The Yoke Chapel was beside me. It was no refuge. It had never saved any of those who’d prayed their last prayers in it, and now I was in their place. The thought of the condemned somehow led me to follow them. The Watch were walking on, pikes held forward. I put my foot on the rail and they saw at once what I was going to do and broke the walk into a run. But I had time, if I would use it. I hoisted myself onto the narrow rail, holding to the chapel to steady my balance, but only for the instant. And now I was standing where the criminals had stood. I looked down and saw the Rhine. The flow of water pulled my thoughts down and in. All my years I’d been beside it. But I’d never been in the river. There was nothing else left to do for the chase; it was finished.
Then I leapt.
My moments in the air were endless. My arms flailed. I thought of birds’ wings and gravity. I accelerated down. Then there were noise and splash and wetness as I plunged beneath the surface. I had no idea what to do; I had never swum. My arms were still flapping and I had no idea which direction was up or down. I thought of density and buoyancy. I knew my density was less than that of water. But I was still under, and I also realized I should have taken a breath while I was still in the air. I could not now! But I didn’t think to not breathe. A cold, choking fluid filled my mouth; it was water.
I spewed the water out of my mouth, and I realized my head was in air. Coughing and spluttering took my attention, and blinking, and shaking like a dog to get water out of my eyes, and when I had enough sense I looked at where I was. I was in the Rhine.
I found the bridge. It was already far off, and receding. I could see the guards on it, converging to the chapel. They were waving and pointing and shouting. I could still barely hear them. A musket was pointed. I couldn’t tell if it was fired.
Then the men ran, to both ends of the bridge. I could see what they meant, to reach the banks and run the streets to the gates, but they’d have a long way of it. And the water was running swifter. I slowed my splashing and could hold my head out of the river with calmer motions. I worked my way more to the center. The water was chill. The robe was tangled around me. I fought it and pulled myself free. It floated beside me, then was pulled by the current away.
A landing at the end of the bridge was just then boatless. A boat was nearby in the water, and a Watch waved and shouted for it.
Only a small part of me was above the water, with which fortunately I could breathe. I stopped my limbs from moving and let myself hang in the water and be still. And just float.
For a while I did just float. I was facing forward. The Wall of Small Basel and the Blaise Gate passed me on the right, and Huldrych’s house on my left, and the bridge was too far to see. Then the last Walls of Large Basel on my right were passing, and the Saint John Gate, and then were left behind. When a man left Basel and Basel Time, he was given back his hour that he’d lost at his entry. So I regained mine. I pushed myself toward the right bank. It wasn’t difficult to move across, though it was slow.
I saw that the boat had been commandeered; the strong pull of two Watch on its oars was bringing it closer to me. Then it came even with me, but nearer the far bank, and then passed me, and I was never seen. I must have been a small thing, just my head, in the wide rippled river. Then I passed the boat, and the men on it were pulling the black robe from the water. They still never saw me. Then they were behind and I went on. All the city was behind me and gone. I felt beyond all the living.
It seemed strange to be standing on water, not walking but still making a good pace. I moved forward, or the bank moved backward. Which was really still and which in motion? The cold was numbing me but still I didn’t feel like leaving it.
Perhaps two miles passed, and at least a half hour. I was becoming very cold, submerged as I was all but my head. I waited for a great fish to come swallow me. Three days in its belly would take me long past the final Election. I began to imagine the last bit of me sinking and all floating down into the deep water. It seemed for a moment a pleasant thought. In all the dry, rainless world, only the Rhine still had abundance of water.
Then I began pulling my arms through the water, and pushing myself out of the flow. It was harder than I’d have thought and my arms were sluggish from cold. But the closer bank became closer and my feet touched mud and stones.
I wriggled onto and up the bank, to a warm, dry set of grass, and stopped. Now I felt how very cold I’d been and I was shivering in the peaceful sun; shivering from the cold, and in the pause from the chase. I thought a moment about how the chase had happened. But I was interrupted in that by falling asleep. It was a long sleep.