charity, then I say justice was already done’ ...”

The statement opened a window on Elam’s mind. All could see the seething, writhing madness which resembled a Medusa’s head of black, malignant vipers, viciously biting into each other’s necks; perversely, not writhing in self-persecution but in an unnatural and vulgar ecstasy.

The King slammed down the gavel, though no one was making a sound.

“Guilty! By your own admission. The law here allows the victim to hand down the punishment. In this case the man, Jason, has asked me to pronounce judgement and has pleaded for leniency. Listening to better counsel than you deserve, I am moved to imprison you for life in hard labour.”

Elam broke out into a demonic smile.

“Thank you!”

Jonah didn’t look, couldn’t look, as Elam was led away.

“All rise.”

The King and Hugo rose and left quickly. Forester turned to Jonah and Jason.

“Justice is served but I still say that I don’t understand your pleading. He is already in Hell; death would seem kinder.”

“He may yet repent,” replied Jonah, stoically.

Jason said nothing.

The Court broke up and Jonah and Jason headed back to the villa. Their route led them back along the dock which was overshadowed by the two Goliaths, the airships which Jason had designed and built.

“Jason,” prompted Jonah.

“It was the right decision.”

The Alchemist was waiting for them at the house.

“Jason ... I have your new hands for you to try.”

The first prosthetics were ingenious but lacked finesse and Jason could not flex the fingers at will. The new mechanism had different cuffs that incorporated sensors which detected the flexing of the tendons and thus moved the fingers. The sensors were like five little toothless jaws which clamped onto the tendons, they bit deep and pinched cruelly. However, trying out the hands and finally being able to move a finger and pick something up between his forefinger and thumb, diverted Jason’s attention away from the pain. They moved clumsily at first and then with sharp darting movements; and they would until he mastered the degree of flexing which was needed.

“Thank you, Father.”

“Don’t thank me, my boy; repay me by making a new case for the barometer which was broken.”

“Alchemist ... the King wishes the Goliaths to be armed,” Jonah reminded him.

“I do not build bombs!”

“The kingdom is threatened. He believes our enemies will use them and much less discriminately.”

“It will result in an escalation of fear and irrationality. He should divert his efforts to conciliation and compromise.”

“He believes force, a demonstrably superior force, will end the sabre rattling.”

“Two kings duelling with sabres; that would be honourable.”

“A pre-emptive strike will end this war before it starts. Let us meet in a few days,” recommended Jonah.

“Very well! Jason, don’t push yourself too hard.”

The Alchemist departed, leaving the two men seated at the table across from each other.

“Jonah-”

“Jason, don’t persecute yourself with the thoughts that I can see plainly written across your brow. I do not cringe when you lay your hands upon me; they are part of you. I do not suffer your touch out of charity. Of course I feel compassion ... I am a weaver and my hands put bread on my table. I know better than anyone how you suffer daily. You are not broken or marred or imperfect. Your beauty is amplified, magnified by your courage. I love you no less, only ever more ...”

“I’ll take them off now and massage the ends.”

“Let me.”

Jonah got up and came round to Jason’s side of the table. He stood behind him and leaned over a little, slipping his arms loosely around Jason’s shoulders. He gently kissed Jason’s cheek and neck. It elicited a groan and Jason raised a hand and placed it on Jonah’s forearm which lay across his chest. With concentration that brought a bead of sweat to his brow, he flexed the tendons and slowly closed his hand to exert a little pressure on Jonah’s arm.

“I love you, Jason.”

And before Jason could reply, Jonah had pressed his lips to his lover’s mouth and tasted the reply.

“Come ... the oil is on the table by the bed.”

Jonah held the back of the chair to move it aside as Jason rose. Once he was standing, Jonah deliberately placed his hands in Jason’s and drew them up to his lips where he kissed the cool metal tips, never taking his eyes from Jason’s own.

“I want you,” he murmured.

And kissed Jason again before he could reply and sucked the words from his tongue. Jonah led the way and sat Jason down on the edge of the bed. He carefully unbuckled the cuffs and prised off the tendon clamps. It elicited a sharp intake of breath. Placing the hands on the table, he picked up the oil. The ends of Jason’s arms were not numb, worse in fact. The feeling, he said, was like ants crawling over the surface. It became unbearable at times.

“The nerves are trying to heal and the oil helps,” Jonah ventured, as he rubbed the oil gently into the scarred skin. Jason started to squirm under the sensation, a combination of ecstasy and agony.

“Jonah ...” he half growled and half groaned.

He loved his name in his lover’s mouth; it was as if Jason was sucking his sex. Jonah dropped his head forward and kissed the mound that was growing between Jason’s thighs. The fabric was new, woven by himself and hand dyed. He looked up to search out his lover’s eyes and judge the moment perfectly when he would unfasten the opening and press his mouth in to massage the organ with his lips, already craving the heat and the scent.

Judging the moment to be right, he pressed his lips to the arching, swollen organ through the silk of the garment. Jason moved his thighs a little further apart and lay back. Jason was wearing breeches that laced up across the front; they were easier for him to open by himself than buttons. Jonah plucked one of the loose ends of the cord and pulled to free the knot. This freedom elicited a deep growl, caught in the throat. Jonah pulled the lace through the eyelets slowly. Opening like an exotic bloom, Jason arched his back and tilted his hips.

“Take me ...” he pleaded.

Jonah liberated his manhood completely and pulled the foreskin back. Jason felt the cool air on his glans, just for a moment, then Jonah lit the wick with the flame of his tongue and the organ erupted in fire. He fucked Jonah’s mouth and ejaculated his seed into the hungry throat by rubbing his glans against the hard palate as Jonah’s lips encircled his cock just beneath the ridge; a column of fire within a circle of fire.

Jonah climbed onto the bed and lay down beside Jason, who was smiling at last; his eyes shining, reflecting the light of his slowly dying ember.

“I love you, Jonah.”

“I love you too, Jason.”

Chapter Two – The Assassin

Had the King taken the Alchemist’s advice, then things may have turned out very differently. The sabre rattling continued until the tension was unbearable. The Alchemist and Jonah worked on the destruction devices, secretly, in a guarded workshop.

“My work was never used in this way,” he complained bitterly.

“My dearest friend, if the war begins now we are defenceless and all our past endeavours will have been for nought.”

“It is a perversion of science and sacrilege.”

Fabien burst in to the workshop.

“The King is dead; shot in the Square-”

“Assassinated?!”

“By Forester.”

“Forester!”

The man who had ‘protected’ Jonah and Jason upon their arrival in the city.

“Where is Hugo?” asked Jonah.

“At the sickbay.”

“We must go to him. Fetch Jason ... quickly!”

Fabien rushed out to find Jason.

“Now there will be war,” pronounced the Alchemist, not sagely but hauntingly sorrowfully.

Jason arrived and they headed to the hospital wing of the Minster. There they found Hugo, inconsolable, by his father’s side.

“Hugo ...”

“Forester!”

And in that one word, the name of their most trusted servant, all the anger, crushing sadness, disbelief and pain was expressed.

The city went into mourning and the Crown Prince, Henry, returned from his tour of duty and even that only provided a moment of relief from the soul-destroying, hope-strangling and smothering grief. Events took a turn for the worse when the enemy broke off all relations and sent the Ambassador home; it signalled outright war.

Jason and Jonah were with the new King and Hugo in the courtyard, which had been the site of their first meeting with the old King.

“I do not want war but I have no choice,” proclaimed Henry.

“Make it quick and clean,” urged Hugo.

“War is never quick or clean, Brother.”

“Are the Goliaths ready?”

“Yes, Sire, they are ready but it will be a little while longer for the devices to be completed,” reported Jonah.

“We will announce the date of the coronation and on the day I am crowned, we will send the Goliaths to deliver the Doom Clocks.”

It was the moment, and the words, which they had all been dreading.

“Jonah, will you make my coronation robes?”

“Your Majesty! You bestow an honour on me which I feel certain should be better placed elsewhere-”

“One month from today.”

And that signalled the end of the conference.

Jonah and Jason left, returning to their rooms in the palace; deemed safer these days than the villa.

“Jonah, your dream comes true!”

“My dream and nightmare in the same moment.”

“Do not let one overshadow the other. We cannot stop the war and maybe it will be quick. The coronation will be remembered for generations.”

Theodore was waiting for them.

“Gentlemen, you have a guest. He is … in the bath.”

“Who the devil?”

The deep baritone voice which was crucifying a popular song of the day could only belong to one man.

“Oswald!”

“Gentlemen!”

“How the devil? What the ... “

“I am here to offer my services. I landed barely an hour ago.”

“Landed?”

“Wait until you see my beauty-”

“An airship?”

“I see a great future for the ‘sky-ferry’-”

“Oswald, explain!”

“Later … and I hope you have plenty of wine!”

They left the rogue trader to soak a while longer whilst they went to the chamber of the Weavers’ Guild. There they obtained the Coronation Robe pattern and the first consignment of gold and silver thread. Returning with enough to pay a king’s ransom, they found Oswald dressed and drinking coffee.

“Why are you here?” demanded Jonah.

“To see you-”

“The truth, Oswald!”

“I wish to see the new King and-”

“See what profit can be turned by virtue of the war?”

“There is no virtue in conflict but there is profit; I cannot deny it.”

“Behave yourself whilst you are a guest in these chambers,” cautioned Jonah.

“Have no fear. I have procured other suitable accommodation.”

“What of Aubade?”

“Nothing changes, save the length of the skirts and the price of a coffee.”

“Have you heard from-“

“No, Jason ...”

Alluding to Persia brought a halt, albeit a temporary one, to the jocularity.

“... he resides in his uncle’s house and suffers not to be questioned on his plans.”

“Why so cool?”

“He is the enemy now.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is a citizen of Troisville, the city at the heart of the enemy’s territory.”

“But he cannot stay there; you know what is going to happen.”

“He cannot come back; he’ll be shot as a spy.”

“Urge him to leave the city; for God’s sake!”

“He will not listen.”

“The unravelling of our loves and lives begins.”

“Come, my friends. We cannot change the course of destiny but we can get drunk and squeeze a plump rump or two!”

“Incorrigible rogue!”

The evening did proceed jovially. The announcement of the coronation saw the black drapes removed from the public places and the city opened its doors. Perhaps not as rowdily as they would have been in Aubade, but they staggered home late, worse for wear and slumped together, fully dressed.

Chapter Three – The Doom Clock

Over breakfast, the men shared all news and thoughts thereon, Jonah’s commission chief amongst them.

“Your reputation and fortune are surely made now, Jonah.”

“The honour is enough. With that and Jason, what more could I possibly ask for?”

“Comfort in your old age, fool!”

“I am not old ...”

“No, nor a fool because you have your man by your side. I let Persia go, believing it was the right thing. I suppose I shall never see him again ... but I cannot dwell on that. I want to show you my ship!”

They left the palace and headed for the landing field where Jason and Jonah had landed with Hugo that first time.

“Oswald! What is that?”

“Space and comfort, my dear Jonah.”

Hugo’s craft had a basket slung beneath the balloon; Oswald’s had a gilded gondola which was about the same size as his villa in Aubade.

“But surely it is impossible to control?” queried Jason.

“Not once you and the Alchemist have fitted a propeller.”

“Oswald!”

Their badinage was brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of a troop of soldiers.

“What the devil are you doing?” shouted Oswald, as the soldiers began to move the craft.

“Sequestrated for the war effort.”

And no amount of blustering, haranguing or bribing would stop them from moving it to a hanger at the wharf.

“Never mind, Oswald, you’ll get it back,” reassured Jonah.

“Hopefully in one piece. Damn war!”

“Says the profiteer!”

“I, Oswald Senator, never posts a loss!”

His renewed bluster carried them back to the palace and their rooms.

“Jason, take Oswald to the wharf whilst I start setting the loom. Perhaps if he sees where the craft is held, he might be mollified.”

“I wish to see the Alchemist, in any event,” replied Oswald.

“I doubt even Jason’s presence will gain you admittance to the workshop.”

“I want to see these devices which I am told will end this war; will end all war.”

“Then look around you, Oswald, and you’ll see the devices that will end this and all wars.”

“What do you mean?”

“The men and women on the streets, Oswald. People make wars; devices assuage their guilt.”

“Romantic fool. Come, Jason, I fear for my ears and my conscience.”

Jason and Oswald left, but in truth, Jonah was already gone, immersed in the loom and the yarn. Before another hour was struck, he had the loom set up and the warp set. Theodore and Fabien were hastily employed to assist in the service of making the King’s coronation robes.

Jason and Oswald walked to the docks.

“Jason, I must say how sorry I am about your-“

“Oswald ...”

“I know; the fewer reminders the better but I am sorry and if there is anything I can do ...”

“Thank you, Oswald.”

They arrived at the Alchemist’s workshop and found an armed guard posted outside.

“It is as Jonah said,” Oswald reminded them.

“Jonah says it will end the war quickly and cleanly. But save the King, Prince Hugo, Jonah and the Alchemist, no one knows anything. The Goliaths will be armed and sent to Troisville and I risk my tongue and your ears by telling you that much.”

“What now then?”

“Do you want to see a Goliath?”

“Is it true that the entire Forest of Argemo was felled to furnish the timber?”

“And some,” replied Jason conspiratorially.

The two ships, The Goliaths, floated in the air dock and overshadowed the lower half of the city for most of the day. They were Jason’s crowning glory and had earned him admission into the enclave of the Guild. The hulls were streamlined and fitted snuggly under the bellies of the enormous bladders. The shape resembled a common loaf of bread, ‘a bloomer’, lozenge shaped, tapering at both ends. The gondola could be raised and lowered by a hundred feet to make it easier to dock.

The fabric for the bladders had taken Jonah five months to weave, with the loom running day and night. Everything was ten times bigger than the biggest ship that had existed before them. Rope, the circumference of a man, secured the gondola to the balloon and tethered the ship to the dock. Where pegs had been used to join sections of the hull, Jason had used whole oaks, sixty-year-old oaks. Not a splinter of seasoned timber remained in any yard in the kingdom. Each ship held two and half thousand men and their gear; the entire army aloft. The gas to fill one of the balloons would power Aubade for a whole year.

Everywhere there was a hive of industry as the bellies of the beasts were loaded with provisions and machinery.

“Oswald, come, this is a rare sight.”

They scurried to the furthest end of the dock, where one of the Goliaths was coming in to land after a test flight.

“It is always problematic to lower the leviathan as it was always necessary to jettison gas. Now, from a thousand feet, a tether line is fired from the ship to the ground and it is hauled in.”

A massive bolt, fired from the ship by a crossbow, hit the ground and sent a tremor through the city. The steel feathered end of the bolt quivered and sang. A rope attached to it was then hauled in like a fisherman reeling in his ‘catch of the day’. A hundred feet above the ground, the winch stopped and the gondola was lowered to the loading dock.

“Will you ever go back to the village, Jason?” asked Oswald, transfixed by the sight.

“Someday, after the war, when there is nothing left to do here.”

“May I make a suggestion? Ask the King to bless your union with Jonah.”

“Why?”

“Because not wedding Persia was the biggest mistake of my life; I probably won’t get the chance now.”

“But, we are wed.”

“Yes, but the Bishop denied you a church service. Spit in his eye and have it blessed in the cathedral here by the King.”

“Oswald, you accuse of Jonah of being the romantic!”

“Do it, Jason. Only the strength of these bonds will hold everything together when the war starts.”

“I promise to talk to him and you must promise to stand witness.”

“One I will happily make. Seeing as we, or should I say I, cannot see the Alchemist, then I will leave you to your labours and I will make my new landlord wish he had never heard the name ‘Oswald Senator’, let alone given him a lease!”

“Later, Oswald; our chambers for dinner.”

“Agreed!”

Jason went back to the workshop and was admitted. The Alchemist was nowhere to be seen.

“Alchemist!” hollered Jason.

“Is that you, Jason? Don’t touch anything; I’ll be there directly.”

The workshop was an Aladdin’s cave of machines, tools and contraptions. Wind-up toys shared the bench with dissected frogs and cauldrons of bubbling, lurid and foul-smelling liquids. There were bulbs of gases, ingots of rare metals, sand timers, water clocks, a barometer in a broken case, a telescope and a working, 1/32nd scale model of the propeller mechanism. In one corner, there was a parrot in a gilded cage, an automaton that forecast your horoscope! The work tables were strewn with drawings and mathematical instruments, half eaten dinners and half empty glasses of wine. The Alchemist appeared from a dark cubby.

“How are your hands, my dear boy?”

“Much better, thank you. I’m getting used to them.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I came to order a propeller for Oswald’s airship.”

“The rogue has an airship?”

“He did; it was sequestrated.”

“Yes, for the war effort, like everything else in this city.”

“The Doom Clock will end the war before it starts.”

“Your naivety is endearing, Jason. What happens when the enemy recovers and builds its own?”

“They couldn’t without you.”

“There are others like me and some of them are less concerned with preserving life.”

“The King says that after the war he will seek a peaceful union.”

“King-speak! Do you want to see it?”

“The Doom Clock?”

“It is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Jason blushed.

“I’m sorry ...”

“Don’t apologise. What is life without curiosity?”

“I imagine very boring and one where Alchemists don’t have a place.”

“Come; be prepared for the most shocking sight you will ever see. I should be overjoyed but it terrifies me.”

The old man grasped Jason’s hand and led him to a rear chamber, lit by a red shaded lamp. In the room was a workbench and upon the table was a scale model of a Goliath and beside it an oak sapling, maybe three feet high, in a terracotta pot.

“The Doom Clocks which will be carried by the Goliaths are somewhat bigger.”

The Alchemist stepped forward and inserted a key into the little airship and turned it five times. Then he pressed a lever and stepped back.

“Watch the oak sapling very carefully and do not move forward,” ordered the Alchemist.

In the silence, Jason could just hear a gentle ticking. The oak sapling quivered and he jumped slightly. Seconds later, it shrank and disappeared and immediately afterwards, the terracotta pot was reduced to dust. Nestling in the middle of the pile of dust and soil was an acorn. A ‘ting-ting’ sounded and the Alchemist stepped forward and plucked the acorn from the table and held it up.

“The Doom Clock winds back time. Anything in its sphere is taken back to its beginning.”

“That’s-”

“More power than any man should wield, for good or evil.”

“The terracotta pot?”

“Was reduced to the elements of which it was made before the clay was formed and fired.”

“And if a man was in that sphere?”

“A man, unlucky enough to be stood in the sphere of influence, would be reduced to the spawn from which he grew.”

“That means-”

“The city of Troisville will be reduced to an elemental wasteland within seconds.”

“But-”

“De-constructed and de-populated, except anything encased in glass; it doesn’t touch glass. I don’t know why.”

“How does the clock work?”

“Simply put, it runs backwards and takes back time.”

“Why was the clock unaffected?”

“The time taken is stored in the spring which is made of a very rare metal. It is now wound very tight.”

“Can it work in reverse?”

“Give time? In theory, but there would be no memories. The oak would grow again because that requires no memory. The pot would not be reconstructed because the elements have no memory.”

“And a man?”

“The spawn would give birth to a man but a man devoid of memories; a savage, driven by instincts alone.”

Jason was terrified by the spectacle and the nightmares that crowded his mind.

“The King, the Prince and Jonah have seen this?” he asked the Alchemist.

“Yes.”

“How did he convince you to build them?”

“The King can be very persuasive. I love you like a son, Jason, and I would prefer to see you grow old with Jonah.”

“Preferable to what?”

The Alchemist didn’t answer.

“Keep your own counsel, Jason. There is still time for diplomacy, though I doubt the King is pursuing that seriously. I think he sees a glorious future ahead of the Empire and himself at its head, wielding Excalibur!”

“Excalib-“

“Never mind, another time. Go home and get ready for the blessing.”

“You know already?”

“A little bird told me,” and the Alchemist nodded in the direction of the parrot. “I will be your witness and it will be an honour.”

Jason left, reeling with the thoughts in his head but one dominated the others, to be at home with Jonah and for time to stand still.

Oswald wasn’t back and Jonah was elbow deep in gold and silver thread.

“Shall we call you ‘Rumpelstiltskin’?”

“As I recall, it was the maiden who spun the straw into gold.”

“And when he demanded her first born in exchange for the gift, she refused and he only relinquished his claim if she could guess his name.”

“And a messenger on an errand espied him whooping with glee and congratulating himself; he heard the imp’s name and passed it on to the Queen, as she was then.”

“And when Rumpelstiltskin came to claim the child, certain she wouldn’t guess correctly and she did, he stamped his foot so hard he disappeared into the ground.”

“Why are we recounting this?” queried Jonah.

“Because you are weaving gold and I’ve seen the monster that threatens to take our children.”

“The Doom Clock?”

“Yes.”

“It is terrifying. Was Oswald with you?”

“No, they would not admit him.”

“He must write to Persia and urge him to leave the city.”

“I can barely comprehend the devastation.”

“I have pleaded with Henry to allow the Alchemist to destroy the clocks once they have ‘succeeded’ in ending the war.”

“He won’t give them up, not willingly; first Troisville, then where? It will corrupt him.”

Word arrived that Oswald would not be joining them. Apparently, haranguing the landlord was better sport than he remembered! Jason and Jonah dined alone, trying to find better thoughts.

“The Alchemist will stand witness for me,” reported Jason.

“And the King has offered to bless the union himself. The Bishop told me when he came to bless the thread and the loom.”

“You cannot be serious!”

“We will have our blessing just before the coronation with the Empire’s nobility as our witnesses!”

“Will there be any gold thread left to make-“

“Already ordered!”

But everywhere the talk was of the doom clocks and it threatened to eclipse everything. Jason likened it to the inundation of the Tress, smothering everything in its silt. Jonah reminded him that the silt nourished the soil, and the shoots of the tender and sweet grass thrived in the fecundity, and seeds that may never have seen the sun, got their chance.

Chapter Four – Revelations and Preparations

Whereas Jonah worked every hour God sent, Jason had little to do now that the Goliaths were ready and sat waiting for their ‘cargo’ to be delivered. He and the Alchemist fitted the propeller to Oswald’s ship and took her up for a test flight.

The gondola was spacious and luxuriously appointed.

“An oasis in this desert of taste,” suggested Oswald, his tongue firmly lodged in his cheek.

“Did you strip Aubade of all its gilding?” jested Jason.

“Wait until you see the observation car!”

Once they had reached calm air, Oswald lowered the observation car. It was made of glass and it dropped through an aperture in the floor of the gondola. The ‘car’ had a hinged opening in its roof and a ladder allowed them to clamber into the bubble which had seats all the way around its circumference. Once inside, there was nothing, save the glass, between them and the air through which they glided like a huge golden goose.

“We truly fly like birds!” exclaimed Jason, transfixed by the sight of nothing but ocean to the horizon.

The wind began to freshen on the incoming tide and they returned to the dock and tested the landing reel which they had also fitted to avoid having to jettison any gas. Back at the dockside, outside the Alchemist’s workshop, Oswald invited him to join him at the villa. Jason did not see the conspiratorial look which passed between them in his haste to get back to Jonah and describe the excursion.

Hugo was in their chamber.

“You look troubled, Hugo, more than usual,” commented Jason.

“Henry is becoming secretive and I fear this is just the beginning. He sees the means to repay many old debts, some long since forgotten.”

“He is like all new kings, Hugo, keen to make his mark,” ventured Jonah.

“I don’t say Troisville doesn’t deserve what’s coming but the rest is a peaceable kingdom such as ours.”

“What of Forester?” asked Jason, in an attempt to move the conversation elsewhere.

“His trial is in two days. It is just a formality; he’ll swing.”

They all took a moment to reflect on that.

“I have to report something, Jason, which concerns you. It arose during Forester’s ‘questioning’ ...”

“Me?”

“Yes, I am sorry to have to say but he admits that the attack on you was entirely preventable. He didn’t in the hope that your ‘condition’ would delay the completion of the Goliaths and give the enemy more time to prepare for war.”

“He could have stopped it?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

Hugo left and the taste of the air was bitter.

“Jason, I’m-“

“What madness will possess men now? Will all be justified? The war ends reason.”

“What do you want to do?”

“What good will anything do?”

Jason retired from the workspace and went to the bed chamber, closing the door behind him.

Everything existed on a knife’s edge. Only the coronation preparations prevented outright civil unrest as the populous sought out anyone with a connection to Troisville and attempted to settle old scores, most forgotten and some imagined out of thin air.

The month drew to a close and the three events loomed large, like giants trundling through the streets. The blessing was to be held in the cathedral at eleven o’clock in the morning. An hour later, at noon, the King would be crowned by the Bishop. An hour after the ceremony, the Goliaths would be launched.

The question had remained as to who would prime the devices; there were no volunteers. In the end, Henry and Hugo accepted the responsibility but they insisted that Jonah and Jason be with them, the only other people who had seen how it was done. The Alchemist was conspicuous by his absence as was Oswald.

One evening, in the week before the fateful day, Oswald joined them for dinner.

“Oswald, why could Persia not come back before the escalation of the war; you said he would be shot as a spy?” Jason asked.

“He is the nephew of the Archduke of Troisville.”

“Oh!”

“Most likely, if he had returned, he would have been held captive and ransomed.”

“I wonder if that was the reason he disappeared from the boat that night?” Jonah offered.

“Almost certainly the reason; but God knows how he knew.”

“I wonder he didn’t warn you, or us,” Jason said.

“I imagine he is held captive at home. His sympathies always did lie with Deuxfleurs.”

“Did you write to him again?” Jason asked.

“Yes, for what good it will do; they will all be killed. Henry sees himself as the ‘Ultimate Crusader’; I cannot contemplate what he will do next.”

‘It is a pity that the rulers don’t have children to wed, to seal the rift,” suggested Jonah.

Nothing much else happened that week, save the dress rehearsal for the coronation. The robes dazzled the onlookers and despite the fact that the pattern was prescribed, ostensibly a stylised heraldic shield motif, Jonah had surpassed perfection with the quality of the weaving. It earned him his own invitation to join his Guild enclave and no weaver outside of the city had ever had that prize bestowed upon them.

After a celebratory dinner, Jason and Jonah returned to their palace rooms. Two days remained until the Goliaths would be sent on their way. If that wasn’t hard enough to swallow, they also had to reconcile themselves to the fact that they would be separated for the journey to Troisville.

“Congratulations, Jonah,” sung Jason, whose heart was fit to burst with pride, more than Jonah’s in fact.

“Thank you, it would have made my parents very happy.”

“I’m sure they see all.”

“I hope not all! Let us hope that we have time to enjoy these hard won spoils. I cannot help thinking that our presence here precipitated this conflict.”

“You are not the only weaver, Jonah, and I am not the only shipwright.”

“No one else had the vision.”

“We did not assassinate the King nor did we sign the Declaration of War.”

“No, I know, but if we’d stayed in the village, we’d be none the wiser.”

“We’d be bemoaning the increase in the tithe to pay for it.”

“And that would be all. No, not all, if we had stayed you would still have your-“

“Stop! Don’t say what I know you are going to say; put no energy into those thoughts. A timber could have fallen at the dock and crushed them just the same. No, not the same, I would not have had new hands.”

“When this is over, can we go back?”

“Of course.”

“I miss the peace and quiet, and our friends.”

“Me too.”

“I need my bed.”

“I need you.”

They stripped away the finery and stood naked before each other, much like the first time in the orchard by the water trough. Jason didn’t remove the hands; he didn’t after Jonah had made him the finest doeskin gloves. He’d asked Jonah to make them, ostensibly to keep the mechanism clean but he wanted them to look and feel like hands, his own hands. And the doeskin didn’t raise goose-bumps on Jonah’s back like the metal did!

Daily exercises, often under the supervision of the Alchemist, had given him much improved control of the fingers and by not removing the clamps which pinched the tendons, the pain eased there too.

Jason stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jonah’s torso, placing his cheek against his lover’s chest to hear the soothing regular beat. Jonah cradled Jason’s head with one hand, stroking his cheek, pressing his lips to the top of Jason’s head. He ran his other hand slowly up and down Jason’s back, the muscles were quiet, the pendulum at rest. Jonah’s hand descended to the rump. He loved the sensation of having his hand on the peachy buttocks, alternately caressing them and delving into the crevice which gripped his fingers as if Jason had them between his teeth. Jason ran his hand down Jonah’s back and Jonah shuddered involuntarily. Jason tensed.

“No, that was not the reason,” and Jonah knew what Jason had thought. “Jason, I desire you more than life itself; I can barely contain it. When you are away from me, I am cold and naked. You are the most beautiful and precious thing I have ever held in my hands. I crave your touch, your body and its heat. When your fruit swells in my mouth, I am transported to The Garden. When you enter me, I cannot hold onto a coherent thought. When you kiss me in the morning, the pressure of your lips remains there until the next. So, please, do not for a second think-“

The kiss said everything else that needed to be said, on both sides. They lowered themselves onto the bed and lay face to face with their legs entwined like the branches of a wild tree. Their manhoods bucked, like young forest stags, impatient for the rut.

“Touch me,” urged Jonah.

“The metal and the suede are poor substitutes.”

“They are your ‘hands’, Jason, supernatural they may be but they are still part of you.”

Jason pushed a hand down between them. He had to concentrate on bending the fingers to caress their staves and it fuelled something, a feeling, a sensation, perhaps imagined, perhaps not.

“I feel ...”

“Connected? The fingers are like tuning forks and I the strings that you slacken and tighten to make me sing sweeter.”

Jason guided Jonah onto his back and sat astride his thighs. With his hands, he cupped Jonah’s scrotum and gripped the shaft.

“I feel the heat and a vibration. I feel a throbbing pulse like a beating heart. I feel the blood flowing and the skin stretching.”

Jonah was riveted by the sensation of the doeskin against his own and the unnatural hardness of the metal beneath. Jonah could see that Jason was painfully hard and sensed a desperate need. He reached for the oil and lubricated the plough handle, ready for the tilling.

“Plough and sow, Jason.”

Jason moved back to allow Jonah to turn within the confines of his legs. Each thrust cut a deep furrow and the earth fell away from the plough share; earth that was not dry and dusty or starved, but a rich loam and in that flux was everything that was good and pure.

The seed filled the furrows to their tops and overflowed into the ditch.

“JONAH!”

Jason collapsed on top of him, breathless. For a time, Jonah revelled in having Jason’s weight pressing down on him. Jason’s cheek was resting on his back and the breath was like a hot summer breeze. He was transported back to his childhood and the hide-and-seek games he played with Cruse and Henrietta. He’d squeeze in between the hay bales with Cruse in the barn loft, trying to stifle giggles, listening for Henrietta, knowing she’d look there first.

Jason was still buried inside him and the seed was leaking out like sap from a trunk wound. As his breathing became regular, he slipped off and lay beside Jonah on his back. Jonah turned to face him and watch the sun rise as Jason opened his eyes.

“I need yours too. We must be sure to have left enough.”

“Turn over ...”

Chapter Five - Spectacle

The day dawned crystal clear. Jonah woke first and lay for a moment, his head propped up on his arm, just looking down at the face of his angel. He recalled their first conversation, proper conversation, when Jason had turned eighteen and had just got back from Aubade. Even then, he had a body turned on the lathe, but a quite respectfulness, which Jonah took to be shyness, though the new waistcoat shouted something different. What had he said? “Good morning, Weaver Jonah.” Jonah remembered it made him sound so very old so he had invited Jason to call him just ‘Jonah’.

“Where did you get that waistcoat?”

“Aubade, I went to sign my papers and start my formal training. ‘Marchers’ will take me on.”

“Congratulations, it is a worthy trade and you look made for the job.”

Jonah remembered feeling quite embarrassed by his comment. Would the youth think that he had watched him, stripped to the waist, helping Cruse with the hedgerows perhaps?

“I love wood. It sings to me,” the young Jason had replied, unabashed.

“I love the loom for the same reason.”

“I’ll come to you then, when this is worn out,” Jason returned, picking up the edge of the new waistcoat, looking down and then stealing a glance from beneath his eyebrows. The smile eclipsed the noon sun.

“For a third of the price,” and Jonah’s smile put the light back in the sun.

Jason stirred and turned, reaching out. Jonah moved to capture the touch and prolong the caress. Jason’s hair, now the length it had always been since he’d turned eighteen, was a cascade of mahogany curls which looked like the shavings of the exotic wood fresh from the plane.

“You are so beautiful ...”

“I will ask the Alchemist to test your eyes and prescribe some lenses.”

“You’re awake!”

Jason flicked open his eyes.

“You left my dream and I came looking for you.”

“I love you.”

“Our love is blessed by the King today.”

“If I stumble through, quaking so much, will you catch my fall?”

“Any excuse to get these arms around you ... I love you, too.”

“Let’s bathe and get dressed. Oswald and the Alchemist will be here for a late breakfast.”

“I have a gift for you.”

Jason scampered from the bed and rushed to a drawer from which he plucked a little box which was wrapped in gold paper. He presented it to Jonah with the same look he gave him that day they had spoken of the waistcoat.

“Thank you ...” Jonah said, as he tore off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a miniature replica of one of the Goliaths but the balloon was made of glass and it had a hinge. Inside the glass ‘casket’ was a key.

“What is it for?” asked Jonah.

“It is the key that winds the mechanism of the new propeller which drives Hugo’s airship. I bought it from him yesterday to give to you.”

“Why?”

“So that once we decide to leave here, you can take me to the edge of the world and we can watch the leopards hunt for sand mice.”

“This is perfect ... thank you,” and Jonah was overcome and he let the tears, the happy tears, flow down his face.

They got ready for the breakfast celebration with their witnesses. As Jason got ready, Jonah handed him a box, made of card but wrapped the same, in gold paper.

“This is for you,” he said to Jason, as Jason was slipping on the snow white dress shirt which Jonah had made for him.

“What ...?”

“Open it and find out.”

Jason carefully removed the paper and lifted the lid of the box to reveal a pair of gloves of the finest quality in the softest black kid leather.

“Jonah! These are-“

“Put them on,” urged Jonah, eager to see them amongst the rest of the costume he had made for Jason.

“You will have to do everything for me again. I do not want to sully these before the King has seen them.”

“Shall I finish dressing you?”

The dress shirt slipped over a sleeveless vest of silk. The snow white shirt had a ruff in the ‘Aubade’ style, a cascade of folds and pleats which resembled a spray of orchids, falling to mid-torso. The shirt was tailored and accentuated the waist. The underwear was white silk, shorts like they always wore, but tighter. Jonah saw the buttocks and knew he had been right to choose the opalesque silk; clinging to the rounded form they looked like pearls. The socks were knitted from the finest black wool. He’d used a circular knitting loom to avoid any seams which might rub against the skin because the boots were tight. The trousers were of a military cut, straight legged and high-waisted. They laced across the front, an inner flap insuring some decorum and the outer, laced with a medium thickness cord of plaited black silk. The belt was heavy and simple, fastened with a plain gold buckle. The black jacket was short and tailored and just rested on the top of the trousers. It had wide epaulettes with gold tassels. It was double-breasted and fastened with buttons of mother of pearl from just beneath the ruff. The boots were tight and knee length, polished to a deep lustre. Jonah tied Jason’s hair back with a simple gold ribbon. Finally, he put on the gloves.

“There,” Jonah announced with brimming pride and some measure of satisfaction.

“I look like Prince Charming.”

“And?”

“I like it!”

Jonah laughed and pushed him towards the mirror, standing behind him looking over his shoulder.

“You are beautiful, Jason. I am so proud to call you my chosen partner.”

“Did you truly never see someone else standing here?”

“Cruse, when we were young but he was smitten with Henrietta and I couldn’t disrupt that.”

“Did you think he had some feelings for you?”

“We are, and always have been, the greatest of friends. I never suspected he thought of me in the same way.”

“And no one else?”

“Oswald and I used to sail pretty close to the wind but I think we were both afraid of the feelings. I needed his confidence when I was younger, else I’d never had gone to Aubade at all. For the longest time, I thought everyone could see that I was different to other men and they gossiped behind their hands. I fancied the smiles were of the knowing kind and, in fact, they despised and hated me, except for Cruse and Henrietta.”

“You were always just a kind and gentle man in my memory of the earliest times until you spoke to me and I saw a passion unimaginable.”

“Did you never see another man standing here?”

“I knew I was different from about that age but I think I repressed many of my true feelings. When I went to Aubade, I was happy to be confined to the dock; I didn’t have to pretend to be anything else. It was easier to love the wood and act the serious young shipwright.”

“You came to order the saddle cloth for Champion ...”

“I had been looking for an excuse. I knew you looked at me in a certain way; not in a covetous way, like some of the men in Aubade, which just scared me. You looked at me with love in your eyes and I had to know that it was the way you truly felt.”

“I saw the flame burning brightly in your chest and I knew it was for me, though I couldn’t believe it. I remember saying to myself, ‘I am too old for him’ but I couldn’t deny the feelings.”

“I can truly say that I never loved another.”

“I can say the same. I was infatuated with Cruse; he was happy in his skin and I admired that but it wasn’t true love.”

“I do not wish to recall what happened with Persia, but I feel I must. He is – was - intoxicating. I do not know why I couldn’t deny myself that pleasure. He said we had passions and it was natural.”

“He was right. Perhaps it is a strange view but I did not feel threatened by his obvious attraction to you; part of me, and a vain part, enjoyed it. We cannot cage our passions like exotic cats, Jason, but we have to be honest.”

“In some respects that evening with him was all the times I denied myself the pleasures on offer because I was scared or even repulsed by the feelings. It was a kind of rebellion.”

“Then we are ready to take the next step. We wed in front of our kith and kin and now we announce it to the world. And in the blessing by the King, it says to everyone, this is no less right, no less proper, all are equal in the eyes of God.”

They kissed, blessing their union at their personal fonts.

Jonah got dressed and he wore a similar costume but it was slightly more understated; more befitting his age, he said. Jason cocked an eyebrow.

“Jonah, you are not old.”

“We seemed to have lived three lifetimes here since we arrived.”

“There is no grey in your hair yet.”

“Tie it back for me, please.”

The luxuriant, glossy mass of curls did nothing to ease the discomfort in Jason’s groin, laced tightly as it was!

The Alchemist and Oswald arrived and after the expected banter and back-slapping from his oldest friend, he presented them with their Guild medals, hung on gold chains. The Alchemist placed them around their necks and the first bottle of wine was cracked open. At ten o’clock, they were driven in Hugo’s carriage to the cathedral and walked up the front steps like princes.

At eleven o’clock, the King and Hugo proceeded down the nave to be greeted by the Bishop and the nobility. The King was not dressed in his robes yet; donning the regalia was part of the coronation ceremony. They wore their military uniforms and carried swords.

The blessing was a simple service. The King invited Jason and Jonah to step forward and they stood facing each other, in front of the King. He bade them hold hands, left over right. He bound them with the Bishop’s stole and, raising his voice, recited the final prayer of the church wedding service. Then, having asked the couple to kneel, he anointed their heads with the baptism oil.

“This union is blessed!” he cried out and the entire congregation repeated the words.

Whilst they still knelt before him, he took the Sword of State and cut the binding from their hands, giving each a part. He then invited them to stand and face the congregation before allowing them to take their seats for the coronation. The transition, from one ceremony to the other, was managed very skilfully, with the coronation regalia being brought slowly down the nave in procession and placed on the altar. Four giant guardsmen brought in the throne.

With due reverence, each piece of the regalia was brought forward and placed upon the King, with prayers and hymns building to a crescendo when, draped in the new robes, the King sat upon the throne and the crown was placed upon his head to a triumphant exaltation of organ and horns.

Silence descended and the King rose to give his coronation speech that, with no surprise, focused on his role as protector. The tolling of the bell signalled the end and many, Jason and Jonah amongst them, heard the toll of doom for Troisville. The King led the procession out of the cathedral to be received by the thousands of citizens outside and the thousands more lining the streets to the palace, to where the Coach of State took him and Hugo.

Within an hour, the King, Hugo, Jason and Jonah, the army and the Doom Clocks, were aboard the Goliaths and floating into the clear blue sky. With a simple, ‘good luck’, Oswald and the Alchemist bade Jason and Jonah farewell. Only once the balloons were specks on the horizon, did they hurry to the hanger where Oswald’s ship was kept. With the entire army airborne, there was no one to stop them from launching the craft.

“Persia, I am coming!”

Chapter Six – Engagement

After the coronation and prior to the departure of the Goliaths, Jonah and Jason had headed back to the palace rooms and within the space of fifteen minutes were changing into their work attire. Neither of them wanted to burst the bubble of their happiness but some words needed to be said.

“It’s six hours to the city if the winds are kind,” said Jason.

“It’ll be just after dusk.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Neither do I; but if we refuse the King will probably try us for treason. We can’t back out but we can try to convince him to destroy the clocks after this.”

“If anything should happen ...”

“I know. We’ll find each other on the other side. Don’t panic if I’m not there, I’ll find you.”

“What if one of us survives and the other doesn’t?” asked Jason, in a voice almost breaking with chest-heaving sobs.

“The one who survives will follow when it is their time, not before. It would crush me to be left alone; what would I do now? But this life is too precious to waste. So even if I had to wait fifty years before I saw you again, I would, knowing that I would be with you for eternity. And you must promise the same, to honour life.”

“I will. It would be the hardest thing to endure, being alone, but knowing that you would be waiting for me would be enough. I pray God is merciful.”

“If we survive then I do not want to be away from your side for another six hours for as long as I shall live. Jason, I love you and I know that you love me ...”

It was no good, they couldn’t help themselves and the kiss would have lasted for the next hour had Hugo not come to collect them.

“Once we have done this, we are leaving,” proposed Jonah.

“I agree; I couldn’t stay.”

“Let’s get it over with then.”

They left with Hugo and the King, taking the palace couch to save time. Once they reached the dock, they embraced once more exchanging a tender kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They parted and joined their respective ships, not risking a further glance once they’d mounted the steps. It was easier to let the tide of men carry them on board. The King’s Goliath was launched first and once on board, Jason and the King proceeded to the observation deck. Jonah and Hugo followed shortly afterwards and similarly made their way to the front of the gondola from where they watched the first ship rise majestically into the sky. From the off, the King set a stiff pace and the propellers were running at full speed almost as soon as they hit five hundred feet. Two bloated geese on their way to deliver their eggs; they looked like eggs, painted grey not gold like the ships.

The clocks were encased in a protective shell to cushion them as they landed. Pre-wound just before deployment, the shock of impact would set the mechanism running and within a minute the city would be reduced to dust and spawn. The Alchemist warned them that the process would tear the elements apart and the forces unleashed would be unparalleled so the King did not plan to drop the ships beneath one thousand feet. The Alchemist suggested that even that would not be enough to preserve the ship from some buffeting, possibly even damage.

The King stood on the observation platform and just gazed ahead, unmoving. Jason sat in one of the chairs to his side, hoping that they did not have to converse much, if at all.

“What are your plans, Jason, when we are done here?” The King asked, turning his head slowly and steadily as he spoke, to rest his eyes on Jason’s face as he finished speaking.

“Jonah and I plan to return to the village at some point.”

“The village; why? Your futures are surely secure in Deuxfleurs. Why would you go back to the village?”

“To see our friends and family. We may travel a little.”

“Your skills will be in demand here.”

“There is much we can do to improve life in the village too. It is where we belong-”

“Nonsense! Deuxfleurs will become the centre of a new and vibrant empire.”

“Your Majesty suggests expansion after the sacking of Troisville.”

“Yes, expansion; that is what I see for the future.”

The King had already turned away and Jason was sure he was talking more to himself than to him.

Unlike Jonah and Hugo, who were deep in conversation.

“Once the devices have destroyed the city, we will land and half the troops will stay to begin the campaign to expand our territory. The clocks will be reloaded on to the Goliaths and then we wait the command of the King. He is convinced that spies will have warned the populous that something is coming and many of the city dwellers will have fled into the country thereabouts. He will root out the pockets of resistance and deal with them swiftly.”

“What then, Hugo; does he plan a full-scale invasion of the entire kingdom?”

“The simple answer to that, Jonah, is yes.”

“And he will use the devices again if he judges that it is warranted?”

“Let us not dwell too much on the definition of the word but yes, again, as he sees fit.”

“You will forgive me for saying this, Hugo, but we risk replacing one overzealous ruler with another.”

“Henry will show more compassion than the Archduke.”

Jonah did not know anything of the Archduke and point blank refused to believe the propaganda handed out on the streets about his atrocities and excesses.

“Let us hope so.”

Hugo detected the tone and expertly changed the subject.

“Jason purchased the balloon from me as a gift for you. Do you plan to leave?”

“Yes, Hugo, we do. We want to travel and go back to the village to see our friends and family.”

“You are lucky, Jonah, you have freedom and a partner who loves you.”

“Yes, I am lucky and grateful for both. Perhaps you will find both now. You once said that your father was always disappointed in your choices; you do not need to seek his approval any longer … or Henry’s, for that matter.”

“My choices will always be difficult, Jonah, in my position.”

“I imagine the women of both kingdoms are throwing themselves at your feet.”

“If only it were that simple.”

Jonah sensed that now was not the time to pursue the subject and suggested they tour the decks to make sure everything was safe and secure.

“Fine idea! Then we’ll eat; we missed out on a banquet!”

“Yes we did!” returned Jonah, hoping to dispel some of the gloom which was beginning to descend.

The ships were like orthodox ships in that they had decks but instead of only rigging, a balloon. They had rigging too and a huge propeller at the rear to drive them forward. The observation platform occupied the very front of the upper most deck so that when Jonah and Hugo went for their tour, they descended via stairs to each level and walked the full length of the ship to the opposing end to find stairs again, leading both up and down. In fact, there were stairs at regular intervals.

Each deck, either side of the central aisle, was constructed from a succession of chambers, one after the other. Some of those rooms held beds, some held stores and armaments and some were for eating or just resting. On the lowest deck at the front, the landing mechanism was housed. It contained the huge steel arrow and winch assembly which was used to bring the craft down to a height of one hundred feet, at which point, the gondola was lowered to the ground.

On the same deck, roughly in the middle of the craft, was the room for the Doom Clock. It was fortified and heavily guarded. Even inside the room there were armed guards stood at the four corners of the raised deck upon which the device was resting. It sat above a trap door, released by a long lever.

Jonah had seen it already. It made his soul shrivel at the sight of it anew, now painted dull grey, the grey of gloom and the grey of dusk. A key, Hugo had one and the King had the other, was inserted into a flat plate which was located on one side. Turned five times, the device was primed. Impact would set the mechanism running. Hugo pressed his hand to his chest to check that the key was still there, under his shirt, on the chain which was around his neck.

Jonah and Hugo left the room and went in search of food. The King had similarly toured his craft, without Jason, and he’d spent an hour meditating in the Doom Clock bay, alone. He went to find Jason to offer him food but was told that the young man ‘had gone to check the propeller’. Jason had and then had chosen to disappear for an hour or two to say his prayers. Four hours into the flight and the tip of Troisville’s cathedral’s central spire came into the view finder of the front mounted telescopes. The two pairs of men convened on the top deck of their respective ships and waited for the two Goliaths to be brought alongside each other. Once they had, a communication line was fired between them, one from each side, and messages were exchanged by sending a canister containing the message along the wire. The mechanism was wound up like a clock and then released.

-Two hours brother – Henry

-Confirmed – Hugo

-Positions as agreed – Henry

-As agreed – Hugo

-As the clock strikes eight – Henry

-At eight – Hugo

-See you on the field of glory – Henry

-God willing – Hugo

It was six o’clock and the inhabitants of Troisville were just finishing up their day of labour to return home to have dinner with their families or friends. The Archduke was mercilessly whipping the back of his nephew, who refused to tell him anything of the King’s plans.

“Why does Oswald urge you to leave the city, nephew?”

“I don’t know”

There was only blood now, nothing that resembled skin but he refused to scream.

Had he screamed, he would not have caused Oswald to travel any faster, Oswald and the Alchemist were already travelling as quickly as they could. If they did not reach the city before the Goliaths, then their efforts would be to no avail. Oswald’s ship was lighter and easier to manoeuvre in the winds which were keener closer to the surface of the water. They also had to take a different path in case they were spotted from above by the Goliaths. They needn’t have worried about that, for on the Goliaths, all eyes were trained on the horizon and pinnacle of the spire which was growing and becoming more distinct. After an hour, the edge of the city came into plain sight. The mood on the ships changed, gone the quiet contemplative reverie, now the buzz of excitement and the bark of orders.

“Where do we land, Oswald?”

“I have been to the city once before; there is a field close to the north wall and we will land there.”

“How will we find Persia?”

“I’ll follow the screams. They will lead me to the Hole.”

“Will he still be alive?”

“If God has answered my prayers.”

“And then?”

“Let us hope that you are right and the Doom Clock can touch nothing encased in glass!”

An hour before the arrival of the Goliaths in the skies above Troisville, the King and Jason, and Jonah and Hugo, descended again to the devices and the keys were withdrawn and fitted to the mechanisms but not yet turned. Jason had looked upon Troisville and saw a city much like Deuxfleurs; a proud and prosperous centre full of activity, full of people, people like him and Jonah and people like Henry and Hugo.

“Is this the only way, Your Majesty?”

“Years of careful diplomacy by my father earned us nothing except insults. Do not think that I do not feel the weight of this decision, Jason. There are five hundred thousand people in the city, of which, perhaps a hundred deserve to die.”

“What does the Archduke want?”

“The same thing all powerful leaders want, Jason, more power and their name remembered for eternity."

“Is that what you want?” and Jason knew he trod a very dangerous line.

“I want peace for my kingdom and the respect of our neighbours.”

“Will not your act provoke them to protect themselves?”

“By that do you mean build their own ‘doom bringers’? I’m sure they will reflect very carefully on their positions and choices, knowing we can strike at will.”

“It will spread fear and unrest rather than peace; it could trigger more wars.”

“A naïve man would agree with you. The power holders will weigh up their options and forge treaties with the strongest to form an alliance which will rule the known world, peacefully.”

“With you, Sire, at the helm?”

“Who else has the key?”

Jason fell silent. Much of this appealed little to his wood-loving brain which relished a solid day’s work and a pair of loving arms at the end of it. It convinced him more than anything, that he and Jonah would leave as soon as possible and return to the village once they’d ventured to the edge of the world and had seen the leopards hunt for sand mice. Those were the sights he wished to see; and Jonah at the end of every day, smiling at him as he walked up the path to the cottage.

An alarm sounded which brought everyone to attention. It was half past seven and the Goliaths were beginning to manoeuvre themselves into position. A thousand feet was not that far that they couldn’t make out details that seemed familiar; perhaps not individual people, but groups certainly and craft moving in the harbour and the dust sent up by the wheels of wagon trains as they brought goods into the city. At a quarter to eight, the King turned the key five times.

Hugo had done the same, with tears running down his face and Jonah supporting him.

At the moment the alarm had sounded, Oswald and the Alchemist had neared the landing site. They also had a landing mechanism fitted. Two guards manned the small gate in the north wall and in the gloom of dusk, they saw the shadow advance from the sky and moved out into the field to get a better look. The bolt, fired from the craft, skewered them both and anchored them to the ground. Oswald winched the craft in and only once they had landed, did he see the men.

“God forgive me.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Oswald, they were already dead.”

Oswald stopped to compose himself.

“I will find Persia and bring him back and anyone else I can find en route who does not think I am an escaped lunatic and who is not trying to stick a blade in me!”

“Then go!”

Oswald moved swiftly and through the now unmanned gate. He was in a courtyard which looked like stabling. He kept to the shadows and moved to the end of the block and, peering around the edge of the building, he could see the remains of the old castle keep.

“Surely there?” he asked himself.

The square building, eighty feet high, stood in the middle of another courtyard. There was a door open on the side he could see and there was a lamp burning just inside. A man, smoking a pipe, was leaning up against the door frame, a soldier judging by the silhouette.

“Here goes nothing!”

He marched purposefully across the courtyard towards the door. The soldier saw him and grabbed a blade propped up against the door.

“Announce yourself!”

“The doctor; I have come to take the prisoner to the sickbay.”

“I hope you have a barrow and a strong stomach!”

“Both!”

Oswald spat out the word just as he reached the pool of light immediately in front of the door. With no qualms, he stuck his blade in the man’s guts and as he withdrew the blade, the man doubled over and fell to the ground.

“You were already dead.”

The hall into which he had entered had stairs leading up and down.

“Down, Oswald.” And he headed in that direction, grabbing a heavy bunch of keys from a hook in the wall at the head of the steps. He descended quickly and at the bottom of the stairs, he found a smaller chamber with cells around three sides, all locked.

“Persia!” he shouted in a whisper.

Nothing.

“PERSIA!” he screamed at the top of his voice.

Not waiting any longer, he began to try keys in locks. Only now, as he concentrated, did he become aware of the terrible smell of death, rotting decay, sick and bile. His hands began to shake and he dropped the keys twice.

“Oswald ...”

He heard his name and thought for a moment that it must have come from inside his own head, but then he heard it again.

“Persia! Which cell are you in?”

He heard the sound of something being thrown against the barred window in the cell door across the room.

“I’m coming. Confound these keys!”

Frantic, almost to the point of a seizure, he tried each key in the lock.

“Finally!”

He opened the door and pushed it back on to the dark cell. He could make out nothing plainly.

“Persia ...”

A darker shadow in the corner moved and groaned.

“Oh my boy. Come, we have to leave!”

He rushed forward and reached out to grab the prostrate form. It screamed out in agony.

“What have they done? God help me ... Persia, my love ...”

“Oswald ...”

The voice was distant, strained and carried to him on what sounded to be one of the last breaths his lover’s chest was going to deliver.

“Persia ... I have to get you out of here, we have no time!”

No sound came back and Oswald just swallowed and grabbed hold of what he assumed was Persia’s arms and hauled him up so that he could hoist the lifeless form over his shoulder. Fortunate for him, he could not see the extent of the wounds, else he would have collapsed. Turning, he staggered at first as his feet found their own way, and then he just pushed on, senseless to everything else, the stench, the weight of the body, the strain on his back and thighs as he made the stairs.

“Do not die now, you cannot die, not until I’ve wed you and bribed the Bishop to bless our union ...”

He made it to the outer courtyard and allowed himself to breathe deeply for a moment. He looked up and saw the Goliaths hovering over the city.

“Please God, wait, save me, your errant child, and your angel.”

He practically ran the rest of the way and as he turned the corner into the stable yard, he almost careered into a group of children being led by a young woman. She let out a cry.

“No! Follow me if you want to live, save the children and yourself.”

He didn’t stop and loped to the gate, beginning to feel the weight bear down on him as the adrenalin was almost spent. Halfway back across the field, the Alchemist met him.

“We have two minutes, Oswald!”

“I need no reminder of that, dear Phileas! Grab the children!”

With strength he did not know he possessed and inhuman speed, he sprang aboard the gondola and man-handled Persia to the edge of the hatch of the observation car, which was propped open. He clambered in and dragged Persia in after him, collapsing on the floor; but in an instant he was up again and hauling himself up the rungs of the ladder to help the Alchemist who was just inside the gondola.

“Quickly, children, get in!”

The command was repeated by the Alchemist and the young woman. The children were crying and screaming for their parents. Oswald just yanked them down, desperate to get the hatch closed. The young woman fainted at the sight of Persia.

“Alchemist!”

The legs appeared and then the body and finally the head, one arm stretched up to lower the glass hatch cover carefully. He was still on the ladder when the two massive explosions shook them like peas in a drum.

“On the floor and cover your heads!” bellowed Oswald, the last to throw himself down over the crumpled form of Persia.

Chapter Seven – Desolation

At the precise moment the clock struck eight o’clock, on the first chime, both Henry and Hugo pulled the levers that opened the trap doors beneath the Doom Clocks. For a heart-stopping moment nothing seemed to happen and then they disappeared. Ten seconds, the Alchemist had estimated it would take for them to hit the ground, and a further ten before the devices were activated. The four men counted down, mouthing the numbers silently. The explosions came after eight and nine seconds, respectively. By which time, the men were on the move to the observation deck. Long before they reached there, the devices had begun the deconstruction of Troisville.

It was a fact that no one could escape, for the noise was deafening. It lasted thirty seconds and was then replaced by an equally deafening silence. Once they had arrived at the deck, it was over and nothing remained of Troisville. Not a single light shone out and to all intents and purposes, from their vantage point, they were above a patch of the ocean, a featureless nothingness; a well of desolation.

“Take us down,” ordered the King.

Whilst the other occupants of the observation car hid their heads, the Alchemist stared out of the glass compartment to witness the annihilation. It was not morbid curiosity; the sadness was etched across his face. No, he wished to see it so that he would always be reminded of why he had given up the path to enlightenment, if he survived.

To describe what happened would require the language of the Devil. The Alchemist saw the city ‘shatter’, like glass dropped. Everything broke into its constituent pieces, its elements, and, with nothing to hold them together, they fell to the ground. Some things remained identifiable; a piece of iron, glass flasks, gold and silver furnishings. The water converted to the gases of which it was comprised and escaped in huge clouds which carried vast columns of dust up into the atmosphere. Of the stone, granite alone appeared to survive, though the mortar didn’t and walls and buildings teetered on the brink of collapse; many did, including the central spire of the cathedral. The most horrific sight was the faces behind the windows. Where someone had been looking out, the glass had protected them, that part covered by the glass. Hundreds of windows lay in the dust with a human face behind them. No one, save the group in the observation car, had survived.

Half an hour after the explosions, nothing remained and the Goliaths made their way to the landing sites to the north of the city where there was firm ground to anchor the steel bolts. The Alchemist and Oswald understood the sound of the huge steel arrows hitting the ground and the screech of the winch.

It was dark now and the descending Goliaths made no difference to the light filtering into the car.

“Is it over?”

“Yes, Oswald, it is over.”

“Do we have a lamp?”

“Yes, there is one in the cupboard under the seat.”

Chapter Eight – Arrivals

The vast clouds of gas and airborne debris rocked the Goliaths and moved them as easily as if they were feathers caught on the breeze. They were carried higher and at some speed. The rigging crews struggled in the fierce eddies and most of the rigging was lost, torn to shreds. Fortunately, nothing punctured the balloons. After half an hour, control was regained and the crafts were manoeuvred down to their landing altitude and the anchors were fired. The winches screeched like demonic birds.

A hundred feet from the ground, the gondolas were lowered and within forty minutes of the explosions, the King and Hugo were standing on the ‘field of glory’. The King flushed with excitement; Hugo ashen white. Initial companies of troops emerged from the ships to set up arms and position lamps.

“I counsel no forays into the city before dawn, Hugo.”

“There is no city, Sire.”

The King ignored the tone and moved several paces forward towards the edge of the city.

“There is a light over there!” Henry exclaimed, pointing.

“Impossible!”

“Who is there? Announce yourselves!” shouted out the King.

“Oswald Senator and party, Your Majesty, seeking refuge.”

“Come forward and drop your arms.”

The King turned to a group of men.

“Escort them in, give them light.”

Jonah and Jason were now just emerging from the ships, more intent on finding each other than anything else. In the melee in front of the landing platforms, it was difficult.

“Jonah!” called out Jason, becoming frantic, knowing that Jonah must be alive but knowing he had to hold the man to prove to himself that it wasn’t the afterlife he had entered.

“Jason! Over here.”

He could hear the cry but not see Jonah. Troops were milling about everywhere, talking excitedly and most were anticipating the piles of loot they planned to find come first light. It was a sickening reception on top of everything else. He pushed through towards the other vessel, indifferent to the men who sought to congratulate him, insensible to the jubilation.

“Jonah!”

No response, but as he parted a group of men, he saw Jonah standing by the edge of the landing platform. He ran, cursing the cannon he had to vault over.

“Jason, I see you!”

“Stay there!”

Jonah did advance and as Jason reached him, Jonah held out his arms and as soon as Jason was within them, he pulled tight and crushed the light of his life to his chest, receiving the same desperate hug in return. Lips sought out lips and hands reached for the faces which were already wet with tears. Like men who had escaped drowning, they surfaced and sucked huge lungfuls of air in and laughed and bellowed and sank back under the salty surface to re-live their moment of salvation over and over.

“I’m so happy to see you,” blubbed Jonah, holding Jason to his chest again.

“I can never be parted from you again. My soul was lost; my heart was tearing itself apart.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

They dried their eyes and regained their composure to join the King and Hugo and find out what was planned. They saw the knot of people around the King and Hugo and didn’t immediately fathom the reason. But as they drew nearer, they could see the unmistakeable form of Oswald.

“Oswald!” Jonah cried out as they approached, “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

“I came to save Persia.”

“And?”

“I did; what is left of him. The Alchemist-“

“The Alchemist!”

“Yes, he is here too, somewhere ... we came to save Persia and found a handful of young fry with their school mistress-“

“How?”

“Later; they took Persia aboard to tend to his injuries. I must go to him and be at his side when he wakes up.”

“Go then; we’ll find you later.”

“Alchemist!” hailed Jason.

He’d arrived, first having seen the children and the school mistress, whose name was Elizabeth, onto one of the ships.

“Jason, my boy!”

“What in the Devil’s-”

“Later, Jason; in the cold light of day all will be clear. We are delivered and that is all that matters.”

Jonah had been talking to Hugo and the King.

“Alchemist, it is so good to see you. But how-”

“Later; first we have to discuss some things; best done out of the earshot of certain people.”

“My quarters aboard the ship are closer than Jonah’s,” advised Jason.

“Then let us decamp there.”

They did, the three of them, and eventually Oswald joined them.

“He is asleep and heavily drugged.”

“What happened?” they asked.

“The Archduke tortured him for information but I think, judging by the lack of preparedness here, that he did not say a word.”

“Will he live?”

“We’ll know at dawn.”

Long did the four stay in the chamber and with crowded heads listened to what each had to say and at the end, with uniform nods, they broke up. Oswald went back to the sickbay and the Alchemist went to find the children and Elizabeth. Jason and Jonah stayed in the room. Exhausted now and mentally spent, they just lay and held each other and enjoyed being close together.

Chapter Nine – Departures

Dawn came at six; most who looked out believed themselves still in the arms of their slumber, prey to a nightmare.

Troisville was a city of dust, a vast archaeological site where something of the glory remained but in the main, it was a desert, a bizarre desert, littered with fragments of the civilisation which had dwelt there for over a thousand years. There, a granite fountain intact, lying on its side where the sandstone beneath it had vanished. Walls stood in many areas, many teetering on the brink of collapse, unmarked tombstones to the rest. Hundreds of panes of glass lay everywhere; mostly broken, having fallen from wooden frames. Some still sat in the granite walls and resembled tear-filled eyes. At regular intervals, granite hearths and chimneys, most falling down. A church with no roof, the stained glass still in the stone frames, the cross and statue of Christ gone, his golden ring of thorns lying in the dust.

The ground was strewn with iron, gold coins, all manner of gold and silver objects, small heaps of ornaments, the wood of the casket gone and in the midst of the debris, an acorn, a walnut, or one of a hundred different types of seed. Just seeds and dust, glass and granite, gold and silver but not a single living thing. Henry’s ‘field of glory’.

The King held a service of thanks and the Bishop laid the half million souls to rest. Then, as ten o’clock approached, small groups were sent into the wasteland to assess what could be salvaged. The King brought Hugo, Jason, Jonah and the Alchemist together around a table under an awning between the gondolas of the ships.

“Messengers will be sent out to the other parts of the kingdom to announce the news. Ambassadors will be invited to visit to see for themselves the results. One of the ships will remain here, with half the force to rebuild the city and establish an arm of my government. The two clocks will be loaded back onto the other ship and we head for Quatre-Mares.“

“Sire?” queried Hugo.

“I wish to press our advantage and delivery our ‘vision of the future’ to the mercenaries and terrorists who inhabit that place and delight in sacking my wagon trains and convoys of ships ...”

“You plan to destroy the city?” asked Jonah, seeking confirmation in simple terms.

“Yes, Jonah, I plan to destroy the city. Then our strength will be clear to all and then, and only then, will I invite all peaceful nations to join with me to form the alliance.”

“Brother ... another city the size of Troisville? Surely it isn’t necessary-“

“It is!” shouted Henry, “for too long we have been treated like the poor relation and have been made to accept alms like the poor. I will have respect!”

“But, Broth-“

“No! The devices will be retrieved and everything will be made ready to leave as soon as possible. I will not dally on the doorstep of diplomacy like our father!”

The King left the table and strode two or three paces away. No one could speak yet. Oswald arrived from the sickbay.

“What of Persia?” Jonah asked.

“He is quiet and resting. He is weak but laughing at my jokes; he will live.”

“Thank God.”

“What is the plan now? Do we return to Deuxfleurs and stage that banquet we missed?” Oswald asked, half serious and half jesting.

“No ... the King wishes to push ahead and we leave for Quatre-Mares-”

“Why?”

“To deliver his ‘vision of the future’ ...”

“Do you mean this?” and Oswald swept his hand across their vista.”

“Yes ...”

Oswald took a seat to recover his composure, his face was flaming red and his fists were balled up, thumping his knees.

“’Tis Persia!” cried Jason.

It was Persia, supported by two nurses, making his way down the ramp of the landing platform. Even from that distance it was plain that he was searching out Oswald.

“What is he doing? He is weak and he will get an infection ...”

But Oswald was talking to himself and then he fixed his eye on the King, ten paces away, and fell silent. He put his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled something out, something he began to fiddle with and his behaviour was becoming slightly bizarre. Just as Jonah was going to say something, Oswald declared, ”Sire, I would beg of you an audience to plead the case for Quatre-Mares ...”

And as he spoke, he moved towards the King and marshalled him further away from the others. Twenty paces they moved and Oswald was being very effusive in his condemnation of the mercenaries but equally vocal in his estimation of the value of the Bourse and the importance of trade between the city and Deuxfleurs, also Aubade. At a certain critical moment, he turned to search out the face of Persia, who was now twenty paces away from the conference table.

“I love you my angel ... better this way ...”

Oswald’s words died and so did he and the King, reduced to spawn and dust. The Alchemist’s prototype ‘Doom Clock’ fell to the ground making the ‘ting-ting’ sound which signalled that it was safe to approach.

“OSWALD!”

Chapter Ten – A Vision of the Future

“Where is Hugo?” asked Jason, returning from the wharf.

“Need you ask? Where do love birds fly when they wish to coo and woo?” replied Jonah smiling, raising himself from his seat to greet his lover.

“The city is reeling. No one knows whether to laugh or cry!”

“Hugo and Persia will answer that question in good time. And speaking of time, when do we leave?”

“The craft is ready, provisioning and farewells aside, within days.”

“Are you still certain it is what you want?”

“Yes, Jonah, it is what I want if it is still your desire.”

“It is.”

“Has the Alchemist returned?”

“Expected within hours.”

“Were we right to do it?”

“It is a fitting memorial and this way, it can never happen again.”

The decision, following the deaths of Oswald and the King, was to re-arm the Doom Clocks and release the time stored within them. Jason had supervised the planting of thousands of acorns. At the same time, the wasteland had been scoured of anything of value and sent to Quatre-Mares. The Alchemist insisted that he arm the clocks and supervise their destruction after the ‘event’. All the released time would result in the acorns bursting into life, along with all of the other seeds, creating a forest where once Troisville had stood. Some of the five hundred thousand people who’d died might also be resurrected and Elizabeth agreed to establish an institute to care for the people who returned, to teach them anew. One of the Goliaths remained at the site to house the people of Deuxfleurs and from the surrounding land, who had volunteered to rebuild the city.

Hugo had accompanied Persia back to Deuxfleurs and when they had disembarked, they were hand-in-hand.

“Where to first?” asked Jonah, like a child.

“The edge of the world ...”

“We might be gone some time.”

“We have the rest of our lives.”

Theodore burst into the room.

“He is back!”

Jason, Jonah, Fabien and Theodore raced to the docks to welcome the Alchemist.

Oswald’s craft had been repaired and it was in that ship that the Alchemist had returned to Deuxfleurs. They found not just the Alchemist but the children whom he and Oswald had saved.

“Alchemist?”

“It is done.” And the words carried a great weariness and sadness on their backs.

“Why have you brought the children?”

“There is perhaps a thing or two which I can teach them, good and wholesome things.”

“And the clocks are destroyed?” asked Jason.

“Yes, completely destroyed, save these.” And he held up the keys on their chains which he handed to the men, “time is precious, use what you have got to the full. Don’t stand here; go see what there is to see and then come back, but only then.”

“Thank you.”

Epilogue

“There! On the ridge,” shouted Jason excitedly, handing Jonah the telescope.

“It’s a female and look, cubs!” Jonah exclaimed, handing the viewing tube back.

“I count three.”

Whilst Jason watched the leopards, Jonah slackened off the main rigging lines to catch the breeze so that they might float over the ocean into the sunset whilst they had dinner. Hugo’s old craft had a new propeller but they used it sparingly, not wanting to rush and miss sights such as they had seen: leopards hunting for sand mice, narwhals joisting for mates, millions of flamingos taking flight as they glided over the coral pink sea with albatross and sea eagles.

“Dinner is almost ready, Jason.”

“Will it spoil if we delay a while?”

“Depends on ... ah!”

The sight of his lover shrugging off his shirt and kicking off his boots answered the question, always answered the question.

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

The Weaver & The Loom

Chapter One – Cruse’s visit

Chapter Two – The young man and a conversation with Jason

Chapter Three – Jason’s visit that evening

Chapter Four – Elam’s Visit

Chapter Five – The delivery to Father Abraham

Chapter Six – The Egyptians

Chapter Seven – The wheel turns

Chapter Eight – “... and you will pay the price ...”

Chapter Nine – An act of pure kindness

Chapter Ten – something will be born

Chapter Eleven – and something will die

Epilogue

The Weft – Journey to Deuxfleurs

Chapter One – Departure

Chapter Two – The stop at Angus and Dilly’s

Chapter Three – The Inn at Dreihus and the Incident at the Horse Shoe

Chapter Four – The Ford Inn

Chapter Five – Aubade

Chapter Six – The River Journey to Saint Clair

Chapter Seven – Saint Clair and the Arrival of the Aeronaut

Chapter Eight – The Journey to Deuxfleurs

Chapter Nine – Deuxfleurs

Chapter Ten – Elam

Chapter Eleven – Elam’s Choice

Epilogue

The Doom Clock

Chapter One – The Scales of Justice

Chapter Two – The Assassin

Chapter Three – The Doom Clock

Chapter Four – Revelations and Preparations

Chapter Five - Spectacle

Chapter Six – Engagement

Chapter Seven – Desolation

Chapter Eight – Arrivals

Chapter Nine – Departures

Chapter Ten – A Vision of the Future

Epilogue