Shardik (51 page)

Only Shardik - Shardik and one other - moved with unhesitating certainty. Out of the burning straw, over the broken bars came the bear, clawing at the iron with a noise like the storming of a breach.

As, when a dam gives way in some high valley of the hills, the water falls in a thunderous mass through the gap and pours on in obedience not to any will of its own but simply to inanimate, natural law: overwhelming or sweeping aside all that hinders it, changed in an instant from a controlled source of gain and power to a destructive force, killing as it runs to waste and devastating as it escapes from the restraint of those who supposed that they had made it safely their own — so Shardik, in the savagery of his fear, made his way, smashing and clambering, over the broken bars.

As those below the dam, dwelling or working in the very path of
the
water, perceive with terror that a disaster which none envisage
d is even now upon them, indefle
xible and leaving no recourse but immediate, headlong flight - so those in the hall realized that Shardik had broken loose and was among them.

And as those
further
away from the dam, hearing, wherever they may be, the rumble of the collapsing wall, the roaring of water and the unexpected tumult, stand still, looking at one another wide-eyed; recognizing the sounds of disaster, but as yet ignorant that what they have heard imports nothing less than the work of years ruined, the destruction of their prosperity and the discredit of their name -so those in the upper city, outside the hall: the peering sentinels on
the
wall, the gardeners and cattle-men coughing and shivering at their work along the shores of the Barb, the delegates’ servants loitering at their masters’ doors, the youths abandoning archery practice for the morning,
the
court ladies, muffled against the cold, looking
south
wards from the roof of the Barons’ Palace for
the
sun to clear the shoulder of Crandor and disperse the fog - all heard the fall of the beam, the clang of the bars and the uproar that followed. Each in his own manner realized that some calamity must have befallen and, fearful but not yet suspecting the truth, began to move towards the House of the King, questioning those whom he met on the way.

As Shardik came clambering over the pile of wreckage, fragments of iron and wood were scattered and it shifted and sank beneath his weight. He mounted on the tie-beam and for a moment crouched there, looking down into the hall, dire as a cat in a loft to the mice who run squeaking. Then, as the beam began to tilt under him, he leapt clumsily down, landing on
the
stones between the brazier and the execution bench. All about him men were clamouring and pushing, st
riking and tearing at one anothe
r in their effort to escape. Yet at first he went no further, but remained ramping from side to side - a movement frighteningly expressive of fury and vi
olence about to break forth
. Then he rose on his hind legs, looking, above the heads of
the
fugitives, for a way out.

It was at this terrible moment, before more than a few had succeeded in forcing their way through the doors and while Shardik still stood towering above the crowd like some atrid ogre, that Elleroth leapt to his feet. Snatching up
the
executioner’s sword from the bench before him, he ran across the empty, deserted space round the bear, passing within a foot of it. A dozen men, pressed and jo
stl
ing together, were blocking
the
northern
entrance to the ambulatory and
through
these he cut his way, slashing and thrusting.
Kelderek
, still lying where he had flung himself to avoid the falling beam, saw his sword arm striking and the shrivelled left hand hanging at his side. Then he was gone
through
the arch, and the crowd closed behind him.

Kelderek
r
ose to his knees and was instantl
y knocked to the floor. His head struck the stone and he rolled over, dazed by the blow. When he looked up it was to see Shardik clawing and cuffing his way towards that same door by which he himself, with the women, had entered the hall half an hour before. Already three or four bodies la
y in the bear’s wake, while on e
ither side men clamoured hysterically and trampled one another, some actually beating with their hands against the columns, or trying to climb the sheer brickwork that closed the arcades.

Shardik came to the doorway and peered round it, resembling grotesquely some hesitant wayfarer about to set out on a stormy night. At the same moment the figure of
Elleroth
appeared for an instant beyond him, running from left to right past
the
opening. Then Shardik’s bulk closed the entire aperture, and as he passed through it there came from beyond a single, terrified scream.

When
Kelderek
readied the door, the first object that met his eyes was the body of the young soldier who had stared up at him as he descended the staircase that morning. It was lying face down, and from the almost-severed neck a stream of blood was pouring across
the floor. Through this the bear had trodden, and its bloody tracks led out to the terrace and across the grass. Following them into the gardens,
Kelderek
came almost face to face with Shardik as he emerged from the thick mist along the shore. The bear, running in a lumbering canter round the western end of
the
Barb, passed him and disappeared up the pasture slope beyond.

Book IV

Uriah: and Kabin

32
The
Postern

They tell - ah! they tell many things of Shardik’s passing from Bekla, and of the manner of his setting out upon his dark journey to that unforeseeable desdnadon appointed by God. Many things? For how long, then, was he at large within the walls of
Bekla
, under Crandor’s summit? For as long, perhaps, as a cloud may take, in the eyes of a watcher, to pass across the sky? A cloud passes across the sky and one sees a dragon, another a lion, another a towered citadel or blue promontory with trees upon it. Some tell what they saw and then others tell what they were told - many things. They say that the sun was darkened as Lord Shardik departed, that the walls of
Bekla
opened of their own accord to let him pass,
that
the trepsis, once white, has bloomed red since that day when the prints of his feet bloodied its flowers in passing. They say that he wept tears, that a warrior raised from the dead went before him with a drawn sword, that he was made invisible to all but the king. They tell many, shining things. And of what value is the grain of sand at the heart of a pearl ?

Shardik, shouldering through the fog and scattering the terrified cattle as a seaward-running bramba disturbs lesser fish in crossing a pool, left the southern shore of the Barb and began to ascend the slope of the rough pasture beyond. Kelderek followed, hearing behind him the hubbub and clamour spreading across the city. To his right the Barons’ Palace loomed indistinct and irregular, like an island of tall rocks at nightfall; and as he paused, uncertain of the direcdon taken by Shardik, a single bell began ringing, light and quick, from one of the towers. Coming upon the bear’s tracks in a patch of soft ground, he was puzzled to sec fresh blood beside them, though the prints themselves were no longer bloody. A few moments later, through a chance rift in the fog, he caught sight of Shardik again, almost a bow-shot ahead on the slope, and glimpsed between his shoulders the red gash of the reopened wound.

This was a piece of ill-fortune that would make his task more difficult, and he considered it as he went cautiously on. Shardik’s recap
ture could be only a matter of t
ime, for the Peacock Gate and the Red Gate of the citadel were the only ways out of the upper city.

Elleroth, too, wherever he might be, was unlikely to be able to climb the walls, lacking the use of one hand. It would be best now if he were found and killed without recapture. His guilt had appeared as manifesdy as could well be. Had he not himself spoken of a deliberate act of war? As a fugitive within the walls he could not remain at. large for long. No doubt Maltrit, that competent and reliable officer, was already searching for him. Kel
derek looked around to see wheth
er there was anyone within hail. The first person he fell in with could be sent to Maltrit with a message that Elleroth, when found, was to be killed at once. But what if those who were hunting for him were to encounter Shardik in the fog? In his frightened and confused state, and enraged by the pain of the wound Mollo had inflicted, the bear would be deadly dangerous - far too dangerous for any immediate attempt at recapture. The only possible
way would be to remove all cattle
from the upper city, together with anything else which might provide food, and then, leaving the Rock Pit open and baited, wait for hunger to compel Shardik to return. Yet the Power of God could not be left to wander alone, unwatched and unattended, while all his people took refuge from him. The priest-king must be seen to have the matter in hand. Besides, Shardik’s condition might well grow worse before he came back to the pit. In tins unaccustomed cold, wounded and unfed, he might even die on
the
lonely, eastern heights of Crandor, for which he appeared to be making. He would have to be watched - by night as well as by day - a task with which scarcely anyone now remaining in the city could be reliably entrusted. If it were to be performed at all, the king would have to set an example. And his very knowledge of Shardik, of his cunning and ferocity and the ebb and flow of his savage anger, brought home to him
the
danger involved.

Higher on the slope, where the pasture-land merged into rough, rocky hillside, the air became somewhat clearer and Kelderek, looking back, could see the thicker mist white and level below him, blotting out
the
city, save for the towers that rose through it here and there. Beneath it, with never a soul to be seen, the noises of alarm were spreading far and wide, and as he listened to them he realized that it was from this frightening tumult that
the
bear was climbing to escape.

Almost a thousand feet above Bekla, a shoulder ran eastwards from
the
summit of Crandor. The line of the city wall, exploiting the crags and steep places along the mountain’s flank, surmounted the eastern declivity of this ridge before turning westwards towards the Red Gate of the citadel. It was a wild, overgrown place, revealing
little
to the eye of one approaching from below.
Kelderek
, sweating in the cold air and flinging back the heavy robe that encumbered him, halted below the ridge, listening and watching the thicket where he had seen Shardik disappear among the trees. A little way to his left ran the wall, twenty feet high, the cloudy sky showing white here and there through the narrow loop-holes that overlooked the slope outside. On his right, a stream pattered down a rocky gully out of the thicket. It was the last place into which any man in his senses would follow a wounded bear.

He could hear nothing beyond the natural sounds of the mountainside. A buzzard, sailing sideways above him, gave its harsh, mewing cry and disappeared.
A breeze rustl
ed through the trees and died away. The unceasing water close by became at last the sound of the silence - that, and the noise still audible from the city below. Where was Shardik? He could not be far off, bounded as he was by the curve of the wall. Either he was already on the other side of the ridge and moving westwards towards the Red Gate, or else, which seemed more likely, he had taken refuge among the trees. If he were there now, he could hardly move away
without
being heard. There was nothing to be done but wait. Sooner or later one of the soldiers, searching, would come within earshot and could be sent back with a message.

Suddenly, from among the trees above, came sounds of splintering wood and the grinding and knocking of falling stones. Kelderek started. As he listened, there followed the same cry that he had heard across the cypress gardens by night - a loud growling of pain, utterable by none but Shardik. At this, trembling with fear and moving as in a trance, he stumbled his way up the track which the bear had already broken through the bushes and creepers, and peered into the half-light among the trees.

The grove was empty. At its eastern end, where the trees and bushes grew closely up to the sheer wall, was a ragged, irregular opening, bright with daylight. Approaching cautiously, he saw with astonishment that it was a broken doorway. Several lining-stones on both sides had been forced out of the jambs and lay tumbled about. The heavy wooden door, which opened outwards, must have been left open by one who had passed through, for there seemed to be no latch and the bolts were drawn. The upper hinge had been dragged from its setting in the jamb and the splintered door sagged, its lower corner embedded in the ground outside. The stone arch,
though
damaged, was still in place, but
the
downward-pointing, central cusp was covered with blood, like a weapon withdrawn from a wound.