The Empire of Time by David Wingrove Read Free Book Online Page A

do the same, then sit there, staring out over the canopy of the forest. It seems to stretch to the very edge of the world. In the daylight there’s a real beauty to the scene, but at night …
    I shudder and look to Werner, noting how he is watching me.
    ‘I miss them,’ he says. ‘My family. My brothers especially.’
    ‘Ah …’
    But Johannes has less time for sentiment. ‘We do our Lady’s business,’ he says, and all bow their heads, as if in a moment’s prayer, at the reminder.
    But Werner is young. Only a minute passes before he looks to me again and asks. ‘Do you miss your family, Otto?’
    ‘I have no family.’
    Werner’s mouth opens the tiniest fraction, as if that explains a lot.
    ‘They were killed,’ I add, then look away.
    ‘Is that why you came here?’
    I nod. But I know they are all looking at me now. We have these moments. Quiet, reflective moments, when it is possible to say such things. When the vows we have taken are less important suddenly than understanding why we’re here, and whether it’s for the same sad reasons.
    For as hard and self-reliant as these men are, they are also very much alone, even in such company as this. Lost souls, they are, seeking atonement. But theirs is also a steely, unshakable faith, and if they knew who I really was they would kill me without a moment’s thought.
    Silence falls again. I close my eyes, then hear a sharp intake of breath. My eyes flick open and I reach out for my sword. And then I see what it is, and relax.
    In the shallows on the far side of the river, in the shade of the overhanging trees, a huge black bear has come to drink. She stands up straight for a moment, looking across at us, sensing us there, and then she turns and, with a strange, protective little gesture, beckons her cubs forward.
    They scuttle past her, keeping close, and then rest there, their tiny, dark-haired bodies half-submerged in the water as they drink. And all the while the mother bear stares across at us defiantly.
    None of us moves. At most we sit forward a little, as if to watch the scene more closely.
    Finished, the cubs scuttle back into the trees, play-fighting as they go. The mother half turns to watch them, then looks back at us, her massive body swaying a little from side to side as she does, weighing up what to do. Then, as if satisfied, she bends down and, using her paws, scoops water to her mouth and drinks, glancing up at us from time to time.
    Satisfied, she straightens and raises her head. Lifting it back, she growls, but whether it’s in warning or in thanks it’s hard to tell, and in a moment she’s gone. The river flows on, like a broad band of molten sunlight running between the banks.
    I turn and look to Johannes, who’s looking down now, thoughtful.
    ‘We should have killed it,’ Conrad says, feeling the edge of his sword with his thumb. ‘We could still go after it. It can’t have gone far.’
    ‘No,’ Johannes says, with a finality that surprises us all. ‘Leave it. It has a right to be here.’
    ‘I agree,’ Werner says. ‘At least until we clear this godforsaken land.’
    There’s laughter. As it fades, Werner speaks again, gesturing towards the unending forest. ‘Imagine it. All of this turned to pasture. A chapel there, where the river turns.
    ‘And there’ – he turns and points – ‘a thriving Christian village.’
    I can imagine it only too well, for though it may take several more centuries, it will be very much as Werner says. I know because I’ve seen it.
    From our right a call breaks the stillness, and as we stand and turn towards it, so Meister Dietrich and the others emerge from the trees on the far bank a hundred yards downstream.
    ‘They’ve found one,’ Werner says quietly, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. ‘Look at them, they’ve found one of their villages.’
    I can see it’s true. Though the Meister himself is sober, stern of face, the Knight Brothers just behind him are grinning