Tuesday 14 April 2015

Episode CLXXXIX - The Bell's Toll


                The bell had been Theophilus’ idea.  Sarah had, in fact, argued against it, telling him that there was no way the church would need a bell – it was the only one in the Colony and everyone knew where it was, so, if, by some miracle, people actually wanted to attend a service, they’d probably already know when it was.  Theophilus had insisted, however, reminding her that bells could be useful for lots of reasons, not just calling people to worship.  And indeed, here she was acting out reason number seven: calling the faithful to action.

                She reached the top of the ramshackle spire, all adrenaline and breathlessness, to survey the bell they had cobbled together out of old pieces of scrap.  They had never been able to clean all the rust and corrosion off, but their few test rings had demonstrated that the bell still worked and that it could be heard all over the Colony.  They hadn’t rigged it up with a proper rope pull – there hadn’t really been time, so Sarah had to lift the heavy metal ringer – a piece of old piping – and ring the bell herself.  The first swing was hard enough, but, as the sound of the bell – crude beyond belief, pealed out from the  bell loud enough to make her ears ring, she knew she had to keep going.

                So the bell rang: insistent, incessant, incendiary; and, one by one, they came to answer it.



                “What is that?” Frostfire asked, eyes flaring, “what’s going on?”

                “It looks like not everyone is planning to surrender,” the Former Baron replied nonchalantly, “how inconvenient.”

                Those who had stood frozen in the square, watching Frostfire with looks of fearful incapacitation, were slowly coming to life, looking around them as if they were wakening from a dream, trying to find the source of the sudden noise.  Then, without saying anything or making any kind of fuss at all, a couple of women, one of them from the militia, slipped off into the alleyways.

                “Where are they going?” the Stoneskin asked as a young man disappeared after the women.  Then another.  And another.  Ellis watched as Frostfire grew more and more agitated, his look of supreme, arrogant confidence, crumbling piece by piece.  It wasn’t going to vanish straight away – Frostfire had come in with an ego like plate armour – but it was tarnished now and edged with uncertainty.  And anger.

                “Where are they going?” he asked again, glaring at the Former Baron as if his eyes might burn the truth out of him.

                “Well,” the old man replied, “since the church bell is ringing, I’d imagine that they’re going to church.”

                “What’s a-? It doesn’t matter, take me there!”

                The Former Baron shrugged.  “If you insist.  Ellis, will you lead the way to the church?”


                So many of them.  Sarah couldn’t quite believe it, even as she saw them arriving through the streets from her vantage point in the tower, still the ringing of the great bell.  She had seen the numbers at her services increase, of course, and beyond the point where she could readily identify each individual member of her expanding congregation, but she had no idea that, out of that ever-changing number, there could be this many people to answer her call.

                They stood in front of the church like some sort of army.  She recognised a few faces, saw the makeshift uniforms of the militia here and there, but there were so many of them, the effect was less of a crowd of familiar people as it was of just a throng, a multitude: faceless and restive.

                Most of them are probably just reacting, she reminded herself.  They couldn’t all be from her congregation, and even if they were, how many were regular attendees?

                And yet, did that matter?  Wasn’t at least part of the purpose of those services to rally people together like this, to help them get through the darkness.  She wanted to save them, of course, the same way she had been saved – down to the very core of what it meant to be human and that simple response to the one who had made them: yes, or no – but there was always a first step before taking a long journey and sometimes you had to head in what seemed like a completely different direction if you wanted to take the best route to your destination.  She glanced at the crowd again.

                These are the ones you have given me.

                She let the bell ring out and stepped around to the other side of the belfry.  They all looked up at her, ready and waiting.

                And I hadn’t prepared anything to say, she thought, before saying it all anyway.


                By the time Ellis had led the small group to the square in front of the church, the bell had long since fallen silent.  True, he hadn’t taken them there with any great pace.  There was something of the funeral procession to their movements – a sort of solemn inevitability that he hadn’t been able to push past and, for some reason, Frostfire hadn’t complained.  Perhaps he had felt it too.  His slate-scaled expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with anxious curiosity.  That  tower  of confidence was still crumbling, then.

                “Well,” he said, as they stepped out before the tallest building in the Colony, the monument to idealism and thrown-together architecture that was Sarah’s church, “here we are.  This was where the bell was ringing.”  He pointed up to the belfry, just to make the point clearer.  There was no sign of whoever might have been ringing it.

                “There’s no one here,” Frostfire observed.

                “And yet, this is definitely the right place,” the Former Baron added.

                “So where is everyone?” Gulliver asked, drawn in by the mysterious events now as much as any of them, it seemed.

                “And interesting question,” the Former Baron agreed, “do you know what else is interesting?”

                Frostfire glared at him.  “This is just some game to you, isn’t it?”

                “Oh, no, it’s deadly serious.  I understand that well enough.  The problem is not my understanding of the situation, but yours.  Anyway, since we’re here, humour me.”

                “What!?”

                “Humour me! About the interesting thing!  Go on, what else is interesting, right here, right now?”

                The flaring intensity of Frostifire’s blue-white eyes showed that he was rapidly losing his patience.  Ellis wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be there when it finally ran out.

                “Fine!  What is interesting?”

                “Well, you see, I find it just fascinating that, of all the places this church could have been built, Sarah chose to build it here.”

                “So what?”

                “So, this is the highest part of the Colony – see if you look that way you can just see over the walls at your camp,” he pointed, “just. over. there.”

                “And?”

                “Well, it also happens that this place is farthest from the walls, so, whatever happens next, your army is going to have a good view and yet won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

                The Spiketail’s eyes flared wide and terrible then, and Ellis thought that some kind of furious violence would be unleashed upon them all, but it was at that exact moment that he heard Sarah’s voice, loud and clear above them, call out, “Now!” and the square flooded with people, hundreds of them, or so it seemed, each armed with the first thing they could find: a broom handle, a frying pan, a piece of old piping – whatever they could get their hands on – and though each was the same as they had been before- struggling, hungry, scared, it seemed they had something else in them as well.  Hope, Ellis, realised, hope and determination, and, just like that, Frostfire was surrounded, bound with ropes and held hostage.

                Out beyond the walls a cry went up.  Outrage!  Intolerable!  Arrows were launched, the Mosskind fired their guns and yet the stalemate – somehow – the stalemate remained the same.

                “Arrogance is a very dangerous thing,” the Former Baron commented, as Frostfire was brought, bodily, forward by several burly men, “it can lead one to under-estimate one’s enemies for a start, or worse, blind one to one’s friends.”  Frostfire snarled, but was immediately gagged by a pair of militia.  “There’ll be time for talking later, Frostfire - over tea, perhaps!  Take him away for now.”

                “Siren, Ellis, Gulliver,” he called and, one by one, they approached, confused.  “Open up the stores,” he continued, “let these people celebrate a little.”


                Gradually the square emptied.  First just those with Frostfire, then those accompanying the Former Baron and the others and then, a while later, when the noise of the others grew too loud and excited to resist, the rest trickled away.  Sarah stared down at the emptiness and wondered.  She wondered that she had gathered so many to follow her simple words of encouragement – that that was all that was finally needed after her work of weeks to give them the strength to take action on their own.  She wondered that Frostfire had been captured so easily, that he had entered the Colony unaccompanied in the first place!  Had they really looked that weak?

                But most of all Sarah wondered at the look in the Former Baron’s eye when it was all over and he spoke of the stores they had been holding back, the stores that made everything they had experienced for the past month at best a charade for their enemies, at worst and terrible, cruel lie.

                And the others knew, she realised, they knew and they didn’t tell me…


                She wept, then, until the tears stopped coming and they dried onto her cheeks, like lacquer on the armour of her resolve.

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