Crispin's Army

When Crispin and Josie were awakened by Charlie entering with a breakfast of eggs, bacon, tomatoes and hot bread, they rubbed bleary eyes. Josie looked at her watch and saw that it was nearly midday.

After village women had ministered to their wounds with herb poultices and had departed, the group of friends that had gathered around Crispin’s bed had sat up until late in the night, exchanging their stories. First Arne and Nold had described how they had been seized by a band of men from distant Mellowdale, recruited by Torfinn to do dirty work he suspected that no local man would do, even for him. The Mellowdalers had jumped Arne as he had been returning from his fields, bundled him into a wagon, and then waited for Nold to return from his supposedly secret errand to take food to Crispin and Josie in their hideout.

When they had got the two men, the Mellowdalers had taken the wagon to a location well removed from Vale, where they had been instructed to kill Arne and Nold and bury their bodies. The two men from Vale had managed to make a last minute escape, with their captors hot on their trail. It was at this point that they had stumbled into the camp of Charlie and the others, who had felled the pursuing Mellowdalers with their blasters.

“We hadn’t had a very warm reception in the villages we had visited,” Charlie had chipped in. “So it was a case of shooting first and asking questions after.”

“I’m surprised you got out of any village alive,” Crispin had said. “After the last visitation hereabouts by people dressed like you - er, us - the village folk would be profoundly suspicious.”

“Too true,” Charlie had agreed. “We had to stun a few people to get out of one place unharmed. And after we’d been to your little campsite and found you weren’t there, Arne and Nold had had to smuggle us past the guards here, hiding us in the back of the wagon. And it looks like we only just got here in time.”

“Wasn’t there another man with you when we last saw you in the city?” Crispin had queried.

“That’s right,” big Nick had said solemnly. “His name was Ted. He was a new recruit. He wandered off from our camp one night. He fell down a sheer cliff face. We saw him at the bottom the next morning, but there was nothing we could do to even reach him.”

There was an awkward silence. “How did you get across the big ravine?” Crispin had inquired at last.

“Get across it?” Ralph had exclaimed. “You’re joking! We walked for two days to get around it. That’s why we didn’t get here till now. What about you?”

“We crossed it,” Crispin said simply. He studiously ignored the looks Josie was giving him.

Crispin and Josie had given their account of the dangers they had faced crossing the mountains. By which time they had all been nearly asleep, and had all quickly dropped into deep slumber where they sat or lay.

Later in the day, Crispin called a meeting of all villagers. Their mood was subdued, for two of their eldest citizens had died of the injuries they had sustained in the mad rush to flee the longhouse, and a number of others were sporting bandages covering knife wounds or burns, or both. Added to this was the mysterious absence of all but one of the elders, and Gunnar was volunteering nothing. They all gathered on the grass before the incinerated shell of the longhouse, its blackened timbers rising from the ash like the ribs of some enormous beast. When everyone else had assembled, Gunnar was led out of the cottage where he had slept the night before, surrounded by guards.

Crispin explained to the populace that Torfinn and the others had fled in the night, fearing that their dark secret was about to come out in the open. “So, I hear you ask, what is this secret that has been guarded by the elders for countless generations? This secret that Master Torfinn and the others were willing to spill so much blood to preserve? The answer, my friends, is an entire civilization beyond our ken, but by no means beyond our reach. Fellow-villagers, you saw the flying machine when it came here, you experienced the power of the men who controlled it. Those men live in a city, a vast gathering of people, more enormous than you can possibly imagine, and their machines give them their power. It is a power that you have really only seen used for evil purposes, but I can promise you that it also has an enormous capacity for good. If even a portion of it were brought here, and it were to be used wisely, it would make our lives richer, easier and longer. Now, here is the secret. The elders, in this and every village, have known of the existence of the city for hundreds of years, indeed, since our ancestors and those of the city folk were brothers. There was a time of great division, when they chose the path of science and machinery, and our own forefathers elected to preserve their simple ways. For in that way they were able to maintain control. Any mention of the others, living on the other side of the mountains in the towns which grew together to become the city of , was taboo, and within a few generations most of us had forgotten that they even existed. For those of us not privileged to be elders, life has always been so hard that we have had little energy left to challenge the existing order of things.” He paused. “Now, it may be that you will wish to keep to your old ways. But I believe it to be only just,” he continued, placing heavy emphasis on the word, and eyeing Gunnar balefully, “that you should know that there is another way. You have the right to make the choice.” He paused to marshal his thoughts. “My friends, there are many changes afoot in our world. This little village of ours will have to brace itself against a storm of change, the like of which it has never seen. In the midst of all this, many traditional values will be swept away. If I can share with you anything of what I learned in the city, it should be this: that amid the rush of the new, it is important to know what to preserve of the old. This may seem strange to you, but what I wish to suggest to you is that - even after all that I have told you about Torfinn and the others - the village should, I believe, preserve the system of having a leader drawn from among the oldest and the wisest of our people.” There was a faint murmur from among the crowd, and Crispin could see from Gunnar’s face that he could not quite believe what he was hearing. “There will be a difference, however,” he continued, “in the way the elders conduct their business. It will no longer be discussed in secret, but in open council in the magnificent new longhouse we will build...” ( loud cheers ) “...and every member of the village, from oldest to youngest, will be encouraged to participate in the, ah, decision-making process.”

He looked across the heads of those seated before him and caught Josie’s eye. She was grinning at him from ear to ear.

“Gunnar, come forward,” said Crispin.

Gunnar’s guards stepped aside, and he walked slowly to where Crispin was standing.

“Gunnar,” Crispin said with a smile. “These are strange times. What is even stranger, Master Torfinn and the other elders appear to have deserted us, for reasons best known to themselves. Will you be our leader, and guide us through the difficult days to come, according to the new plan I have outlined?”

“Crispin, I will,” the older man said with dignity.

The onlookers chanted in unison, “Welcome, leader of Vale-By-The-Waters.”

When the cheering subsided, Crispin cleared his throat. “I’m afraid, leader, you’ll have to wait a while before we can install you in your chair.” He turned and gestured towards the ashes of the longhouse. “But we will give the carpenters their commission immediately.”

There followed general laughter. When it subsided, Crispin asked if there was any further business to be discussed.

“Crispin,” said Gund, Sasha’s husband, “you have exposed yourself to many dangers for us, and we are deeply grateful to you. Tell us, please, what you learned about our women.”

Crispin felt his heart sink. He had been hoping he might defer for as long as possible that hardest of all questions, but which lay so close to the hearts of the little assembly of husbands and parents whose concern was not the politicking of the elders or the great changes in their lives which their minds could scarcely begin to grasp, but who were hanging on his every word, waiting patiently to learn what had happened to Tana, Melissa, Sasha and Greta. It had been, after all, the original purpose of his journey.

“The news is not good,” he said simply. “What I have learned for certain of their fate is bad enough. What I fear has happened to them is worse.”

He wondered how much he should tell of the women’s fate. His fellow villagers were not fools, they could surmise the likely fate of their wives and daughters. In the end his story was simple and honest. He described something of the system of government in Urbis, in order to highlight the struggle being undertaken to change it, and thus play up Tana’s heroic role, rising from her oppression to aid in orchestrating the revolt. But he was at a loss to describe the radioactive cloud to an audience who knew nothing even of electricity, and could only liken it to a man-made plague, which would most certainly have claimed the women’s lives.

It was not much, but it was all he could offer. They thanked him, and left to grieve for their lost ones.

Crispin had his own grieving to do, or at least a paying of last respects. He and Josie passed out through the small gate at the upper end of the village and walked on up the valley to where the steps took them up the hillside onto the plain at the top. Crispin led Josie along the crest of the valley to where the great hump of a tumulus had been built.

He walked down a flight of steps at one end of the mound into an underground chamber lined with funerary urns set into alcoves. He stopped before one such alcove.

“This is where my family is buried,” he said.

Crispin stood with his head bowed before the urn containing his father’s ashes for a minute or two. Josie stood at his side, maintaining a respectful silence. She was struck by the similarity between the funeral practices of the village folk and those of the Urbians, recalling again Bernard’s interment in the catacombs, and sensed that the two peoples, now so disparate, must indeed have had a common heritage in the distant past. But so much had changed since then that any coming together now would be painful, of that she felt sure.

They emerged from the burial mound into the sunshine and lay down on the tussocky grass, their arms around each other, watching the cotton wool clouds sail across the sky and enjoying the peace that had eluded them for so long.

They took a nap, then awoke and lay looking at the rolling hills that fringed the plain, and the river below.

“Someone’s coming,” said Josie.

A young boy was running through the grass towards them from the direction of the village.

“It’s Edgar,” said Crispin. “He was the one that brought me the news that Tana had been taken. I hope he has better news this time.”

The boy came running up and stopped short, a little abashed at finding them in what seemed an intimate moment.

“Crispin,” he panted. “And Josie. You’re wanted in the village.”

“What is it?” said Crispin with alarm. “What’s happened?”

The boy could barely find his voice. “It’s... it’s Tana. She’s returned. With another woman. Tana says she is very important, and that she must be kept a prisoner.”

They raced back to the village. The crowds had gathered, surrounding Tana and Elizabeth. The two women looked emaciated and close to exhaustion. Each was leaning on a sturdy villager for support.

“Tana!” Crispin yelled.

The crowd fell silent. Tana turned, and her eyes met Crispin’s over the heads of the people. The crowd parted and she walked stiffly to him, her eyes glistening with unspeakable joy and relief.

They looked at one another long and hard. Except for one momentary encounter, they had not seen each other since the whole business had begun. So much had happened since then, they had both been through such changes, that the people who had once been husband and wife were no more. They could almost have been strangers.

But they were not strangers. They had, in their separate ways, shared the experience of Urbis and survived. That was something they had in common.

Tana put her arms round Crispin and squeezed him with what strength she had left, staring into his eyes from her own hollow sockets.

“Is it truly you?” she murmured.

“Yes,” he smiled. “It’s me.”

“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“That goes for me too,” he smiled.

“You came to rescue me, and I never even managed to say thank you,” Tana said with a wistful look. Crispin gave a dismissive wave of his hand, as if he had helped out with some minor chore. She turned and looked at Josie, standing apart from them. “Hello,” she said, smiling.

“Hello, Tana,” said Josie, returning the smile.

“This is Josie,” said Crispin. “My...” His voice trailed away.

“Friend,” Tana beamed, finishing his sentence for him. “I’m pleased to meet you, Josie.” And she released Crispin and went and hugged Josie. “I believe we will be friends, too,” she said with a warm smile.