Cloud Walker, All Fools' Day, Far Sunset Read Free

flying machines to anyone else, especially the dominie and the neddy.’
    Kieron pressed her hand, and lay back on the bright green grass and stared upwards through the leaves of the beech tree. ‘I am not a fool,’ he said. ‘The dominie is like the neddy, in that his mind is stiff with rules and habits. But the dominie is just a weak old man, whereas the neddy—’
    ‘Whereas the neddy could have you burned at the stake,’ cut in Petrina sharply.
    ‘They don’t burn children now. Even you should know that.’
    ‘But they still burn men, and one day you will be a man. They burned a farmer at Chichester two summers ago for devising a machine to cut his wheat … Kieron, for my sake, try not to think about flying machines. Such thoughts are far too dangerous.’
    Kieron let out a great sigh. ‘All the exciting things are dangerous … Look at the sky through the leaves. So blue, so beautiful. And when the white clouds pass, don’t you wish you could reach up and touch them? They are like islands, great islands in the sky. One day I shall journey among those islands. One day I shall reach out and touch the clouds as I pass by.’
    Petrina shivered. ‘You make me feel cold with this wild talk.’
    ‘I make myself feel cold also. The First Men had flying machines, Petrina. Silver birds that roared like dragons and passed high over the clouds. The dominie says so. Even the neddy will admit to that. It is history.’
    ‘The First Men destroyed themselves,’ retorted Petrina.
    ‘So did the Second Men,’ said Kieron tranquilly. ‘They also had flying machines; though not, perhaps, as good as those of the First Men. It must have been wonderful to pass across the skies at great speed, to look down upon the earth and see men go about their tasks like insects.’
    ‘Men are not insects!’
    ‘From a great height, all living things must seem like insects.’
    ‘The First Men destroyed themselves. So did the Second Men. That, too, is history. The neddies are right. Machines are evil.’
    Kieron laughed. ‘Machines have no knowledge of good and evil. Machines cannot think. Only men can think.’
    ‘Then,’ said Petrina, ‘too much thinking is evil – especially when it is about forbidden things.’
    Suddenly Kieron felt strangely old, strangely protective. He said: ‘Don’t worry, little one. I shall not think too much. Very likely, you will have three children, as the astrologer says … I know where there is a plum tree. Shall we see if there are any ripe enough to eat?’
    Petrina jumped up. ‘I know where there is an apple tree. The high ones are already turning red.’
    Kieron laughed. ‘Plums and apples! Let us drive all gloomy thoughts away with plums and apples.’
    Hand in hand, they walked out of the glade, out into the rich gold splendour of late summer sunshine.

2
    On his tenth birthday, Kieron ate his farewell breakfast with all the solemnity required for the occasion. Then he shook hands with Gerard, his father, and kissed Kristen, his mother, once on each cheek. It was only a ritual farewell because they would still see each other frequently. But it was the symbolic end of Kieron’s childhood. He would sleep no more in the house of his father.
    Gerard said: ‘Son, you will attend Master Hobart in all his needs. He will impart his skills to you. In years to come, your paintings will adorn the walls of the castle. Maybe, they will also hang in the great houses of London, Bristol, Brum. Then, perhaps, your mother and I will not have lived in vain.’
    ‘Sir,’ said Kieron, forcing back the tears that came to his eyes for no apparent reason, ‘I will learn from Master Hobart all that I may. I will try to be worthy of you. I would have been a joiner like you, had it been your pleasure. But, since you wished me to make likenesses, I will paint portraits that will not shame the father of Kieron Joinerson.’
    Kristen held him close and said: ‘You have three shirts, three vests and two pair of