Crispin's Army
Chapter 18

Crispin’s Army moved like a great ponderous serpent across the land. At regular intervals along the way, stones or other forms of signpost were clearly positioned, marked with arrows if there was any possibility of doubt about the correct path to be taken. Thus Crispin planned to aid future travellers journeying to and from Urbis, as he foresaw commerce would grow once the hostilities within the city were over, and the country around learned to accomodate its big new neighbour.

Crispin himself, Charlie, and the wagon with the three women and Gus travelled at the head of the caravan; somewhere in the middle, Simone, Mina and Keith drove a small cart, in the back of which sat Elizabeth, at times jubilant at the prospect of returning to the city which some believed she considered to be her own personal property, and at times sulking at the lack of suspension and other creature comforts which her transport offered; bringing up the rear, trying to keep stragglers from straggling too much, were Nick, Ralph, Arne and Nold.

Although Arne and Nold had accompanied Crispin on his rabble-rousing tour, their request to join his expedition proper had come as a surprise. Arne had hinted vaguely at his reasons for wanting to join. Since he had lost Melissa, he said, he had lost all purpose in life, and felt that he might, by going to the place that had virtually been the death of her, achieve some sort of catharsis, a release of the emotions he had kept locked inside since her death - indeed, since her disappearance - and which were progressively taking him over like a cancer of the soul. As for young Nold, he had taken on the role of Arne’s closest companion since Crispin’s departure, and had not really relinquished it since his return. His parents had been his only real tie to Vale, and although copious tears had been shed by his mother on his announcement that he wished to join the expedition, they had not put any pressure upon him to stay behind, and Arne had assured them that he would take personal care of Nold until their eventual return to Vale.

The caravan retraced the steps of Crispin’s previous journey, but with tedious slowness. Having come to the decision that he was indeed going to return to Urbis, and having made all the necessary preparations, he chafed now to get there and complete the unfinished business awaiting him. From time to time he would impatiently ride up and down the column, harrying back markers to keep up, until Charlie prevailed upon him to desist, pointing out that they were going as fast as they reasonably could, and that further chivvying would create only unnecessary ill feeling.

At dusk, the column would simply halt, and each family or group would set up camp. Tents and a few yurt-like huts would be erected, while others simply arranged beds in, or sometimes under, the wagons. Water would be brought, horses put to grass, and fires lit, glowing like a chain of beacons along the trail. If there had been no road before the passage of the column, there was certainly the beginning of one after it.

Crispin would invariably find some prominence, a hill or a rock, or even the branch of a tree, and would sit watching the comings and goings, listening to the murmur of voices and the plucking of guitars and other instruments as they were tuned.

“Aren’t you a little young to be playing the role of the patriarch?” Josie queried one night as they lay in their tent.

Crispin opened an eye. He had been on the point of drifting off to sleep, drained after making love with the passion of a man assuaging a terrible thirst. “What do you mean?”

“Playing the role of the great man leading his people out of the wilderness.”

Crispin felt his hackles rise, but checked himself. It was true he had adopted something of that identity, as he felt responsible for the welfare of the people following him.

“It’s not necessary, you know,” Josie added. “Everyone knows where they’re going, and they’re all taking responsibility for themselves. The only reason they’re following you is because you happen to be at the front of the line.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Lighten up,” said Josie. “There’ll be problems enough when we get back to Urbis without you giving yourself grey hairs along the way.”

Crispin saw the wisdom of Josie’s words, and did endeavour to `lighten up’.

At the close of a perfect spring day, as the last shafts of golden sunlight striped the forest air, and birdcalls echoed as the roost beckoned, Crispin spurred his horse up a last slope, his heart pounding, and the sounds of the caravan diminishing behind him. He emerged from the forest and trotted across the open grass for a short distance before reining in his mount to survey the scene.

It had been three years, almost exactly, since he had witnessed in this place something that had at that time seemed unspeakable. The memory of it had not faded, even though he had studiously avoided the place since his last visit, passing through on his way to Urbis. Even when returning from the city with Josie, accompanied on the last leg by Carrick, Nold and the others, he had insisted on detouring around this spot.

The scene was made mellow by the golden light of sunset, but nothing could disguise completely the strangeness of the great arching ribcages and the monumental skulls which still littered the grass, casting their distended shadows on the ground. New growth had long since covered the tracks, but Crispin’s eyes travelled unerringly to the spot where he knew that the bones of two men lay in the earth.

The soft padding of hoofs on new grass roused him from his thoughts, and he turned to find himself looking into Arne’s intent blue eyes. Behind him, the wagons and horses and walking men and women were coming out of the trees, looking around at the mammoths’ graveyard in solemn puzzlement. Crispin and Arne watched for a minute as city people - many of whom had obviously not encountered mammoths before they had been skinned and expertly reduced to manageable chunks of meat - slowly approached the skeletons and ran their fingers over them as if to assure themselves that such creatures were real.

“You remember this place, eh, Arne?” said Crispin softly.

“I remember it well,” Arne replied. “I will never forget what happened here.”

“Partners in crime, eh?” said Crispin with a wry smile.

Arne did not answer, lost in his own memories of their killing of two men, and the consequences of that act.

Shortly, Tana, Josie and Cath ambled over to where the two men sat in their saddles.

“So this is where it all happened?” said Tana. “It seems strange. I imagined it, from what you told me, but I can visualise it so much better now.”

“Best not to dwell on it,” said Cath abruptly. “Are you two going to get down and give these poor beasts a rest, or are you going to sit there all night pretending to be statues?”

Cath’s tone jolted Crispin back to a practical frame of mind. He jumped from his horse and led him back to the wagon, where Gus was busy starting a fire, and unsaddled. He then led the horse down to the river to drink.

The river was swollen with winter rain and had overflowed its banks. It formed a considerable barrier, the first major obstacle on the journey. There was no question that a bridge would need to be built. He wondered how long that would take, and made a mental calculation of what other construction would be necessary along the route.

When Crispin awoke with the sun in his eyes, the first thing he heard was the ferocious buzzing of chainsaws, then a shout of warning, and the rustling crash of a large tree falling. And then another.

“Who is using the chainsaws?” Crispin said in alarm. He was already halfway to his feet.

Josie pushed him back, playfully but firmly, and thrust a bowl of broth into his hands. “Charlie,” she said. “And Cath. They don’t appear to be having any problems, so you can sit tight and eat your breakfast.”

“Why wasn’t I woken?” he asked, blowing on a spoonful of broth.

“What for?” said Josie. “They can manage without you. Relax.”

By the time Crispin had finished his broth, a team of horses was emerging from the forest, and Crispin followed in their tracks. They were pulling a log down to the river bank, where work had begun on digging foundations for the bridge.

The river was in full spate. And in its midst were four horsemen, towing lines across so that wood could be transferred to the other bank and construction commenced there. The four riders were Arne, Nold, Keith, and a man from Upper Vale named Garn.

Crispin registered surprise that Keith was among them, but he reflected that he had not ever got to know the man. During his time in Vale, the quiet man called Keith had never gone out of his way to attract attention to himself, had never, to Crispin’s knowledge, even expressed an opinion in longhouse debating sessions. But whenever there was work to be done, one could be certain to find Keith in the thick of it, bending that wiry frame, exercising that surprising strength, working for however long it took to finish a task, then simply melting away before he could be thanked, disappearing with wraith-like speed and silence.

And now here he was again, involved in the riskiest part of the bridge-building enterprise. He appeared to have mastered horse riding adequately, but it occurred to Crispin that the relatively few Urbians could swim were chiefly the wealthy ones who could make use of rooftop swimming pools, and Keith, he knew, did not fall into that category.

Crispin was reminded, also, that Arne might be ignorant of the fact that the river bottom dropped away sharply towards the far side. The horses were already chest high in the water.

With alarm bells ringing in his head, he ran to the water’s edge.

“Arne!”

Even as the four men turned their heads, Arne’s horse plunged forward, immersed to its neck, neighing as it grappled with the current. Then the other three horses were in the same predicament.

All those gathered on the bank could do nothing but watch helplessly as the riders struggled to extricate themselves from a hazardous situation.

Arne, trailing the first rope from his saddle, reached the bank. He urged his horse up the steep slope, and slowly its hoofs gained ground, with the river still seeming to want to suck animal and rider back down. When they were out, Arne leapt down to help Nold, who was following close behind, towing the second rope. He waded back into the water until he was waist deep and seized Nold’s horse’s bridle. He began pulling at it, urging the animal up out of the water by painful degrees. When it seemed as if the horse had given all it could, Nold sprang from its back and joined Arne in pulling it clear.

The other two riders then edged closer to the bank, each of them gripping one of the ropes suspended above the river. Crispin watched intently, and felt himself starting to breathe again. They would be all right now, surely.

The gasp of horror from the others on the bank was the first intimation that the situation was still dangerous. Crispin turned his head from the four men opposite him, and he too saw the terrifying prospect of a large tree being swept down the river at speed.

The two men still in the river were directly in its path, with no power to move. The tree slammed into their horses, knocking them out from under them. Helpless, the horses were swept away by the current, whinnying pitifully. The two men each gripped a rope, but Keith’s clothes had been snagged on a branch of the tree, and he was being dragged deeper into the water, while on the bank Nold’s horse struggled to maintain its footing as the rope jerked sideways. And then the rope went slack as it was torn from Keith’s grasp. He gave a cry and disappeared under the surface. His head bobbed up a couple of metres away as he began thrashing for his life.

The crowd that had now swelled gasped again, as Garn released his grip on his rope and began striking out towards Keith, who himself seemed to be trying to grasp some portion of the tree, tantalisingly just out of reach. The tree slipped further away, and Keith’s struggling became more panicky. As the crowd watched helplessly, Garn struck out strongly, and gradually drew close to Keith, but the latter was blind to the assistance being offered to him. At last, Garn was able to lay a hand on his collar, at which point Keith appeared to embrace his would-be rescuer, submerging the two of them.

Locked together, they were swept round a bend in the river and vanished from sight.

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