Jerusalem Man 03 - Bloodstone Read Online Free PDF

yellowing now, fading fast, and the groove in his skull was covered by a thick scab. His hair had been trimmed close to his head, but he could still see where the fire had scorched the scalp.

    Fire.
    Another flash of memory! Planks ablaze, and Shannow hurling his body at the timbers time and again until they gave. A man beyond with pistol raised. The shot, hitting his head like a hammer. Then that vision also faded.
    He had been in a church. Why? Listening to a sermon perhaps.
    Easing himself from the bed, he saw that his clothes were folded neatly on a chair by a small window, the burned coat having been cleaned and patched with black cloth. As he dressed he looked around the cabin of the wagon. The bed was narrow, but well made of polished pine, and there were two pine chairs and a small table by the window. The walls were painted green, there were elaborate carvings around the window in the shape of vine leaves, and a strange motif had been carved above the door- two overlapping triangles making a star. A bookshelf sat upon two brackets above the bed.
    Buckling his gun scabbards to his hips Shannow scanned the books. There was a Bible, of course, and several fictions, but at the end was a tall, thin volume with dry, yellowed pages. Shannow pulled it clear and carried it to the window. The sun was setting and he could just make out the title in faded gold leaf.
    The Chronicle of Western Costume by John Peacock. With great care he turned the pages. Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Tudor, Stuart, Cromwellian . . . Every page showed men and women dressed in different clothing, and each page carried dates. It was fascinating. Until the coming of the planes many men had believed that only three hundred years had passed since the death of Christ. But the men and women travelling in those great ships of the sky had changed all that, consigning the previous theories to the dust of history. Shannow paused. How do I know that? He replaced the book, then moved to the rear of the cabin, opening the door and climbing unsteadily down the three steps to the ground.
    A young woman with short blonde hair was walking towards him carrying a dish of stew. 'You should still be in bed,' she admonished him. In truth he felt weak and breathless, and sat back on the wagon steps, accepting the stew.
    Thank you, lady.' She was extraordinarily pretty, her eyes blue-green, her skin pale tan.
    'Is your memory returning, Mr Shannow?'
    'No,' he said, then began to eat.
    'It will in time,' she assured him. The outside of the wagon was painted in shades of green and red, and from where he sat Shannow could see ten other wagons similarly decorated.
    'Where are you all going?' he asked.
    'Where we like,' said the girl. 'My name is Isis.' She held out her hand and Shannow took it. Her handshake was firm and strong.
    'You are a good cook, Isis. The stew is very fine.'
    Ignoring the compliment, she sat down beside him. 'Doctor Meredith thinks you may have a cracked skull. Do you remember nothing at all?'
    'Nothing I wish to talk about,' he said. 'Tell me about you.'
    'There is little to tell,' she told him. 'We are what you see, Wanderers. We follow the sun and the wind. In Summer we dance, in Winter we freeze. It is a good way to be.'
    'It has a certain charm,' said Shannow. 'Yet is there no destination?'
    She looked at him in silence for a moment, her large blue eyes holding his gaze. 'Life is a journey with only one destination, Mr Shannow. Or do you see it otherwise?'
    'It doesn't pay to argue with Isis,' said Jeremiah, moving into sight. Shannow looked up into the old man's grizzled face.

    ‘I think that is true,' he said, rising from the step. He felt unsteady and weak, and reached out to grasp the edge of the wagon. Taking a deep breath, Shannow moved into the open. Jeremiah stepped alongside, taking his arm.
    'You are a tough man, Mr Shannow, but your wounds were severe.'
    'Wounds heal, Jeremiah.' Shannow gazed at the mountains. The nearest were speckled with