Free StarMan by Sara Douglass Page B

eastwards and gather what remnants of the Brotherhood remain."
    "And then?" Moryson asked. "What will we do then?" "It is best that I wait until we are a dozen or so, Moryson," Gilbert replied smoothly, "and then I shall inform you of my plan."
    Moryson nodded, his shoulders hunched. Gilbert remembered Moryson as a strong and proud man, in spirit if not in body, but the man who now sat across the fire seemed shattered, almost servile.
    Well, he thought, Moryson has had a bad few weeks, and has seen his life and his power destroyed.
    No wonder the old man now appears to want nothing more than a blanket-wrapped chair by a fire.
    Gilbert smiled as he realised that the relationship between himself and Moryson had altered dramatically.
    Now he was the driving force, now he would say what was to be done and when, and Moryson would nod and agree and say that Gilbert knew best. Sitting about this fire were the two most senior members of the Seneschal remaining (for Axis had surely skewered Jayme by now), and of the two, Gilbert was the strongest. That makes me the leader of the Seneschal, he realised suddenly. am to all effects and purposes the Brother-Leader of the Seneschal!
    After gloating to himself for some minutes, Gilbert finally thought to carve up what was left of the bread and pass some to Moryson with some beef and a wizened apple. That should keep the old man alive until morning.
    Once they had finished eating and as the fire died down, Gilbert led the nightly prayers to Artor. Even during the most harried days of his escape, Gilbert had never neglected his evening and dawn prayers to Artor. Of all the things that could be said about Gilbert, lack of dedication to his beloved god was not one of them.
    Moryson and Gilbert were startled from their observances by a strange rhythmic thumping. It surrounded them, and the men exchanged puzzled and fearful glances as the noise grew louder. "What is it?" Gilbert finally asked, not raising his voice above a whisper.
    Moryson actually whimpered, and Gilbert glanced his way. If Moryson had seemed weak and fearful previously, now he was absolutely terrified. He had curled himself into as small a ball as possible, as if he could somehow burrow into the earth and escape whatever it was that came their way. " What is it?"
    Gilbert hissed.
    "Ahhh!" Moryson moaned, and wriggled some more, actually scraping at the earth with his fingers.
    "Moryson!"
    "Artor!" Moryson cried. "It is Artor!" Gilbert stared at him wide-eyed. Artor? For an instant Gilbert's reaction vacillated between outright terror and transcendent ecstasy. Ecstasy won.
    "Artor!"he screamed and leapt to his feet. "Artor! It is /! Gilbert! Your true servant! What must I do to serve you? What is your desire? "
    Damn fool, damn fool, damn fool, Moryson muttered over and over in his mind, not sure whether he referred to himself or Gilbert. Damn fool! He curled himself into an even tighter ball. The strange thumping increased, now almost a thunder, and Gilbert could see a light in the distance. "Artor!" he screamed yet again.
    As the light drew closer, Gilbert saw it emanated from two monstrous red bulls that were yoked to an equally monstrous plough. Behind strode Artor, one hand on the plough, the other raised to goad His team forward. The ploughshare cut deep into the ground, making a rhythmic thump as it thudded through the earth. Behind Artor ran a wide and deep furrow, straight as an arrow, heading directly for Gilbert.
    Breath steamed in great gouts from the flared nostrils of the bulls, and they flung their heads from side to side, rolling their furious eyes as if they wanted to trample all unbelievers and scorners in their path.
    But Gilbert was neither an unbeliever nor a scorner, and he stood his ground confidently.
    "Furrow wide, furrow deep!" he screamed as if he had suddenly become privy to the greatest secrets of life and death. He threw open his arms in an extravagant gesture of welcome and flung his head