Chapter 3

When Faith found them, she saw Thane sitting, cross legged, atop a rock with his autorifle across his lap. Nor was squinting through a far-seeker a little way off, annoyed by Rasida, who was chatting to him. All three were dressed in allsuits and they had packs for supplies and spare ammo. Faith brought the water up onto the knoll and began to fill the water bottles. Thane smiled at her and she grinned back.

"Get a room, guys?" Rasida yelled across and Thane replied with the big finger.

"What's happening?" Faith asked.

"They're keeping pretty much inside," Nor told her. "Saw Allsinger a couple of times. He looked this way. He knows we're up here."

"Y'can set you chrono by them," Thane added. "7am, prayer, 10 o'clock, prayer..."

"12, and then Matins at 2. Yes, I know the routine," Faith said. "In between there's text readings and such."

"Days of continuous pleasure?" Rasida added, wryly. "Let's eat - no, let's pray instead?"

"That's insensitive?" Thane told her. "Likely they've no food left."

"So? Who's fault is that?"

"Gotta kinda admire their discipline, though," Nor said. "I mean, they haven't budged? They gotta be stupid not to realise they're gonna starve."

"And here's Bluefields with plenty of food for them if they weren't so stubborn." Faith said. "God will show them the way."

"They already know the way," Thane said. "Up the track, past the Fall and 5 klicks up the valley."

"Uh, oh!" said Nor. "I see movement. Hmm, there's that cross thingy. Looks like they're coming this way."

Thane slid down from the rock and checked the autorifle. Rasida fetched hers while Nor continued with a progress report.

"Better ride back and fetch Roger and Mikele," Thane told Faith.

The three remaining Arks stood on the knoll while the procession of 8 men passed below. Allsinger looked up at them, shading his eyes with his hand. He said nothing, and continued on. The last man was a youth in a white robe. He, too, turned to look at the Arks before stumbling after the rest.

"He seemed cute?" Rasida said. Thane and Nor shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

At Bluefields the humidity was such that many spent much of their time in the surviving pools of the Passion. They looked forward to the time, not long away, when the weather would break and there'd be torrential rains, and storms, for days on end. There were still 4 malaria cases from among the women and children who'd sought help from the Arks, but dysentery had largely been treated. The survivors were slowly regaining their strength with good food and clean water.

In one of the remaining pools, three women lay cooling off in the shallow waters.

"I can't wait for the rains," sighed Sean Beth. "I'd say it must be in the mid thirties."

"At least," agreed Reged. "Mikele says the water table's really low in the bores."

"Do you ever run out of water?" Charity asked.

"Not yet, thank god. Not in 17 years," Sean Beth told her.

"After it's been belting down for a week or more, you wish to see the sun. You fear the channels will overflow and fields flood? You dig banks and channels around the houses..."

"And still you have to feed out - repair leaks soaked to the skin..."

"Right now," Charity said, "I think that would be heaven."

"What's happening with Faith?" Reged asked Charity. "Has my son finally done the deed? He doesn't tell me shit. Haven't seen him all that much, in any case."

"I don't think so, Reged. I'm sure Faith would've talked to me about it. I'd say Thane's being very responsible."

Reged was seven month's pregnant and particularly uncomfortable in the heat. Her tummy was starting to thicken and she tired easily.

"Just so long as he doesn't knock her up," Reged said. "Leastways, they ought to time it better than Mikele and I."

"Too damned horny, you two," Sean Beth chuckled.

"Speaking of which, Charity?" Reged grinned. "Your cabin over there seems to be at risk of being rocked off its foundations? You and George getting along well?"

"We do okay," she reddened.

"Better than okay, I'd of thought," laughed Sean Beth. "Those permanent grins you two wear should be outlawed. It's bloody annoying."

"Hey!" Roger suddenly appeared on the bank. He was bare-chested with an ammunition belt and autorifle slung over his shoulder. "You'd better grab something to wear - we have company coming."

"Who?" Sean Beth looked up.

"Allsinger."

"Shit!" she exclaimed.

"Too good to last," Reged said. "Charity, we should look after the kids?"

"Is my husband among them?" Charity asked, apprehensively.

"Likely! I think they're all coming," Roger replied.

When Allsinger and his followers finally stumbled up from the track, they were confronted by a phalanx of armed Arks. Roger was determined there would be little opportunity for them to start trouble. Besides himself and Mikele, there was George, Shad, Jack, Easele, Costa and five others, all armed, and all in the black, Ark allsuit. John came running with Rada in tow. Thane, Nor and Rasida rode up on horseback behind the group and took their stations.

The Reverend Allsinger stepped forward. He placed the staff on the ground and appeared to be using it for support. Roger could see he was in some distress. Others of the group had dull eyes and the youth looked like he was about to collapse.

"Canaanites," he began. His voice was strained and croaky. "Our Lord had chosen to impose great travails upon us. In His, ah, wisdom, I believe he seeks for us to offer the word of God to the unbelievers."

"No-one would deny you the right to offer what ever you like," Roger told him. "We Arks believe in the complete autonomy of the individual, but, it is tempered by the rights of others to theirs. You may have your words, but, I would hazard to guess, few Arks would have the patience to listen. I suggested to you once that we ought to tolerate each other's customs. Our toleration, however, doesn't extend to exerting control over others. If the people who have sought shelter among us choose to grant their autonomy to you, then that is their right. But, Allsinger, we will not tolerate you using compulsion, by whatever means, to assume authority over those who are unwilling. If you like, that's our bottom line."

"There are men, here, who wish to be reunited with their families..."

"Of course. We've no wish to separate families."

Just then, the tottering youth keeled over in a faint. Rasida slid off her horse and rushed over with her water bottle.

"Back, girl!" Allsinger demanded.

"You'd deny water to the boy? Why?" asked Roger.

"I'm charged with the well-being of his soul. This woman would distract him from his piety."

"Aye," Roger grinned. "Likely she would."

But, the Reverend stood by ineffectually as other Arks came over with water to offer. At last, he accepted a drink himself.

Roger conceded the Faithful would likely remain there during the rainy season. The airship couldn't make the journey during the seasonal storms. Food was likely to be an issue, as Bluefields had about reached its sustainable level without the addition of 30 odd extra mouths to feed. Although they'd brought in additional stocks from the closest Ark settlement, Johnson's Flat, the Montseny, there, only had so much additional they could offer.

Bluefields kept pigs and fowl. There were goats that were tethered to the slopes and milked, and a very few dairy cows. The stock was housed in barns over winter and fed hay. In keeping with the philosophy and customs of the Arks, food was common property. It was anathema to deny anyone food, but the Faithful had imposed a dilemma. To feed them meant taking food out of everyone's larder. Such a decision required the consent of all of the Arks of Bluefields. Likely, that was going to stretch everyone's charitable inclinations.

There was a pressing need for accommodation. The available guest houses were full already and unmarried men refused to be housed with women. Likewise, married men refused to be housed with any woman who was not their wife our children. Such a dilemma was solved by bringing some of the tents from the lower valley - all, except the red one. Mysteriously, it was last seen floating in the swamp being contested over by alligators.

Over the next couple of days, Allsinger remained in his tent - the big purple one that was in the middle of the square. He wouldn't come out - his food and necessities brought to him by his male followers.

Matthew Allsinger was born into a Second Millenialist Church family in the Province of Belgium, Union of European States in around 2070. Second Millenialists believed global warming heralded the second coming of the Messiah and sought to incorporate as much Judeo-Christian-Islamic thought as was possible in the one faith. The flooding was considered God's punishment on the disbelievers and those of 'loose morals' who pursue money and sex before devotion to The Lord. The Second Millenialists, although ostensibly a peaceful sect, nevertheless, were held responsible for several sabotage campaigns in the Low Provinces during the 2080s and the Provinces of Belgium, Rhein-Ruhr, Lower Saxony, Netherlands and Bretagne officially banned them. That resulted in a number of splits in the Movement, roughly along traditional lines.

One of the smaller offshoots of the Second Milenialists was the 'Church of the New Redemption, ' lead by the former Second Milenialist Pastor Mathew Allsinger. The CNR brewed a volatile mix of old school Calvinism with the Second Milenialist belief of the impending destruction of all the world's sinners. A pious life spent in devotion and daily prayer was said to be the key to the door to Heaven. The CNR also believed the Lord set aside a sanctuary for them to use in the meantime where they'd be free of the debilitating influence of disbelievers. This land was called 'Canaan' and Allsinger maintained the Lord told him where it was in a dream.

It came as a shock that 'Canaan' was full of 'Canaanites' and these were armed to the teeth. The Jews had subdued the original Canaan to found the land of Israel and Allsinger figured his people would have to do the same. For weeks he'd waited for the airship 'Voortrekker' to return with another 50 New Redemptorists, but, it hadn't come. With sickness plaguing his colony he'd asked the Lord for advice and He'd answered. Allsinger and his loyal followers must allow the word of God to overcome the Canaanites where force of arms wasn't likely to succeed.

"Saint Patrick conquered the Irish for The Lord with prayer," he maintained. "Emperor Constantine was converted and so brought His light to the Romans." Constantine, a lifelong devotee of the Cult of Sol Invictis, would likely have been vastly amused by Allsinger's skewed version of ancient history.

Now the Reverend was surrounded by blasphemy and debauchery. Canaanite women and girls paraded themselves brazenly and mixed freely with boys. He'd heard their parents allowed them to indulge in premarital sex. No man among the Canaanites seemed prepared to bring order to their houses. The Lord would clearly find no place in Heaven for the Faithful providing they remained in this place of wickedness.

The women who'd sought sanctuary here had told their husbands the wife and children of Martin Goodfellow had been seduced into evil ways. How long would it be before the sickness spread to others in his care? The woman they called Reged insisted on bringing food and water to their tent, despite being immodestly dressed and clearly with child. If he hadn't good works still to do he'd rather die of thirst. But, something needed to be done - at the very least, the men of the Faithful must put their own houses in order so they may act as an example to the Canaanites. He summoned Martin Goodfellow, Charity's husband, for a quiet chat in his tent.

Martin Goodfellow was gaunt from poor food and dysentery. His tall frame was now stooped and he'd seemed to have lost more of his blond hair. He was at least twenty years older than Charity and, although he was cagey about his age, rumour had it he was nearly sixty.

"I have heard your wife is debauching with a Heathen boy of twenty," he told him. "And your young daughter Faith?" he added. "She is improperly keeping company with another. You son, too? He is said to be debauching with a Canaanite girl barely 13 years old."

"Yes, I've heard these tales, Father."

"Clearly you have a task to bring your house to order. You must confront your wife first, Martin, and if these allegations are upheld you must punish her."

"Of course, Father. And what of this youth?"

"The boy would need to be punished, also. Our Lord demands it. But, I would think his fellow Canaanites would defend him. We will punish this boy, but, when the time is right. When sufficient Faithful have arrived, we will deal with the Heathen. First, Martin, your wife, daughter and you must bring your son back to the Lord."

His wife in question was at that time riding up the mountain trail on her horse Sysyphus. Beside her was George on Goblin, an Arabian. She liked it up in the mountains where the air was cooler and way up ahead, the plateau, where you could feel you were the only person in the world.

But, Charity wasn't the only person. Down there at Bluefields was her husband Martin and his showing up had thrown her new life into the chaos of uncertainty.

As George was wont to do out of the environment of his home, he was wearing a full black Ark allsuit, autorifle and grey bandoliers. On his head was the black cap and, around his neck, the black/red scarf of the Black Guard. George, like many young Ark men, saw the Black Guard as the coolest of all the Arks. He'd obtained the precious scarf one Convoke from a drunk Machnovista.

Although Charity would claim she'd a distaste for George's warrior pretentions, nevertheless, it gave her an inward thrill to see him decked out so.

"Penny for them?" he said.

"Huh?" she turned, startled. "Oh, ah, just thinking..."

"About?"

"Huh!" she sighed. "About you and me, I guess."

"Oh?"

"Your father would say there's no endgame in sight."

"My father says many things," George replied. "Not all of it makes sense."

"My husband uses the word 'passion' but his passion is the one he feels when he prays to the Lord and He answers - or he thinks he answers. I'm not now sure whether our Lord was ever bothered by Martin's prayers - or the Reverend's for that matter. I do know, though, that Martin has never shown passion towards me. If we must part, I will always be grateful to you for the happiest time in my life - happiest, even, than the birth of my children."

"Your choice ought to be easy. Why choose unhappiness?"

"Spoken like an Ark," she grinned. "It is as if you have no responsibility."

"I have responsibility for myself - and to stand beside my friends and comrades when they require it."

"You saying you'd stand beside me when I'm finally confronted by my husband?"

"If that's your wish - of course!"

"My champion!" she grinned. "How far to that cabin we stayed in?"

"Maybe an hour?"

"Shall we stay the night there? Could we, perhaps, forget my 'responsibilities' for one night?"

"Why one night? We have food for a couple of nights and much more on the plateau."

"How long are you suggesting? Shouldn't we have told someone?"

"I have this." He pulled a black box from his leg pocket. "It is a transceiver. Roger made it. He has another and we can talk to each other providing we have clear reception. It is solar powered so never needs recharging."

"You have reception at the cabin?"

"Uh, huh! Roger's thinking of making a few for trade. He reckons it has at least a 25 klick range."

"So we can hide in the cabin for as long as you can provide food?"

"Uh, huh! Likely, when the storms come we ought to head back. The plateau can be a difficult place in the rainy season - twisters, hail ... all kinds of shit."

"But, until then?"

"Until then, we have each other."

"Hmm." She held out her hand to George and he took it.

Meanwhile, at Bluefields, Rasida was stalking her quarry. She found out the youth to whom she'd given water was called Erasmus. She thought it a silly name and shortened it to 'Ras'. 'Ras' was a good Ark name.

Ras was 17 and so was forbidden to marry until he was 21. Ras was tall and gangly - the son of Matthew Kohn who'd secretly defied his chief in spiriting away the women and children from Canaan. Rasida wondered whether the son had inherited some of the independence of the father.

Ras soon became the gopher for the men in the purple tent. Having insisted he didn't want any of 'those brazen women' coming near him, Allsinger delegated Ras to the task of fetching food and water. Such a task provided a brief opportunity for Rasida to zoom in on her target.

"Hi there?" she said, breezily.

Ras was filling a bucket from the bore faucet. He looked irritated when he saw Rasida. "You must stay away," he told her.

"Why?" Rasida asked.

"You're impure."

"Huh? Like I'm polluted or something?"

"All you Canaanite girls are profane, brazen and..."

"Nada, nada!" Rasida interrupted. "Hey, pure boy! First of all I'm not a fucking Canaanite, okay!"

"Go away!" the boy moaned, covering his ears.

"And secondly," Rasida continued. "You want 'brazen'?" she said, pulling up her top. "Then suck on these!"

Ras looked at her naked breasts aghast. He recoiled, tripped, and fell over, pouring the bucket out on the ground. Rasida burst out laughing.

To the north, John found Rada doing the laundry behind their house. He was growing concerned because he expected his mother to return soon after lunch and it was getting on for evening. His father was looking for her he didn't know how to answer.

"Gone with George," she told him. "Likely, they won't be back any time soon - here, hold these!" Rada gave him a pair of knickers.

"What do I do with these?"

"Whatever you like," she grinned in a mischievous fashion. "Try them on? Sniff them? I just wanted to see you holding a pair of my panties."

"You're terrible!" he replied, shaking his head. "Anyway, I don't know what to tell father."

"Tell him fuck," she spat. "Tell him ... right about now, she's likely having great sex with a hot guy. Speaking of which, have you cooled off or something? I haven't seen you for a few days."

"It's hard..." John looked away from her teasing face. "I mean, it's difficult..." Rada shook with laughter.

"One thing I like about you," she told him. "You always put your foot in it. You're so funny!"

"Y'know, father wants to punish mother for adultery?"

"He does?" she looked up. "How?"

"Usually, they flog adulteress's in front of the congregation."

"Do they? I can see Mikele and Roger tolerating that - so not! What about you? How to they punish you?"

"Um, a caning and a week's solid religious study."