Son of Heaven by David Wingrove Read Free Book Online Page B

Buckland. Seeing Jake, Eddie touched his cap and grinned.
    ‘Fine day, eh, Jake?’
    ‘Looks like it!’ Jake answered him, touching his own cap, acknowledging him.
    Beyond the second wagon were the three sleds, the dogs straining eagerly, keen at this stage of the journey to press on, while at the very back of the party, keeping up a brisk walking pace,
were Tom and Frank Goodman.
    Jake didn’t know Goodman that well. It was only recently that the villagers down there had decided to throw in their lot with Corfe, and on the one occasion Frank Goodman had come along,
Jake had stayed at home. But Tom spoke well of him and he was a big, tough-looking man.
    Seeing Jake looking, Tom waved, then called out to him.
    ‘Keep an eye out, Jake! And no nodding off now! You can have a kip when we get there!’
    Once more the gentle, teasing tone of Tom’s voice reassured him.
    Jake looked beyond them. From where they were all you could see was the great green rampart of earth that formed a natural barrier against invaders. Only as you got further away could you see
the castle again, tall and elegant even in its ruination, dominating the landscape for miles around.
    He turned back, glancing at Ted Gifford as he did. But Ted was miles away, lost in his own thoughts, snatches of old songs – for the most part unrecognizable – escaping him from time
to time.
    Beside Ted on the bench seat, Jake noted, was his handgun. A Smith & Wesson M327 with a .357 Magnum calibre. An 8-shot. One of the finest handguns ever made.
    ‘You think they’ll come at us, even as we are?’
    Ted looked at him. ‘Not ’ere. Not out in the open. But there’s places… We need to be cautious, old friend. Things is ’appening.’
    There it was again. That sense they all had. Something had changed, but no one knew quite what. Only that it made them all a little edgy.
    ‘You lookin’ for anything special this time round?’ Jake asked, changing the subject.
    Ted shrugged. ‘Thought I might buy a nice mirror if they got one. You know, with bevelled edges. Betty’d love one. The old ’un smashed, see. Apart from that…’
    He shrugged, then turned back.
    They were pulling out round the Ridgeway now, heading directly west. In a while the great mound of earth would fall away behind them and to their left, leaving them in the midst of a low,
slightly marshy heath that stretched away into the distance. Wareham itself was only three miles away and if your eyes were good you could make it out, far off to the north-west.
    This had never been a hospitable land. It was too rough, too raw and untended to be admired in a traditional sense, yet its wild beauty was undeniable. Men had lived here for thousands, maybe
tens of thousands of years, and yet they had never conquered it.
    Up ahead, the broad path dipped down and to the left, the old railway track they’d been following ducking beneath what had once been the main route into Corfe, the old A351. Slowing the
ponies, Ted manoeuvred them down past a row of old cottages that had been long abandoned, and up a small steep slope onto the road. It was a bit of a struggle, what with the full weight of the
wagon, and Jake had to jump down and add his strength to that of the ponies to get them up over the lip.
    There they paused for breath. Ahead of them the old road stretched off in a straight line across the ancient heath, its surface badly cracked, covered in a thick layer of weed, wild flowers and
bracken. Yet the line of it was still discernible, running like a long, thin scar across the landscape.
    They came out here from time to time and tried to clear it, making it a day out for the surrounding villages – a picnic of sorts – but their efforts never lasted long. In a week or
two it would return, no matter how thorough they’d been. Yet at least it was passable. Like much else about their lives, they made do with things as they were, and this was one of them.
    As their party formed up on the road, so