The Two Confessions John Whitbourn (best books for students to read txt) 📖

a whole neglected army of them, long deprived of rations.

‘Mustyou go?’ he asked. ‘In fact, don't go. No need. Stay. Tell you what,Jane - that's your name, isn't it? Marry me if you like....’

Heshocked himself as much as her. He heard his voice saying so, but noneof the expected ‘common sense’ cavils stampeded in its train. That wasn’t likehim either.

Theoffer hung in the air. It had put her mouth into an O of surprise. Then,presumably by way of consent, she slowly lowered it onto Samuel’s cock. Whichrose to the occasion.

Trevanrecognised a contract when he saw - or enjoyed - one. He felt god-like anddeserving of everything. Having risked so much and endured so much and workedso hard, it was now life's long overdue turn to fit in with him. He'dhave whatever good things it could give - and not stint on them either. And ifthere remained any opposition, or should new problems arise, then his wealth orthe Sicarii would sweep them all away. Or crush them.

So,what if this week he married this delicious wench and set her up somewhereconvenient? There was no one to see or object, not to hand nor in Heaven. Whowas around to say nay?

Thatbeing so, he’d damned well do it.

Andnext week he'd go to Lewes and marry again.

************

Attendanceat Father Omar's funeral Mass was phenomenal. Half Lewes town turned up, and formerSt Philipians, many of them now nicely established, came from all over UnitedEngland. The Bishop preached about good shepherds, the orphanage choir sangPurcell's sublime requiem for 'King James-the-True', and even prim people sofar forgot themselves as to fight to touch the bier as it left St Pancras'priory church. A sharp summer shower, like the sudden fall of tears, did notdisperse them or dampen their fervour. On the contrary, it seemed fitting.

Samuelwould have enjoyed that honourable scrimmage and been first and fiercest amongthem. Not a few looked for him there but looked in vain. He had a pressingalternative engagement at that precise moment: mounting his Welsh fiancée.

Someonewho knew Omar well had acquired some soil from the Holy City. A handful of itfollowed the deceased into the grave, landing on the shrouded face. Then thegrown-up orphan boys, weeping or grim according to type, piled on the morehomely but almost as loved earth of Omar's adopted Sussex.

Thatnight the Town taverns did poor business. Some even shut as a mark of respect.The dead priest's name was commended to God from numerous devotions, and wouldbe (though, naturally, at rapidly declining rate) for some time to come.

TheCathedral recalled deceased priests of the diocese every year at a specialMass. Their collective labours and dedication were thus brought to the Deity'sattention, but there were just too many for individual mention. Likewise withSt Philip's Orphanage 'founders-day' observances, when prayers were said forteachers past.

Omarleft behind a pitiful sum, not even enough to purchase one year's obits;but his executors concluded that must be by choice. It was all too like him toprior disperse what little he had in charity.

Truthwas, people assumed Omar Abdalhaqq ibn J'nna would not be long in purgatory inany case, and therefore unneedful of prayers. Perversely, the lack ofarrangements was a tribute to his memory. They meant well. It simply did notoccur to anyone that his wishes might be strongly otherwise.

FatherOmar had entrusted that knowledge to only one other person - and died withmisplaced faith in him intact.

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

************

************

THESECOND CONFESSION

'Nothing is true, and everything is permissible.'

Traditionally attributed to Hassan i Sabbah, 'The OldMan of the Mountains'. (1034?-1124 AD)

************

‘We should be careful

 

of each other, we should be kind.

While there is still time.’

 

Philip Larkin. ‘The Mower’. 12th June 1979 AD

************

************

************

THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2020

'I am fainto find God's city,

That lieshid in Sussex hills....'

 

'The HiddenCity'. ArthurF. Bell.

************

'For LewesTown like Heaven is,

And Heavenis like Lewes Town.'

 

'St Peter& St Paul'. Sheila Kaye-Smith.

************

cHAPTER 1

‘Dragons.’

Samuellooked again. It was always the same answer and he wouldn't have it.

‘Whatd’you mean?’

‘Theybe dragon’s teeth, boss - what the Flood done for. I often comes across 'em.’

Trevantrusted the foreman in all his other professional judgements. There was no goodreason to come over doubtful now. And yet....

Heexamined the array of regularities bound up in a matrix of chalk, tilting thething this way and that, trying to make sense of it.

‘Sohow come we don't see them nowadays then?’

Foronce the foreman's curiosity was dimmed. Show him an old-time knapped flint orpottery rim and he'd be over it like a sailor on shore leave, but this justfailed to fire him.

‘Ialready says: they drownded.’

Samuelpersevered.

‘What:all of them?’

‘Pre-sumably.Noah wouldn't have 'em aboard. I don't blame him. Same with the giants andunicorns and such.’

‘Evidently.’Trevan's tone was desert-dry.

Foremanplainly thought the place for such relicts was the spoil heap from whenceSamuel had recovered it. He wanted to talk about the marvellousdiscoveries they'd made atop Mount Caburn; not freaks God had turned a cold eyeon.

Trevanperceived that and was gentle. He said no more and replaced the small block -though noting its position for later. Unbeknownst to Foreman, his master had afair collection of these mysteries now, gathered from all over.

‘Showme this burnt stuff then,’ he told his employee, and followed in hisenthusiastic wake.

Thelabourers had cleaned and cleared the trench for inspection. They were a pickedteam, winnowed free over the years of secret scoffers and those bemused bycareful delving in the earth. Some of them had actually 'caught the bug' andtook a keen interest in their work. Trevan had been known to arrange readingclasses for the best and then lend them books. He could - when he wanted - be agood boss. There was fierce competition for his post-shearing, post-harvest,seasonal employ.

Thewind blew strong - as it usually did - across the top of Mount Caburn, andSamuel had wisely left his stovepipe hat down in the carriage in Glynde.Thinning hair a-dance he approached the hillfort's first rampart and was guidedto the ladder down. He was no longer the explosion-waiting-to-happen of youthand young manhood, and there were crystal-conglomerates starting to restrictthe freedom of his joints. All the same, he was still up to descending a deeptrench unaided and assisting hands were batted away.

‘Buggeroff! Who d'you think