'I am forty-four years old, and, yes, I have been searching since before you were born. Does that make a difference?'

'Of course it does,' she told him. 'Young men - like Clem Steiner - see themselves as adventurers. But surely with maturity a man would come to see that such a life is wasted?'

'Wasted? Yes, I suppose it has been. I have no wife, no children, no home. But for all people, Beth McAdam, life is like a river. One man steps into it and finds it is cool and sweet and gentle. Another enters and finds it shallow and cold and unwelcoming. Still another finds it a rushing torrent that bears him on to many perils; this last man cannot easily change his course.'

'Just words, Mr Shannow - and well you know it. A strong man can do anything he pleases, live any life he chooses.'

'Then perhaps I am not strong,' he conceded. 'I had a wife once. I put aside my dreams of the Holy City and I rode with her seeking a new life. She had a son, Eric, a shy boy who was frightened of me. And we rode, unknowingly, into the heart of the h.e.l.lborn War... and I lost her.'

'Did you look for her? Or did she die?' Beth asked.

'She was taken by the h.e.l.lborn. I fought to save her. And - with the help of a fine friend - I did. She married another man - a good man. I am what I am, Beth. I cannot change. The world we live in will not allow me to change.'

'You could marry. Start a farm. Raise children.'

'And how long before someone recognises me? How long before the brigands gather? How long before an old enemy hunts me or my children? How long? No, I will find Jerusalem.'

'I think you are a sad man, Jon Shannow.' She opened the basket by her side and produced two apples, offering one to the Jerusalem Man. He took it and smiled.

'Less sad in your company, Lady. For which I thank you.'

Angry words instantly gathered in her mind, but she saw the expression on his face and swallowed them back. This was no clumsy attempt to bed her, nor the opening shots in a campaign to woo her. It was merely a moment of genuine honesty from a lonely fellow traveller.

'Why me?' she whispered. 'I sense you do not allow yourself many friends?'

He shrugged. 'I came to know you when I rode in your tracks. You are strong and caring; you do not panic. In some ways we are very alike. When I found the dying brigand, I knew I would be too late to help you. I expected to find you and your children murdered and my joy was great when I found your courage had saved you.'

'They murdered Harry,' she said. 'That is a shame. He asked if he could call on me in Pilgrim's Valley.' Beth lay down, resting on her elbow, and told Shannow the story of the brigands. He listened in silence until she had finished.

'Some women have that effect on a man,' he said. 'Harry respected your courage, and hung on to life long enough to send me to help you. For that I think the Almighty will look kindly on him.'

'You and I have different thoughts on that subject.' She looked down the hill and saw Samuel and Mary making their way up towards them. 'My children are returning,' she said softly.

'And I will leave you,' he replied.

'Will you take part in the pistol contest?' she asked. 'It is being held after the Parson gives his sermon. There is a prize of 100 Bartas.'

He shrugged. 'I do not think so.' He bowed and she watched him walk away.

'd.a.m.n you, Beth,' she whispered. 'Don't let him get to you.'

The Parson knelt deep in prayer on the hillside as the crowd gathered. He opened his eyes and looked out over the throng, and a deep warmth flowed within him. He had walked for two months to reach Pilgrim's Valley, crossing desert and plain, mountain and valley. He had preached at farms and settlements, performed marriages, christenings and funerals at isolated homes. He had prayed for the sick, and been welcomed wherever he walked. Once he had delivered a sermon at a brigand camp, and they had fed him and given him supplies of food and water to enable him to continue his journey. Now he was here, looking out over two thousand eager faces. He ran his hand through his thick red hair and stood. He was home.

Lifting his borrowed pistols, he c.o.c.ked them and fired two shots in the air. Into the silence that followed, his voice rang out.

'Brothers and sisters, welcome to G.o.d's Holy Day! Look at the sun shining in the clear blue heavens. Feel the warmth on your faces. That is but a poor reflection of the Love of G.o.d, when it flows into your hearts and your minds.

'We spend our days, brethren, grubbing in the dirt for wealth. Yet true wealth is here.

Right here! I want each one of you to turn to the person beside you and take their hand in friendship. Do it now! Touch. Feel. Welcome. For the person beside you is your brother today, or your sister. Or your son. Or your daughter. Do it now! Do it now in love.'

A ripple ran through the crowd as people turned, mostly in embarra.s.sment, to grasp and swiftly release the hands of the strangers beside them.

'Not good enough, brethren,' shouted the Parson. 'Is this how you would greet a long-lost brother or sister? I will show you.' He strode down amongst them and took an elderly woman in a deep hug, kissing both her cheeks. 'G.o.d's love upon you, mother,' he said. He seized a man's arm and swung him to face a young woman. 'Embrace her,' he ordered.

'And say the words with meaning. With belief. With love.'

Slowly he moved through the crowd, forcing people together. Some of the miners began to follow him, taking women in their arms and kissing them soundly on the cheeks. 'That is it, brethren!' shouted the Parson. 'Today is G.o.d's Day. Today is love!' He moved back to the hillside.

'Not that much love!' he shouted at a miner who had lifted a struggling woman from her feet. The crowd bellowed with laughter, and the tension eased.

'Look at us, Lord!' The Parson raised his arms and his face to the heavens. 'Look down on your people. Today there is no killing. No violence. No greed. Today we are a family in your sight.'

Then he launched into a powerful sermon about the sins of the many and the joys of the few. He had them then, as his powerful voice rolled over them. He talked of greed and of cruelty, the mindless pursuit of wealth and the loss of joy it created.

'For what does it profit a man if he gain the world, and yet lose his soul? What is wealth without love? Three hundred years ago the Lord brought Armageddon to the world of sin, toppling the earth, destroying Babylon the Great. For in those days evil had spread across the earth like a deadly plague, and the Lord washed away their sins even as Isaiah had prophesied. The sun rose in the West, the seas tipped from their bowls and not one stone was left upon another. But what did we learn, brethren? Did we come to love one another?

Did we turn to the Almighty? No. We threw our noses into the mud and we scrabbled for gold and silver. We l.u.s.ted and we fought, we hated and we slew.

'And why? Why?' he roared. 'Because we are men. Sinful, l.u.s.tful men. But not today, brethren. We stand here in G.o.d's sunshine, and we know peace. We know love. And tomorrow I will build me a church on this meadow, where the love and peace of today will be sanctified; where it will be planted like a seed. And those of you who wish to see G.o.d's love remain in this community will come to me here, bringing wood and hammers and nails and saws, and we will build a church of love. And now, let us pray.'

The crowd knelt and he blessed them. He allowed the silence to grow for more dian a minute, then, 'Up, my brethren. The fatted calf is waiting, the fun and the joy are here for all. Up and be happy. Up arid laugh!'

People surged away to the tents and stalls, the children racing down the hill to the swing- boards and the mud around the stream. The Parson walked down into the throng, accepting a jug of water from a woman selling cakes. He drank deeply.

'That was well spoken,' said a voice and the Parson turned to see a tall man with silver- streaked shoulder-length hair and a greying beard. The man was wearing a flat-brimmed hat and a black coat and two pistols hung from scabbards at his hips.

'Thank you, brother. Did you feel moved to repent?'

'You made me think deeply. That, I hope, is a beginning.'

'Indeed it is. Do you have a farm here?'

'No, I am a travelling man. Good luck with your church.' He moved away into the crowd.

'That was the Jerusalem Man,' said the woman selling cakes. 'He killed a man yesterday.

They say he's come to destroy the wicked.'

'Vengeance is mine, says the Lord. But let us not talk of violence and death, sister. Cut me a slice of your cake.'

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Shannow watched the pistol-shooting contest with interest. The compet.i.tors, twenty-two of them, lined up facing open ground and loosed shots at targets thirty paces away.

Gradually the field was whittled down to three men, one of them Clem Steiner. Each was obliged to fire at plates which were hurled in the air by children standing to the right of the range. Steiner won the compet.i.tion and collected his prize of 100 Bartas from Edric Scayse. As the crowd was beginning to disperse, Scayse's voice rang out.

'We have with us today a legendary figure, possibly one of the greatest pistol shots on the continent. Ladies and gentlemen - Jon Shannow, the Jerusalem Man!' A ripple of applause ran through the spectators and Shannow stood silently, crushing the anger welling up in him. 'Come forward Meneer Shannow,' called Scayse and Shannow stepped up to the line.

'The winner of our compet.i.tion, Clement Steiner, feels that his prize cannot be truly won unless he defeats the finest compet.i.tors. Therefore he has returned his prize until he has matched skills with the Jerusalem Man.'

The crowd roared approval. 'Do you accept the challenge, Jon Shannow?'

Shannow nodded and removed his coat and hat, laying them on the wooden rail that bordered the range. He drew his guns and checked his loads. Steiner stepped alongside him.

'Now they'll see some real shooting,' said the young man, grinning. He drew his pistol.

'Would you like to go first?' he asked. Shannow shook his head. 'Okay. Throw, boy!' called Steiner and a large clay plate sailed into the air. The crack of the pistol shot was followed by the shattering of the plate at the apex of its flight. Shannow then c.o.c.ked his pistol and nodded to the boy. Another plate flew up and disintegrated as Shannow fired. Plate after plate was blown to pieces until finally the Jerusalem Man called a halt.

'This could go on all day, boy,' he said. 'Try two.' Ste-iner's eyes narrowed.

Another boy was sent to join the first and two plates were hurled high. Steiner hit the first but the second fell to the ground, shattering on impact.

Shannow took his place and both plates were exploded. 'Four!' he called, and the crowd stood stock-still as two more boys joined the throwers. Shannow c.o.c.ked both pistols and took a deep breath. Then he nodded to the boys and as the plates soared into the air his guns swept up. The shots rolled out like thunder, smashing three of the spinning plates before they had reached the top of their flight. The fourth was falling like a stone when the bullet smashed through it. The applause was thunderous as Shannow bowed to the crowd, reloaded his pistols and sheathed them. He put on his coat and hat and collected the prize from Scayse.

The man smiled. 'You did not enjoy that, Mr Shannow. I am sorry. But the people will not forget it.'

'The coin will come in useful,' said Shannow. He turned to Steiner. 'I think it would be right for us to share this prize,' he suggested. 'For you had to work much harder for it.'

'Keep it!' snapped Steiner. 'You won it. But it doesn't make you a better man. We've still to decide that.'

'There is nothing to decide, Meneer Steiner. I can hit more plates, but you can draw and shoot accurately with far greater speed.'

'You know what I mean, Shannow. I'm talking about man to man.'

'Do not even think about it,' advised the Jerusalem Man.

It was almost midnight before Broome allowed Beth to leave the Jolly Pilgrim. The morning's entertainment had spilled over into the evening and Broome wanted to stay open to cater for the late-night revellers. Beth was not concerned about the children for Mary would have taken Samuel back to the wagon and prepared him some supper, but she was sorry to have missed an evening with them. They were growing so fast. She moved along the darkened sidewalk and down the three short steps to the street. A man stepped out in front of her from the shadows at the side of the building; two others joined him.

'Well, well,' he said, his face shadowed from the moonlight by the brim of his hat. 'If it ain't the wh.o.r.e who killed poor Thomas.'

'His stupidity killed him,' she said.

'Yeah? But you warned the Jerusalem Man, didn't you? You went running to him. Are you his wh.o.r.e, b.i.t.c.h?'

Beth's fist cracked against his chin and he staggered; she followed in crashing a second blow with her left that spun him from his feet. As he tried to rise she lashed out with her foot, catching him under the chin. 'Any other questions?' she asked. She walked on but a man leapt at her, grabbing her arms; she struggled to turn and kick out, but another man grabbed her legs and she was hoisted from her feet.

They carried her towards the alley. 'We'll see what makes you so special,' grunted one of her attackers.

'I don't think so,' said a man's voice and the attackers dropped Beth to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and looked up to see the Parson was standing in the street.

'You keep your puking nose out of .this,' said one of the men, while the other drew a pistol.

'I do not like to see any among the brethren behaving in such a manner towards a lady,'

said the Parson. 'And I do not like guns pointed at me. It is not polite. Go on about your business.'

'You think I won't kill you?' the gunman asked. 'Just because you wear a black dress and spout on about G.o.d? You're nothing, man. Nothing!'

'What I am is a man. And men do not behave as you do.

Only the basest animals act in such a manner. You are filth! Vermin! You do not belong in the company of civilised people.'

'That's it!' shouted the man, his pistol coming up and his thumb on the hammer. The Parson's hand swept out from behind his ca.s.sock and his gun roared. The man was hurled backwards by the force of the sh.e.l.l as it hit his chest, then a second bullet smashed through his skull.

'Jesus Christ!' whispered the survivor.

'A little late for prayers,' the Parson told him. 'Step forward and let me see your face.' The man stumbled towards him and the Parson lifted his hand and removed the man's hat, allowing the moonlight to illuminate his features.

'Tomorrow morning you will report to the meadow where you will help me build my church. Is that not so, brother?' The gun pushed up under the man's chin.

'Whatever you say, Parson.'

'Good. Now see to the body. It is not fitting that it should lie there to be seen by children in the morning.'

The Parson moved to Beth. 'How are you feeling, sister?'

'I've had better days,' Beth told him.

'I shall walk you to your home.'

'That will not be necessary.'

'Indeed no. But it will be a pleasure.' He took her arm and they walked off in the direction of Tent Town.

'I thought your G.o.d looked unkindly on killing,' said Beth.

'Indeed he does, sister. But the distinction he makes concerns murder. The Bible is full of killing and slaughter, and the Lord understands that among sinful men there will always be violence. There is an apt section in Ecclesiastes: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity. A time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill, and a time to heal... There is more, and it is very beautiful.'

'You speak well, Parson. But I'm glad you also shoot well.'

'I've had a lot of practice, sister.'

'Call me Beth. I never had no brothers. Do you have a name?'

'Parson is fine. And I like the sound of Beth; it is a good name. Are you married?'

'I was. Scan died on the journey. But my children are with me. I expect they're sleeping now - or they d.a.m.n well better be.'