barricade being erected, and it wound into the forest and the hills, where a plume of dark smoke rose. ‘The Johannes mine,’ he said, and pointed.
George grunted. ‘Even if this Green Johannes is a national treasure, as von Stralick claims, I don’t think the Holmland bosses would commit troops to guard it.’
‘Not dressed in enemy uniforms, no.’
‘Nor to guard the villagers.’
‘They’re not guarding the villagers, George. They’re stopping them from running away. Tell me what you see.’
George picked up his binoculars. After a moment, his jaw tightened. ‘Children. Old people. Being menaced by their own soldiers pretending to be our soldiers.’
A young mother, with a babe in arms and a toddler hanging onto her skirt, came out of the inn. Weeping, she tried to ask one of the officers what was going on but the soldiers who were only a few yards away from the inn prevented her from approaching. The officer ignored her entreaties. Even though she was only a few yards away, he turned his back on her.
It was as if she didn’t exist.
All day, Aubrey and George observed as the troops patrolled the tiny town. The distraught villagers kept pleading with the soldiers and begging the officers. One of the soldiers became irritated and rammed the butt of his rifle into the stomach of a particularly loud old-timer. In the uproar this caused, a well-built greybeard took the opportunity and burst through the line, roaring and heading for the woods. Aubrey silently cheered this act of defiance, but the greybeard was quickly caught and clubbed to the ground. After that, the villagers moved away from the perimeter and clustered on the village green next to the pond. Some were crying, others were fearful. The village and its surrounds became a place of ugly, tense anticipation.
The afternoon wore on. Eventually, defeated and dispirited, the villagers returned to their homes. Light came from windows, the soft, yellow light of oil lamps rather than the bolder light of electricity or town gas. Aubrey could smell food cooking. Life went on, even with a few hundred ominously beweaponed soldiers only a few feet away, black silhouettes against the white-washed buildings.
From their observation post in the alders, Aubrey used binoculars to study the soldiers. None of them was a baby-faced, fresh recruit. These were hard-eyed, lean men with the air of those who’d seen action before. All day, Aubrey had heard barely a handful of words passing between them. They moved with precision and efficiency, guided by gesture and a terse, limited set of hand signals.
Aubrey scowled. He scrambled back into the stand of alders to find George cleaning his Symons pistol and munching on some food he’d been given by the Enlightened Ones. ‘One good thing about Holmland sausage,’ George said. ‘You can’t tell whether it’s gone off or not, so it sort of lasts forever. Like a bite?’
‘We have people in trouble here, George.’
‘What? Holmlanders being guarded by Holmlanders? Isn’t it their problem?’
‘Even if we forget Dr Tremaine’s interest in this place, which I haven’t, I’m not happy about civilians being threatened by soldiers, no matter from what country.’
George thought this over. ‘They do appear to be in a pickle.’
‘More or less. And I do hate to see people in a pickle.’
‘I know that, old man. So what are we going to do about it?’
Aubrey cocked his head and listened for a moment. The faint, distant sound of a motor gave him an idea for infiltrating the village. ‘Help them, of course.’
15
‘Just getting rid of these soldiers won’t be enough,’ Aubrey said as they jogged south toward Hollenbruck, the direction from which he’d heard noise. The sun was setting behind the hills. ‘Something more must be done.’
‘You say that as if getting rid of the soldiers is a simple thing.’ George was munching on an apple even as they ran. ‘I counted two hundred of them, with nine officers including that colonel. I don’t think two fellows with pistols and brave hearts are going to worry them much.’
Aubrey vaulted over a rotting stump. ‘True. So what we lack in numbers, we have to make up for with magic and outright trickery.’
‘I love trickery.’ Then George sighed. ‘I wish Sophie were here. She’d be helpful in the magic department.’
‘I’d be glad of any help.’
‘She’s been learning magic at a great rate, old man. She’s like a sponge, and she’s come on in leaps and bounds.’ He caught himself. ‘Not that I think of her as a leaping and bounding sponge, mind you.’
‘I suggest you keep that one to yourself, George.’
‘I shall.’
The distant rumbling Aubrey had been keeping track of was noticeably nearer. He picked up the pace as they moved through the trees. He was careful to keep the road in sight at all times, even though this was difficult as the light faded. When they were a mile from the village, he stopped where the road curved around a large boulder so they were hidden from the road.
‘I’m afraid of reprisals,’ Aubrey said as they caught their breath. The warmth of the sun was still leaching from the stone and it felt good as he leaned against it. ‘If we remove the troops, what’s to stop the Holmland command sending more?’
‘I could answer that question better if I knew what the troops were doing there in the first place.’
‘True, but let’s put that aside for the moment.’ Aubrey lifted his head. The lorries he’d heard were definitely closer. ‘What if we take this in two stages? Firstly, we remove the troops. You can call me squeamish, but I’d rather not kill any of them if we can help it.’
‘You’ll get no argument from me on that score.’
‘Secondly, we hide the village.’
‘That sounds perfect. How are you going to do it?’
‘I’m not quite sure yet. That’s why it’s the second step rather than the first.’
George slapped him on the shoulder. ‘I have confidence in you, old man. Put that brain box to work.’
‘Don’t worry – it’s going full bore.’
‘What about the first part of the plan? Removing the soldiers?’
‘For that, we need to get close, which is why I’ve been waiting for this lorry. Quickly, take off your jacket.’
George didn’t argue, simply unbuttoning the garment and handing it to Aubrey. ‘Is that all? Are you sure you don’t want my trousers as well?’
To George’s palpable horror, Aubrey paused a moment before shaking his head. ‘Jacket is enough, George, but if you can spare that cap I’d be grateful.’
George handed it over without a word.
Aubrey scurried out into the middle of the road with the jacket and cap. He arranged them hastily and then dived back behind the boulder.
‘That won’t trick anybody, old man.’
‘I’m not done yet.’ Aubrey had the spell ready, a variation of one he’d used an age ago, when trapped in the late Professor Hepworth’s workshop with its murderous magical guardian. He spoke quickly, conscious of the approaching lights, and was relieved when the clothing began to fill out as if being inflated. Within seconds, in the gloom, it was easy to see a large man lying face down in the middle of the road.
George snapped off the safety of his pistol, reminding Aubrey to do the same, just as the lorry came into view, heaving itself up over a shallow crest before setting out on the long slope that would bring it near the boulder behind which Aubrey and George were hiding.
Aubrey grew tense. Crouched as he was, his leg muscles were threatening to cramp at the most inconvenient moment. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and was conscious that he hadn’t sweated as much during the day when it had been much hotter.
