And the Jerusalem Man was alone.

Batik felt no sensation of movement. One moment he was looking at Shannow, the next he was lying face down in the gra.s.s on a hillside west of Babylon. Ruth was nowhere in sight as he stood and took a deep breath.

He wandered to the hill-top and gazed afthe city which lay squat and dark in the distance.

Covered by a pall of black smoke, it had improved little since he had fled it and he realized in that moment that he had missed the place not at all.

Ruth appeared beside him, and this time he did not react.

'How are you feeling?' she asked.

'Well. But you look tired.'

'I am weary,' she admitted. 'You have no idea of the energy I expend holding this body image in place. And as for carrying you across eight hundred miles . . .'

'Sadly I recall nothing of the journey. Is Donna here yet?'

'No, the wagon is half a day due west. If you start now, you should sight their camp before dawn.'

'How many in the party?'

'Two hundred.'

'I'm only carrying eighteen sh.e.l.ls, Ruth.'

'I am hoping you will use your brain, young man, and that there will be no need for killing.'

'I might be able to get to her and untie her. Together we could run, I suppose.'

'There is something else you should know, Batik.'

'I don't think I want to hear it.'

'She is pregnant, and in a coma.'

'I knew I didn't want to hear it.'

'I shall pray for you, Batik.'

'That will be nice, I'm sure. I suppose you couldn't conjure up one of Sarento's guns as well?'

'Goodbye, Batik.'

'Farewell, Ruth,' he said, and watched as she became ever more transparent.

As he set off towards the west with a jaunty stride he pushed the problem of the rescue from his mind. The whole mission was palpably hopeless, and he decided to relax and enjoy the stroll. Wondering what Shannow would have done, he chuckled as he pictured the Jerusalem Man riding up to the army and demanding the release of his lady. And he'd probably get away with it, thought Batik. Clouds scudded across the moon and an old badger ran across his path, stopping to squint at the tall man with the broad shoulders.

Then it was gone into the undergrowth.

He came across the camp-site an hour before dawn. They were camped in a hollow, having erected tents in a circle around the wagon. Batik knelt behind a screen of bushes and watched them for a while until he was sure he had placed all the sentries. Then, just as he was making ready to move, he saw a dark shadow creep across his line of vision. Pulling his pistol into his hand he crept out behind the watcher, moving slowly down until he was almost alongside. The man was lean and bearded and dressed hi clothes of dark homespun wool. So intent was he on the camp-site that he failed to hear the approach of the h.e.l.lborn.

Batik c.o.c.ked his pistol and the noise made the man freeze, but his body tensed and Batik knew he was about to do something rash.

'Don't be a fool,' he whispered. 'I only want to talk.'

'You've got the gun. Talk all you want,' hissed the man.

'You're obviously not h.e.l.lborn, so I wondered what you wanted from them.'

'None of your business. You finished now?'

'Probably. But I do have business here and I don't want you spoiling it.'

'Well, there's a shame, sonny.'

'Are you from Donna's settlement?'

The man rolled slowly to his side and gazed into Batik's eyes.

'What do you know of Donna?'

'I'm a friend of Jon Shannow. He asked me to help her.'

'Why isn't he here himself?'

'He would be if he could. Why are you here?'

'Why do you think?'

'You want to rescue her?'

'That's the general idea, but there's a sight too many of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. There's no way to sneak in; they've got seven sentries and a man inside the wagon.'

'I only counted six sentries.'

'There's one in that tall oak. He's got a long rifle and I don't doubt he knows how to use it.'

Batik unc.o.c.ked his pistol and slid it into its scabbard.

'My name is Batik,' he said, offering his hand.

'Jacob Madden,' responded the other, sitting up and unc.o.c.king his own pistol which had been concealed beneath his coat. The two men shook hands.

'We came very close to killing one another,' remarked Batik.

'You came very close to dying,' observed Madden. 'Let's pull back where we can talk more freely.' Together they eased their way into the undergrowth and back over the brow of the hill.

Here, hidden in a grove of trees, were two horses. On the ground nearby Batik saw a man lying on his side, a pistol in his hand. His face was waxen and haggard and blood was seeping through the front of his shirt.

Madden knelt beside him. 'Can't get to her, Griff. There's too many.'

Griffin struggled to rise, then fell back.

'Who is he?' asked Batik.

'Donna is his woman.'

Batik's eyebrows rose and he leaned over the injured man.

'Looks like he's dying,' he said conversationally.

Madden swore. 'n.o.body asked for your opinion,' he snapped.

Griffin took a deep breath and forced himself to a sitting position. 'Well, I don't feel too great,' he remarked. 'Who's your friend?'

'His name's Batik and he's a friend of Shannow's. Says he's been sent to help Donna.'

'Do you trust him?'

'h.e.l.l, I don't know, Griff. He ain't killed no one yet and he sure as Hades could have done for me.'

Griffin beckoned Batik to sit beside him and looked long and hard into the h.e.l.lborn's face.

'What do they plan for Donna?'

'They're going to sacrifice her, according to Shannow.'

'We must get to her.'

'Even if we did, how do we escape? Four people on two horses - and one of the escapers in a coma.'

Griffin fell back and closed his eyes.

Batik sat for a while, then he touched Madden's shoulder and the farmer turned. 'What is it?'

'There is a festival around this time of year. I have lost track of the date recently, but it must be close. It is called Walpurnacht and it is very holy; a great sacrifice is always made, there is dancing in the streets and wine, and all the pleasures of the flesh are sated. If it has not already pa.s.sed, then that is the time when they will sacrifice her.'

'How does that help us?'

'They will not have hundreds of guards around her in the temple. We must hide in the city and then attempt a rescue before the festival.'

'We'll stand out like boils on a pig's backside.'

'I have several houses.'

'How do we know they're empty?'

'Are you always this gloomy, Jacob?'

'Yep.'

'With horses we should reach the outer city just after first light. At least your friend can rest for a while and gather his strength.'

Griffin reached up and gripped Madden's arm. 'He's right, Jacob. Help me to my horse.' *

The journey took three hours and Madden rode warily down the narrow streets of Babylon - waiting for a challenge, or a shot, or a sign of treachery. But the people they pa.s.sed seemed little different from the settlers of Avalon. Women walked with children, men chatted on street corners and few paid much attention to the riders, or to Batik walking at the head of Griffin's horse. The wagon-master was wearing a leather coat to shield his wounds, and he fought to stay upright in the saddle.

Batik stopped a young boy who was walking with a large grey wolfhound.

'What date is it, boy?'

'April 28th.'

Batik walked on, leading them into a maze of foul-smelling tenement buildings and filth- choked alleyways to emerge at last by a high wall and a locked gate.'He lifted the narrow chain and hooked his fingers around it and Madden watched as the muscles in his forearms swelled. The central link stretched, then parted and Batik opened the gate and led them inside. The house beyond was of white stone with arched doors and windows.

Around the second storey ran an open balcony beneath a slanted tile roof.

'My sister lived here,' said Batik.

At the back of the house was an empty stable and there Batik unsaddled the horses and helped Griffin into the building. Dust was everywhere, but the house was untouched by recent human occupancy.

The furniture was spartan and Griffin was half carried to a wide firm divan by the wall beneath a window.

'I will go out and get some food,' said Batik.

'Has the festival happened yet?' asked Griffin.

'No, we have two days.'

'What is this Holy Night?' said Madden.

'It is when the Devil walks amongst his children.'

Shannow rode into the canyon at midnight, thirty-seven hours after watching Batik and Ruth vanish into the night. As he came in sight of the ruined city, he reined in his mount and stared in awe at the ghost ship. No longer was it a rotting wreck - now it sat in colossal glory, four immense angled funnels and six rows of lights strung like pearls along her decks.

The night wind shifted and the sound of music echoed in the canyon.

An eerie blast reverberated around the mountains, causing Shannow's horse to rear. He calmed it and watched as a trail of light shot into the sky, exploding in a cloud of coloured stars which popped like distant gunshots. The sound of cheering came from the ship.

Shannow slipped the thongs from his pistols and drew a deep, slow breath. Touching his heels to the stallion's sides, he moved down towards the ruins.

A dark shadow moved into his path . . .

'It's about time you showed yourself, Lewis,' he said. Three times now you've had me in your sights.'

'I don't want to kill you, Shannow. Truly. Turn around and ride from here.'

'Into the Zealots, hidden in the woods?'