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IT IS a peculiar march of people winding their way through the trees of the forest. There’s no talking or shouting at all. In a flash I think back to the moment our three reviled priests were pushed onstage, and the loud, verbal reaction of the crowd that had gathered to demand justice. These people, however, seem to radiate a different kind of rage: grim, internal, and determined. It’s as if they’re being fed by an invisible force.
And then, the infamous manor house looms between the trees. The white walls are overgrown with moss and ivy, and the windows are all covered by once-green shutters, paint peeling off the slats. The house looks like it is on its way to become one with the forest surrounding it on every side. On the lawn in front of the house, I can make out sagging tents and small huts. It looks like a desolate and gloomy place.
The people in front of us finally start to talk softly among themselves. We push open the gate and enter the grounds, walking up to the main entrance of the building. Leia is all the way at the front of the crowd, frowning at the door. Her shoulders are tensed up in a half-shrug.
Everybody around her becomes quiet as a mouse, and for a moment, she looks back at me over her shoulder, almost as if to ask for help.
The Eldest comes to her aid and demands loudly that Saul come out of the house.
A silence descends on the lawn, but nothing seems to happen. Before the Eldest can repeat his command, stones, branches and torches are being hurled at the manor door by the outraged easterners. The crowd begins to chant: “Let-him-go! Let-him-go!”
All of a sudden, the door opens to a crack. The Eldest yells out for his people to stop their assault.
When a pale, skinny guy with black hair steps outside, my very first thought upon seeing him is: this is a boy who wants to be a man, but isn’t quite there yet. The sword he’s holding is too heavy for his arm. The hard lines around his mouth don’t match the skittish look in his eyes. The cramped hand he’s using to hold the rope tied around his captive’s wrists betrays his insecurity. Here stands a guy who is broken, and I wonder what caused his ruin.
“If you so much as lay a finger on me, I’ll kill Andy!” he cries out in despair.
Leia steps forward. “What is it you’re fighting for, Saul?” she asks, the harshness all but gone from her voice. Maybe she has sensed it too – how vulnerable Saul is now that he’s standing all alone.
“I’m fighting for our world,” he barks at her. “A world without help from the Other Side. A world without parents. A world without real love. And that is the truth. Don’t even try to deny it.”
His words are so cold and so lonely that my breath hitches for a moment. When I compared Saul to Praed, I was wrong. Praed lost his faith and threw himself to the wolves, but this boy lost his faith many years ago – and he continued living. He turned into a wolf himself.
“The parents are here for us,” Leia swears to him.
Saul laughs scornfully, but then he stops and blinks his eyes to fight back sudden tears. “Yours, maybe. I don’t even have parents. I’m all alone.” His voice cracks.
So that’s why no one in Newexter objected when Leia suggested torching the place with Saul still in it.
From the corner of my eye, I see movement. It’s Tony. He’s fighting his way to the front and glances sideways at me when he passes. With a shock, I see there are tears in his eyes, too.
“No, you’re not,” he calls out, calmly addressing Saul. “You’re not alone. Nobody here is. And you may not have a father of your own, but your forefathers loved you and didn’t want you to be forgotten.”
Saul frowns. “What are you talking about? How would you know?”
“I know more than you do.”
“Oh, here we go again – another so-called ‘visitor from across the sea’ who wants to take me for a ride. You do know what we’ve done to your friend for lying to us, right?”
Tony slowly nods. “Yes, I do. And I also know that you’re just scared of the world. You can’t fight that kind of fear with swords. You can’t eradicate it by killing people or bullying them into submission, no matter how hard you try.”
In the ensuing silence, Saul gapes at Tony, his jaw slack. Our Cornish friend takes out the device that he said contains the radio message. Saul eyes it suspiciously, but his jaw drops when Tony presses a green button and the thing starts to speak in a tinny voice. A voice speaking an old language, even more old-fashioned than the way the great-grandparents in Newexter speak like. Some popping and hissing sounds accompany the voice, but the words are clear.
“Please, whoever you are, whoever will hear this – come to Penzance. Our children have escaped to Tresco by boat. We need help. Everyone’s gotten sick. Please, I beg you, save our children. Don’t abandon them.”
When the message is finished, Tony turns off his device again. “Someone had to come help the children. So Henry and I came here, even though it’s one-hundred and fifty long years after this message was recorded.”
Saul’s face looks ashen. He has dropped the sword. The rope slips from his hand and his captive takes a few tentative steps back. The crowd in front of the porch parts to let Mara through, who pulls Andy away from the stairs.
“Can I hear that again?” the former manor leader whispers. “Please?”