Excerpts from the published or soon to be published Works of David Britton
Shadow of the Cross
“Don’t cry,” he said gently. “Take me to the child.”
Accompanied by the parents, he entered the child’s
room. He looked down at her. She lay still, very white.
Her eyes were closed. She was about twelve years old.
The whiteness of her face was emphasised by the
blackness of her shoulder length hair, which lay tousled
on her pillow. Her pillow was wet with her sweat. She
was scarcely breathing. He knelt down beside her bed,
and laid his ear to her mouth. After a moment he
smiled.
“She’s still breathing,” Yeshua said. “She’s not
dead, she’s unconscious.”
Yeshua ruffled her hair and laid his hands on her
forehead. He noted how wet her pillow was. He pulled
back her blankets. He noted how wet her bedding was.
Gently he replaced them. He turned to the parents.
“The fever has broken. Her temperature is falling.
She will soon recover consciousness.”
He turned back to the girl, studying her closely. He
noticed her eyelids flutter. He gently laid his hand on
her forehead.
“What’s her name?” he asked the mother.
“Tabitha, Lord,” she replied, looking hopeful for the
first time.
Yeshua turned back to the girl. He knelt once more.
He placed one hand back on her forehead while the
other ruffled her hair gently. He spoke very quietly to
her.
The Incidental Joker
Judith had a formal meeting in the final week of the half term with Millie in Millie’s working office in the school. At this meeting, sitting at Millie’s desk, they worked out a programme of lesson observations for the opening week of the second half term. Millie insisted that this programme had to be posted on the staff notice board before the end of the week.
“It’s very short notice,” Judith said dubiously, puffing at her cigarette. “I would want more notice than this!”
“They don’t need it,” Millie answered. “If they’re good teachers they don’t need any notice at all. In any case, I already know who’s good and who’s not.”
“By that, do you mean you know who you will pass and who you will fail?” Judith asked, not bothering to hide her surprise..
“If that’s the way you want to put it,” Millie replied, “yes!”
Judith was shocked at this. She had heard that Millie had a reputation for ruthlessness. This was the first time she had seen evidence of it. She shuddered inwardly, wondering, not for the first time, what she had got herself into. Judith was not above creating evidence of observations, but this was always in cases where she had been unable to carry out an observation and also reflected her honest opinion of a teacher’s ability. She had never planned, in advance, to fail a teacher.
“If you wanted to resolve the confusion over the middle and senior management levels, Judith, how would you do it?” Millie continued.
“Simple,” Judith responded, “I would remove the Phase Leaders.”
“That’s how I see it, too,” Millie answered. “We can save money that way, but it is not easily done. The correct process involves redundancies, and redundancies cost money. We will have to use the capability Process. In that way we don’t have to pay compensation. Who would you say was the key Phase leader?”
“That’s easy,” said Judith, “It’s Clara. Laura will go, eventually, if Clara goes. Clara would not necessarily follow Laura out. Clara is a natural leader, whereas Laura tends to be a follower.”
“That’s how I read it, as well,” Millie concurred. “Therefore we will start with Clara.”
“What will you do? Judith asked.
“It’s simple. I will find a reason to declare her lesson to be inadequate. She will go to Hilary, who will advise her to look for another job. We keep up the pressure. Clara leaves. Job done! Time to move on to the next one.”
Judith was privately appalled. She knew she did not dare show her true feelings, but, incompetent, lazy and ambitious as she was, Judith was still basically honest. However, she knew she was too far drawn in to the plot to be able to back out now. She wondered where this would all end, and still hoped to ride the storm and emerge on top. She decided to feign enthusiasm for Millie’s programme.
A Dream Dies.
The Spanish Colonel drew rein at the crest of the ridge. As he stopped, his second in command ordered the 150 horsemen riding in two columns behind him to halt also. The Captain joined his senior officer and the two men gazed down silently on the scene below.
They had reached the effective border of Spanish Peru. Below them the brown waters of the Urubamba River flowed swift and deep. This marked the border with the Inca – ruled Kingdom of Vilcabamba. Beyond the river, on top of another ridge, they could see a line of Inca troops, similarly equipped to themselves. The days when Spanish soldiers, equipped with steel armour, helmets, swords and lances, met Inca soldiers dressed in woollen tunics and armed with clubs and stones had long since passed. For years there had been illegal smuggling of modern weapons across the border. The only questions were – how many such weapons did the Incas have and did they know how to use them effectively? The Colonel reflected that they would soon find out – at least the answer to the second question. He pulled at his tunic. It had been many years since soldiers in the Spanish army of Puno had worn European armour. It was too heavy, hot and tended to rust in the damp climate. It was also unnecessary. Thick tunics deflected Inca arrows, so long as they were properly made, and steel sheets did not stop musket balls. In some ways, he thought, the two armies had adopted one another’s customs and weapons.
The officer opened the door, swung his legs out and dropped to the ground. He turned back.”
Blessing
“I know it’s not Islamic – but good luck, Ahmed.”
Ahmed smiled.
“It’s not just not Islamic, it’s actually Haram, as we both know, Abdullah. But thank you any way.”
Abdullah shut the door firmly and sprinted away from the lorry, before clambering over a compound wall and taking cover behind it. In the distance he heard Ahmed turn on the engine and saw, in his mind’s eye, the engine move forward.
There were no living witnesses to what happened next. The lorry crossed the square at a moderate speed, and was waved through by the sentries, both of whom were happy to be given a five hundred Naira note by the driver. Once inside the compound, the lorry increased speed as it crossed the parade ground between the gates and the Head Quarters building. An NCO was drilling a squad of soldiers on the parade ground, but did not appear to find anything odd in the way the driver was driving until it was too late. It was only when the lorry crashed into the building that he and his men began to run towards it. They did not see the driver jump down and run for cover behind an out building. Nor did they see or hear the flash of the explosion that killed them and destroyed the building, killing or maiming almost everyone in it. The sentries were killed when the blast smashed the wall down behind them and the driver, despite his attempt to take cover, also died. Many buildings in the area were badly damaged and many others, caught inside the damaged buildings or in the open, were also either killed or badly injured. No one was ever told how many died at the scene or in hospital later and only the bereaved knew those they had lost.
Abdullah smiled grimly as he climbed back over the wall and returned to his staff car half a mile away, adjusting his uniform as he went.
“Kids!” he thought contemptuously. “Didn’t Ahmed understand that he would never get far enough away in time to be safe?”
Once in his staff car he instructed his driver to drive to the main hospital.
Uruk's War
The revolt against the gods
Each planet had its own deity, and, as life spread throughout the Universe, so the pantheon also grew. One of the first of the planets to support life was Thebais, on the outer limits of the Universe. The goddess Lucia supervised Thebais. Lucia was a very special goddess. She demanded sacrifice as her only form of worship.
Ordinary prayers, acceptable to the other gods, were not acceptable to her. She demanded human blood. Through her priests, she demanded that every city on Thebais should send one boy and one girl to her temple, on a rota basis, month by month, as a tribute. Each city was required to send a pair of victims to Brone, the capital, every two years, always in the same month. They were offered as human sacrifices on Lucia’s altar in Brone.
Thebais was a very special planet. The rulers of Thebais were from a separate race from the majority of the ruled. The rulers were humanoid in appearance but conduits of power in reality; beings, which could tap into the raw power stream that was the universal flow: whilst the ruled were simple humanoids.
The victims were always chosen from the ruled. It became the duty of the rulers to select the biannual tributes. It was always a difficult and emotional time for everyone involved in the selection.
The revolt began in the city of Lutatia.
The Three Hundred
Two weeks before the expedition from Utaxa arrived, another black-cloaked figure appeared in Britain. He went to Oxford University and spoke with one of the senior history lecturers there. His question caused confusion in the mind of Professor Grimstowe.
“Who are the greatest figures in Earth history?” he asked abruptly.
“Do you have a specific country or time in mind?” the Professor asked his visitor.
“No,” the man replied harshly. “It has to be someone the whole world acknowledged.”
The Professor wondered whether the man was unhinged. He tried to read his eyes, but they were hidden under a back hood.
“It’s very difficult, Mr… erm … May I ask your name?”
“I am the Magister Anarawd, human. I am on a mission from the Guardians, the rulers of the Universe. It is vitally important that you give me this information.”
Professor Grimstowe concluded that the man was definitely mad and that it might be dangerous to frustrate him. He decided to play along with him.
“There are different kinds of power, Mr Anarawd. There is religious power, political power, economic power, and there’s military power. What sort of figure are you looking for?”
Anarawd was confused by this question. As usual, when confused, he became aggressive.
“Just give me the most powerful figures and where they came from.”
The Professor paused, pulled a notepad across the table and began to write names and countries on them. Eventually he came up with a list: –
Xerxes (Iran); Adolf Hitler (Germany); Mao Tse Tung (China); Muhammad (Arabia); Jesus Christ (Palestine); Augustus (Rome); Charlemagne and Louis XIV (France); Victoria (England); Rameses II (Egypt); Alexander the Great (Greece); and Karl Marx (Germany). After a moment’s thought, he added, Hannibal (Carthage), Julius Caesar (Rome) and Shaka (South Africa).
He passed the list to Anarawd.
Siege!
Ahmed rang John.
“I have just released the last teachers,” he said abruptly. “There are no more here that I know of.”
“So, what happens now, Ahmed?” John asked.
“Two things, Superintendant. Two new hostages have been exposed on the roof. They will die at midday unless negotiations have begun. If negotiations have begun, we will replace them with two younger ones – who will remain there until the next delivery. They will die if there is no food, or be replaced. And so we shall go on.”
“I promise you that we will continue to deliver food and water – and we will not attempt to drug the food.”
“That’s good, Superintendant – because any attempt to do that will result in the deaths of ten of the youngest hostages.”
“I hope you will be a little flexible over the negotiations, Ahmed,” John pleaded. “Those are out of my control. I will pass your message on to the Government – but please don’t force our hands by unnecessary killing.”
John heard Ahmed’s cynical laugh.
“If your hands are forced, as you put it, into military action – it’s goodbye to Brompton. We will all die, including you, Superintendant. So, I suggest caution on your part.”
“I’ve not forgotten, Ahmed,” John commented grimly, putting the phone down.
Invasion
Thebes (Lower Egypt) 1620BC
The Pharaoh stood on the balcony of his palace in Thebes, leaning on the balustrade, and looking over the wide brown waters of the River Nile, which flowed slowly towards the distant Mediterranean Sea. He looked towards the north, down river, where, in the far distance, a small dark cloud marked the horizon, dividing the yellow of the sand from the otherwise cloudless azure blue of the sky. Some thought it was the first sign of a very rare rain shower. The still young-looking Pharaoh knew differently. He knew it was the first sign of approaching doom. He stood, deep in thought, the muscles of his body the only sign of his tenseness as they glistened and gleamed in the bright sunlight, the whiteness of his kilt emphasising the darkness of his skin. Only his companion, the much older, Amenophis, his Chancellor and senior advisor, as well as his trusted friend, noticed the slight green tinge under the golden brown of his tan.
As usual, when wearing the blue crown, the symbol and origin of his authority, the Pharaoh’s skin appeared to shine with a strange light. The ordinary people, if they noticed, put it down to his skin reflecting back the light of the sun – after all, he was, they argued, the son and representative of Amen Ra, the Sun God, so one should expect that he would share in the Sun’s glory.
Amenophis thought it was more than this. He had created the Pharaoh. He had got to know the Pharaoh’s character over forty years, ever since the Pharaoh’s first appearance in the central square of besieged Troy, where Amenophis was the Egyptian Ambassador for Dedumose I, who was then the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh was a big man, taller than his compatriots, even than Amenophis, who was taller than most. When he stood, as he was now, wearing the crown, and gazing down, he seemed even taller. He stood on the rampart of the city, radiating power and certainty, apparently ageless and all-powerful, conveying a sense of security and confidence in the future, which he did not feel.
“So long as we’ve got him,” the people said, “we’re all right.”
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