Peter Dickinson - Shadow of a Hero

‘All goes well,’ said Restaur Vax. ‘Now this we must prepare, and this, and this. Let it be seen to.’

As the dark of the moon came near, Restaur Vax and the chieftains and their men, all save a few, travelled to Vosh, for they knew that Selim had spies still north of the river. Those few took a boat to the widow’s house and loaded her goods and gear aboard while it was still day, and then she went willingly with them to Vosh. As night came on they all gathered at the quay and boarded the boats which lay ready, and set sail, calling from boat to boat so that they should not be lost to each other. The pilot went with them, but when they were well clear of the quay, his brother ran to the place where the fire was laid ready, and lit it, as a signal to Selim on the further shore that the crossing had begun.

Then Restaur Vax put his pistol at the pilot’s head, as did the chieftains to those who were steering the other boats, and the old woman stood beside the tiller and said this way, or that, and so brought them down to the place where the boat lay with the old woman’s goods aboard. That they took also, and then crossed the river, still calling softly from boat to boat, and with the old woman still standing by the tiller and saying this way, or that, until she had brought them to the landing-place below her sister’s house.

It was still then night, so they made ready for battle, and the sister’s son guided them by goat-paths and the paths of the hunter to the landing-place opposite Vosh, where Selim lay in wait.

Then in the dawn the Captain of Artillery fired her cannon upon the bazouks , who had lain waiting all night and now slept, and Restaur Vax and the chieftains and their men fell upon them with pistol and with sword and slew them. Only Selim escaped, in a swift boat down the river, and fled to the Sultan in Byzantium, who fell into a rage at the news he brought and threw him into his deepest dungeon.

But Restaur Vax and the chieftains went hither and yon through the mountains and fell upon the bazouks wherever they were, before they could gather themselves into one army, and slew them. 2And until all was done Restaur Vax gave orders that a guard was set on the house where the old woman now lived with her sister, to see that none should trouble them.

1The encounter with the old woman may be borrowed from The Adventure of Prince Ixil , an ancient magical romance, now lost, apart from a few fragments.

2The crossing of the Danube for the winter campaign of 1823–4 was accomplished by means of a ruse. Apart from exaggerations of her own role, the account in Marie McMahon’s Memoirs tallies with several of the details in the Legend.

AUGUST 1990

THE CAR DROVE right out to the furthest corner of the airport, where a plane was waiting, guarded by a dozen soldiers. When they climbed aboard they found Grandad sitting with his eyes closed at the back of the first-class compartment. He looked old and ill, but smiled and let himself be kissed and patted their hands, but then he lay back and closed his eyes again while the plane taxied round to the terminal to pick up the rest of the passengers.

The passengers were in a very bad mood, as they’d been kept waiting six hours for Momma and Letta to arrive. Two soldiers with guns stood beside the cabin crew and watched them keenly as they shuffled past. The soldiers left only when the doors were about to shut for the plane to leave.

It was evening, and as the plane climbed Letta could see further and further into the west, across a vast, already darkening landscape to the final barrier of mountains, hard-edged against fiery-banded sky. Some of that was Varina, she knew. One of those distant hummocks could be Mount Athur. She wondered whether she would ever see it again.

There was no-one else in the first-class compartment, so they had a stewardess to themselves. She stood and went through the motions with the usual plastic smile while the safety instructions were read out on the intercom, in French and English and Romanian. When the seat-belt sign went off she came and asked if they would like anything to drink. It took Letta a long moment to realize that she had spoken in Field.

Grandad opened his eyes and smiled. The stewardess glanced swiftly to see whether any of the other cabin staff were in earshot and whispered, ‘ Unaloxistu .’ There were tears in her eyes.

‘May you live to see it,’ said Grandad, and then, in English, ‘Will you try to make us some tea? Real tea. My daughter will show you how.’

‘Mollie gave me some Jackson’s tea-bags for you,’ said Momma.

‘She should rule the world,’ said Grandad.

Being in first class, the seats were in sets of two, not three. Letta had automatically put herself next to Grandad, with Momma on the other side of the aisle, but now that she’d talked to him and touched him and decided that he wasn’t hurt, only very tired and sad, she realized this wasn’t fair on Momma. She must be just as worried. So when Momma came back from showing the stewardess about warming the pot and putting enough tea-bags in and seeing that the water was really boiling – oh, such English things to be doing, and it would still be horrible UHT milk! – Letta stood up and gestured silently that they should change seats. Momma shook her head.

‘I’m dead,’ she whispered. ‘All I want to do is sleep. Thank God that’s over. I wish we’d never come.’

She said it in English. For a moment Letta’s heart seemed to stop. Her mouth half-opened and she felt her face go white, but Momma didn’t seem to notice. She was already turning to sit down. Letta stayed where she was, in the aisle, too stunned to move.

A picture of Lapiri formed in her mind. That had been only two days back.

It had started the evening before. Momma had said, ‘Tomorrow I’m going to Lapiri. I’d like you to come too, Letta. There’s something I want to show you.’

Letta had said, ‘Oh, but . . .’

There’d been plans she’d made, friends she’d arranged to meet. She’d started to explain, but stopped, because she could see Momma was upset. And then it had been Poppa, who almost never let you see what he was feeling, who had said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to give that a miss. We’d like you to go.’

There’d been something in his voice. Letta hadn’t understood what, but she’d known it mattered so she’d stopped arguing and gone out to try and find one of her friends to tell them she wasn’t going to make it.

Then, next morning, they’d left Potok and the festival, just Momma and Letta, in a weird old taxi which someone had painted bright yellow with Marlboro ads on the side to try and give it a sophisticated New York look. They had driven, juddering on every pot-hole, twenty miles along the flanks of Mount Athur and then, almost at a walking pace, along a winding unmetalled road, over a shoulder of the mountain and down into a still and secret wooded valley. They had come through the wood and found a small dark lake with a few houses and a tiny white church reflected from its surface, and a single immense sweep of mountain rising beyond. Momma had asked the driver to stop.

‘This is Lapiri,’ she had said. ‘This is where I grew up.’

They had climbed out and stood and looked. When Letta had got her camera out, Momma had put her hand down without a word and stopped her. Then, though the track went on, no worse than before, they had walked round the lake and into the hamlet.

Nobody came to Lapiri. Certainly no foreigners. People had stared, and fallen silent. Momma had walked up to two elderly women and said, ‘Is Minna Vari still alive?’

The women had stared at her, still silent, not even accepting that they had understood her.