Balin and Columbine (A Children of the May Novella - Book 1.5b)

Chapter Six: The Quest Begun (part two)

People were running in all directions in the marketplace, still unsure why the alarm bells were ringing, but Columbine knew it was only a matter of time before word of their escape spread.

‘Balin, put this on,’ she said, unfurling the pigeon cloak. He sat up, and she managed to get the garment around his broad shoulders. She put up the hood to hide his face. Mud had gathered in the gutter by the wall. She took a handful, smeared it on her face and roughed it through her hair until she looked as messy as Balin. She had to hope that it would be enough to disguise her in the middle of the night. It would help that she had left the suit of armour back in the cell. She slipped the Dolorous Stroke back into its scabbard, and slotted it into one of the cloak’s deep inside pouches.

‘Up you get.’ She hooked her burning arms under Balin’s armpits and tried to get him onto his good foot. ‘Help me, you big lump. We’ve got to get out of here,’ she snapped into his ear. ‘Lean on me; I’ll take your weight.’

‘Where we going?’ he said deliriously once he was upright. ‘Can I not have a sleep? I’m so sleepy.’

‘An escape?’ said a man’s voice in the marketplace. ‘Who the hell escaped from our dungeons? They’re the safest in the land.’

‘Where we going?’ said Balin.

‘The gates,’ she hissed. ‘We’ve got to get out before they close them. Come on.’ She took a step, but Balin did not follow her.

She pulled on the heavy arm around her shoulder, and he took one slow, limping step forward. He grimaced at the pain from his crushed leg.

‘No, no, no,’ he said.

‘Yes you can. You’ve got to or we’re done for.’

‘No, not the, not the gates,’ he said. The pain overwhelmed him and he threw up on the floor.

‘You there!’

Columbine froze. She prayed that the voice wasn’t addressing them.

She looked up and saw Sir Gareth Beaumains. The young knight was finely dressed, in gleaming armour and white gloves that shone in the torchlight. He was looking directly at them. She huddled into Balin and wiped the sick from his mouth, smearing the rest on her padded shirt.

‘I said: you there!’

Columbine hunched over and looked up at the knight through her muddy hair.

‘Moy ’usband’s ’ad a bit too much to drink at the feastin’, sir. Moy apologies.’

‘Get him inside, peasant,’ said Beaumains, averting his refined eyes from the disgusting sight. ‘Don’t you know that there’s been an escape from the dungeons?’

‘Oi’m sorry, sir. Oi’ll get ’im  to bed right now.’ She set off towards the knight, who stomped off in another direction.

‘Not the gate,’ said Balin quietly as they limped together into the confused market square. ‘Too many guards. Ouch! That hurts. The… river entrance. Oh Lord…’ He bent over and was sick again. ‘What on Earth was that accent supposed to be? …Get down to the river and… a boat.’

They limped across the marketplace through crowds of guards and knights, none of whom had managed to take charge of the situation. No one paid any attention to the drunk and his dirty young wife as they hobbled past.

They found the long staircase that led down to the riverside unguarded.

‘They all want their bit of glory,’ said Balin. ‘Always leaving their posts, Arthur’s guards. Only way to impress the king.’ He let go of Columbine’s shoulder and used the wall as a support. He didn’t use his bad leg at all, but hopped from step to step on his good foot.