The Children of the Company (9 page)

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Authors: Kage Baker

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BOOK: The Children of the Company
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But I pulled him with me deeper into the hill and we found another door ten paces on. Even I could hear the weeping then. When we pushed the door open Brother Crimthann screamed, and cowered back in his chains.
“Hush! It’s you we’ve come for, man,” I told him. He mastered his terror enough to be silent, pressing his lips together as tears ran down his face. He smelled of shameful things. I left Lewis in the doorway and knelt beside Crimthann, turning his manacles this way and that to look for a keyhole, a seam, anything that I might force to open them. Nothing there! The rings were smooth and featureless, neither iron nor bronze. I pulled so that Crimthann flinched and whimpered, but they held fast.
“I can’t break his bonds,” I told Lewis. He groaned.
“Let me see them,” he said, so I pulled him in and wedged the door with my foot painfully. He studied the manacles a moment as I strained to hold him up, and Crimthann blinked back his tears in confusion.
“I was afraid of this,” said Lewis. “I can disable them, but it’ll drain my backup system. Can’t be helped. Listen, Eogan. This may well finish me. Don’t leave my body here! If you can carry it out, my Company will be able to locate me, and they’ll come. Now, take my hand and set it on that panel, there, above his head.”
I looked up at the little square of blinking lights, bright unnatural colors. “Do you mean this will kill you?” I asked, appalled.
“Oh, no, we don’t die. I’m sure they can repair me. But the surge will probably
erase—I wonder if it’ll erase my
mind?”
I saw his pupils go wide as the possibilities sank in. “My—what if all my memories are gone?”
“Then Christ have mercy on you,” I replied, for even then I still believed. I lifted his hand, as he bid me, and laid it against the panel. He sighed once. I felt a stinging shock go through Lewis’s body, then, and he made a terrible sound. The panel hissed and spat like a demon unmasked, but the manacles fell away from Crimthann’s wrists.
Crimthann needed no urging; he fell forward and crawled at once for the door. Lewis’s eyes were blank and blind now, I thought he must surely be dead; but I kept faith and bore him with me out of that cell. We ran for our lives through the tunnel, Crimthann and I, and when I saw the black grate set in the floor I sprang across it with the Salmon-Leap of the old heroes I so admired. No lightning struck me as I hurtled free of the dangerous place. Falling fair, I kept running with Lewis, and did not stop until we came out into clean air.
I fell and rolled on the cold hillside and it was gray dawn, the sun not yet risen on Beltane morning, with the clouds in the east all underlit red. Behind me, Brother Crimthann staggered out and fell on his face, to lie shivering and sobbing.
I rose on my knees at once and turned Lewis over.
“?enogeraseiromemymllafitahW,” he babbled, blinking rapidly, and his spine arched back until I thought it would surely snap. Then he went limp again. He opened his eyes and looked around.”
“Well,” he whispered, “lucky me. Even my backup system has a backup.” He paused for a moment, as if listening to himself. “Oh. Not for long, though. It’s just transmitting my location. My organics seem to be shutting down—” Panicked, he raised his eyes to my face. “Remember, Eogan! The
Codex Druidae
, you must bury it under the floor. And you won’t tell what I confessed to you, about what I am—Oh, no, is this it? Is this what happens to you?”
There was only one thing I could do for him. “What kind of child were you created from?” I asked him. “Had it ever received Christ’s grace?”
“What?” He stared at me, bewildered. “No! I was abandoned in the temple at Aquae Sulis.” He gave a hysterical giggle. “Some Roman matron’s holiday indiscretion, I’ve no doubt, left behind at the spa, a little unwanted souvenir …”
“You won’t die,” I told him confidently. I swept my hands through the grass that was pearled with the dew of Beltane morning, and I washed that
high fine brow of his with it. “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
I think I expected a vision of Christ then, or a blare of heavenly trumpets at least. Nothing of the kind happened. Lewis endured the sacrament patiently, and smiled a small polite smile.
“Why, how nice. You’ve given me a soul.” His smile widened in ironical amusement. “Now I’ll live forever, won’t I?”
But the color was going out of his face, and then it left his eyes, and they closed and he was no more than a waxen doll on the hillside. I rose to my feet and looked full into the rising sun. All the birds were singing.
And even then I had not lost my faith. I carried Lewis down from Dun Govaun, with Brother Crimthann silent beside me. We returned to the community and the Abbess was moved to tears, that the brave pagan had given his life to rescue our brother. Yet everyone agreed the story had a happy ending: for hadn’t Lewis accepted Christ’s grace and gained an immortal soul? And his body was laid on a bier in our little church, and we celebrated a grand funeral Mass for him. That night I kept the dead watch for my friend, alone with the tall candles around his body and my sorrow and exhaustion.
At some hour in the night I opened my eyes and they were there, the two strangers. One was a knave in oil-stained clothes. The other wore the fine garments of a gentleman. They were standing at the bier and the knave had his hand on Lewis’s face, prizing open one eye with his dirty thumb. I leaped to my feet.
The gentleman turned coolly to face me. “I suppose you’re the one we have to thank.” He gave a brief bow. “My name is Aegeus. We’ve come to collect our friend here.”
“Can you make him live again?” I asked.”
“That’s what we’re determining now.” He nodded at the knave, who had pulled open Lewis’s mouth and was examining his teeth. I didn’t like to see him handled so disrespectfully. “What do you think, Barry?”
“Maybe.” The knave gave Lewis’s hair a casual tousle. “Most of the organs have died. He’ll be in a regeneration vat for a few years, but he might be all right.”
“What about his memories?” I demanded.
“Probably wiped out.” The knave yawned. “Maybe retrievable. We won’t be able to tell for a while.”
This so broke the heart in me that I knelt down, with tears brimming in my eyes. The one who called himself Aegeus paced close and stood over me.
“But let’s talk about you, my friend. You’ve seen a lot more than you ought to have seen. What are we going to do about you, eh?” I looked up at him sharply. He was smiling a hard smile.
“I took a vow,” I told him in indignation. “To bury that damned silly book and keep silent about what he had to tell me. I don’t break vows.” It was true, then.
“The silence of the confessional, eh?” His face became much friendlier. “Perhaps we can do business, after all. A mortal who knows enough to keep his mouth shut can benefit from being our friend, you see. What do you want in life, anyway? Land? Cattle? Or, wait, you’re a monk. Something pretty for your church, here?” He waved a hand and looked around.
“Only heal him.” I nodded at Lewis. “Only save his mind, if you can.” I thought of all the stories of enchantment Lewis knew, all the remarkable people he must have known, the things he must have seen: Rome in its decline, perhaps the Blessed Patrick, perhaps even the old heroes when they breathed mortal air and hunted the red deer.
“Of course we’ll make every effort. He’s a highly valued operative, after all,” Aegeus told me. “Now, look.You do as he told you, and keep your vow of silence, and you’ll be a fortunate man. I’ll see you again soon. Let’s go now, Barry.”
“Right,” replied the knave, and pulled Lewis from the bier and threw him over his shoulder like so much merchandise. They walked toward the door.
“But his body,” I cried. “It’ll be gone! What will I tell the others?”
Aegeus stopped and turned, tapping his upper lip thoughtfully with one finger. He grinned. “Ah. You can tell them a miracle occurred. The Holy Angels came and carried him off bodily to heaven! This is an ignorant age. They ought to believe that.”
I only stared at them, too shocked to reply; and he waved cheerily, and they walked out into the darkness. I think it was then that my faith died in me utterly.
Yet in the end I told his lie, for I could think of nothing else, and my brothers and sisters rejoiced, and the story spread, so poor Lewis became venerated
as a local saint. But I knew the truth for what it was. And, as I thought over the whole story—what the Prince had said, what Lewis had revealed of himself—nowhere in it could I find any trace of Christ’s power, or His mercy, or His love. My God was irrelevant to those pale folk hiding in their mound, and to that knave in his oil-stained clothes.
And for all that we had a celebrated saint and a miracle to call our own, the peace of our community had been broken. There was never any molestation after that, mind: the night after Lewis’s body was taken away, there was a violent thunderstorm and brilliant lights playing about on Dun Govaun. Perhaps the kin had fled to some new hiding place, or perhaps Lewis’s Company had avenged his injury.
But Brother Crimthann tried to hang himself one night. He was caught and survived, yet our Abbess had to watch him continually as she would watch a child, for he would weep and rage at the smallest thing.
My life was no joy to me, either. I kept faith with Lewis, I found the lead casket and buried the
Codex Druidae
where he’d bid me, deep down under the stones of the scriptorium floor. For all I know, it lies there still. Indeed, I have assurance it must.
I found his harp, too, and kept it safe, though it broke my heart to see it and remember his voice. I thought perhaps the two strangers might come back to claim it. The more I thought about this, though, the more I began to dread the idea. One night I took the harp and what little I owned, and, breaking my vows, I fled the community to lose myself in a distant land.
It was for nothing, anyway. On the third night of my exile, I woke in the heather to find Aegeus crouching beside me.
“This’ll never do, you know,” he told me sternly. “You’re supposed to stay where we can keep an eye on you.”
“I buried your book!” I sat up. “I told your lies. Leave me in peace, can’t you?”
“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.” He shook his head. “You’re a security risk. Look, we’re not so bad. You’ll have to come with me now, but you’ll be all right. You’ll work for us and live a long, happy life.”
So I went with him in the strange ship, and I learned more of the way the world is run—no Christ there running it, either—and I was given lands and livestock and a fine house. All I must do to earn my wealth is keep silent and open my door, certain nights, to certain strangers who come and depart in
haste, after meals and a change of clothes and horses. Sometimes they leave packages, which other strangers come and collect later.
They seldom answer my questions, and never my inquiries about Lewis; so I fear that they failed to save him, though in most other respects they seem as powerful as gods. I have seen many things that men would think were miracles. I am supplied with every comfort a man might want for his flesh. My masters seem to think it will make me happy.
But I have not been happy since: until this last Samhain night, when I lay in my too-comfortable bed with banked coals warming the room, very unlike the hard pallet on chilly stone in the place where I was blessed.
I heard my name called, there in the darkness. I sat up and saw Lewis, just as he had been, brightly lit as though he stood in sunlight. He looked puzzled.
“Am I having a dream?” he wanted to know.
“No; it must be me dreaming, because you’re dead,” I told him.
“Dead?” He looked appalled. His jaw hung slack a moment before the memory seemed to come back to him. “Good Lord, what am I doing here then?”
“Well, I—I’d supposed you’d come back to offer me spiritual comfort,” I ventured.
He shook his head dubiously.
“Sorry, old fellow, I haven’t a clue. Unless—perhaps they’ve succeeded in reactivating me.” His eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together. “Not that that explains how I got here, but I’m not complaining.”
“But you’re not really here,” I pointed out.
“Of course I am! Look.” He made a grab for a pitcher that sat on the table, but his hand passed straight through it. He overbalanced slightly and righted himself.
“Damn! How embarrassing.” He frowned. “Well—I suppose the possibility exists that I’m actually floating in a regeneration vat at a Company repair facility, and I’m coming to you now by means of some sort of electromagnetic projection.”
“What on Earth does that mean?” I rubbed my eyes wearily.
“I don’t know how I’d explain it to you. Actually I don’t know if it’s even possible,” he added. “No, I think I’m the one having the dream, and you’re the illusion. That must be it. I’m in a nice warm vat somewhere, with all my
organics being regenerated, and my brain’s come back online and I’m having a rather peculiar dream. Still … you don’t look well, Eogan.”
“I’ve lost my faith.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear it.” He looked sympathetic. He seemed to be searching in his mind for something nice to say, and then an expression of incredulous delight crossed his face. “Great Caesar’s ghost! You don’t suppose that baptism business actually worked, do you? You don’t suppose this is my
soul
talking to you now?” He took a few swaggering steps back and forth.

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