The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

‘Apartfrom that.’

Trevanmarvelled. They really had achieved the detachment from the world that theysought. Not one of the dozen gathered in his honour perceived how repulsed hewas by their black food and company. There wasn't even any respite to rest youreyes on: they had turned all the oil portraits of eminent Lewesians to thewall.

Samuelprodded at his nigh carbonised steak but made no headway. No one had asked himhow he wanted it done: it just arrived that way. His companions seemed torelish theirs just as little, toying with the food's outer edges - althoughthat was most likely some statement about appetite rather than good taste.

‘Iwish to God I knew why I came.’ Samuel pushed his plate away and blood gravyslopped over its edge onto the fine linen.

‘Thenwish and he may tell you,’ instructed one of the company in prissytones, like a sanctimonious Sunday-school teacher. ‘We call it prayer.You should try it.’

‘Thereis no God!’ Trevan flared - and was again glad this was a private dining room.Infidels were semi-tolerated now but that didn't mean they could be blatant.And no amount of official forbearance was any help against an angry mob ofbelievers.

Theirspokesman looked even more funereal and set down his fork.

‘Youheard him and yet you still doubt?’

Samuelfixed the man with his best pre-assault gaze. It was easily met and matched.

‘Iheard a voice - from a cave wall you've carved like an eye. That doesn't makeit God.’

‘Doesn'tnot make it God,’ countered a hard-faced woman in a mourning crinoline.Her harsh bark detracted from a reasonable point.

‘Yourfriends, the Elves, said otherwise,’ Samuel taunted them.

‘Ex-friends!’

‘Betrayers!’

‘Falseprophets!’

Thedenials sprang vehemently from all round the table. Samuel was curious thatsuch passion persisted. It was clearly still a live issue.

‘Theyalso said to burn you out,’ he told the angry silence which ensued. ‘But Inever heard whether-....’

‘Manybrethren died,’ confirmed the spokesman, meanwhile playfully smearing shinyblack sturgeons' roe up and down his forefinger. ‘Just as we gathered instrength to seek you, fiery hell descended.’ He thought on that briefly, notactually sad but saddened. ‘The word of God was lost to us for a space.’

‘Howdid you manage?’

Therewas growing confidence in Samuel's mockery. These skull-faces needed him:revered him almost.

Spokesman'sfinger was taken up by his female neighbour and slowly fellated clean; but hisdeep-set eyes never left Trevan all the while.

‘Aswell as we could,’ he answered eventually, ‘adrift in an enemy world, with onlymemories for solace. But never fear for us, Mr Trevan: like Jews returned toZion, we are back.’

Despitehimself, Samuel was surprised.

‘What?There?’

‘Indeed.We again speak to our god and are guided. Once more there is a Master of the Darkfor below, and a Master of the Revels – namely myself - for relations with theupper world.’

Thetone alone said it was true: there was no need for evidence. And thus nochoice. Trevan took delivery of the bad news.

‘Buthow comes the Church allows-...?’

‘Truthseeps in, Sam-u-el. Like water it is an implacable force, not to be deniedforever, not even by greek-fire and sicarii.’

Forthe first time in years Samuel was tempted by wine. Some of the heady purpleLebanese stuff provided might admirably soften a few edges. He overcame thaturge but the arid triumph made him tetchy.

‘Inmy experience, error's likewise persistent,’ he told them. It wasn't rewardedwith offence.

‘Thatis the difference between you and us,’ replied Spokesman, now sounding like anannoyingly tolerant missionary priest. ‘Between what we profess and bothyour past and present creeds. You once believed in a libel and now believenothing, whereas we are in essence optimistic. That hope is our choicestpossession.’

Deathand everlasting oblivion were concepts that had jeered at Samuel from life’ssidelines for some time now. They required regular stamping upon using reasonor distractions. He therefore didn't care for other people's quiet confidencein such matters to be waved in his face. It made him want to snatch it fromthem.

‘‘Hope’,eh? Is that a fact? I suppose that’s what keeps you all so cheerful….’

Samuelscanned his fellow diners. Not one wan face flickered or took the bait.

‘Thekindest favour we can pay the world,’ said a handsome young man, ‘is to lookcalmly on its degraded games.’

‘Thoughthere is the temptation to snigger,’ added a woman, perhaps his wife, closebeside him. Her faultless, pallid, visage did not look at risk fromlaughter-lines.

‘Butwe resist,’ her partner concluded.

ThenTrevan noticed their restraint wasn't absolute. The man's hand was at and upher, working away under the table.

‘Forpity's sake!’ Samuel protested. ‘If anyone walks in….’

‘Andto think,’ said Spokesman, somehow shouting him down with a voice not muchabove a whisper, ‘that this man – this mere prude - is the vehicle for a newage!’ He wasn't expressing scepticism, but wonderment at the ways of fate.

‘Aconduit for our deliverance,’ purred the stick-thin schoolmarm type alongsideSamuel. She began to caress his arm, affection swiftly transforming intoexploration.

‘Iam not!’ bellowed Trevan, shrugging her off. She pouted a little, shookher bonneted head at his wilful obstinacy, but never once wavered in her lookof love.

Itought to have been enough that they didn't want revenge, but this long-terminterest now seemed just as worrying. He'd come, he admitted it, against allbetter judgement, to face them eye to eye like he'd always faced up to everyenemy. He'd wanted a resolution that evening, kill or cure. What wasn'tenvisaged was that they might twine themselves round him, like poison ivy, inlife-long embrace. Even he couldn't keep up a fight that long.

‘I'mreally not,’ he concluded, rather weakly even to his own forgiving ears.‘I just live quietly, off my own means, debarred from anything else. Can't youaccept that? Like I do?’

Spokesmanlooked at him a moment before silently mouthing: 'No.'

Samuelstood to leave. No one tried to stop him. It transpired they could deputisethat to an unseen ally by the door.

Trevanfelt its grip, could even glimpse it for random split seconds: a mannequin madeup of frantic agitated particles. He most certainly perceived its hunger andantipathy.

Thebriefest of encounters revealed there was no point in struggling. It was hisprevious 'blurred vision' made manifest and it was stronger than he. Samuelfell back and was - reluctantly - released.

‘Thegod gave it to us,’ Spokesman explained, deriving no unkind pleasure fromTrevan's fright, ‘in order to hunt you down. We think it is an earthelemental.’

Anumber