Bloodstone by David Gemmell Page B

first torch and handed it to Aaron Crane. “By this act,” shouted Crane, “may the name of the Lord be glorified!”
    “Amen!” said the men grouped about him. Crane moved toward the first red wagon … and stopped. A tall man had stepped into view; he said nothing but merely stood watching Crane. The white-haired Oath Taker studied the man, notingtwo things instantly. The first was that the newcomer’s eyes were looking directly into his own, and the second was that he was armed. Crane glanced at the two pistols in their scabbards at the man’s hips. Acutely aware that his men were waiting, he was suddenly at a loss. The newcomer had made no hostile move, but he was standing directly before the wagon. To burn it, Crane would have to push past him.
    “Who are you?” asked Crane, buying time to think.
    “
They have gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion
,” quoted the man, his voice deep and low.
    Crane was shocked. The quote was from the psalm he had asked the old Mover to recite, but the words seemed charged with hidden meaning.
    “Stand aside,” said Crane, “and do not seek to interfere with the Lord’s work.”
    “You have two choices: live or die,” said the tall man, his voice still low, no trace of anger in his words.
    Crane felt a sick sense of dread in his belly. The man would kill him; Crane knew that with an ice-cold certainty. If he tried to fire the wagon, the man would draw one of those pistols and shoot him. His throat was dry. A burning cinder fell from the torch, scorching the back of his hand, but Crane did not move … could not move. Behind him were fifteen armed men, but they might as well have been a hundred miles away, he knew, for all the good they could do him. Sweat dripped into his eyes.
    “What’s happening, Aaron?” called Leach.
    Crane dropped the torch and backed away, his hands trembling. The tall man was walking toward him, and the Oath Taker felt panic surging within him.
    Turning, he ran to his horse, scrambling into the saddle. Hauling on the reins, he kicked the beast into a gallop for almost half a mile. Then he drew up and dismounted.
    Kneeling on the hard-packed earth, he tasted bile in his mouth and began to vomit.
    *   *   *
    Shannow’s head was pounding as he walked toward the group of men. The Oath Taker was riding away, but his soldiers remained, confused and uncertain.
    “Your leader is gone,” said Shannow. “Do you have other business here?” The thickset man who had passed the burning torch to Crane was tense, and Shannow could see his anger growing. But Jeremiah stepped forward.
    “You must all be thirsty after your long ride,” he said. “Isis, fetch these men some water. Clara, bring the mugs from my wagon. Ah, my friends,” he said, “in these troubled times such misunderstandings are so common. We are all people of the Book, and does it not tell us to love our neighbors and to do good to those who hate us?”
    Isis, her face flushed and angry, brought forward a copper jug, while the pregnant Clara moved to the group, passing tin mugs to the riders.
    The thickset man waved Isis away and stared hard at Shannow.
    “What did you say to the Oath Taker?” he snarled.
    “Ask him,” said Shannow.
    “Damn right I will,” said the man. He swung on his comrades, who were all drinking. “Let’s go!” he shouted.
    As they rode away, Shannow returned to the fire and slumped down into Dr. Meredith’s chair. Jeremiah and the doctor approached him.
    “I thank you, my friend,” said Jeremiah. “I fear they would have killed us all.”
    “It is not wise to stay here the night,” Shannow told him. “They will return.”
    “There are those among us,” said the Apostle Saul, the sunlight glinting on his long, golden hair, “who shed tears for the thousands who fell fighting against us in the Great War. And I tell you, Brothers, I am one of those. For those misguided souls gave their very lives in the cause of