The End of Time by Avi

done, I came to my feet and adjusted my new clothing. Only then did I survey the land about me in the clear light. Thankfully there were no soldiers. All I saw wasbarren emptiness: an open, marshy land with an occasional dune on firmer ground. Recalling that my way lay north, and using the sun as my guide, I set off.
    At first I simply trudged along, constantly looking for people or something to eat. The land beneath my feet remained soft, often sandy, with countless streams and rivulets. There were brooks and water ditches that I had to wade across, holding my new boots over my head. I passed more ruins, too, some that seemed like decayed fortifications, as well as the remnants of small dwellings. I saw no people. All was forsaken, abandoned. And there was nothing I might eat.
    Trees were rare. The little vegetation that grew was sparse and low. I wondered if Troth could have made anything of it. But as I passed a tuft of grass, a startled bird flew up. I searched and uncovered a nest with two small, speckled eggs. I broke them open and poured the contents into my dirty hand. One yellow yolk had a streak of blood. Though I considered it an ill omen, I swallowed it all down.
    As I walked along, I gradually saw before me what I assumed was the crown of Calais: two church spires. As I would afterward learn, one was dedicated to Saint Mary, the other to Saint Nicholas, he who protected sailors.
    Drawing closer, I saw the tops of other tall structures,including a building big enough to be a watchtower. Then I spied a wide spread of stone wall that ran east to west. I was reminded of Great Wexley, the city where I had been with Bear, which was surrounded by circular walls. Here, however, the walls were long, straight, and high, built of large stones. Square towers were placed at regular intervals along the wall, round ones at the corners.
    Drawing closer, I discovered that the city had double moats protecting its southern side. The first was right below the walls. The second was separated from the first by a mound of earth. The moats—with their filthy water—forced me to walk toward the east.
    As I went along, armed soldiers spied down at me from the city walls. Wearing helmets, they were armed with pikes and crossbows. Though they did not look so very different from the French I had encountered, I assumed they were English.
    I began to see ordinary people. For the most part, they were traveling alone, and of the few groups, none was as large as Elena’s family. Among them were two heavy wagons pulled by horses. All were proceeding in a line, as if upon a road. I could have little doubt: this was the way into Calais.
    It took a short time to reach the road. It proved to bea roadway somewhat elevated above the marshy land. For the most part, the people on it appeared to be merchants or peasants coming from the northeast. I looked to see if any of the wagons was the one the family had plundered. Happily I didn’t see it.
    When the road veered around the eastern wall, I discovered that the depth of the town was far less than its width. But while I could see that Calais was not a very large town, the number of building tops and high towers suggested a crowded place. The largest tower I’d seen from a distance now displayed a flag with a red cross.
    As I hurried along, I heard bells ring, slow and steady. From the sun’s placement in the sky, I guessed it was the hour of prime, and the bells were calling citizens to early mass. Once again my thoughts went to Troth. Was she at the convent church? Was she treating someone’s ailment, or gathering herbs in the woods? How different—and quickly—had our worlds become!
    A little farther on, I spied the sea, or rather a bay that led to the sea. The tide was low, the smell of fish and seaweed strong. In the middle of the bay was a small island on which stood a fortress commanding the sea entry. More importantly, I noted many ships. Some were coming in or leaving the bay. Some were