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Authors: Robert Holdstock
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talk to you just then. But I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Jack.’
Jack stared at the man, cold in the rain, tugging his weatherproof tighter around his neck to stop the icy trickle of water down his neck.
Garth asked, ‘Dream of Greenface lately?’
‘A little. It comes and goes; it always has. There’s a strong feeling of a bull in the tunnel, below the shoe shop. I got scared again.’
‘You went back?’
‘I went back. There’s a real
life
in that place. Just like you said. The hidden city is alive.’
Garth stood for a few moments in silence, hands in pockets, watching the boy. Then he said, ‘You might be in trouble, Jack. I can’t be sure; but I thought I ought to warn you. To take care.’
‘In trouble?’ Jack shivered at the words.
‘They won’t let you alone. The bull-runners. You’re their channel to freedom. They’re coming closer. Can you feel that?’
‘Not for a while, now. I hear them, but they’re not close. Can you? Do you see them too?’
Garth shook his head. He lit another cigarette, huddled against the rain, his face momentarily wreathed in coils of an almost blue smoke.
‘Glanum
is
alive. You’re right. But not the ruins below Exburgh. That’s just an echo in stone. It’s important to make the distinction, Jack. What’s alive is in
you
and in
me
. We’re part of the same haunting, but it’s coming at us in different ways. The bull-runners have you in their sights; I have Glanum in mine.’
‘What do the bull-runners mean to the city?’
‘To the city? I don’t know. To the
heart
of the city? They belong together. Jack, I’ve been hunting Glanum for longer than you’d believe. Since before the Sixties!’ he added with a grin. ‘I’ve been hunting it so long I’ve forgotten when it started. I’ve even forgotten
how
it started … except that …’
He had drifted for a moment, eyes narrowed, thinking hard, remembering. Then he shook his head.
‘When
you
surfaced, Jack … when I found you – with your link with the bull-runners, I knew I was close to the end of the search. But I forgot the danger – to you, I mean. And since I can’t tell exactly what’s going to happen to me from one Godforsaken moment to the next, I thought I should find you. To tell you – warn you – that you might be in a lot of trouble.
‘But wherever I am, I promise you one thing–’
He squeezed the life from the cigarette and flicked it into the rain, then tightened his coat and tugged his wide-brimmed hat lower across his face as he smiled at the boy.
‘– I’ll keep an eye on you!’
And he turned and strode down the hill, a blurring figure in the misting rain walking deeper into the moors, heading towards the quaking ground, the low tors and fifteen miles of dangerous desolation. Jack wanted to call after him, but no words came. He watched silently until the city dowser wasobscured by rain and distance, then turned back to the hotel.
Garth was on his mind all the time, now; in dreams, at school, even when with Angela in the privacy of his house, his parents at work. When he articulated the ‘presence’ of the strange man, it was always in words that suggested a final reckoning was coming close.
‘Something’s going to happen …’
‘But with Garth, not the bull-runners.’
He hadn’t experienced any dramatic closeness of the bull-runners for a long time, now, and yet, especially when he was out on the hills, he could hear the woman’s breathing, her torn, ragged breath; his limbs sometimes ached with running when he had been standing still. There were shadows that alarmed him, of beasts rising from the marshes, or emerging from the swollen, roaring river down which he
sensed
he was swimming.
But they were not close. Only Garth was close. He was abroad in Exburgh, hugging the shadows of the old city, walking at dusk across the neon-lit streets, smoking, always smoking, glancing round, following the signs of the hidden town, kneeling at the ghosts of
Jack stared at the man, cold in the rain, tugging his weatherproof tighter around his neck to stop the icy trickle of water down his neck.
Garth asked, ‘Dream of Greenface lately?’
‘A little. It comes and goes; it always has. There’s a strong feeling of a bull in the tunnel, below the shoe shop. I got scared again.’
‘You went back?’
‘I went back. There’s a real
life
in that place. Just like you said. The hidden city is alive.’
Garth stood for a few moments in silence, hands in pockets, watching the boy. Then he said, ‘You might be in trouble, Jack. I can’t be sure; but I thought I ought to warn you. To take care.’
‘In trouble?’ Jack shivered at the words.
‘They won’t let you alone. The bull-runners. You’re their channel to freedom. They’re coming closer. Can you feel that?’
‘Not for a while, now. I hear them, but they’re not close. Can you? Do you see them too?’
Garth shook his head. He lit another cigarette, huddled against the rain, his face momentarily wreathed in coils of an almost blue smoke.
‘Glanum
is
alive. You’re right. But not the ruins below Exburgh. That’s just an echo in stone. It’s important to make the distinction, Jack. What’s alive is in
you
and in
me
. We’re part of the same haunting, but it’s coming at us in different ways. The bull-runners have you in their sights; I have Glanum in mine.’
‘What do the bull-runners mean to the city?’
‘To the city? I don’t know. To the
heart
of the city? They belong together. Jack, I’ve been hunting Glanum for longer than you’d believe. Since before the Sixties!’ he added with a grin. ‘I’ve been hunting it so long I’ve forgotten when it started. I’ve even forgotten
how
it started … except that …’
He had drifted for a moment, eyes narrowed, thinking hard, remembering. Then he shook his head.
‘When
you
surfaced, Jack … when I found you – with your link with the bull-runners, I knew I was close to the end of the search. But I forgot the danger – to you, I mean. And since I can’t tell exactly what’s going to happen to me from one Godforsaken moment to the next, I thought I should find you. To tell you – warn you – that you might be in a lot of trouble.
‘But wherever I am, I promise you one thing–’
He squeezed the life from the cigarette and flicked it into the rain, then tightened his coat and tugged his wide-brimmed hat lower across his face as he smiled at the boy.
‘– I’ll keep an eye on you!’
And he turned and strode down the hill, a blurring figure in the misting rain walking deeper into the moors, heading towards the quaking ground, the low tors and fifteen miles of dangerous desolation. Jack wanted to call after him, but no words came. He watched silently until the city dowser wasobscured by rain and distance, then turned back to the hotel.
Garth was on his mind all the time, now; in dreams, at school, even when with Angela in the privacy of his house, his parents at work. When he articulated the ‘presence’ of the strange man, it was always in words that suggested a final reckoning was coming close.
‘Something’s going to happen …’
‘But with Garth, not the bull-runners.’
He hadn’t experienced any dramatic closeness of the bull-runners for a long time, now, and yet, especially when he was out on the hills, he could hear the woman’s breathing, her torn, ragged breath; his limbs sometimes ached with running when he had been standing still. There were shadows that alarmed him, of beasts rising from the marshes, or emerging from the swollen, roaring river down which he
sensed
he was swimming.
But they were not close. Only Garth was close. He was abroad in Exburgh, hugging the shadows of the old city, walking at dusk across the neon-lit streets, smoking, always smoking, glancing round, following the signs of the hidden town, kneeling at the ghosts of
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