Solomon Kane by Ramsey Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

that direction, and realising this reminded Kane “You offered me a ride.”
    A paternal frown narrowed Crowthorn’s eyes, conveying regret rather than rebuke. “I did,” he said.
    “I should have accepted.”
    “You should.” The frown faded, and Crowthorn’s eyes grew reminiscent. “The good Lord must be watching over you,” he said. “He guided us to your rescue.”
    “Master Crowthorn...” As much as the drink of water, the sense of being in the bosom of a family seemed to be restoring Kane’s vigour. “Perhaps you have set me back on the road to my destiny,” he said.
    “It shall be as God wills.”
    Kane’s words had fallen short of expressing what he felt – that the Crowthorns were somehow bound up with his fate. They must have turned back to find him, unless they had been led astray by the tracks through the forest – in fact, led true. And had Meredith not seemed to stand between Kane and the reaper in his dream? It would hardly be proper to speak of this, and he held his peace as Crowthorn raised his voice. “Edward, pull over now,” he called. “We’ll make camp for the night.”
    “I see the place that has been provided for us, father.”
    The response sounded more elderly than the speaker, whom Kane guessed to be in his twenties. He heard the driver urge the horses onwards with an impatient clicking of the tongue that Kane could have taken for asound of disapproval. Soon the wagon rumbled to a halt. “Pray excuse us, Master Kane,” Crowthorn said and set about unloading the wagon. “Rest now and regain your strength.”
    Meredith gave Kane an encouraging smile as she picked up utensils before following her father. In the calm after the incessant thunder of the wheels Kane heard a horse snort, the soughing of a wind in trees, the placid rippling of water. He lay and listened until the rattle of cooking utensils and the thuds of poles driven into earth made him feel idle. He raised his head without wavering, and found that he was capable of sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. His various pains came with him, but he had suffered worse in battle, and they should be no excuse for indolence. With barely a stumble he made his way to the back of the wagon.
    It stood in a glade beside a river. Despite the muffling of the sun, he could tell that the muted light denoted late afternoon. Traces of frost outlined the bark of the trees, but for the moment there was no sign of snow in the air. At the edge of the river the water raced over stones, stretching weeds away from them as if the ripples were combing drowned hair. Meredith and her mother had set up a cooking pot on a stand beside the river. Crowthorn and his elder son were building a rough shelter for the night while the boy Kane had seen in the wagon was stooping to the river, collecting stones to keep or to skim across the water. “Samuel, water the horses,” his brother called to him.
    The boy stayed in his crouch. “Why me?” he protested.
    “Samuel,” his father called more sternly than Kane would have expected of him. “Edward has given you a task. See you set to it at once.”
    Kane saw the elder son fix a disapproving look onSamuel. Unlike the boy, he had inherited their father’s features, though not all the strength of his mouth. Kane thought his lips seemed secretly a little petulant, hence more determined to wield power. Or was he interpreting the young man’s face in terms of his own troubled memories? Samuel opened his hands, and the stones clattered into the river. As the boy trudged to unhitch the horses, Kane stepped down from the wagon.
    Crowthorn’s wife hurried over to him, stretching out her hands. They must once have been delicate, but they were worn with toil. “Master Kane,” she protested. “You should be resting.”
    “I can hardly repay your hospitality with idleness.” Kane flexed his muscles and experienced no immediate loss of strength. “Give me a few minutes to clean up,” he said,