Free Solomon Kane by Ramsey Campbell Page A

him. “It has been a long time since anyone said that of me.”
    He bowed his gratitude to Meredith and for the first time heard her laugh. The sound was as liquid and spontaneous as the ripples of the water. He was bowing again to revive it when Edward intervened. “Enough of this vanity,” he said. “Let us eat and press on. We still have far to go.”
    Snow had begun to sift between the trees on a rising wind. Kane joined the family as they gathered in the shelter of the wagon while Katherine handed out portions of bread and cheese. As soon as all were served William said “Edward, grace if you will.”
    “Please, allow me.” Besides his need for prayer, Kane’s sense of belonging among the family prompted him to speak. William extended a hand in agreement, but when Edward said nothing Kane spoke only to him. “With your permission?”
    “As you will,” Edward said.
    Kane seemed to have won his approval, however grudging and conditional, and Samuel appeared to be content for Kane to lead the prayer. Perhaps he was secretly glad that Kane was ousting his brother. Kanebowed his head and put his hands together, gestures that brought many words to the brink of his lips. He had undertaken to pray, not to confess or to petition for his soul, and so he uttered the simplest prayer he could. “Lord,” he said, “we offer thanks for the blessing you give us in these ill-favoured times. And I offer you my thanks for delivering me from my own darkness and into the arms of this family. Amen.”
    “Amen,” the family responded, and everyone looked up. Meredith’s and Katherine’s eyes were moist, and there was puzzlement in Samuel’s. William’s had grown sombre with sympathy, but it was impossible to tell what thoughts had darkened Edward’s. “Thank you, Master Kane,” William said.
    The wind dropped as they finished the simple meal. A few unhurried snowflakes met Kane as he made his way back to the road, followed by the wagon. A crow that he had failed to notice in the trees gave a harsh cry that he could have taken for a signal, but there was no audible response. His having overlooked the presence of the crow made Kane glad to return to the open, even beneath the sunless sky. The sun seemed no more than a memory, and he could have thought the land was in the grip of some force more deathly than winter.
    Edward was driving the wagon, but the rest of the family had elected to walk. William and Katherine followed the wagon while Samuel and Meredith stayed close to Kane. He heard the boy murmuring to his sister before Samuel caught up with him. For some paces they walked in silence, and then Samuel said “Are you going to come to America with us?”
    “I’m not sure, Samuel.”
    The boy almost managed to hide his disappointment. “Why?” he said.
    “Because you and your family are beginning a new life,” said Kane, “and I need to undo my old one.”
    “You could be captain of the ship we sail on,” Samuel urged him. “You voyaged with Admiral Drake.”
    “I am sure it will already have a captain, Samuel.”
    “You could give him your advice,” Samuel said stubbornly. “He may not have been at sea as long as you have.”
    “I am certain he will deliver all of you safely to your destination.” As the boy seemed about to protest afresh Kane said “Just as you are guided by your family, Samuel.”
    For whatever reason, this silenced the boy. The only sounds were hoofbeats on the packed earth of the road and the creaks of the axles and the constant muffled rumble of the wheels. As Kane glimpsed a thin dark cloud beyond the frostbound fields, Samuel rediscovered his voice. “Those men who hurt you...”
    “What of them, Samuel?”
    “You could have killed them if you wanted, couldn’t you?”
    “If I had wanted.” Kane might have let Samuel believe that, but the truth would not be quelled. “There was a time,” he said, “when I would have cut their hearts out of their chests while they still