Part 84 (1/2)

Beth hugged him again. 'You're a welcome sight for old eyes,' she said, feeling an unaccustomed swelling in her throat.

'Old? By G.o.d, Beth, you're still the best-looking woman I ever saw!'

'Still the flatterer,' she grunted, trying to disguise the pleasure she felt.

'Would anyone dare lie to you, Beth?' His smile faded. 'I came as soon as I heard. Is there any news?'

She shook her head. 'See to your horse, Clem. I'll prepare some food for you.' Gathering her rifle, Beth walked to the house, noticing for the first time in days how untidy it was; how the dust had been allowed to settle on the timbered floor. Suddenly angry, she forgot the food and fetched the mop and bucket from the kitchen. 'It's a mess,' she said, as Clem entered. He grinned at her.

'It looks lived-in,' he agreed, removing his gunbelt and pulling up a chair at the table.

Beth chuckled and laid aside the mop. 'A man shouldn't surprise a woman this way - especially after all these years. Time has been good to you, Clem. You filled out some. Suits you.'

'I've lived the good life,' he told her, but he looked away as he spoke, glancing at the window set in the grey stone of the wall.

Clem smiled. 'Strong-built place, Beth. I saw the rifle slits at the upper windows, and the reinforced shutters on the ground floor. Like a G.o.dd.a.m.n fortress. Only the old houses now have rifle ports. Guess people think the world's getting safer.'

'Only the fools, Clem.' She told him about the raid on the church, and the b.l.o.o.d.y aftermath when the Preacher strapped on his guns. Clem listened in silence. When she had finished he stood and walked to the kitchen, pouring himself a mug of water. Here also there was a heavy door, a strong bar beside it. The window was narrow, the shutters reinforced by iron strips.

'It's been hard in Pernum,' he said. 'Most of us thought that with the War over we'd get back to farming and ordinary life. Didn't work out that way. I guess it was stupid to think it would, after all the killing in the north. And the war that wiped out the h.e.l.lborn. You had the Oathmen here yet?' She shook her head. Crossing the room, he stood outlined in the open doorway. 'It's not good, Beth. You have to swear your faith in front of three witnesses. And if you don't. . . well, at best, you lose your land.'

'I take it you swore the Oath?'

Returning to the table, he sat opposite her. 'Never been asked. But I guess I would. It's only words. So tell me, any sign of him since the killings?'

She shook her head. 'He's not dead, Clem. I know that.'

'And he's wearing guns again.'

Beth nodded. 'Killed six of the raiders - then vanished.'

'It will be a h.e.l.l of a shock to the Righteous if they find out who he is. You know there's a statue to him in Pernum? Not a good likeness, especially with the bra.s.s halo around his head.'

'Don't joke about it, Clem. He tried to ignore it, and I think he was wrong. He never said or did one tenth of the things they claim. And as for being the new John the Baptist . . . well, it seems like blasphemy to me. You were there, Clem, when the Sword of G.o.d descended.

You saw the machines from the sky. You know the truth.'

'You're wrong, Beth. I don't know anything. If the Deacon claims he comes direct from G.o.d, who am I to argue? Certainly seems that G.o.d's been with him, though. Won the Unifier War, didn't he? And when Batik died and the h.e.l.lborn invaded again he saw them wiped out. Scores of thousands dead. And the Crusaders have mostly cleaned out the brigands and the Carns. Took me six days to ride here, Beth, and I didn't need the gun.

They got schools, hospitals, and no one starves. Ain't all bad.'

There's lots here that would agree with you, Clem.'

'But you don't?'

'I've no argument with schools and the like,' she said, rising from the table and returning with bread, cheese and a section of smoked ham. 'But this talk of pagans and disbelievers needing killing, and the butchery of the Wolvers - it's wrong, Clem. Plain wrong.'

'What can I do?'

'Find him, Clem. Bring him home.'

'You don't want much, do you? That's a big country, Beth. There's deserts, and mountains that go on for ever.'

'Will you do it?'

'Can I eat first?'

Jeremiah enjoyed the wounded man's company, but there was much about Shannow that concerned him and he confided his worries to Dr Meredith. 'He is a very self-contained man, but I think he remembers far less than he admits. There seems to be a great gulf in his memory.'

'I have been trying to recall everything I read about protective amnesia,' Meredith told him. The trauma he suffered was so great that his conscious mind reels from it, blanking out vast areas. Give him time.' Jeremiah smiled. Time is what we have, my friend.' Meredith nodded and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the darkening sky. A gentle wind was drifting down across the mountains, and from here he could smell the cottonwood trees by the river, and the scent of gra.s.s from the hillsides. 'What are you thinking?' asked Jeremiah.

'It is beautiful here. It makes the evil of the cities seem far away, and somehow inconsequential.' Jeremiah sighed. 'Evil is never inconsequential, doctor.' 'You know what I mean,' chided Meredith. Jeremiah nodded, and the two men sat for a while in companionable silence. The day's journey had been a good one, the wagons moving over the plains and halting in the shadows of a jagged mountain range. A little to the north was a slender waterfall and the Wanderers had camped beside the river that ran from it. The women and children were roaming a stand of trees on the mountainside, gathering dead wood for the evening fires, while most of the men had ridden off in search of meat.

Shannow was resting in Jeremiah's wagon.

Isis came into sight, bearing a bundle of dry sticks which she let fall at Jeremiah's feet. 'It wouldn't do you any harm to work a little,' she said. Both men noticed her tired eyes, and the faintest touch of purple on the cheeks below them.

'Age has its privileges,' he told her, forcing a smile.

'Laziness more like,' she told him. She swung to face the sandy-haired young doctor. 'And what is your excuse?'

Meredith reddened and rose swiftly. 'I am sorry. I... wasn't thinking. What do you want me to do?'

'You could help Clara with the gathering. You could have cleaned and prepared the rabbits.

You could be out hunting with the other men. Dear G.o.d, Meredith, you are a useless article.' Spinning on her heel she stalked away, back towards the wood.

'She is working too hard,' said Jeremiah.

'She's a fighter, Jeremiah,' answered Meredith sadly. 'But she's right. I spend too much time lost in thoughts, dreaming if you like.'

'Some men are dreamers,' said Jeremiah. 'It's no bad thing. Go and help Clara. She's a little too heavily pregnant to be carrying firewood.'

'Yes . . . yes, you're right,' Meredith agreed.

Alone now, Jeremiah made a circle of stone and carefully laid a fire. He did not hear Shannow approach, and glanced up only when he heard the creak of wood as the man sat in Meredith's chair. 'You're looking stronger,' said the old man. 'How do you feel?'

'I am healing,' said Shannow.

'And your memory?'

'Is there a town near here?'

'Why do you ask?'

'As we were travelling today I saw smoke in the distance.'