Read Online Jerusalem Man 01 - Wolf in Shadow by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Gemmell
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and it is for others to follow the path. In Allion they were stupid; when you have dusted a room, you do not throw away the broom.'
Shannow smiled and Griffin watched him relax. 'Are you a Bookman, Mr Griffin?'
The wagon-master returned the smile and shook his head. 'I tell people I cannot read, but yes, I have studied the Book and there is much sense in it. But I am not a believer, Mr Shannow, and I doubt that Jerusalem exists.'
'A man must look for something in life, even if it is only a non-existent city.'
'You should speak to Peacock,' said Griffin. 'He has a thousand scraps of Dark Age remnants.
And now that his eyes are fading, he needs help to study them.'
Griffin rose to leave, but Shannow stopped him. 'I want to thank you, Mr Griffin, for making me welcome.'
'It is nothing. I am not a weak man, Mr Shannow. Shadows do not frighten me, nor reputations such as yours. I will leave you with this thought, though: What point is there in seeking Jerusalem? You have a fine wife and a growing son who will need your talents at home, wherever home may lie.'
Shannow said nothing and Griffin wandered back into the firelight. Shannow remained apart, sitting beneath the stars lost in thought. Donna found him there close to midnight and sat beside him, curling her arm around his waist.
'Are you troubled, Jon?'
'No. I was thinking of the past.'
'The Prester used to say, "The past is dead, the future unborn. What we have is the Now, and we abuse it."'
'I have done nothing to deserve you, Lady. But believe me I thank the Lord for you daily.'
'What did Mr Griffin want?' she asked, suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of his words.
'He wants me to scout for him tomorrow.'
'Why you? You do not know this land.'
'Why not me, Donna?'
'Will it be dangerous, do you think?'
'I don't know. Perhaps.'
'Damn you, Jon. I wish you would learn to lie a little!'
Shannow rode away from the wagons in the hour after dawn and once they were lost to sight behind him he removed the Bible from his saddlebag and allowed it to fall open in his hands.
Glancing down, he read: 'Behold I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.' He closed the book and returned it to his saddlebag.
Ahead of him stretched the black lava sand and he set the gelding off at a canter, angling towards the north.
For weeks now he had sat listening to the petty rows and squabbles of the two scholars, Phelps and Peacock, and though he had gleaned some food for thought the two men made him think of the words of Solomon: 'For in much wisdom is much grief, and he that increaseth wisdom increaseth sorrow.'
Last night the two men had argued for more than an hour concerning the word 'train'. Phelps insisted it was a mechanized Dark Age means of conveyance, while Peacock maintained it was merely a generic term to cover a group of vehicles, or wagons in convoy. Phelps argued that he had once owned a book which explained the mechanics of trains. Peacock responded by showing him an ancient scrap of paper that talked of rabbits and cats dressing for dinner with a rat.
'What has that to do with it?' stormed Phelps, his fat face reddening.
'Many books of the Dark Age are not true. They obviously loved to lie - or do you believe in a village of dressed-up rabbits?'
'You old fool!' shouted Phelps. 'It is simple to tell which are fictions. This book on trains was sound.'
'How would you know? Because it was plausible? I saw a painting once of a man wearing a glass bowl on his head and waving a sword. He was said to be walking on the moon.'
'Another fiction, and it proves nothing,' said Phelps.
And so it went on. Shannow found the whole argument pointless.
Individually both men were persuasive. Phelps maintained that the Dark Age had lasted around a thousand years, in which time science produced many wonders, among them trains and flying craft, and also pistols and superior weapons of war. Peacock believed the Dark Age to be
Shannow smiled and Griffin watched him relax. 'Are you a Bookman, Mr Griffin?'
The wagon-master returned the smile and shook his head. 'I tell people I cannot read, but yes, I have studied the Book and there is much sense in it. But I am not a believer, Mr Shannow, and I doubt that Jerusalem exists.'
'A man must look for something in life, even if it is only a non-existent city.'
'You should speak to Peacock,' said Griffin. 'He has a thousand scraps of Dark Age remnants.
And now that his eyes are fading, he needs help to study them.'
Griffin rose to leave, but Shannow stopped him. 'I want to thank you, Mr Griffin, for making me welcome.'
'It is nothing. I am not a weak man, Mr Shannow. Shadows do not frighten me, nor reputations such as yours. I will leave you with this thought, though: What point is there in seeking Jerusalem? You have a fine wife and a growing son who will need your talents at home, wherever home may lie.'
Shannow said nothing and Griffin wandered back into the firelight. Shannow remained apart, sitting beneath the stars lost in thought. Donna found him there close to midnight and sat beside him, curling her arm around his waist.
'Are you troubled, Jon?'
'No. I was thinking of the past.'
'The Prester used to say, "The past is dead, the future unborn. What we have is the Now, and we abuse it."'
'I have done nothing to deserve you, Lady. But believe me I thank the Lord for you daily.'
'What did Mr Griffin want?' she asked, suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of his words.
'He wants me to scout for him tomorrow.'
'Why you? You do not know this land.'
'Why not me, Donna?'
'Will it be dangerous, do you think?'
'I don't know. Perhaps.'
'Damn you, Jon. I wish you would learn to lie a little!'
Shannow rode away from the wagons in the hour after dawn and once they were lost to sight behind him he removed the Bible from his saddlebag and allowed it to fall open in his hands.
Glancing down, he read: 'Behold I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.' He closed the book and returned it to his saddlebag.
Ahead of him stretched the black lava sand and he set the gelding off at a canter, angling towards the north.
For weeks now he had sat listening to the petty rows and squabbles of the two scholars, Phelps and Peacock, and though he had gleaned some food for thought the two men made him think of the words of Solomon: 'For in much wisdom is much grief, and he that increaseth wisdom increaseth sorrow.'
Last night the two men had argued for more than an hour concerning the word 'train'. Phelps insisted it was a mechanized Dark Age means of conveyance, while Peacock maintained it was merely a generic term to cover a group of vehicles, or wagons in convoy. Phelps argued that he had once owned a book which explained the mechanics of trains. Peacock responded by showing him an ancient scrap of paper that talked of rabbits and cats dressing for dinner with a rat.
'What has that to do with it?' stormed Phelps, his fat face reddening.
'Many books of the Dark Age are not true. They obviously loved to lie - or do you believe in a village of dressed-up rabbits?'
'You old fool!' shouted Phelps. 'It is simple to tell which are fictions. This book on trains was sound.'
'How would you know? Because it was plausible? I saw a painting once of a man wearing a glass bowl on his head and waving a sword. He was said to be walking on the moon.'
'Another fiction, and it proves nothing,' said Phelps.
And so it went on. Shannow found the whole argument pointless.
Individually both men were persuasive. Phelps maintained that the Dark Age had lasted around a thousand years, in which time science produced many wonders, among them trains and flying craft, and also pistols and superior weapons of war. Peacock believed the Dark Age to be
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