'If you carry a pick and shovel,' said Declan, pointing at the wagon. 'I would borrow them.'
The old man climbed to the driving seat, ducked below the awning, and as he moved between the heavy curtain of animal skins behind it, a light much brighter than that of the moon shone briefly from inside the wagon. A moment later he emerged with the implements Declan had requested and with them two unequal lengths of yellow, planed wood. He gave Declan the pick and shovel, but before passing down the pieces of wood he held the shorter one transversely across the longer, closed his large, soft eyes for a moment and then handed them to him joined together as one single, crossed shape.
'How did you do that, master?' said Sean, excitedly asking the question that Declan was about to ask. 'My family have always followed the Druidic teachings, but I've heard tell of that symbol. They say that it is reverenced and used on their grave markers by a religious sect that is gaining support in the Mediterranean nations and there are a few even in Hibernia. They call themselves the Followers of the Christus. Are you also a…?'
'I am not…' Ma'el began gently.
'Nor I,' Declan broke in, shaking the joined wood. 'What means this?'
'They are the followers of a Jewish lawgiver and prophet,' Sean replied in the voice of one who is anxious to impress others with his knowledge. 'He was gentle and taught the ways of meekness and love and respect between all men.' He pointed to the wooden cross in Declan's hand. 'For teaching that dreadful heresy, three centuries ago the Romans nailed him to a tree.'
'… but I was interested in his teachings,' Ma'el went on as if the others had not spoken, 'because among other things he taught that there was a life after this one. I regretted his shameful and unjust death and that I was prevented from meeting and talking with him, but…'
'Do you think,' said Declan in a disbelieving voice as he gestured with the cross toward the trees, 'that the leader of the robbers was one of these followers? Considering his violent and bloody plans for you, surely that is most unlikely?'
'… the Christus preached of the existence of a supreme being who knew all things because he himself had made all things,' Ma'el continued gently, 'and who was all-powerful and, withal, was understanding and compassionate with all of his creatures. My feeling is that the dead robber may have need of such a benign and forgiving being.'
Without another word Declan walked slowly toward the trees, the pick and shovel handles gripped in one hand and the wooden cross in the other. He was no longer feeling cold but twice he gave a small shiver of wonder.
The first time was when he took a very close look at the grave marker. The join between the vertical and horizontal pieces was smooth and without a hairline crack showing, and it was work of a degree of excellence that would make a master carpenter proud. But Ma'el had used no tools, instead he had merely closed his eyes and pressed the two pieces of wood together. Many times Declan had watched so-called wizards and magicians practicing their craft at country markets or for the amusement of the highborn, where the onlookers had gasped or shouted with wonder at their tricks and tossed coins or bought the magic potions that were on sale afterward. But this simple joining of wood was a quieter and much more wondrous form of magic because he was holding it in his own hands and there was no trickery involved.
–
The second shiver was when he remembered the old man's words about the Christus who had died over three centuries ago. Ma'el had not said that the holy man had died before he was born or when he was too young to travel to meet him. Instead he had said that he regretted that something had prevented them from meeting and talking together as Ma'el had wanted. Surely that meant that old man and the Christus had been alive at the same time.
Just how old, Declan wondered, was this old man supposed to be?
When the work of burying the robber leader was done, he returned to the others to find that all was silent Ma'el was inside the wagon and Sean was stretched along the driving bench and breathing evenly underneath his blankets. Declan laid down the pick and shovel silently and moved back to the dying fire.
For a long time he sat crosslegged with Ma'el's blankets draped around his shoulders, warm and tired and comfortable but with his mind too busy for any thought of sleep. It was not the thought of the robbers coming back that disturbed his mind; they were a craven bunch who would prefer to rob less dangerous victims, but thoughts about the strange people he had met and saved: the old, old magician of power, and his young apprentice healer and servant who seemed to know many more things than a boy of his age should be able to comprehend.
Declan did not know whether he stopped drinking about them before or after he fell asleep. But suddenly he was looking at the gray and white ashes of the dead fire, the sun was rising in a cloudless sky above the trees in whose branches birds were singing, and an ungentle foot was kicking him in the back.
'For someone who was supposed to remain wakeful all night,' said Sean, looking down at him with an expression of disfavor, 'you make the most horrendous sounds while you are not sleeping.'
CHAPTER THREE
Excerpt from Ma'el Report. Day 112,538…
It had gone much better than I thought it would, and my feeling of pleasure is only slightly diluted by the knowledge that my recent choice of inaction, apart from the use of a nonviolent hand light which helped save my servant's life and that of the new one if he chooses to join me. But it is becoming increasingly difficult, even for the most respected scientist member of the Synod, to remain unfeeling where the subjects of his report are concerned.
'Until my assignment to this planet I could not have believed that a species with so many handicaps could exist, much less continue to survive and develop a rudimentary technology as well as a wide range of variant social systems. They have no ability to view their own future, either as individuals or racial groups, unlike the gifted among the Taelon who can see hours or days or, in flashes, even years ahead if they themselves should be personally involved in the events to come. The people of Earth have knowledge only of the past and present while the future remains a dark curtain through which they stumble blindly from second to second, although a few of the more intelligent specimens are able to use the experience and information gathered from their past to predict, very inaccurately, their future.
'By Taelon standards they are pitifully underdeveloped both socially and scientifically, and a scientist of my standing must not become emotionally involved with specimens under examination.
'I allowed that to happen during the second century of my visit, and many specimens died needlessly and the continued survival of the whole species had been placed at risk until my peripheral experiment with mind-altering substances was corrected. I do not want to repeat such mistakes.
'But today's decision is a minor one, merely whether or not I should reveal my advanced technology behind my chart, and perhaps risk frightening both of them into flight, or to hide it from them by telling only a small part of the truth.
'Moral cowardice dictates that I choose the latter course…'
–
As soon as Declan climbed to his feet he saw that another fire had been kindled several paces away, probably at Ma'el's insistence so that Sean's preparations for the morning meal would not interrupt his rest. A kindly and considerate old man, he thought as he sat down across from the two of them, and one he had decided that he would not willingly offend in either word or deed.
Ma'el pointed at a bowl and platters that were close to Declan's hand and then at the pot of gruel that was bubbling over the fire. In his gentle voice he asked, 'You are hungry?'
'Always,' said Declan, smiling.
He ladled hot gruel into his bowl and spooned it carefully into his mouth, feeling its heat warming his body right down to his toes. The platter contained a few pieces of heavy, pleasantly spiced bread which, despite their small size, seemed to fill him to such repletion that his belly had scarcely room for the large, yellow apple with the blush of pink on it that followed.
No apple should look and taste so fresh and crisp and juicy this late in the year, he knew, when most of the
