Eden (12 page)

Stone houses passed on either side. The travelers felt a kind of dank anger clinging to the town, like dirty smoke hanging in the air. Before even finding some shelter—a merchant's stall or even the wet awning of an inn—the animals heard rumblings around the corner. The stone walls echoed with stamping feet and harsh voices.

An angry crowd burst out into the main way. An ugly mob: townsfolk, camel boys, wicked children and righteous hags, all shouting spittle-flecked oaths. They had chased a woman into the street. The hounded woman fell as she fled; then crawled through a puddle, wailing for anyone to help her.

Once again, Eden saw the Hollow Man standing close by.

Their Adversary lurked in the shelter of an arcade, then joined the crowd. Coming out from the overhang into the rain, he held out a handful of wet stones from the street, going from face to face, urging anyone who met his gaze to take them from his cupped hands. Flitting from person to person like a nagging fly, he spoke in this one's ear, gripped another's wrist, goading anyone who would listen,
“Look how she begs. Can't you tell she's guilty?She's guilty.”

The crowd reared up with a hundred clenched fists. They filled the street and rammed the stalls, jostling in all directions. The lambs were stepped on, bleating, and Samson turned his rear to kick—

Eden recoiled at the crowd, afraid of being trampled too.

The woman crawled on all fours to their master's feet and clutched the hem of his robe, her spirit broken. The rain pelted down and the woman's tears vanished on the wet paving stones.

Fear crept into Eden's limbs as the woman lay on the ground, too defeated to even plead for her life. But like that moment on the riverbank where Eden had seen the drowning lamb, the cluster of fear hardened to a knot of courage.

And suddenly there was no more thinking to be done—

Eden leapt in front to guard the woman's body.

And as the dog stood her ground the woman's scent filled Eden's head. The smell of disgrace clung to her skin as though she lived among refuse, spoiled fish heads and moldy cloth—along with the stench of abandon, the stink of men waiting at her dwelling either in shame or lust or just because they knew she was there. For all travelers crossed her threshold, her doorway open to all comers.

Eden could see the place, a room of squalor, harsh perfume, stained curtains and threadbare pillows. A place where candle wax pooled on the tables, spilled wine on the floor and sweat filled the air. But that was just a scent that clung to a person, not her insides.

The woman herself did not smell of evil, just desperation and loneliness. Come to grovel and beg for her life. Eden did not clearly understand the woman's sin, but in her own way Eden understood why the crowd was angry. The woman had sinned against the pack and now the pack had turned on her.

Eden faced the mob. The dog bared her teeth, her fur bristled and she growled low.

“No closer! None of you!”

Eden spied their Adversary slyly grinning at her from behind two caravan slaves.
Oh, yes, he remembered her well
.

The first stone hit Eden as she stood over the broken woman, making her yelp. But she didn't run. The Hollow Man sneered, and picked up another stone. The woman cowered at their master's feet; she clasped his muddy ankles. Her frantic fingers picked at his worn sandal, as if the thin leather thongs might save her as she waited for the next blow. Any moment there'd be another stone, and then another, and then a dozen.

Eden growled again and stood her ground.

The mob's wrath caught in its throat. They held their stinking breath.

And no stone flew. Instead they shuffled back.

Because of a growling dog? Or because Eden's master refused to leave the woman's side, standing over them both? He reached down to the woman picking at his feet, took her hands from his sandals and then raised her up as she clutched his mud-splattered robe. He wiped the tears from her streaked face with the hem of her sleeve. But in total defeat, the woman sank to her knees, clutching a length of his cloak simply to steady herself.

A man in the front of the crowd raised a fist with a stone inside.

Eden could see their Adversary breathing words at the back of his head.

Yet something in her master's manner made the man pause. The rock weighed his hand down to his side. Eden pushed up against the woman, sheltering her. The dog could feel her body tremble. Their master stood his ground and reached into his purse. Searched for a moment and brought forth the two small stones: the black stone, white inside—and the white stone, its insides black.

He held the two small stones in his open palm; presenting them before the arc of ugly faces.

As if to say,
Take mine
.

As if to say,
Use them first on me
.

The mob held back, afraid to move. But the Hollow Man was not through prodding them. The clever creature kept whispering from ear to ear, the angry crowd reacting with every word. Eden could feel him too, his false smiles and doubting frowns, whatever served his purpose, offering false courage like bad wine. And soon the wretched faces began to laugh. To sneer.
What harm from two little pebbles? Let this muddy wanderer throw. Go ahead throw, Wise Man. There's nothing you can do to us
.

As if in answer her master gently cast the two stones upon the muddy street.

The two stones rolled beside a brown puddle. Rubbed together for so long you could plainly see the black inside the white stone and the white inside the black.

Pick up mine
, he seemed to say.

Use my two stones
.

But no one moved to take them.

The false courage in this pack of humans began to wither.

“Go on!” the Hollow Man hissed from deep within the crowd. “What are you waiting for?”

Eden's master stood his ground.

The rain began to lighten as rivulets ran down the house fronts like weeping tears, down stone drains, flowing away to nothing. The clouds tore themselves to shreds above their heads and many hands began to tremble. Each man or woman feeling their sins upon themselves, dousing their anger, as the clouds rent ragged slashes in an open sky. And her master stood his ground staring at the cowed faces. As if to say—

He who is without sin
…

As if to say—

Cast the first stone
.

Did he actually speak out loud? Or did Eden hear it only in her mind?

He must have spoken.

For no one in the crowd moved or said a word. Or threw a stone.

The mob's anger dissolved like salt in water, leaving nothing but a bitter taste. In a few moments Eden lost sight of the Hollow Man. Their Adversary seemed to give up and fade into the bowels of the crowd. And in another few moments the crowd itself began to break apart, for nothing really held this pack together except hate for this poor woman who had breached their laws. All the life had gone out of each and every ugly face, and with it, their common purpose. Soon the street stood empty. When Eden looked for Samson and the lambs, she saw they had retreated from the crowd, standing in a knot with the companions.

Leaving only Eden.

Her master.

And the woman at his feet.

Eden licked the woman's face and tasted the common mud of every common town. The woman smiled back at Eden with all her heart—

A cup of thanks, filled to overflowing
.

The woman no longer smelled of sin, or the stink of strangers or harsh perfume. Her endless downfall had been gently broken by the offer of two stones, now lying by a muddy puddle. Two stones rubbed together for so long you could plainly see the black inside the white stone and the white inside the black.

Now like every other pebble in the street.

The companions prepared to leave this ugly town. All of them felt dirtier than the muddy road or the dung splattered on their wet clothes. But their master would not leave. This town was no worse than a dozen others they'd visited. Instead he bid them find shelter under the brick arcade till the weather cleared, for it had begun to rain again. Eden scrambled underneath the overhang with the others, as did the lambs, who wandered up and down the empty arcade shaking their wet fleece. But there was no room for Samson who stood forlornly in the street as raindrops dripped from his drooping ears.

“Well, there's enough room for you under there,” he complained to Eden. “But they gave away my blanket to a donkey in the last village!”

“I'd give you my coat, but I can't,” Eden told him. “It's attached.”

“Oh stop,” Samson replied. “If we hadn't saved the woman we'd have been on our way to somewhere better.”

“Would it help if I came out and sat in the rain with you?” Eden asked.

Samson thought for a moment. “No, send out some of the lambs. They keep my legs warm.”

But none of the lambs were handy. Curious and restless as ever, they had wandered to the far end of the overhang and discovered they were not alone. “Oh look!” they exclaimed. “We found a person. A person! What is your name, Person?”

A pitiful creature crouching in the shadow of the wall looked at them with dangerous eyes. Yet another woman, rags clinging to her, legs and hands and face smeared with dirt, her hair a wild nest about her head. The lambs shook their tails to show they were friendly and crowded in close bleating, “Hello, Person. Hello, Person!”

But the ragged woman scuttled back against the wall and snarled, hands outstretched. Fingers like claws.

The lambs broke in every direction, crying:

“Oh my! Oh my!”

Samson plodded purposefully over to see what the fuss was all about.

“She's mad,” the donkey told his lambs. And they looked at him with puzzlement on their velvet muzzles. Eden trotted back and forth to herd the lambs off.

“Come away from here,” she warned. “You might get bit.”

The woman now crouched by some bits of broken stone, waving invisible flies from her face, cursing at them with words Eden didn't understand. She reminded Eden of Judas when he talked to himself. Yet Eden knew that this one, this woman, never talked to anyone
but
herself.

The rain had stopped once more and the travelers gathered their slim goods together in preparation for another march. With a deep sigh, Samson turned to go. Perhaps this town
was
better than the empty road. Eden nudged the lambs and they followed in the donkey's hoof steps. Then the companions, last of all, abandoned the town without a second thought, trudging out from the brick arcade and leaving the woman to her voices. Eden's sharp ears heard the poor creature scuttle off, withdrawing to the dark safety of her stony wall, still muttering to herself.

But they had not seen the last of her.

They walked till sunset, and in the growing dusk Eden heard the sound of soft footsteps along the side of the road. Ah, the fox had returned, the wary fox following them as quietly as possible. Eden had sensed him dogging their trail on and off since the start of their great journey. With each sign and marvel, with each wonder she sensed him near enough to see or catch a scent yet reluctant to show himself.

She considered asking him to join them again. But after a moment thought
no
; his stealthy footsteps showed that however curious he might be, the fox wanted to keep things as they were. To see and not be seen, and no animal would fault another for that.