Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [41]
How extraordinary, I thought, to be some place without knowledge of where one was. I considered anew the possibility that we had died. Perhaps Heaven was no more than this unknown shore. Then I had to remind myself, it was equally possible we had come to Hell.
Bear was gazing at the walls of stone that confronted us. Troth and I watched him.
“That may be a way up, there,” he finally said, pointing to what looked to be a crevice in the cliff. He went toward it. Troth and I clambered after. As he walked, he stumbled slightly, enough to strike his knee against a stone. He swore, rubbed it, but labored on, limping again.
When we reached the spot that Bear had seen, it proved to be a cleft that went some ways upward. It was hard to see how far it reached.
Bear stood before it, so hesitant I could read his exhaustion from the way he fixed his shoulders. In protecting us during the night, he had become much spent.
Knowing he would not admit to it, but that we had to go forward, I simply pushed past him. “I’ll go,” I announced. And without waiting for Bear’s permission, I began to climb.
28
MY ASCENT went easily at first, hardly more than walking up a steep incline. Gradually, however, the passageway began to narrow, and became increasingly steep. I soon found myself pressed close on either side by hard and jagged rock. Sharp edges were enough to score my hands, though they did provide places for my fingers to grasp.
Fearful of falling, I glanced down only to be frightened by the height I’d reached. Bear and Troth, standing below, seemed distant. The cog was equally remote. No other land was in sight save some rocks that broke the water’s surface.
“Are you all right?” Bear shouted.
“Yes!” I called, though I hardly felt it.
Having no choice—other than to drop—I kept on, moving grip by grip, pushing as much as pulling. Every part of my body trembled with the struggle, aware as I was of the likelihood of falling and dashing my head on the rocks below.
But with God’s blessing I came to a place where the climb was not so steep. I was able to crawl upward on hands and knees, not caring that they were battered. My sense of relief gave me a surge of strength. With quicker progress, I reached the top. Once there, I looked out upon the land we’d reached. To my surprise, there was no surprise.
It was much like land I had seen before: naught but rolling green fields and at the distance of perhaps half a league, a line of trees. As for any hint or clue as to where we were, I saw not one jot. Passing strange, to have come so far across the world only to see what was familiar.
After my quick look, I returned the way I came, or at least the last, easy part. Leaning over the cliff, I cried, “I reached the top!”
“What’s there?”
“Nothing!”
“Nothing?” exclaimed Bear.
“Fields. Grass!”
After a moment, Bear said, “We’ll come along.”
“Take care!” I warned.
Troth came first. She scampered as agile as any goat. If she had any fears or difficulty, I saw them not. In fact, it seemed she reached the top in half the time it took me.
With Bear it was quite otherwise. I could hear him swearing and grunting his painstaking way. As Troth and I looked down there were moments—more than a few—that we held our breath, fearful he would fall.
At length, Bear reached the top, puffing mightily, sweating hard. I led them along for the remainder of the way so they could see what I saw.
Troth and Bear gazed out over the open fields. I looked with them. No one spoke, until I asked Bear, “Do you know where we are now?”
“No,” he replied. “Not at all.” He sat down, breathing heavily. “By Saint Luke, I’m weary.”
“I don’t like it here,” Troth announced. She had been gazing about.
“Why?” I demanded.
“It makes me uneasy.”
“There are plenty of places in England where you won’t see people,” Bear said. “What troubles you?”
She only shook her head.
“Those trees over there,” I said. “I could explore them.”
Bear did not respond. The look on his face was of great fatigue. He was favoring his wounded