First Voyage Page 13

  "Least we can do for the man feeding us is to lend a bit of a hand," Rigley explained. He had taken off his uniform coat to carry grain, throwing the heavy burlap sacks over his shoulder as if they weighed no more than pillows. Like most flyers, Rigley was slightly built, but Alexander could see that he was deceptively strong. "You just coming off watch?"

  "Yes. Professor Hobhouse has taken over."

  "See anything?"

  Alexander shook his head. "Not so much as a passing cart."

  "Good," Rigley said, then grunted as he hefted another sack of grain. "If our luck holds for another day or two, maybe we can get Lemondrop back in the air and fly out before them nasty cuirassiers gets word of us."

  "Can I help here?"

  "No offense, lad, but I reckon these sacks weigh as much as you do." Rigley glanced at the farmer's daughter and smiled. "Besides, I suspect Miss Chloe here wouldn't mind your company on the walk home. She's a bit sweet on you."

  Alexander felt his cheeks burn. It amazed him that he had flown on a gryphon into aerial combat, even leaped into a stormy sea without thinking, but Rigley's comment that a girl was sweet on him made Alexander's knees go weak.

  The girls left the food with their father, who sat down on the growing pile of grain sacks to share it with Rigley. Back outside, Alexander could see that the mill was set in a small valley. Off to the left was an orchard, and beyond that a field ringed with a stone wall. A few sheep grazed on the grass there.

  The churning waterwheel was fascinating to watch. Alexander had never studied one up close. The wheel was ringed by a series of scoops that filled with water from the racing stream, making the shaft through the center of the wheel turn the millstone that ground the grain inside. As the wheel spun round, the scoops were turned upside down and emptied back into the stream, only to be filled again a moment later.

  Chloe scolded her little sister, who had gone too close to the raging stream again. The younger girl ran up the bank, skipping and laughing. Chloe saw Alexander watching the waterwheel and came to stand next to him.

  "Have you never seen a waterwheel?" she asked.

  "Bien sur!" Alexander replied in his own broken French. "But your father built this waterwheel. He must be a very smart man."

  "Mon Per c'est magnifique!"

  Alexander laughed. Her father was magnificent to have built this himself. At the same time, he felt a pang. How was it that people like Pierre and Chloe were supposed to be his enemy? Of course, Pierre had experienced English decency himself after being rescued at sea and so had a different viewpoint than most of his countrymen, who only believed what they were told about the English.

  He had to remind himself that Pierre and Chloe were not French soldiers. They were not Napoleon, who as a dictator and conqueror ruled people as he saw fit, ignoring the natural rights any Englishman possessed—or any human being, for that matter.

  A scream interrupted his thoughts. To his horror, he saw that little Celeste had fallen into the flooded stream and was clinging desperately to some brush overhanging the water.

  "Celeste!" her sister cried. She and Alexander ran to pull her out.

  But the current was too strong. They were too far away to reach Celeste in time. Celeste lost her grip and was swept into the center of the stream, beyond their reach. In seconds, she would be carried into the waterwheel and crushed.

  Now Chloe was screaming as she looked on helplessly. What can I do? Alexander raised his hand and willed the water to stop. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the water in his mind's eye. He shouted at it silently. Stop! He opened his eyes. Nothing. Celeste was as good as dead.

  And then a miracle. Pierre burst from the mill house with a length of rope into which he had tied a loop at the end. His first throw went right to Celeste. She caught it and held on tight. Pierre waded as far out into the stream as he dared, with Rigley closer to the bank, holding on to Pierre's belt at the back.

  Slowly, shouting encouragement to her, Pierre pulled his daughter closer. Finally, he had her in his arms. Then Pierre slipped, and they were both pulled under. Chloe screamed in utter despair. But Rigley was still hanging on to Pierre. His face contorted with effort as he used one powerful arm to swing them closer to the bank while grabbing hold of a tree root with the other hand.

  Pierre must have managed to get his feet back under him, because he reappeared, gasping for breath, with Celeste still in his arms. With Rigley's help, they managed to get into shallow water. Then all three got out of the stream and collapsed on the safety of the bank. Chloe ran to them.

  Alexander's heart was pounding. Celeste and Pierre had very nearly died. He had been utterly unable to do anything about it. He had thought he would use whatever power he imagined he might have to save Chloe's little sister. And yet it was Pierre who had rescued her—using a length of rope. He felt completely useless.

  Watching Pierre hug his two girls on the stream bank, he also felt an enormous sense of relief. Another second or two, and events would have had a very different ending.

  Right then and there, Alexander vowed not to rely on his power again—if he even had any actual power. Better to trust to quick action and a sturdy length of rope than some silly power!

  • • •

  The next day they awoke to golden sunshine. Lemondrop seemed stronger after breakfast, though he went right back to sleep. It appeared they would have to hide out at the farm for at least one more day, though each hour they spent in France heightened the danger that they would be discovered and captured.

  Alexander helped feed and water the other gryphons and then stood his watch along the country road. As the shadows lengthened toward afternoon, there was still no sign of any French patrols. He returned to the barn, where he found Chloe and Celeste waiting for him. The girls were all smiles and he greeted them in his broken French.

  "What do they want?" Captain Amelia asked him.

  "I take it that they want me to go exploring with them."

  "Exploring?" The flyer captain glanced from Alexander to Chloe's apple-cheeked face and seemed to grow flustered. "Oh. I see. Well, I don't suppose there's any harm in it if you don't stray too far."

  Alexander turned to Lord Parkington. "Toby, won't you come with us?"

  "I should stay here with Lemondrop."

  The young lord still sat with his back against the gryphon. Neither of them appeared to have moved for hours. Lord Parkington, who was already so pale, his head still bandaged, now looked lethargic and sickly in the dappled sunshine that filtered into the barn.

  Much to Alexander's surprise, Captain Amelia spoke up and ordered Lord Parkington to accompany him. "There's nothing more you can do here while Lemondrop is sleeping," she said. "Go with Mr. Hope. Perhaps you can keep him out of trouble."

  She added this last statement with a sniff. As Lord Parkington shrugged into his coat, Desdemona came over and nuzzled against Lemondrop, and then settled in next to him. Not for the first time, Alexander was surprised by how gracefully the gryphons moved. Desdemona curled herself up as quietly as a kitten, though she was many times larger—more lion than barn cat.

  They left the barn and Chloe led the way toward the orchard. Much to Alexander's relief, Chloe didn't seem to blame him for not being the one to save Celeste. Of course, she hadn't known he was even trying. Alexander still felt foolish for attempting to summon a power he wasn't really even sure he had. The sheer terror they had lived through yesterday, watching Celeste nearly drown, made them glad to be alive.

  Though it was winter, the afternoon air felt sun-kissed and warm. In the orchard, although the branches were bare, there was a lingering scent of apples and peaches. A few stray apples still lay among the leaves and they startled a deer that had been dining on these windfalls. Orchards were like old friends to Alexander, who had raided his share back home. He found a few choice apples that the frost and deer had missed, then shared them with the others.

  They flopped on the ground with their b
acks against the fruit trees and dined on the apples, which were all the sweeter now that their flavor had been concentrated by the winter cold. Alexander ate juicy apple after apple, flinging the cores away among the trees.

  "You seem right at home, Alexander," said Lord Parkington, munching an apple.

  "Of course I am," he replied. "If we didn't need to keep one eye open for the enemy, I believe I would take a nap."

  Celeste jumped up, a mischievous grin on her face. She walked over to Alexander and thumped him on the shoulder, then ran away laughing. Chloe ran off as well, giggling riotously.

  "What in the world?" Lord Parkington asked.

  "Haven't you ever played tag?" Alexander cried as he jumped up. "Run!"

  He ran after the girls, who dodged between the tree trunks. He almost caught Celeste, but then pretended to trip so that she could get away, leaving a trail of delighted squeals in her wake. Chloe was extremely hard to catch. She seemed to be as swift as the deer they had come across earlier.

  "She's faster than you are, Alexander!" Toby called. "You'll never catch her!"

  He wasn't about to give up. With a final burst of speed, he leaped around an apple tree and tagged her. Chloe laughed with delight and Alexander felt his heart glow in a way it never had before. Then she raced off after her sister.

  Warmed by the exercise, the boys took off their uniform coats. They kept up the game among the trees for nearly half an hour until all four of them finally sprawled on the orchard floor, breathless and red-faced. Alexander found it hard to catch his breath because he was laughing so hard. It had been a long time since he had played a game, and he could never remember having so much fun.

  He collapsed onto his back and watched the winter sun through the web of branches overhead. Someone took his hand and he looked over to see Chloe smiling at him from where she lay on a blanket of apple leaves. Alexander's heart, still hammering in his chest, seemed to skip a beat. With luck, he thought, maybe they would be able to spend a few more days at the farm.

  By now the late afternoon sun was waning and they decided to start back to the house and barn. They stood and gathered up their coats, then stuffed a few of the less worm-eaten apples into their pockets for the gryphons.

  Celeste saw them first. She gasped, and the others looked up to see where she was pointing.

  Cavalry. Riding for the orchard.

  They ran.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "We must warn the others!" Lord Parkington cried. He jabbered something in French to Chloe, who suddenly sprinted ahead.

  "Where's she going?"

  "She's a much faster runner than we are," Parkington explained. "We'll only slow her down. We've been at sea so long that our legs haven't got the feel of land anymore."

  "Speak for yourself," Alexander said, but as he watched Chloe rapidly increasing the distance between them, he had to agree. Chloe was their best chance of outrunning the French cavalry. Alexander reached for Celeste's hand to help the small girl along and they ran faster.

  “How did they find us?” he panted.

  “It was only a matter of time,” Toby responded. “I had hoped we would have a few more days, but someone must have seen us and gone to the local officials. Maybe one of the farmers on the way to Pierre’s mill spotted us.”

  He was surprised to see that the French were not rushing headlong toward the barn. Several horsemen spread out, creating a perimeter around the field beyond the orchard. Another horseman settled in beside Pierre's mill. "They're setting up a circle around the farm. They mean to trap us!"

  Alexander studied the French riders. These cuirassiers wore uniforms very similar to French flyers. Their coats were blue with red-fringed epaulets, with white breeches and knee-high black boots. They wore steel breastplates, polished to a mirror finish that flashed in the winter sun.

  He wasn't sure if this partial armor would stop a musket ball, but it certainly looked impressive. The French also wore steel helmets with black horsehair crests that added several inches in height to all the riders, making them look like giants in the saddle. Finally, they all carried pistols and heavy cavalry sabers that jangled menacingly in their scabbards as the horses trotted into position.

  There must have been at least twenty cuirassiers spread about the field, and who knew how many positioned where they couldn't be seen.

  "This doesn't look good," Alexander managed to pant.

  "Save your breath and run!"

  They sprinted the final distance into the farmyard, scattering chickens and geese that squawked in protest. Alexander pointed Celeste toward the farmhouse, where her mother stood in the doorway, calling to her daughter.

  Chloe had beat them to the barn and given the warning that the farm was surrounded. She stood off to one side looking worried, her father's arm around her shoulders. Alexander suddenly realized there could be terrible consequences for this family. The cuirassiers would not take kindly to the fact that they had harbored British refugees.

  Captain Amelia was busy barking orders at Rigley and Professor Hobhouse. They were getting the flying saddles onto Biscuit and Desdemona, but both gryphons were skittish in the excitement, stepping this way and that as the flyer and schoolmaster tried to buckle the straps into place.

  "Professor Hobhouse was on watch and he reports that the French are massed along the road in front of the farm, probably waiting for the riders you saw in the fields to get into position," Amelia explained.

  "How many?" Alexander asked.

  "Maybe fifty altogether, from the sounds of it. Far too many for us to take on. The only way out is up. Apparently the horsemen have no scout gryphons with them, Jupiter be praised."

  "What about Pierre and his family?" Alexander asked. "They’re in awful danger now. Can't they come with us?"

  "I have a contingency plan for that," Amelia said. She gestured for Pierre to come closer so that she could explain. "Pierre will tell the cuirassiers that we held his daughters hostage to ensure his cooperation."

  "Such lies!" Lord Parkington protested. "We're English, not monsters!"

  "Lies will keep Pierre and his family safe. The French will be only too glad to assume we've acted in such a barbaric manner."

  "But we would never—"

  "There are times when one must have broad shoulders, my Lord Parkington," the captain said, addressing him by his formal title. "It would be much too dangerous for this good family to be seen as cooperating with us. Mr. Rigley? Do it now, if you please."

  "Aye, aye, Captain." Rigley sighed, stepped up to Pierre, and punched him hard in the eye and then in the mouth. Chloe gave a frightened cry. Rigley stepped back to admire his work, then patted Pierre gently on the shoulder. "You'll have a nice shiner and a fat lip, mon frere. Very convincing. Now if I were you, I'd get down to the house before the shooting starts. That farmhouse of yours has thick stone walls that are going to come in handy when the bullets start flying."

  Pierre nodded and smiled grimly, then spat a stream of blood onto the packed earth of the barn floor. He took Chloe's hand and led her out of the barn. The girl looked back once at Alexander, who gave her a small smile. He realized as he did so that he would never see her again. As she turned to go, Alexander called out her name.

  "Chloe!"

  Startled, the girl stopped in the doorway. Alexander ran over and gave her his cloak pin, the one shaped like a sea horse, that she had so admired. The girl's face lit up.

  "For the friendship you have shown us, Chloe."

  The girl took the cloak pin and gave him the briefest of kisses, her lips just brushing his cheek. Alexander felt his face burn red.

  "Mr. Hope, we haven’t got all day!" Captain Amelia barked.

  "Sorry, Captain," Alexander managed to stammer. He looked back over his shoulder to see Chloe and her father hurrying toward the farmhouse.

  "We're moving out right now before the bloody French get a chance to charge us," Captain Amelia said. "Mr. Hope, you're with me again on Desdemona. Profes
sor Hobhouse, and Mr. Parkington, you're with Mr. Rigley on Biscuit. Saddle up, gentlemen, and be quick about it."

  Lord Parkington spoke up. "I'm not on Biscuit! I'll be flying Lemondrop."

  Looking at Parkington, Captain Amelia said, "Mr. Rigley, give me your pistol."

  Rigley gave the captain a loaded pistol, and she strode toward Lemondrop. Lord Parkington hurried to put himself between the captain and the wounded gryphon. "No, you can't!" Parkington cried.

  "We must do what is necessary," Captain Amelia said, an uncharacteristic note of gentleness in her voice. "Lemondrop still can't fly. Would you prefer that he fall into Napoleonist hands? If he takes to the air again they'll make him carry a French flyer to attack our own ships. Or they'll make him into a breeder and clip his wings so he can't fly off. Either way, Lemondrop won't like it, so they'll be cruel in forcing him to obey. Is that the life you would choose for your gryphon? Wouldn't a pistol shot be better?"

  Captain Amelia cocked the pistol and put it against Lemondrop's head. Alexander turned away. He understood that a horse with a broken leg must be shot, but somehow gryphons seemed more than a horse. He suspected that Captain Amelia was right, but he didn't want to watch Lemondrop's life being ended.

  "Lemondrop! Get up!" Lord Parkington's voice was anguished. "I suppose you would have shot me if I couldn't fly."

  "Please stop making this so difficult," the captain said. "Now get back and let me do what I must."

  But the gryphon lurched to his feet, forcing Captain Amelia to take a step back. If another second had passed, it might have been too late. Lemondrop shook himself and looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. Only this morning his eyes had appeared dull and listless, but now they seemed to glow with a piercing yellow light as Lemondrop looked around the barn. Then the gryphon unfurled his massive wings and gave a kind of yawn.

  "You see, I told you he could fly!" Parkington ran to get Lemondrop's saddle.

  But there was no time. Outside, they heard someone shouting orders in French and the jangle of cavalry harness. Alexander pressed an eye to a crack in the barn wall. There were now half a dozen French troopers in the farmyard, facing the barn. "We're surrounded!" he hissed.