‘Rabbit bones,’ said the priest smiling. ‘Bones of hares. It is not very . . . ’
‘You mean you . . . ’
‘This is how I live,’ said the priest. ‘I have no bread to offer you, I’m afraid. If you would please sit down?’
‘I think I had better . . . ’
‘I said please sit down. I shall tell you about myself. I have lived now for a year by myself. Alone. What do you think of that?’ The priest smiled showing blackened teeth. ‘You see, I couldn’t stand it any more.’
‘Stand what?’
‘The war, of course. I was in the trenches you see. And I couldn’t stand it. I wasn’t intended to be a soldier. I was studying for the ministry and they took me out here. I couldn’t stand the people one got in the trenches. I couldn’t stand the dirt and I couldn’t stand all that dying. What do I live on? I eat rabbits, anything I can find. One morning, you see, I ran away. I didn’t know where I was going. But I knew that I couldn’t stay there any longer. And I found this place. Perhaps God directed me. Who knows? I was frightened that someone would find me. But no one did. I used to hide in the crypt here. But today I felt very alone so I thought I would talk to you. Do you know what it is to be alone? Sometimes I wish to go back but it is impossible now. To hear the sound of one human voice again! One human voice. I needn’t have revealed I was here. If you had been German I wouldn’t have come out. I don’t speak German, you see, not at all. I’m not good at languages, though I did once study Hebrew. Now, shall we go up again?’
‘If you wish.’
‘I wish to preach. I have never preached. That is something I must do. Shall we go up? If you would go first? I was going to offer you something to eat but I think I should preach first. If you would please sit in the front row. You haven’t brought anyone else with you, have you?’
Colin preceded him, knowing that he was in the presence of a madman. He sat down in the front seat and prepared to listen. He felt as if he were in a dream but then he had felt like that for a long time since he had taken the train south to join up in the first place.
The minister went up into the pulpit with great gravity and began to speak:
‘I shall not pray because that would mean closing my eyes. God will understand. After all, while I was closing my eyes you might run away. I shall talk about war.
‘Dearly beloved,’ he began, his voice growing more resonant, not to say rotund, as he continued:
‘May we consider who we are? What we are? When I was young I read books as so many of the young do about the legends of Greece and Rome. I believed in the gods. I believed that we are godlike. My favourite god was Mercury because of his great speed and power. Later my favourite hero was Hector because he was so vulnerable.
‘I grew up innocent and hopeful. One night when I was sixteen years old I went to a prayer meeting. A visiting preacher spoke of Christ’s sufferings and his mercy so vehemently, with such transparent passion, that I was transported into that world and I suffered the thorn and the vinegar in the land of Galilee. I thought that I should lay my life at the feet of a merciful God.
‘At the age of eighteen I was forced into the army to fight for what they call one’s country. I did not know what this was since my gaze was always directed inward and not outward. I was put among men whom I despised and feared – they fornicated and drank and spat and lived filthily. Yet they were my comrades in arms.
‘I was being shot at by strangers. I was up to my knees in green slime. I was harassed by rats. I entered trenches to find the dead buried in the walls. Once, however, on a clear starry night at Christmas time we had a truce. This lasted into the following day. We – Germans and English – showed each other our photographs, though I had none. We, that is, the others, played football. And at the end of it a German officer came up to us and said: “You had better get back to your dugouts: we are starting a barrage at 1300 hours.” He consulted his watch and we went back to our trenches after we had shaken hands with each other.
‘One day I could bear no more of the killing and I ran away. And I came here, Lord. And now I should like to say something to you, Lord. I was never foolish enough to think that I understood your ways. Nevertheless I thought you were on the side of the good and the innocent. Now I no longer believe so. You may strike me dead with your lightning – I invite you to do so – but I think that will not happen. All these years, Lord, you have cheated me. You in your immense absence.’ He paused a moment as if savouring the phrase. ‘Your immense absence. As for me, I have been silent for a year without love, without hope. I have lived like an animal, I who was willing to give my all to you. Lord, do you know what it is to be alone? For in order to live we need language and human beings.
‘I think, Lord, that I hate you. I hate you for inventing the world and then abandoning it. I hate you because you have not intervened to save the world.
‘I hate you because you are as indifferent as
