“Yes, Father,” Samuel answered, surprised that his father had asked him such a question. “It was to translate the first seventy-four lines of Virgil’s Aeneid. ‘I sing of arms and the man,’ ” he said, quoting the famous opening line of the poem.
“It’s a man, Samuel, a man.”
“Ah, yes, Father, a man,” Samuel replied, exasperation in his voice. “But Father, I have been reading a history of the Confederation Marine Corps’ campaigns, and I must say, it is more interesting than Caesar’s Commentaries. We read them last year.”
“More interesting, Samuel?” his father asked.
“Well, sir, as interesting. And a lot easier to read. No translation required.”
Zechariah raised an eyebrow. He knew his son’s moods and he knew what the next question would be, so he answered it now. “We study Latin because to understand the Bible you must study it in its original translations, and besides, the Fathers, chief among them the Mathers, were Latinists and excellent Greek and Hebrew scholars as well, so that is why we study those languages today. Now time is of the essence, Samuel, we must go.”
“But Father,” Comfort interrupted, “will the Marines come to this part of Kingdom? I’ve seen them on Samuel’s reader, and they are indeed handsome men and a lot more interesting than the young gentlemen we have around here.”
“Comfort!” her mother admonished.
“Well, Mother, you know perfectly well that Simeon Lawson’s been making goo-goo eyes at me. One of those off-world Marines might make a good husband for an eligible young woman. Like me.”
Zechariah knew his daughter well too. He blew out his cheeks in feigned exasperation. “Comfort, your little jokes try our patience. Now as to Marines, I do not know if they will ever come here. They are at present on the other side of the world, I hear. And you know there is widespread talk they are part of the problems we have been experiencing on Kingdom lately. I do not believe it myself, but respectable people think so. Now Comfort, Samuel, listen to me: to be a Marine is not a bad thing. Any man who devotes himself to the protection of others is blessed in the eyes of the Lord. If these Marines come, they come; if they don’t, they don’t, and that’s it.
“Now are there any more questions?” There were none. Zechariah looked at his family and smiled. “Sam, let’s check the doors. Consort, fire up the car.” He gave a small box of reading crystals to his daughter. “Comfort, you hold this. These are the town records, all the way back to the first settlement in New Salem. Hold ’em tight. All right,” he clapped his big hands together briskly, “we’ve given God His due, now let’s roll them out!”
The road to New Salem was unimproved. Trailing a long cloud of dust, Spears stopped on a ridge above the town. The dust swirled around them. “Nothing like the element of surprise,” Carlisle commented dryly.
Spears chuckled. “We’re in City of God territory now, Prentiss. They don’t believe in spending money on improving the roads, not the ones to the other territories, because they really don’t want visitors.”
“Since I’ve met all the other so-called leaders, can’t say I blame them.”
Spears held up a finger. “Now you’re catching on, Prentiss. Well, the place looks deserted. Let’s see how good our optics are.” He tapped some commands into the system, and the screen mounted on the floor between them filled with a close-up of the main street. He ordered the system to scan slowly. “Looks like everything is totally buttoned up.”
“Not even a piece of paper in the street,” Carlisle observed. “I don’t think we’re going to find anybody to talk to down there. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, Prentiss.” Spears fingered the handgun he carried in a shoulder harness. Spears knew very well that if the village had been attacked, the handguns would be useless against the weapons the mysterious aggressors had been using, but the mere presence of the puny weapons was at least comforting. “Jim, are you getting all this?” he asked the communications technician monitoring them back at Interstellar City.
“Yessir,” Jim Chang answered. “Transmission is very clear, Mr. Ambassador.”
“Okay, Jim. Prentiss? Shall we visit the ghost town of New Salem?”
The City of God did not share its demographics with the other sects, so the exact population of its towns and cities was not known. But New Salem, judging by the number of homes located there, could not have had a population much in excess of five thousand. It was one of the smaller of the sect’s towns. Altogether, the City of God was estimated to consist of a little more than 200,000 adherents.
The farmers of New Salem lived in the town, not in their fields, which stretched for tens of thousands of hectares in every direction. During the harvest they would camp in the fields until the work was done, but the life of the community was in the town. None of the community or commercial buildings in the town was identified. They did not need signs, because everyone knew where everything was in the town, and while the City of God believed in being hospitable to visitors and wayfarers, they did not feel it necessary to advertise. In fact, although the sect believed it was every man’s duty to work hard and prosper, advertising one’s trade, or success at that trade, was considered too brash, too commercial, for the vow of simplicity the sect required of its members.
So Spears and Carlisle stood in the empty main street and scratched their heads. Only the church—or meeting house, as it was called—was recognizable to them. And that was only because they knew enough about the sect to recognize the structure: it was the biggest building in town. “Let’s try there first,” Carlisle suggested.
They trudged up the dusty street, then Spears abruptly stopped. “Look at this building here, on the left, Prentiss. See those big doors? That must be a garage or a machine shop. I want to look through the window for a moment.” Inside there was a vast empty space, dimly lighted. The floor was concrete and stained with lubricants. Spears nodded and flicked on his hand communicator. “Jim,” he said to the technician back at Interstellar City, “have the navy give us a complete run of its close-up surveillance of the movement toward the Sea of Gerizim. I want to see what was in those convoys.” He turned to Carlisle. “Prentiss, there is a reason for all this at this particular time. I think it’s very important that we find out.”
“You think the City of God knows something we don’t?”
“Precisely. They’ve taken everything of importance that could be moved, including all the heavy machinery and mountings that used to be inside here. I bet if we look inside the houses we might find some furniture left behind, but everything they need to reestablish themselves seems to have been taken with them. Now what do they know that we don’t?”
“Fear of the attacks?”
“Possibly.” Spears thought for a moment. “They are certain they will be attacked by someone. Prentiss, we’ve heard the rumors that the sects think we’re behind these depredations. We know that’s ridiculous. The raiders are using weapons nobody’s ever heard of before. But the attacks have been random so far. No one particular sect has been attacked. Now why would the City of God think they in particular are in for trouble?”
“All this fear of this, fear of that, is making me nervous.” Carlisle chuckled.
Spears looked intently at his station chief. “Prentiss, I think you have good reason to be nervous. Come on, let’s bust into city hall.” He nodded toward the meeting house at the end of the street.
The Confederation of Human Worlds ambassador to the Kingdom of Yahweh and His Saints and Their Apostles drew his handgun and blasted the lock off the front door to the meeting house. The report of his gun echoed loudly through the empty street. He kicked the doors open and walked inside. Aside from the pews on the ground floor and some office furniture in the rooms above, the place was also empty.
They stood outside on the steps and looked down the main street. At the far end stood their car. “I think we should have driven up here, sir,” Carlisle said nervously. “It’s a long walk back to the car.”
He shaded his eyes and looked through the rays of the sinking sun. “Dark in another hour.”
“We’re not responsible, the sects are not responsible, so who or what’s causing all the trouble here?” Spears said, almost thinking out loud. “You’ve heard the rumors we’re not alone in Human Space, haven’t you, Prentiss?”
“Yes.” That thought had occurred to him.
“That’s what we’re up against here, I know it.” Spears smacked a fist into the palm of his hand. The smack echoed in the gathering shadows. Carlisle looked about nervously. Suddenly, he did not want to draw attention to himself. “But these bastards,” he nodded at the meeting house behind them, “are up to something too, and whatever it is, it’ll only complicate things even more around here.” Spears laughed. “By God, Prentiss, I think I’m actually beginning to enjoy this assignment!”
“Enjoy being scared shitless, which is what I am right now? It’ll be full dark long before we get back to Interstellar City,” Carlisle added.
“I know, Prentiss, I know. Well, we’ve seen enough. Let us make like the shepherd, Prentiss, and get the flock outta here.”
Since the Sea of Gerizim was well within the boundaries of the territory occupied by the City of God, moving the Faithful there posed no problem of real estate acquisition. The hills above the Achor Marshes were riddled with deep limestone caverns, and they had been prepared as an alternate capital many years before, during one of the many factional wars that had marred the history of human relations of Kingdom. All the Ministers had to do was plan the logistics of the move, and that had been done long before the five terrorists were dispatched to Siluria.
“Reminds me of the catacombs of ancient Rome, Increase,” Eliashub Williams remarked, standing deep underground in one of the caverns.
“That is fitting, Brother Williams,” Increase Harmony responded. “The power system will be operating by tomorrow at the latest. Dry this place out a bit. The stores are in order?”
“Yes and no. Some of the more perishable goods have deteriorated since they were placed in here many years ago, but the construction is still solid and the water supply is excellent.”
Someone approached them out of the darkness. “Ah, Brother Jones! What is the word from above?”
“The Lord is with us. The campsites in the oak groves are prepared, and if we are here until the next growing season, we can plant the land on the mesa. The soil up there is perfect, and above 200,000 hectares are available. I would say all is on schedule, brothers,” Elnathan Jones replied. He flicked his own light off as he came within the circle illuminated by the other two. “The last families have already moved into the camps. The temporary shelters are up and we should get through the winter very comfortably.”
“As soon as word comes that Brother Epher and his men have been successful, we shall move our people down here. The Cambria should be entering Earth’s solar system within the next forty-eight hours. Say two months from now the news will reach us? I’m leaving for Haven tomorrow, to attend to our affairs among the Ecumenical Leaders. I guess I’ll be in the center of the storm when it breaks.” Harmony smiled.
“We met in council, Brother Jones, and selected you for that grave duty, but I know the Hand of the Lord guided us,” Harmony said. “Are we ready, brothers?” The other two nodded. “Then let us go above, join the other Ministers and repair to our respective congregations, to tell them what is about to happen.”
Each congregation moved into its reserved spot in the vast oak forest in the hills above the sea and waited for its respective religious leader to join them. For the villagers of New Salem, that was the Reverend Mr. Resolution Bolton. Bolton was a small man with a powerful voice whose preaching, whether at regular meetings or days of thanksgiving or public fasting, funerals or baptisms, was enjoyed by all. As a man of great scriptural learning who spoke plainly, lived plainly, and loved his congregation, he was greatly respected by the people of New Salem.
“Can everyone hear me?” Bolton inquired. The people of New Salem were crowded under a vast temporary shelter but the acoustics were perfect. Assured that his words would be heard, the Reverend Mr. Bolton asked for God’s blessing on their meeting. Then he stood on the dais for a long moment, staring pensively at his feet, as if—wonder of wonders!—he was at a loss for words. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. At his first words, the entire gathering went completely silent, except for the occasional cry of a baby or a child’s exclamation, which were quickly silenced by anxious parents.
“I have just come from a meeting with the Ministers of the City of God. I have momentous and terrible news to reveal. Friends, our community of spirits is in danger from several quarters, and it is right that we have taken this refuge, but the worst danger is that which we are about to bring upon ourselves.” He told them about the impending destruction of the cargo ship, the SS Cambria, and how the Ministers hoped that would focus public attention on what they believed was the Confederation’s covert attack against the people of Kingdom.
The congregants of New Salem remained silent for a brief moment after they’d taken in the news. Zechariah Brattle was the first to come to his feet, the time-honored signal that he had something to say to the congregation. “I am a peaceable man,” he began in a voice almost as powerful as that of the Reverend Mr. Bolton. “But this—this scheme is murder!” His voice thundered on the word. “I will have no part of it!”
“It is the decision of the Ministers,” another man said, “and it is too late to stop it. We must hold together, no matter what comes!”
“I disagree!” a woman in the far back of the crowd shouted. “We are under no authority but that of our own community and our individual consciences! Under the covenant of our church, I request we vote to withdraw our congregation from the City of God.”
Pandemonium broke loose. The Reverend Mr. Bolton called for order and after a time it was restored. “Friends, the Ministers conceived this plan under the inspiration of a particular faith, and they believe it was revealed to them by God. You know that our God is a harsh taskmaster at times. However, I remind you that as we are all human beings, we can be deceived, by Satan, by other men, and by ourselves. I happen to agree with Brother Brattle, and since Sister Hannah Flood has moved—as it is her right to move—that we vote on accepting this decision, I second it. Since there are so many of us here, we will dispense with the secret ballot. Those in favor of the plan, remain seated, everyone else step outside, please. I will have the deacons count those inside first, and then those outside will be numbered one by one as they return.”
The shuffling and moving about took some time. The Brattles, along with numerous other families, stood in the trees outside and waited for the count to be finished. Zechariah looked about. From where he stood he could see that the congregation was going to vote to support the Ministers. “If that happens,” he told Consort, “we leave. Do you support me?”
“Yes, Zechariah, I do.”
He turned to his children. “We also, Father.”
Zechariah nodded. “ ‘Particular faiths,’ ” he snorted. “Lately there’ve been far too many of them, and they all seem to support whatever bullshit the Ministers want to put over on us.”
“Including the one you had about this move, Father?” Comfort asked.
“That was different—” He laughed. “Well, as the Reverend Mr. Bolton said, daughter, we sometimes fool ourselves.”
“Zechariah is right,” a woman said in the shadows next to where they were standing. It was Hannah Flood. In the dim light she stood there like a vast mountain, surrounded by her five children. Some years before, her husband had fallen into a cultivating machine during harvest. Since then, with the help of her neighbors and her own determination, she had carried on. “If you leave, Zechariah, we will go with you.”
“They’re calling us back in, Father. The count inside must be over,” Samuel reported. The Brattles, along with the other families that had been standing outside, filed
slowly back into the meeting hall. Each person over the age of twenty-one was counted by men standing at the doors. Then the votes were tallied.
“Friends,” the Reverend Bolton announced at last, “the count is decisive. One thousand nine hundred and fifty-three adults have voted to confirm the decision of the Ministers, against 872 who did not. Those who voted against are free to leave if they wish. I want it known for the record that I voted against the plan, but I am staying, because that is my duty. This meeting is adjourned.”
The Brattles trooped outside. “Consort, Sam, Comfort, get the car and get packed. We’re leaving tonight. I’m going to find Reverend Bolton and turn the town records over to him. I guess I’m finished being mayor of New Salem too. Oh, Comfort, find Hannah and her family and tell them and anybody else you can find who wants to go that we’re leaving soon.”
The Reverend Mr. Bolton lay prostrate in his tent, seeking divine guidance. Zechariah waited patiently until he was finished. Bolton’s face was flushed and his cheeks tearstained as he at last got to his feet. “Zach, this thing the Ministers have done is evil and the Lord shall punish us for it.”
“Here are the town records, Reverend.” Zechariah handed over the crystals. The two men were of the same age and had known each other all their lives. “I admire you for staying behind. Maybe you’ll be the one righteous man for whom the Lord will spare this Sodom.”
“Zach, I admire you for your principles. I’ll join you when the crisis is over.” The two men embraced warmly.
The Brattles and the several other families that had decided to leave the congregation were only a few kilometers down the road back to New Salem when the Skinks struck the encampment.
Starfist: Kingdom's Swords Page 22
