David Gemmell - Wolf in Shadow

'But we don't even know his name.' She stopped and looked at Cade.

Cade cleared his throat. 'His name was Sebastian and he was nineteen.' He turned away and made as if to leave, but a farmer's voice stopped him.

‘There's more to tell than that,' he said and Cade faced him, unable to speak. The boy was a killer,' said the man, 'a rapist and a thief. I knew his people and I can tell you he never did an honest deed in his life.'

‘That cannot be so,' cried Abigail.

'By God I swear it,' said the farmer, 'but I'll help dig his grave, and be proud to lift the shovel.' He turned to the silent Cade. 'I cannot explain all this, Cade, and I've never believed in gods or devils, but if a boy like Sebastian can give his life there must be something in it. I'd be grateful if you'd have me at your next prayer meeting.'

Cade nodded and Lisa led him away to the cabin. He was shaking when they arrived and she was surprised to see tears streaking his face.

'Why?' he said, softly. 'Why did he do it?'

'You heard her, Daniel. He was a part of God's Army.'

'Don't you start that,' he snapped. 'I didn't tell him there was a woman and children. I just told him to scout for refugees.'

'What you said, Daniel, to impress him, was that God had told you to send him west to look for refugees.'

'What's the difference? I didn't tell him they were there.'

'For a man so sharp and quick-witted, you surprise me. You might send a man out on a half-chance, but for God there are no half-chances. In Sebastian's mind the refugees had to be there -

and they were. And he was needed. And he came through, Daniel. Shot to pieces, he came through.'

'What's happening to me, Lisa? It's all going wrong.'

'I don't think so. What are you going to do about the prayer meeting?'

'What prayer meeting?'

'You didn't hear it, did you? The farmer asked if he could be present, and there must have been fifty other men who showed agreement. They want to hear you speak; they want to be there when God talks through you.'

'I can't do it — you know that.'

'I know it. But you have to. You began this charade and you must live it. You've given them hope, Daniel. Now you have to find a way to nourish it.'

Cade slammed his hand down on the chair-arm. 'I'm not a damned preacher. Christ! I don't even believe in it.'

'That hardly seems to matter now. You're Daniel Cade the Prophet, and you are about to bury your first martyr. There's not a man or a woman in Yeager who will miss your funeral oration.'

Lisa was right. That evening Gambion came to Cade and told him they would be burying Sebastian on a high hill overlooking the plain. He asked Cade to say a few words, and when the former Brigand walked out on to the hillside, with the sun beginning to die in fire beyond the western mountains, some six hundred people were gathered silently on the grass around the newly-dug grave. Cade carried his Bible to the graveside and took a deep breath.

'Way back,' he said, 'the Lord Jesus was asked about the last days when the sheep would be separated from the goats. And his reply was something that Sebastian would have liked to hear.

For it don't say a damned word about being good all your life — which is just as well, for he was a hot-tempered boy, and there's some deeds behind him he'd just as soon have forgotten.

'But when the Lord came to the people chosen for fire and damnation, he said, "Be on your way from me, you who have been cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the Devil and his angels. For I became hungry, but you gave me nothing to eat, and I got thirsty but you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger, but you did not receive me hospitably; naked, but you did not clothe me; sick and in prison, but you did not look after me.

' "Then they answered with the words, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger, or naked of sick and in prison, and did not minister to you?' Then he answered them, Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to oneof these little ones, you did not do it to me.'"

'You want to know what that means?' asked Cade. 'If you do, then ask it of your own hearts.

Sebastian knew; he saw the little ones in danger and he rode into Hell to bring them back. He rode to the borders of death, and they couldn't stop him. And right now, as we speak and as the sun sets, he's riding on to glory.

'And when he gets there and someone says — as they surely will — that this man has been evil, he has killed and stolen and caused grief, the Lord will put his arm around Sebastian's shoulder and say, "This man is mine, for he took care of my little ones."' Cade stopped for a moment and wiped the sweat from his face. He had finished the speech he had so carefully rehearsed, but he was aware that the men were still waiting and knew there was something left unsaid. Raising his arms, he called out: 'Let us pray!'

The whole congregation sank to their knees and Cade swallowed hard.

'Tonight we bid farewell to our brother Sebastian, and ask the Lord Almighty to take him into his house for ever. And we ask that soon, when the dark days fall upon us, the memory of Sebastian's courage will lift the heart of every man and woman among us. When fear strikes in the night, think of Sebastian. When the Hellborn charge, think of Sebastian — and when the dawn seems so far away, think of a young man who gave his life so that others could live.

'Lord, we are your army, and we live to do your bidding. Be with us all, evermore. Amen.'

Three men lifted Sebastian's body on a blanket and laid him gently in the grave, covering his face with a linen towel. Cade stared down at the body, fighting back tears he could not understand.

Gambion gripped his shoulder and smiled.

'Where to now, Daniel?'

'Nowhere.'

'I don't understand.'

'The enemy is coming to us. In their thousands.'

Shannow's irritation grew with the pain in his feet. Like most riding men he abhorred walking, and his knee-length boots with their thick wedged heels made his journey a personal nightmare.

By the end of the first day his right foot was blistered and bleeding. By the third day, he felt as if both boots contained broken glass.

He was heading north and west, angling towards the mountains where he hoped to find Batik and Archer. His belly was empty, and the few roots and berries he had found did little more than increase his appetite. Despite switching his saddlebags from shoulder to shoulder, he was also finding the skin by his neck rubbed raw by the leather.

His mood darkened by the hour, but he strode on. Occasionally herds of wild horses came into sight, grazing on the hills. He ignored them. Without a rope, any pursuit would be doomed to failure.

The land was wide and empty, the surface creased and folded like a carelessly thrown blanket.

Hidden gulleys crossed his path — some quite steep — forcing him to take a parallel route, often for some miles, before he could scramble down and up the other side.

An hour before dusk on the third day, Shannow came upon the tracks of shod horses. He scanned the land around him and then dropped to one knee to examine them more closely. The edges were frayed and cracked and the imprints criss-crossed with insect traces. Several days had passed since the horses rode this way. Slowly he examined all the imprints, until he was satisfied there were seven horses. This gave him some small relief; he had dreaded the thought that there might be six, and that the Zealots were once more on his irail.

He walked on and made a dry camp in a shallow arroyo out of the wind. He slept fitfully and set off again soon after dawn. By midday he had reached the foothills of the mountain range, but was forced to move north-east, looking for a pass.