The Griffin's Boy

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: SUMMONING HOPE.

  Something nudged at his ribs. Neb prised his eyes open. He tried to spring upwards, but his muscles wouldn't obey, apart from the ones in his neck. He tilted his head upwards, and saw Alfred looking down at him.

  'Where's Kattin?' he asked.

  Neb blinked and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but only a low guttural sound emerged. He settled for a grimace and a shrug.

  Alfred frowned and tugged a dagger from his belt. He stooped towards Neb with the blade angled to cut. Neb flinched, but then realised Alfred was sawing through the rope binding his wrists.

  'Where on Ella-Earth do they think you'll escape to?' he muttered. As soon as his hands were free, Neb's arms fell uselessly to his sides. Still huddled on putrid cobblestones, Neb stared at Alfred, then stared imploringly at the cattle's water trough. Thankfully, Alfred got the message; he strode over to the trough and snatched up the ladle hanging nearby. Neb watched Alfred return with his heart in his mouth, desperate to be able to swallow freely again. Alfred stooped and held the ladle to his lips. Neb sipped, feeling more grateful than he'd ever been in his entire life. When the last drop of water was drained, Neb mouthed a thank you. Before slumping his head on the cobblestones again, he imagined he saw a flicker of compassion cross Alfred's face.

  'Have you eaten?' he asked. When Neb mouthed the word "no", Alfred scowled, and marched away. Hoping Alfred intended to search out some food for him, Neb closed his eyes again. Blood rushed through his veins to un-cramp his muscles, what was now merely an unpleasant tingle would soon become agony. Neb allowed the pain to pour over him. As feeling returned, he could finally massage his aching limbs and relieve some of the tension. Just as the pain reduced to a tingle once more, Alfred returned carrying a plate and a tankard. He set both down before Neb. It was water again, but clear this time. Neb drained the tankard almost dry; then tackled the lump of cheese and crust of bread, while Alfred stood over him. Neb stole glances at the man's bloodstained tunic and weary face.

  'Thank you,' he mumbled between mouthfuls. Alfred nodded and actually smiled.

  'How is Eric?' Neb ventured. Alfred's smile faded. 'It should have been you, not him. Why did you allow him to follow you?'

  Neb shook his head, chewed and then swallowed the last mouthful of bread. 'I didn't. He was concerned about you. I didn't realise he'd followed me.'

  When Alfred didn't respond, Neb continued 'I'd only just met him, but he spoke of you all the time.' Eric had only spoken of his father once, but Neb used his imagination. 'How brave you were, how he wanted to be like you – '

  Alfred crouched to hiss into Neb's face. 'Don't lie. My son has never been one to chitter-chatter.'

  Widening his eyes, Neb shrugged. 'Maybe because I was a stranger – he was different with me. We played kick ball, only messing around with the youngsters; then we broke bread together, and it's true that he didn't talk much. But then I asked him about life in the village. Every other word that fell from his lips was "father," spoken with such pride,' Neb paused, he could see Alfred wanted to believe him. 'I wish I had known my father,' he added softly, 'I wish it had been me the stag gored.'

  Alfred's eyes glittered, but they remained hard. 'I'm sorry for what's happened. But I can't let you go, you realise that.'

  Neb gave a brief nod. 'I understand, you have to follow orders,' he swallowed hard, and allowed his gaze to roam over Alfred's head, towards the sky.

  'There is one thing I want to do as a free man though,' he waved towards the hilltop and the skies above. 'To stretch my legs one last time, and maybe call a farewell to my griffin.' He glanced sideways at Alfred, who looked thoughtful. At last he sighed 'well, I can't see what harm it would do. Wait here,' he added, as though Neb had a choice. Watching Alfred march away, Neb prayed for a minor miracle. He prayed silently, even though there was no-one around to hear him.

  After being fed and watered, the oxen had been led through the archway behind Neb and into the cloister's pasture fields. The courtyard corner Neb slumped in seemed an oasis of peace compared to the rest of the compound. Men and women flowed through the courtyard, passing through archways and doorways without hurrying, yet in a purposeful manner. They conversed in murmurs no louder than the swishing of their robes. Studying them covertly, Neb deduced that there were two tiers of cloister dwellers. Father Thomas and his black robes formed the elite and these grey robes were the worker bees. The trample of heavy boots broke into Neb's musings. He looked up to see Alfred marching across the courtyard with an expression of grim satisfaction on his face. Lightness flooded Neb; he let out his breath in a huge sigh and then grinned: he was about to get his chance.

  Ten minutes later the gates swung open. Alfred led Neb across the path and into the scrubby field leading to the tor. It felt good to be able to swing his arms as he walked. The noose was still around his neck but both he and Alfred were careful to keep the rope slack. The sun's rays slanted over their shoulders and backs as they climbed the hill. When they reached the peak, they turned to see the sun perched on the horizon's shelf like a ferrous orange ball. Neb couldn't remember ever seeing a sunset like this. A mist began to rise up, Alfred nudged him and pointed down to Father Thomas' community. The glass building appeared to be on fire, light streamed from its windows. The other buildings were already hidden in mist.

  'Hurry, if you're going to say goodbye to your griffin, do it now,' Alfred said, looking embarrassed to be indulging this fancy.

  Neb glanced at the rope in Alfred's hands.

  'I can't, I'm sorry, but I can't. Call farewell to your griffin,' Alfred said gruffly.

  Instead Neb raised his hands to the noose around his neck. It seemed important to be truly free.

  'I promise, you have my word,' he said. He loosened the noose from around his neck saying 'after all, where would I run to?'

  Alfred looked away, so Neb tugged the noose over his head and dropped it on the grass. He touched the beads around his wrist; call with all your heart, Samara had said. He inhaled deeply, then cupped his hands around his mouth.

  'Balkind!'

  He allowed his voice to die away before calling again:

  'Balkind!'

  Before calling for the last time, Neb lowered his head and conjured up a vision of his griffin, wings outstretched and gliding more gracefully than anything that large had a right to.

  He looked towards the horizon again. The very air seemed to be listening, even the sun paused in its descent. Keeping the image of Balkind fixed in his mind, Neb projected his voice and summoned his griffin for the third time:

  'BALKIND!'

  The cry resonated around the hilltop, and soared into the skies. Neb touched the beads at his wrist again, was it his imagination, or were they vibrating with a warm glow? A hand fell on his shoulder, then Alfred dropped the noose back over his head again.

  'Thank you,' Neb said once more. Alfred gave him a strange look, and they started back down the hill.

  Neb kept his face tilted towards the setting sun and prayed Balkind would answer his summons before it was too late.

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