six-shot Symons. You can’t get all of us.’
‘That’s a point,’ Caroline said brightly, ‘but if it comes to that we’ll only have two of you left. I’m sure we could overpower two of you, if we have to. Besides, what does it matter if only six of you perish if you’re one of the six?’
‘What if you miss?’ the same argumentative voice pointed out. Aubrey noticed that some of his crewmates, those closer to Caroline and her revolver, tried to shut him up, but he had the tone of someone who’d argue on his death bed.
‘I don’t miss,’ Caroline said.
‘How do we know that?’
‘Oh, you’re asking for a test, are you? Very well. Can I ask you to sit up straight while your crewmates lean to either side? No? Very well then. Skipper, I suggest that you get your men rowing with some vigour.’
This announcement was greeted with only a modicum of grumbling. Aubrey guessed that Caroline’s no- nonsense demeanour had convinced them more than any swaggering threats could have.
A shadow fell on them and the skipper cast an eye heavenwards with well-mastered apprehension. The skyfleet had reformed after its circling and destruction of the weathership. It was heading away from them. ‘Is Albion being invaded?’
‘Invaded?’ Aubrey looked up at the sky. ‘No. It’s far worse than that.’
68
The coast of Albion stubbornly refused to get any nearer, even after two hours of determined rowing from the disgruntled crew. With the gentle rolling of the lifeboat, added to Caroline’s closeness and the rushed spell casting that had saved their lives, Aubrey was struggling to stay awake and failing when George leaned across to him, speaking low so the weathershipmen couldn’t hear. ‘I think I know where we are.’
With some effort, Aubrey restrained himself from attempting a quip about being at the aft end of a lifeboat, and spoke in the same hushed tones. ‘Imworth is over that way, isn’t it? To the north-west?’
‘True, but we’ve a fair distance before we get there.’
‘Where we’ll have some explaining to do.’
‘Which is why we should put in over there.’
George gestured with a single finger, shielding it with his body from the scrutiny of their enforced shipmates. A scattering of lights was showing on the cliff tops a few miles away.
Aubrey peered through the night, doing his best not to make it look obvious. The cliffs loomed over a narrow strip of beach where waves boomed, sending up spray that looked like mist at this distance.
‘It doesn’t look like a good landing place.’
‘That’s the point. Imworth is the only good harbour along this stretch of coast, but if we can land here and climb to the top of the cliffs, the train line isn’t far away. We’ll be far from here before the alarm can be raised.’
Aubrey yawned. His eyes watered, blearing the clifftop lights and turned them into little stars. ‘If we can land, I think I can get us to the top.’
69
The weathership skipper argued when Aubrey ordered a landing, but Caroline’s revolver-backed counterargument carried the day. As the lifeboat was buffeted by the roaring waves – and once when rocks grated heart-stoppingly along the keel – Aubrey wondered if George’s plan were such a good one at all.
The skipper proved to be a decent fellow. When Aubrey and his friends stood dripping on the narrow strip of wave-hammered stones, he suggested that they surrender their firearms and he’d take them to Imworth. When they refused, he shook his head and ordered his men to push off.
The wind whipped spray in their faces. George grabbed Sophie as a brute of a wave nearly bowled her off her feet.
‘Now what, Aubrey?’ Caroline asked. Like all of them, she was drenched to the waist – a result of leaping out of the lifeboat into the wild surf – but she still was able to look collected and stylish.
‘Hold hands. All of you.’
Aubrey was becoming polished with levitation spells. They soon left the shingle behind and drifted through the gloom, alongside the improbably white face of the cliffs and into the scrubby, stubborn bracken that faced the sea.
An hour later, after Sophie had laid a subtle disguising spell on Aubrey’s features, they stumbled wearily into tiny East Stallington Station, a few miles from where they’d landed. George used the public telephone at the station to report to the Directorate, confirming the identity of the skyfleet that had broached the borders of Albion and the surmises about its intention. He’d barely hung up when the Trinovant train pulled in. Within seconds, Caroline had leaped into the cabin of the locomotive and used her pistol to commandeer it. She wanted to ensure that that the driver didn’t do anything silly like adhering to a timetable and stopping all stations. Aubrey appreciated such thoughtfulness as he made himself as comfortable as possible in the warm, noisy cabin, and went to sleep with his satchel on his lap.
70
Trinovant was in the clutches of the small hours of the morning by the time the train reached St Swithins. Aubrey and his friends leaped from the train as soon as it had slowed enough, and sidled through a place that was crowded despite it being a time when all good citizens should be abed.
Aubrey stopped at a grimy, red-brick pillar near a darkened workshop entrance. He yawned, then peered at the helmeted figures on the platform opposite, tall amid the anxious Trinovantans who were waiting, suitcases and valises by their sides, to leave the capital. ‘I know how this will sound,’ he said to his friends, ‘but how do I look?’
‘Not at all yourself.’ Caroline stretched, reaching for the ceiling with both hands linked. ‘And I assume that’s just what you’re after.’
‘Sophie, you have a real talent for this sort of thing,’ Aubrey said.
Sophie was looking about anxiously at the nervous throng. ‘Are you sure? I can try another spell if you are unhappy.’
George turned away from the platform, folding his arms. ‘Police.’
Aubrey straightened his jacket. ‘Let us go about our business, then, as all innocent people should.’
Aubrey held his breath as he and his friends squeezed past the four police constables in greatcoats who were casting about with lanterns and checking doors. He nodded at them and received wary acknowledgement in return as the nervous young men recognised the uniforms of the Directorate. Even the remarkably attractive Caroline and Sophie failed to bring a smile to the lips of the constables, and Aubrey wondered exactly what they’d been told. Were they looking for Aubrey Fitzwilliam, traitor of Albion, or was this simply part of the general climate of mistrust that war had brought?
Once free of the crowd that was choking the station, they made their way toward the Eastride underground station. Walking through the quiet, night-time streets, Aubrey noticed how the stars were hidden by clouds, a low overcast sky hanging over the capital. Crossing at the intersection of Bennett and Garland Streets, a ghostly beckoning caught him as he was about to step from the footpath and he nearly overbalanced. Caroline caught his elbow, glanced at him and frowned as he rubbed his chest with his free hand. ‘What is it?’
Aubrey couldn’t help but look skywards. To the north, out over Stapledon and Allingham, a mass of clouds
