The Gargoyle Overhead (5 page)

Le Village Ensemble

Philip was weary and footsore, but he didn’t put down his sack. He carried it over his shoulder, despite his exhaustion. He had been walking all night, and it seemed like days since he had left his bed at the last small village inn. He was very tired of small villages and their crowded inns, especially since he didn’t understand anything anyone said to him. For the most part, they didn’t understand him, either.

Just as he crested a long, steep hill, he came upon a wooden signpost which read:

Ensemble, 2

The village of Ensemble! He and Gargoth had found it, the place they had sought for weeks. He’d lost track of how long he and his little hidden friend had been on the road, searching for this place. The weather was turning colder, much colder, and they had left his village in England when the trees were just starting to change into their autumn colours.

So it must have been five or six weeks. He had lost count. As he trudged slowly along the dark road, Philip heard Gargoth snoring gently in the sack and felt happy to have his friend with him. It would have been a much lonelier journey without him. Gargoth was a great storyteller and helped Philip pass the long hours of walking by making up fantastic tales about the world and the animals living in it beyond the seas. Some nights, sleeping together in the dark, he was glad to know his strange friend was nearby.

The lane Philip was walking along took a sharp turn to the right and suddenly opened up to a tiny valley, with small houses and farms dotted here and there.

The village!

The sun was just about to break above the hills. He wanted to rush into the valley and embrace the first person he saw, but he restrained himself. He was almost fourteen years old, after all. He would need to act like a man, since he most certainly would be treated like one and be expected to work like one by his uncle.

He stood for a moment taking in the sight before him. The first rays of the sun struck over the hill and shone on Philip’s face. He shook the apple sack on his shoulder gently.

“Gargoth. Gargoth! Wake up!” After a few more shakes, Philip heard the familiar snap and growl of the little gargoyle waking up.

“What? Is it another cow in the lane?” Gargoth said nastily.

“No, it’s not a cow. We’re here. We’ve found Ensemble.” Philip opened the sack, and Gargoth popped his face out, looking down into the village below them.

“It is pretty, Philip,” Gargoth said sleepily. The rising sun was washing the small valley with light, and they could hear the distant sound of cows and sheep, and people rising to tend to them.

“Yes, it is. Very pretty.”

Philip closed the sack again (although Gargoth wasn’t happy about it) and walked down the hill. As luck would have it, the village church was at the foot of the hill before them. He opened the gate, which squeaked almost as loudly as the church gate back in England, and carried his sack to the back of the churchyard.

“Look, Gargoth! Apples!” Philip called. Sure enough, an apple orchard stood proudly beside the church. Each tree still had a few late fall apples hanging on the boughs.

“And a river!” he exclaimed again. A small, dark river gamboled along beside the orchard. “You’ll have food and water all winter long,” Philip said helpfully.

Gargoth clambered out of the sack and stood looking at his friend. They had travelled so far together and had comforted each other so often in the haystacks and muddy lanes of England. They had crossed the English Channel together (an adventure Gargoth would be happy never to repeat) and had walked for weeks to find this tiny, unlikely place.

Philip looked down into Gargoth’s face and was sur-prised to see tears there. He frowned and thought for a moment. Then he put his hand gently on Gargoth’s head.

“It’s all right, Gargoth,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back. My family lives somewhere in this valley. I’ll find them, then be back to visit you, I promise.”

“Yes, Philip. We will see each other soon, no doubt.”

Gargoth offered Philip his claw, but Philip laughed and picked up the little gargoyle, hugging him tight.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it, Gargoth. I’m giving you a hug, and you can squirm all you want.” Philip released the little gargoyle, who strangely didn’t fight to get away.

“Goodbye, Gargoth, see you soon! Be safe—stay hidden!” And with that Philip turned away, closed the church gate behind him, and walked down the hill into the valley, ready to start his new life.

“Goodbye, Philip,” Gargoth said quietly, then turned to face the church. “I am used to being alone,” he whispered.

The Batless Belfry

It snowed that first night in Ensemble.

After Philip left him in the churchyard that morning, Gargoth climbed the thick ivy clinging to the walls of the church and clambered up to the church tower. He sat there all that first day, looking out over the small valley, growing familiar with the sounds and smells of the village below him. The church was quite far from the village, so there was no chance of anyone catching Gargoth by surprise.

No one did come that first day, though. He quickly understood that the church was empty, perhaps only used on days of worship. That was good news, but small comfort. Now that he was used to having a friend, he understood what it was to miss someone.

That first night Gargoth hid in the church belfry, away from the gently falling snow. Except for the large, glistening bronze church bell, there was nothing else there, not even bats. He was completely alone.

Which was why he was so surprised the next morning, when he woke to find a single beautiful apple waiting at his feet on the floor of the belfry. He was tired, that much was true. But he was quite sure that he had not picked himself an apple for breakfast the day before. In fact, he hadn’t left the safety of the church tower and belfry at all since he’d arrived.

It was strange.

During the day, he went into the apple orchard and picked himself a few wizened apples, but they were of poor quality, nothing like the delicious fruit he’d had for breakfast.

Later he sat in the belfry, drumming his claw gently on the giant bronze bell. He looked out over the valley and fell asleep wondering where Philip was sleeping and what his family was doing.

The next morning he woke to find another beautiful apple waiting at his feet, this time accompanied by a jug of sweet water.

Gargoth reached out to the water and took a long drink. It was much better than the brackish water in the river, which he had tasted. And the apple once again was delicious and sweet and nothing like the shrivelled apples on the trees in the orchard.

All that third day, he searched every inch of the church, hoping to find whoever was leaving gifts for him. But he found nothing, other than a heap of apple cores in the bush beside the orchard and a cemetery filled with forgotten beehives and ancient gravestones dusted with snow. That night in the belfry, he fell asleep wishing he could find some tobacco, since his pouch had been empty for weeks. That at least would be some comfort.

The next morning, he woke to find two beautiful apples, beside another full water jug. And a pouch full of fine tobacco.

Gargoth couldn’t believe his eyes. He sat up and slowly drew the tobacco toward him. It was too strange. He had thought about tobacco, and there it was the next day waiting for him.

Someone knew him very well. He wondered if Philip was playing tricks on him, but he would certainly hear the boy entering the churchyard (even if the gate wasn’t creaky) and climbing to the belfry. Humans were very loud, even when they were trying to be silent.

Gargoth, though puzzled, didn’t waste any time lighting a pipe and eating his apples. He might as well be comfortable, if confused.

But he was making a plan. After finishing his pipe, he curled himself up with his wings tightly drawn around him. He would sleep all day and lie awake that night, waiting for his silent guest.

That night, after a full day of sleep, Gargoth walked around the church tower and tried to look as though he were getting ready to rest when it grew dark. He lay down in his regular place beside the belfry wall and drew his wings tightly around him. Occasionally, he let out a gentle snore, which he hoped sounded realistic.

Nothing happened. For hours, Gargoth pretended to sleep but heard and saw nothing.

Then there was something. It must have been a few hours before sunrise, because it was very dark and cold, and he was sore and cramped from pretending to be asleep all night.

Suddenly his sharp ears caught a faint, odd sound of wings. A bird, perhaps? But this was not a gentle beating of wings. It was instead a heavy, laboured beating of wings. Odd wings. Clumsy wings.

Leathery wings.

In the darkness, Gargoth could feel something moving very, very slowly toward him on the floor. He stayed perfectly still, straining to hear.

When the intruder was close to him, and he could hear first one apple, then two, then three, being carefully placed on the floor near him, he couldn’t wait another second.

He spoke quietly. “You had better tell me who you are, friend or foe. And be quick!” With that, he jumped to his feet and grabbed the intruder by the throat.

A small voice said, “Hamithin sorken behem. Nosta amica. Memamont fella Ambergine.”

But Gargoth heard the sweet voice say, “Stay, do not fear. I am a friend. My name is Ambergine.”

The Bell Rings

Gargoth was so startled to hear his own language, he loosened his grip on the throat of the intruder.

Many things happened next.

Ambergine was frightened and struggled to fly to the top of the belfry. Gargoth, in his surprise, tripped over the water jug and spilled it over the hard, dark floor. Then he slipped in the water and fell on the apples Ambergine had just laid out for him. The loud noise of the tipped water jug and the grunt from Gargoth falling hard upon the apples startled Ambergine and caused her wings to falter (she wasn’t a great flier at the best of times). She drooped low in the air above Gargoth’s head, just as he was clawing the air trying to regain his feet. In his desperation, he grasped her leg and drew her even further from the air. She shrieked and grabbed the first thing she found, which unfortunately was the bell rope for the large bronze church bell beside them.

GONG! GONG! GONG! The bell began to sound, ringing out loudly over the entire valley. This brought both gargoyles to their senses. Ambergine dropped to the ground beside Gargoth, who had finally found his feet on the slippery floor. They both stood frozen to the spot, their chests heaving.

It was Gargoth who spoke first, a few moments later. “What have you done? What will happen now?” he whispered.

“I…I do not know,” Ambergine answered. “I have never pulled the bell rope before…” The gargoyles suddenly heard the distant noise of people yelling. They looked at each other for the first time. Gargoth saw a sweet, wide face and deep, deep dark eyes. The gargoyle before him was slightly smaller than he, but very like him in many ways. She too had leathery wings, claws and a small pouch at her side. He was about to speak again when a loud shout from the churchyard gate made them both jump.

Ambergine crept to the edge of the belfry wall and peeked over into the darkness.

“The villagers are here!” she cried. “They will find us!”

Gargoth looked about him and quickly decided what to do. “Out here,” he said, drawing Ambergine along with him. They climbed over the belfry wall and down the ivy-covered stones to the back of the church. Just as the villagers opened the church gate, the two little gargoyles scurried into the old abandoned apple orchard, losing themselves in the dark trees.

And just in time. In moments the church was crawling with villagers. Men and boys of all ages were searching the church and belfry for intruders.

Gargoth and Ambergine huddled together in the apple orchard, listening to the villagers comb the church and churchyard just a few breadths from their hiding spot. Soon they heard footsteps approaching.

“Stay silent, no matter what happens,” Gargoth whispered.

A heavy footstep, then a lighter one, came closer and closer. They heard a voice say, “I will search the apple orchard, uncle,” and the light footsteps approached. They could make out a figure entering the trees just feet from them, and a voice whispered: “Gargoth? Gargoth are you here?”

It was Philip! Gargoth jumped from his hiding spot. In a few short strides, Philip found him. He bent down and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re safe! What were you doing ringing the church bell at four o’clock in the morning?”

“It was an accident, obviously,” Gargoth started, but was cut short by someone calling Philip’s name.

“I’m here, uncle, in the apple orchard,” Philip shouted into the darkness. “I’m still looking!”

Philip turned back to Gargoth. “Are you all right?” he whispered. Just at that moment, Ambergine came out from her hiding spot behind a tree. Philip gasped, then smiled. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Ambergine. I have lived here always,” the little gargoyle answered shyly.

Philip stood up and looked over his shoulder to the church. He could see in the first glow of dawn that the villagers were congregating near the churchyard gate. His uncle was calling him again.

“I have to go. It’s nice to meet you, Ambergine,” he whispered. “Will you do me a favour and please take care of my friend, Gargoth?”

“Yes, I will. I will, always,” she said sombrely, nodding her head and locking her dark eyes on his.

They heard voices approaching. “Be safe, both of you. I’ll see you one day soon,” Philip whispered, then he turned and strode from the orchard. Gargoth and Ambergine heard him say loudly to a group of nearby men, “There isn’t anyone in the orchard, I looked everywhere.”

Soon the gargoyles heard the church gate click shut for the last time, and the sound of the villagers’ voices dying away as they left the church behind for the comfort of their beds.

When they were alone, Gargoth turned to Ambergine. “It’s nice to meet you, Ambergine,” he said. They both burst into laughter.

And if you’ve ever heard two gargoyles burst into laughter, you know it sounds just like two long-lost friends who have found each other at last.