Wolf in Shadow

'And why should you, my boy? Does not the Bible say, "For behold I shall create a new heaven and a new earth and the former shall not be remembered; nor come into mind""?'

That's the first thing you've said that I have understood. What happened to the wagons?'

'What wagons, Mr Shannow?'

'I was with a convoy.'

'I know nothing of them, but when you are well you can find them.'

'Your name is familiar to me,' said Shannow, 'but I cannot place it.'

'Karitas. Greek for love. Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not Karitas — charity, love. . You recall?'

'My father used to use it,' said Shannow, smiling. 'I remember. Faith, Hope and Karitas. Yes.'

'You should smile more often, Mr Shannow; it becomes you well. Tell me, sir, why did you risk your life for my little ones?'

Shannow shrugged. 'If that question needs an answer, then I cannot supply it. I had no choice.'

'I have decided that I like you, Mr Shannow. The children here call you the Thunder-maker and they think you may be a god. They know I am. They think you are the god of death.'

'I am a man, Karitas. You know that, tell them.'

'Divinity is not a light gift to throw away, Mr Shannow. You will feature in their legends until the end of time — hurling thunderbolts at the Carns, rescuing their princes. One day they will probably pray to you.'

‘That would be blasphemy.'

'Only if you took it seriously. But then you are no Caligula. Are you hungry?'

'Your chatter makes my head spin. How long have you been here?'

'In this camp? Eleven years, more or less. And you must forgive my chatter, Mr Shannow. I am one of the last men of a lost race and sometimes my loneliness is colossal. I have discovered answers here to mysteries that have baffled men for a thousand years. And there is no one I would wish to tell. All I have is this small tribe who were once Eskimos and now are merely food for the Carns. It is all too galling, Mr Shannow.'

'Where are you from, Karitas?'

'London, Mr Shannow.'

'Is that north, south, what?'

'By my calculations, sir, it is north, and sits under a million tons of ice waiting to be discovered in another millennium.'

Shannow gave up and lay back on the blanket, allowing sleep to wash over him.

Mad though he undoubtedly was, Karitas organized the village with spectacular efficiency and was obviously revered by the villagers. Shannow lay on his blankets in the shade and watched the village life passing him by. The huts were all alike — rectangular and built of mud and logs with roofs slanting down and overhanging the main doors. The roofs themselves appeared to be constructed from interwoven leaves and dried grass. They were sturdy buildings, without ostentation. To the east of the village was a large log cabin, which Karitas explained held the winter stores, and beside it was the wood store — seven feet high and fifteen feet deep. The winter, Karitas told him, was particularly harsh here on the plain.

On outlying hills Shannow could see flocks of sheep and goats, and these he was told were communal property. Life seemed relaxed and without friction in Karitas' village.

The people themselves were friendly, and any that passed where Shannow lay would bow and smile. They were not like any people Shannow had come across so far in his wanderings; their skin was dull gold and their eyes wide-set and almost slanted. The women were mostly taller than the men, and beautifully formed; several were pregnant. There seemed few old people, until Shannow realized their huts were in the western sector, nearest the stream and protected from the harsh north winds by a rising slope at the rear of the dwellings.

The men were stocky and carried weapons of curious design, bows of horn and knives of dark flint. Day by day Shannow came to know individual villagers, especially the boy Selah and a young sloe-eyed maid named Curopet, who would sit by him and gaze at his face, saying nothing.

Her presence unsettled the Jerusalem Man, but he could not find the words to send her away.

Shannow's recovery was painfully slow. The wound in his temple healed within days, but the left side of his face was numb and the strength of his left arm and leg had been halved. If he tried to walk, his foot dragged and he often stumbled. The fingers of his left hand tingled permanently and he was unable to hold any object for more than a few seconds before the hand would spasm and the fingers open.

Every day for a month Karitas would arrive at Shannow's hut an hour after dawn and massage his fingers and arm. Shannow was close to despair. All his life his strength had been with him, and without it he felt defenceless and — worse — useless.

Karitas broached the painful subject at the start of the fifth week. 'Mr Shannow, you are doing yourself no good. Your strength will not return until you find the courage to seek it.'

'I can hardly lift my arm and my leg drags like a rotting tree branch,' said Shannow. 'What do you expect me to do?'

'Fight it, as you fought the Carns. I am not a medical man, Mr Shannow, but I think you have had a mild stroke — a cerebral thrombosis, I believe it used to be called. A blood clot near the brain has affected your left side.'

'How sure are you of this?'

'Reasonably certain; it happened to my father.'

'And he recovered?'

'No, he died. He took to his bed like the weakling he was.'

'How do I fight it?'

'Bear with me, Mr Shannow, and I will show you.'

Each day Karitas sat for hours, pushing the Jerusalem Man through a grueling series of exercises.

At first it was merely forcing Shannow to raise his left arm and lower it ten times. Shannow managed six, and the arm rose a bare eight inches. Then Karitas produced a ball of tightly wound hide which he placed in Shannow's left hand. 'Squeeze this one hundred times in the morning, and another hundred times before you sleep.'

'It'll take me all day.'

'Then take all day. But do it!'

Each afternoon, Karitas forced Shannow to accompany him on a walk around the village, a distance of about four hundred paces.

The weeks drifted by and Shannow's improvement was barely perceptible; but Karitas — noting everything — would shout for joy over an extra quarter-inch on an arm raise, offering fulsome congratulations and calling in Selah or Curopet, insisting Shannow repeat the move. This was then greeted by much applause, especially from the maiden Curopet who had, in the words of Karitas, 'taken a shine' to the invalid.

Shannow, while recognizing Karitas' methods, was still lifted by the obvious joy the old man gained from his recovery, and tried harder with each passing day.

At night, as he lay on his blankets squeezing the leather ball and counting aloud, his mind would drift to Donna and the convoy. He felt her absence, but he knew that with her talent she could see him every day and would know how hard he was working to be beside her once more.

One morning, as Shannow and Karitas walked round the village, the Jerusalem Man stopped and gazed at the distant hills. The trees were still green, but at the centre was a golden shower that shimmered in the sunlight.

'That is wondrous beautiful,' said Shannow. 'It looks for all the world like a tree of gold coins, just waiting to make a man rich.'

'There are many beautiful things to see during Autumn here,' said Karitas softly.

'Autumn? Yes, I had not thought. I have been here so long.'

'Two months only.'

'I must get away before Winter, or there'll be no tracks to follow.'

'We'll do our best for you, Mr Shannow.'

'Do not misunderstand me, my friend. I am more than grateful to you, but my heart is elsewhere.

Have you ever loved a woman?'