First Published in New Zealand by

Polished Stone Publishing

14 Okoroire St.

Tirau, South Waikato

New Zealand

© Michael Christian 2002

This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Laws, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be addressed to the publisher.

Christian, Michael, 2002-,

The Eternal Story.

ISBN 0-473-08949-1

Writer's Note

The Eternal Story began in prayer, not for a book to write but to deal with frustration over Church leadership. I loved the body of people and felt the call for those lost to the saving message of Christ. It seemed my oversight did not want me to rock the boat they were sailing so in frustration I jumped overboard - they were going the wrong way for me.

In this time of prayerful seeking that I gained some understanding in the quote above and in asking what to do about it was instructed to write a parable. This was the alpha of faith and in my absolute belief that this was my Father in heaven speaking I asked for a title and characters - this I was also given as quickly as I asked though they were somewhat odd to see written down. Still carried along on the faith of this word I set myself to see if there was indeed anything in it and wrote a first page or two, then three and so on. When I floundered and lost my thread I simply reminded my benefactor of my immense love for Him and faithfully the thread returned. It was as if the story had already been written and I just had to put it on paper for others to read. Perhaps that was indeed the case and I have simply been a scribe to the unseen author. I never really knew where it was going next but just had to trust that someone was driving and it was simply for me to allow myself to be transported. This was I believe a place our Lord had gone to prepare for me.

I wrote The Eternal Story in two parts separated by several months of editing thinking it was finished, only then to find there was more. Each part took almost six weeks which in hindsight is about forty days of wilderness wanderings; which seems to me a Biblical coincidence too odd to be accidental. I would like readers to know there is probably even more to this parable than I at present understand. I have seen leadership repress people and in that you are no doubt mixed. This book is dedicated to you the children who will not be misled but see the light of it and rise up to apprehend the day. Please understand that without the eternal source of the thoughts and scenes here written these pages would simply be blanks.

To you who read this may God bless.

Michael Christian

Table of contents

Part I

Blood Adventure

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Part II

Blood Inheritance

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

blood adventure

Chapter One

A Stranger Arrives

The day the stranger walked into the village marked the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning. Nothing would be the same again as though a flood had taken our past and all had to be rebuilt. Bearing nothing but the clothes on his back and the contents of his mind they all thought him of no account. How much further from the truth could they possibly have been!

The stranger arrived destitute according to the town records but the people of Gnarlybark took him in. Simon the pallbearer was first to meet the stranger by the roadway linking our small village to the river. As undertaker, Simon was in the process of digging a fresh grave; they called him the pallbearer after an incident at a funeral. Simon was walking behind the coffin that day when the bottom began to separate and the dead mans head appeared from below. Having built the coffin, Simon made a grab with his large callused hands to contain the damage and ended up having to hold things together all the way to the grave side.

The stranger walked up to Simon who is by now half way through digging the grave and in uttering a simple greeting he almost sent poor Simon to his maker. Simon had never before been frightened so close to death by such a small individual. As Simon rose from the grave a man small of stature was there before him, standing almost eye to eye. What Simon saw before him was so unusual in the district that it took some time to gather his thoughts. The colours of his nylon parka were like nothing seen before in these parts. His ruddy features were those of a middle aged man who had been well weathered by years of outdoor living, deeply wrinkled, greying and unshaved. The stranger had such small hands that they could hardly have taken a good grip of the shovel handle on which Simon was leaning.

"Good day to you, sir," finally came the reply now that Simon was once again fully composed. "I might well have used this hole myself the way you frightened me. What brings you around these parts then?"

"I was hiking through the hills," said the stranger. "I wonder if you can tell me where I am?"

"We call this place Gnarlybark," stated Simon.

"That's an unusual name. Why is it called such?"

"The trees over there," Simon said pointing along the road, "they are why the village is called Gnarlybark. If you go and have a good look sometime you will find they have very deep furrowed bark on them, which is unusual for their type. They are a variety found only here they say."

"My name is Michael Longbottom," the stranger said offering his hand.

"Simon," the gravedigger said shaking his hand, "I'm about to go home. I would be honoured if you would join my wife and I."

"Thank you, that would be most kind," said Michael. "What is this place all about then?"

Simon led Michael towards his cottage at number 14 Strawberry Lane, where he lived with his wife Trudy and their cats Prudence and Hercules.

"Gnarlybark lies in the district of Kind," said Simon as he led the stranger into the village. "Kind is the territories west of the river Tee. The mountains contain us, as you can see, and having no great wealth or transportation to speak of we are quite isolated. My family has lived here for generations as have the rest of the villagers. We are all coal miners, well mostly, except for a few who take care of the necessities of life and death. We produce most of our own needs and the coal people supply the rest. That's not much mind you, you see we pride ourselves that we are quite self-sufficient."

"Where does the coal go to Simon?"

"The river Tee there," he pointed. "A barge is moored at the landing. We fill it up and it is collected on the last day of each month. Has done so even before my father's time. No one really knows who or why anymore since Gregory the Great died but it is enough that they leave us basic items for our daily bread, if you know what I mean. We do all right."

They drew near the village and turned the corner into Strawberry Lane. Their home was a plain cottage; roses lined the pathway to the front door but Simon led Michael around the cottage to enter by the back door.

"Sorry about the mess Michael, we are not used to visitors around here. Bit of a treat me being the first to have someone stay."

"Trudy, Trudy," he shouted inside. "Trudy dear, would you come and meet a traveller?"

Most people in Gnarlybark were not as outgoing as Simon and Trudy his wife was as shy as most in the town. As she approached it was more than she could do to pop her head around the corner of the hallway.

"Please I don't want to intrude," said Michael.

"Are you not coming out Trudy?" Simon asked, then shrugging his shoulders motioned inside. "Come on in then Michael."

As they both entered the dimly lit cottage Trudy slotted quietly into the shadow of her husband's tall frame.

"Perhaps a cup of herb tea for the gentleman dear. I know I would enjoy some of your blackberry and apple; it's one of her special blends of tea you know. Would you like to try it?"

Michael was trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the bent wood furniture obviously built with larger men in mind; stately chairs with large armrests surrounded the room. A rough solid timber table dominated the room with flowers beautifully arranged in a central vase. His eyes began to adjust to the dim light that penetrated the small windows as evening descended.

"Thank you Trudy," Michael said as he reached forward to take the cup of steaming herb tea. "Smells delicious!"

"Trudy dear, I have asked Michael to stay with us if that's not too much trouble," said Simon not expecting any hesitation. "I thought he could sleep in mother's old room."

A knock on the door broke the rather strained atmosphere in the room. Simon rose to open it. There stood a large balding man wearing spectacles.

"Good day to you Simon. I am told there is a stranger in the village; staying with you I was told. You know things like this need to be passed by me," this tall official looking man at the door stated as he peered rather rudely inside.

"Hello Darius. Why, I guess I should have passed by and let you all know what had happened. Didn't seem so urgent at the time; seemed a cup of tea was the priority after a hard day digging graves. Come on in Darius, you might as well meet the stranger since you are here anyway. Darius the Mediator," Simon said as he escorted him into the room, "This is Michael Longbottom."

"Hello," said Darius tersely.

"Hello," returned Michel but they did not shake hands.

"There will be a meeting at the church at 9 o'clock this evening," Darius said to Michael. "We would appreciate it if you would be there."

With that he turned and left without even closing the door. For a moment there was a stunned silence in the room.

Simon's wife Trudy by then had put the dinner together on the large wooden table. No pictures adorned the walls and apart from the windows; the plainness of the whitewashed interior only broken by the tall chair backs. Dinner consisted of a large loaf of bread and some sliced meat looking rather like mutton and smelling of herbs and seasoning.

"Come Michael, eat with us," Simon gestured towards the table.

"Thanks to the both of you for your hospitality. I very much appreciate being so warmly received as a stranger to these parts."

"Father in heaven, thanks be to you for this bounty. Amen." Simon prayed as they sat.

"Yes, and Amen." Michael added as he came to grips with the pace of proceedings. They quickly ate a couple of slices of meat on coarse brown bread. No utensils were available except for the large knife used to slice the delicious meat. They wrapped the meat in the bread and dipped it into a bowl of some red sauce. Michael followed in a similar fashion not wanting to appear unusual to his hosts. Before he knew it, dinner was being cleared away and he was being ushered out and along the lane towards the church; its tall spire silhouetted against the darkening skyline.

Inside the dimly lit building every person living in the surrounding area, near a hundred in all, sat staring at the doorway as the short stranger entered. Michael could feel every eye piercing his small frame. A million thoughts raced through his head as if the air was charged with little fiery darts, all aimed at him. As they reached the front, Darius the Mediator came quickly to the point.

"Simon the pallbearer has brought a stranger into our midst," said Darius. "Simon, tell the people, who is this stumpy little fellow?"

Simon, unaccustomed as he was to public speaking, cleared his throat and stated rather shyly, "This is Mr. Longbottom." There was a snigger amongst the children in the corner. "Mr. Michael Longbottom has by chance come upon our village. My wife and I have opened our cottage to him." He looked down to the floor and paused a moment, then continued rather shyly again. "Really I don't know much more than that. I guess anything more the inquiry wants to know will have to come from his lips."

Not being offered a chair Michael could only stand uncomfortably. Darius the Mediator stepped forward and addressed the gathering according to proper order.

"The Mediator will now accept questions from the floor."

Silence followed; no one was prepared to speak; they all seemed to be looking intently at the stranger.

"Mr. Mediator," Michael said, "I have a question."

"It is not normal practice for the accused to ask the questions," the Mediator abruptly stated then turned and asked the village folk. "Are there any questions to begin proceedings?"

A cat pompously strutted down the centre isle towards the exit with its tail very erect and twitching.

"Mediator," called a voice from the centre of the seated gathering. "Mediator, we have never had a stranger in our midst before and we are not accustomed to a man so small. Is it common in other parts that men are so small in stature?"

Darius the Mediator turned and gestured towards the stranger with his arm saying, "You may answer the question."

Michael seemed to hold his words, not quick to speak but considered in his approach, quite the contrast to the Mediators abrupt and controlling manner. You could have heard a pin drop in the building as they awaited his discourse.

"Mr. Mediator, The height of a man is not of great concern to those outside of your village. The stature of a man is measured by the words which leave his lips and the actions he performs, whether they are foolish or whether they are wise." He was beginning to realise that his words were going to be so very important to these people who apparently were completely isolated.

"Mediator," the same voice called out again, "What do we do with strangers who come in to our village? Do they work in the mines like the rest of us?"

Darius looked a bit perplexed by this line of questioning then spoke to his Retainer, "Roger, I think we should consult the writings of Gregory. I wonder if you would bring them here and look up strangers and we will see what the Great Gregory had to say on this. All things must be in order and according to the writings. Go and get them now. Hurry, hurry!"

The gathering chattered amongst themselves as this aged Retainer to the Mediator hurried into an adjoining room and came back with a large leather bound and somewhat ancient looking manuscript. These were the thoughts of Gregory the Great, leader of Gnarlybark and its districts in the time of their forefathers.

"Mediator," reported the Retainer, "there is no listing under the title of strangers. The only reference to other than villagers concerns the existence of a storyteller by the name of Pennysworth, who frequented the village during that time. He was finally evicted, according to the text, after being found guilty of trying to pass off fanciful tales about the lands beyond the district of Kind. He was banished and given clear instruction to never again return."

Michael began to realise that the insular nature of this village threatened his own acceptance if he were unable to tell the truth about the world outside of their natural boundaries, which may be so different to their own understanding of life.

"Mediator," called a woman's voice from the back, "I have a question."

"I would like to remind you that only men are permitted to address these meetings and any questions you have needs to be put through an appropriate channel. Since your husband has died, I would suggest you direct your enquiry through your brother-in-law Roger."

She quietly spoke to the Retainer and after consideration he stood to put a question.

"Mediator, how long will this stranger be in our midst?"

"Mr. Longbottom," said the Mediator as another snigger erupted in the corner where children were playing with some kittens. "You may answer the question."

"Thank you Mediator," said Michael who was now feeling a little more comfortable with the formalities and manner in which he was the accused, as though a hearing to determine what, where, when, why and how of what was to these people an event without equal. "I should he happy to stay amongst you all as long as I am welcome, although I do suggest there is a risk factor involved in this, that my presence will bring about change and change is not always easily accepted, especially among those of a less adventurous nature."

"What is this you speak of; you say adventurous nature?" the Mediator said somewhat challenged.

"Is this not a familiar term to you?" Michael queried as he opened his hands wide. The people certainly looked puzzled so he continued. "To be adventurous is to seek out new experiences, to look, search, and hopefully find. I can be adventurous by climbing into the mountains. I can be adventurous by reading books. You," he motioned to the audience, "can be adventurous even in your mind." The people now were looking perplexed.

Again Roger the Retainer stood to speak, "Mediator, I would like to know why we do not have this word on our file? There is no reference to adventurous in Gnarlybark or the district of Kind. How do we explain this?"

The Mediator looked a little lost for words and indeed looking through their dictionary of terms found no reference to adventure, or that someone could possibly conceive to be adventurous.

"Mediator, with respect," said Michael realising that he had accidentally created a vacant space in the minds of these villagers, "may I suggest we adjourn at this late hour and after due consideration and rest, again take up this perhaps tomorrow evening."

"I believe we should take time here to research our archives to determine whether this has ever been a part of our heritage and if so, what possibly cause may have led to it being left out of the words of Gregory the Great. Until 9pm tomorrow evening this inquiry is adjourned."

The following day would be an awesome time of discovery for Michael; in the morning he would be able to get to know this village and its people, but first he needed some sleep. The bed he was offered at Simon's place bed was large and again of bent wood construction. The mattress had humps and hollows obviously better suited to the tall people who had occupied it in nights gone by. It had been a long and harrowing day; full of surprises not seen when he decided to walk that long abandoned track which he knew had to lead somewhere. A lot of work had been done many years before to form that path with all of its cuttings and the adventurer in him couldn't resist the temptation to explore the next bend, the next ridge and the next valley, finally ending up in this village far from anywhere. A thought puzzled him though; just what made him turn from the river and into the hills that others passed by year upon year. To think that not a single soul had ventured this way and this far for generations was beyond his comprehension.

Here were a people so isolated that they had so restricted a view of life that they were content to be content. Something didn't add up though, a nagging doubt, like a hint of some carrion amongst the sage he sensed something was amiss. He felt it but his mind could not reason it. What ought to be they seemed blind to. They spoke the same language but they couldn't fathom it. They felt but they didn't perceive it. It was as though truth had been corralled into restrictive fences and made it captive of some unknown dominant being. It was as if, yes, this revered forefather Gregory the Great had in his own inadequacy, left a distorted legacy that had entrapped following generations in some mire of limited thinking. Not that there was anything wrong with their lifestyle, it was charmingly simple but their potential was trapped by a seemingly distorted philosophy.

By pulling the pillow down Michael finally found the hollow that fitted his bottom, rolled on his side and drifted quietly into dreamy sleep.

Chapter Two

Surveying the Village

The birds were in full chorus as the sun once again chased the night away; their song filtered through with the increasing sunshine stirring Michael out of his sleep. A hundred thoughts and pictures fluttered through his mind but the predominant one concerned his whereabouts right then and there. Slowly he remembered the gravedigger and the Mediator, the Retainer and writings of Gregory; he was in the cottage of Simon and Trudy. Now adequately oriented in his own mind he rose to look out of the small window. There in the distance along the side of the mountain range the shadows from early light played out their daily parts in the first scene of act one in the eternal story. Light comes, overpowers the darkness, illuminates man's world, eliminating every shadow as the play progresses, until it wanes, shadows return again and finally darkness retakes the land. This is the story that speaks of man attaining a grip of the abundant life around him only to lose it again and fall. His thoughts were broken by a quiet knock on the door.

"Good morning Michael," came the hushed voice of Simon through the cracks. "Breakfast is ready if you would like to join us."

"Thank you Simon," said Michael. "I'll be down as soon as I have washed the sleep from my eyes."

Trudy was not at the table when he arrived but Simon had already begun to eat and drink.

"Toast and tea Michael?"

"That would be fine thank you Simon."

"It's a treat of a day out there. Summer is such a great time of year wouldn't you say."

"My favourite especially when it lingers into what should be winter."

"What would you suggest I occupy myself with today Simon? Should I familiarise myself with the village and the folk in these parts or is it better to do some work?"

"I should think it would be best to get to know the place a bit, besides where would you work except in the dark recesses of the mines?"

"The mines! Do they dig the coal out with pick and shovel?"

"I think you should make a visit down a shaft and see for yourself Michael."

The thought was interesting but a little fearful for Michael but he resolved to go and have a look at what sort of life these people led after he took stock of the village. Michael wanted to get his bearings and test the village water, so to speak, by sparking up some conversation with the locals. Trudy came in to clear away the table as the last dregs of herbal tea passed his lips.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Trudy plucked up the courage to enquire.

"Yes, indeed. Thank you," Michael gratefully replied.

"I am off now to my work Michael," said Simon. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"I can't think of anything at the moment Simon. Thanks for all you have done."

"Think nothing of it. It's our duty to make sure everyone living in our village is looked after."

"Still, I do appreciate your kindness, both of you," said Michael walking out after Simon.

Along Strawberry Lane on the outskirts of the village, Michael counted about 18 cottages with very similar front yards, almost identical gateways and whitewashed exteriors. Roses were well in bloom and they made a great contrast of colour all over the walls. The look of the cottages was similar, unruffled by oddities, conformist, and it spoke of deep tradition. Main Street, an extension of the road to the river, had larger houses, again whitewashed but obviously suited to raising children. There were less roses and flowers and more trees with swings and the like. Other streets branched off in regular intervals, Blackbird Street to the left and right, then Peters Street and the central square with the white church dominating one side of it. There was a general dry-goods store, an infirmary of sorts and the offices of the Mediator. Each of these formed the sides of the grey cobblestone square. The forested hills formed a close backdrop of varying shades of green in contrast to the blue sky of the open river valley behind him. The village market was in progress.

Michael walked among the women and children; no men were present, they were working in the mines. Some brought their produce from kitchens and vegetable gardens and displayed were apples, pears, carrots, potatoes, pumpkins as large as ever seen and various herbs. A burly butcher had meat hanging in the shade - sides of beef, mutton, pork, even a few ducks and chickens - filling orders for the women talking nearby. Every now and then she would work her knife over the steel, look around to see what people were doing. A smile came over her rounded face as she met the strangers eyes, then the bloodied apron turned again, knife hand poised to attack another joint with precision.

Michael noted in his mind the habits of the people: running fingers through their hair, touching others on the shoulders as they spoke, laughing in great outbursts at times. Children were entertained in a game like hopscotch; others were playing with a ball, a few stroking the cats that were milling around the butcher. Babies hung off their mother's arms and a baby was being rocked in a cradle under the adoration of half a dozen ladies. Behind them a woman in white, a nurse, lent against the door of the infirmary in the bright morning sunlight. She was looking at Michael but turned away each time he noticed her. He determined to investigate and so walked over toward the infirmary steps.

"Good morning madam," Michael ventured.

"Good morning to you stranger," the nurse replied with a warm smile. "How can I help you?" she said ushering him in. Michael felt a little uneasy amongst the smells of antiseptic and liniments. There was nothing the matter with him but in order to find out about the town he developed a slight ankle problem on the spot.

"My ankle has been a little sore," he said meekly. "I wonder if you might...?"

Before he had finished speaking this tall woman in her forties gestured for him to take a seat and so he sat and rolled up his trouser leg until the ankle was exposed.

"What happened then?" the nurse asked.

"Nothing specific, it's just been a bit sore for a few days."

"Perhaps a rub with some liniment would help?"

"Yes, I guess that would be useful," Michael said as he relaxed into the chair. This was his chance to dig a little into the village ways so he ventured a few small questions. "Are there any other medical people in the village?"

"I'm afraid not," she replied. "There's not a lot of call for nursing except those in childbirth and those in the last stages of dying; some times an accident. I can set bones and pull teeth but usually things are pretty quiet. Your ankle looks a little swollen."

"Oh, does it?" Michael came back surprised as he tried to see any enlargement himself. The fumes of liniment filled the air drowning out the antiseptic smells as she rubbed around the ankle. Her hands were warm and the rub began to heat the area concerned.

"I met Simon digging a grave. What was the cause of the death?"

"Poor old Capel succumbed to the miners disease which takes most men in our village," a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Were you close to the deceased, nurse?"

"He was my husband," she replied. "But don't worry I've done my grieving as he slowly faded away. I was glad to see it over; I see so many gasping for life until eventually they breath no more." A little tear formed and worked its way down her cheek until she caught it with her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said.

"I am sorry," Michael said as he suddenly realised how inappropriate his feigned ankle problem was to a woman having just lost her husband.

"My name is Sheela."

She was quite pretty and had a kind healing touch.

"I am pleased to meet you. My name is Michael."

"Yes, I know. I was at the hearing last night.

"What was that all about?"

"You are an oddity in these parts. The village doesn't know what to do about you."

"How so?" said Michael, "I am just a human being much like the rest of you, although perhaps a little shorter. Why do they need to hold a hearing?"

"It is the way we do things. Meetings are our means as a village of deciding how to deal with issues. You present a situation we have no idea of how to handle. It hasn't happened before."

"What would you do with a stranger?" Michael asked.

"I guess treat them just like a neighbour," said the nurse, "but it could be dangerous."

"Do I look dangerous?" Michael asked without really expecting a reply. "I carry no weapons. I'm only half your size."

"The danger might be in what we become because of you being with us."

"Do you mean that you might not like any change that might or might not happen in the future?"

"You have to understand that we have done things the way we have for as long as anyone can remember. We might not feel completely happy about all that happens but it has worked for us for generations."

"Do you ever hope that it might turn out better though Sheela, like the men not dying the way they do?"

"That would be a blessing for sure."

"Think about it Sheela, what if you had not suffered that way because the men earned their living doing something less injurious to their health. Wouldn't that be great?"

"What do you mean by doing something else to earn a living? That's what men do!"

"Not where I come from Sheela. Where I have been there are as many occupations as days in a year. Why, men do all sorts of things. In fact very few work in coal mines."

"But there is nothing else to do around here."

"What sort of district is this then?"

"Kind is just a place between the mountains and the river."

"The mountains are covered in trees. Couldn't something be done with the timber? Men elsewhere craft fine furniture, carve clocks, make toys, turn bowls and all manner of things with timbers of all types."

"We have some of those but how does that make a living?"

"Sales people market their products for them and that creates more work for men. Another earns his living supplying tools; an expert at working steel so that is what he specialises in doing. But there are many professions like doctors, dentists, nurses like yourself, butchers, bakers, electricians, plumbers, all specialising in their own talents and together making it good for each other, forming their piece of a whole pie that is a society. Your society is working in similarity where other societies work in diversity and they sell or trade their products to other societies."

"Heavens, that is so amazing." She stepped back and sat pondering now that she had finished the ankle massage. "How can things become so different?"

"Seems your village has become isolated and because of it somewhat introverted since the time of that that guy Gregory, the one you call "the Great". What ever happened in those days?"

"I don't really know Michael. It was so long ago that I don't know if anyone really knows why. You had better to ask that question of Roger the Retainer."

Michael stood quite comfortably on his feigned sore ankle and turned to leave.

"Thank you Sheela, you have been most helpful. My ankle is feeling really strong. I'll see you again if I may."

"Do drop by anytime," she replied with a note of hope in her voice, thinking how refreshing the conversation had been.

Michael walked to the offices of the Retainer clearly marked with official gold lettering on the door. He knocked and entered after a momentary pause for the forth coming welcome. Cats met him at the door; four entwined around his legs and several others on the desk and chair. Roger was obviously a cat lover like all the rest of the villagers it seemed. The small office was dimly lit by light from a small window opening onto the square. One bookshelf behind the door held perhaps a dozen thick books with leather bindings. The desk was cluttered with papers everywhere.

"Good day to you sir," said the Retainer, "How can I be of assistance Mr. Longbottom?"

"Good day to you, Roger?" Michael said in an inquiring manner, checking that this was the correct way of greeting him.

"Yes, yes, Roger is fine."

"I was wondering if you might help me a bit."

"Yes, how would I be able to help you?"

"My understanding is that things have been much the same around here since the time of Gregory the Great, perhaps three generations ago."

"O, much longer than that I would say. Six or seven generations would be more like it. It is just that Gregory the Great wrote a lot of it in his manuscript. Much of the record history owes its origins to him. He was actually not that noteworthy except that he put it in writing. It was his Grandfather, who actually set most of it in place."

"What was it that happened in those days."

"Records show very little actually. You see they chose to forget, even write out of history all that was before it. No one has to my knowledge ever spoken of what happened prior to Gregory's Grandfather who was the leader of the village."

"Do you think it sounds like something terrible happened?"

"It does. For a Mediator to have been appointed and with some small pieces of innuendo I've read it sounds like the district of Kind almost destroyed itself with disagreement. But really there are no facts to substantiate any of it."

"So let me get this clear, you are saying that the structure of this district exists today as a reaction perhaps to something that happened six generations ago."

"Approximately, yes."

"Interesting. What keeps it this way?"

"The people plus some rules that mean everything must go through the Mediator. His ruling is final. It works and has done so for many generations."

"It sounds like a form of authoritarian management," Michael thought aloud.

"Yes it is the understood way of the district. Very few challenge it. Some make a fuss from time to time but we know how to help them see the wisdom of the way we do things."

"How do you do that?"

"The mediator has his ways and I just reinforce him, being as I am his Retainer. They don't usually take it any further than to speak it over with me.

"What do you do with those who break the law."

"No one breaks the Law."

"Let me get this clear, not one person has broken the law in six generations."

"Well there has been one or two who could have been seen to break the law but the mediator has his ways of convincing them of their error. We have our critics but by and large they conform to the way of the village quite well. You see we don't hold highly those who rock the boat, so to speak."

"I think I am beginning to understand," said Michael as he began to get up. "Thank you for being most helpful."

"There was an incident several years ago with one of the men. He started to stir up the others in the mines about the conditions of work." Michael sat down again as the retainer volunteered an example. "A chap named Capel who has recently passed away," said the Retainer forlornly. "We have so much of that you know. His friend had died of the sickness and Capel had begun to draw our attention to conditions in the mines; he was one of the overseers. He came to me and suggested that the men work less hours and be given regular outside breaks during the day. I tried to tell him that it would not go down too well with the Mediator who had quotas to meet. Anyway he insisted on talking to the Mediator and I could not get him to see sense. The Mediator allowed him his say but before we knew it he was poorly, had to be demoted and before long was dying of the sickness as well. With his mind on his unfortunate illness poor old Capel just lost heart."

"Well, thank you for that insight Roger. I guess I'll see you tonight at the meeting."

"Yes, tonight it is then. Good day."

Michael left the office, deep in thought about all that Roger had told him and made his way towards the mines nearer the mountains. Passing further up the main street the village houses again took on the sameness that had struck him on the other side of the square, the whitewashed exteriors, the conformist look and the houses diminishing to cottages as the village thinned out.

The road led uphill and ended abruptly at the mines. Six small entrances spread across the face of the foothills each with a wooden sign. The nearest entrance had "Valid" written above it and seemed like as good a place to begin as any.

Chapter Three

Surveying the Mines

A large wooden portal protruded from the ground angled downwards at a comfortable slope. To begin with the light from behind easily lit the way ahead and Michael could hear the chipping of tools and the slight hint of voices. Thirty steps further down the blackness enveloped him completely. He stood there for a short time allowing his eyes to adjust as he knew they would. "Hello," he ventured hoping for a reply. "Hello," he repeated a little louder than before. He heard footsteps and began to see the image of projected light flicking on the walls in front of him. A lantern finally rounded the corner and as if magically floated towards him.

"Who's there?" came a deep voice.

"Michael Longbottom," he replied. "I wondered if it might not be too much trouble if I had a look around the mine."

"I guess that would be all right, stranger. Come on down and I'll give you some protection for your head in case you bump into the ceiling or get caught in a rock fall." They walked side by side around the bend as the miner introduced himself, "My name is Jones."

"Thank you," Michael said as he took hold of a hard hat and shook hands with the coal dust encrusted man stooping before him in the lantern light. "Pleased to meet you Mr. Jones."

"Its just Jones. Everyone simply calls me Jones down here and I am Valid boss. You we'll call Stranger to avoid any confusion. There's another Michael down here on the carts."

"The carts?"

"The track you are walking on, we use hand carts to take the coal to the surface."

"Oh, of course. I've never been down a mine shaft before."

"I could see that. Never mind, as long as you keep your head down," he suggested before remembering the stranger was very short anyway. "I guess you wouldn't need to worry about that too much. You will notice the ceiling drop down now to about your height."

"Indeed. How far are we underground?" asked Michael the ceiling almost touching his hard hat. The air was beginning to smell of coal dust and the tracks seemed to level out.

"Well that's hard to say because you are now under the mountains." Suddenly Michael's apprehension rose several notches. He could hear the men at work quite clearly now in what seemed a constant barrage of pick strikes and shovel's slicing. They had come to a place where lanterns illuminated carts on wooden tracks and men shovelling coal into them.

"This is the face," Jones announced. "Each side you will see compartments with a man in each." Michael could see bays approximately the width of a man's reach either side. The ceiling was held up in each bay with what looked like short branches. There were no cross members supporting the roof, simply the vertical struts about as high as his chin. The men worked on their knees with the pick, a lamp illuminating the job. Behind them another cleared away the coal to the carts. The atmosphere was close; the dust was heavy. Suddenly the noise of a cart began to rumble towards them, as two men pushed it out from the face.

"Step aside now, the crew are going aloft," said the boss. Michael found a free space in one of the compartments. He stooped and squatted low, as the cavity allowed him refuge. The cart rumbled away from the face and the lamps illuminated the area more clearly. Seven men in all seemed to be crouched in the face area all with their lanterns turned towards the stranger.

"Men," the boss called out. "The Stranger has come to take a look at our workplace." The blackened faces peered out from behind their lanterns and each shook Michael's hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he said to each as they in turn grasped his hand. They were strangely quiet, like men deep in thought, perhaps their minds elsewhere. One smiled but the rest withdrew again behind their lanterns; he came forward and made more of the occasion. This was a more outgoing individual, a youth of perhaps late teens early twenties.

"Mora is my name stranger," he volunteered.

"Michael, Michael Longbottom," he replied shaking his hand more earnestly.

"Call him Stranger down here, so we don't get confused."

"Right you are Jones," several voices acknowledged as they dispersed back to their warren of work faces.

"Stranger, you come with me, I'll look after you," said Mora boldly then thought better to check with his boss, "Okay with you Jones?"

"All right Mora but be careful! You know the ropes but you're a bit inclined not to think about others too much. Make sure you keep close and explain everything carefully."

"Yea, yea, Jones. You know me."

"That's the trouble Mora, I do know you only too well. Just spare a thought for the stranger; he's never been in a mine before today and he isn't schooled up on safety matters."

"Watch him around the lanterns, we don't want any accidents do we!" Jones walked off somewhere into the darkness. Mora ushered Michael down further into the mountain. Tracks curved and branched to the extent that Michael may not have been able to find his way back out that easily.

"Can you hear that?" asked Mora at last.

"A sort of dull thud, is that what you mean?"

"That's a shaft from Valiant mine next door; they will eventually join up with this shaft."

Finally the tunnel opened out to a chamber, round with no other exits, a dead end. The trickle of water could be heard echoing around the walls.

"This area is mined out so we don't work here anymore but we use it to eat our mid-shift meal. Sometimes we come down here for a meeting to discuss problems."

"What sort of problems?"

Mora dipped a cup in the water flowing from the rock across the end wall into a crevice where it disappeared. He offered it to Michael and dipped another cup for himself. Michael drank a little and found it to be cool and pure to taste, so he drank deeply, refilling his cup again. They sat with the light of the lantern casting their human forms as grotesque animated giants on the walls. There was a silence for a time before Michael's voice again pierced the water's trickle.

"This is so peaceful. Very special."

"It's a place where we come to consider," the miner replied.

Michael sensed this was not an ordinary moment but so like the difficult time a man has before he opens his heart about private matters.

"What sort of things do you consider?" There was a pause before Mora formed his thoughts into words. Michael sensed his difficulty and thoughtfully waited for him.

"Old Capel and I used to come here and discuss things. His funeral is tomorrow. It doesn't seem fair him being taken just when things were about to move."

"Was Capel your friend, Mora?"

"He was. He was like a father to me. We talked here and he listened. He listened then he would tell me of better ways. Things that could be but aren't."

"Dreams are the things which give us hope and life," Michael stated.

"Do you believe that?" the miner replied.

"Certainly I do. Life would be so dull if we could not follow our dreams, if the ropes were so tight that bound us to yesterday that tomorrow never came."

"Sometimes it seems the ropes are strangling me. I feel so afraid of stepping into any of the things that Capel and I shared with each other."

"What sort of things? Tell me about it."

"They are secret things, things that are unspoken in the village. Things our parents stopped us talking about when we spoke that way. It was only Capel and I who shared the dreams."

"Water runs from the spring and flows across the wall until it disappears into the crevice," said Michael philosophically.

"What do you say Stranger?"

"Words are spoken and they are shared before they fall to the ground and disappear. But the hope lingers like the peace of the water."

"There is a peace isn't there?"

"Just as there is a hope. When hope dies a man is little more than a shovel or a pick, an instrument in the hand of another."

"Yes," replied Mora now in the deep grip of the wisdom this stranger held. "You are an unusual fellow," he stated then paused before continuing, "but somehow I'm glad that you came to us." Secretly he was feeling that in this stranger there was some hope but how he did not know. Suddenly remembering how long they had been away he jumped up. "We had better get back to the face before we are missed."

Michael was feeling quite privileged that in one day two or three of the village folk had opened up to him and all had mentioned Capel. Perhaps, he thought, it was the grief of his death and thoughts of the funeral the next day. In a village so small and as introverted as it was it is understandable that a death would set in motion some retrospective thinking. Where have they been? What was the purpose? What does it all mean?

They approached the coal-face where the men were all working away in the dusty light. The cart returned to be loaded again, the same routine, he realised, continued hour after hour, day after day, generation after generation.

"Have you seen enough, Stranger," Jones enquired.

"I think so, quite enough," Michael answered, rubbing his arms in a way that gave no uncertainty about his wish not to stay in the coldness of the mine.

"I'll escort you up to the light then."

"Thank you for my guided tour Mora," Michael said as he warmly shook his hand. He then turned to Jones thinking what a dark land he was boss of. They walked for some time before the gloom of the entrance appeared on the walls where Jones said his farewells.

"Thank you Jones."

"All in a days work," he replied. Michael was thinking how strange that sounded as they lived most of their lives in the dark. The light of day was blinding, so much so that Michael had to sit a while after Jones left until his eyes adjusted. The day was gorgeous with birds singing and flittering with activity at the forest edge. A hare loped out of the forest into the grass nearby where he washed his face and ears with his paws. It stood erect looking all around for danger, not noticing Michael at the entrance, then relaxed again and cleaned his ears some more. Michael couldn't help but think that this was special. Only a moment before he was in the darkness of men's toil but here in the now he was enjoying something they really couldn't: a breath of fresh air, the comparative warmth of the sunshine and the sights and sounds of nature's business. The hare loped off over the brow; to his eyes nature was beautiful.

Michael by now had regained normal sight and temperature of blood. Looking towards the village across the rolling green pastures he was confronted with the tall church spire. The church was the one area of village life not yet mentioned by anyone so he determined to learn something of the village outlook to their faith before the hearing continued there again that evening. He didn't go directly into the village but intrigued by the Hare and its adventures at the forest edge he would investigate a little more of the forest and hills. Following the Hare seemed like as good a way as any so he too wandered over the brow and onto a knoll that looked to give a good perspective of the whole district of Kind.

After a rather difficult climb up the grassed hill and with the mine entrances now out of sight Michael surveyed the plains of the district. The wide river made a profound boundary in the distance. Beyond it little could be seen but flood plains, swamps and scrub land. The other side looked like such an inhospitable place and the river so wide that it was no wonder people had not attempted to cross from there. The mountains closed right to the river at each end leaving only the plains of Kind suitable for any habitation at all in these parts.

There were other buildings surrounding the village, once again white but scattered randomly. They were farm buildings and barns for livestock. Faint tracks could be seen linking to the village, just as the path he had entered by to the right faded into the hills. A stream sparkled among the green fields beside the village then flowed into a small pond in the marshes by the river. Sheep and goats roamed in small groups on the foothills and black cattle could be seen on the plains. Michael was struck by the whiteness of the village in contrast to the vivid green of the countryside. It almost spoke to him but it was so fleeting he wasn't able to catch the words, only a feeling that something was hiding there, something not so profoundly white, not so clean. The people obviously didn't understand it but they too were feeling something. The individuals he had spoken with were somewhat disenchanted. He thought deeply about this odd inquiry business the Mediator had thrown him into. It surely was a strange place.

The sky was turquoise blue but the mountains were forming billowing clouds from one end to the other. They continually rolled into form, a living dragon like creature with multiple heads, rolling and changing and reforming as it crept over the ridges, laying its shadow on the village then thinning into wisps and finally disappearing. The day was on its decline, cooling by now as a change took over the area, the white houses and cottages though was still the dominant feature.

Workers began to emerge from the mine entrances and presently a stream of men took form moving past the piles of coal and down towards the village. Thirty, forty, fifty the approximate count. Time had passed so quickly for Michael on the grassy knoll above the plains. It was time he too left his high place and returned to the village ready for the evening meal. As he descended he noticed the stream of men divide into bunches; some stopped and were obviously discussing something together at the rear. One individual seemed quite animated, a leader perhaps speaking his mind.

As Michael approached, the men stopped their discussion and resumed their homeward walk. He joined them at the rear and fell in along side Mora in the midst. He wasn't sure but thought that it was Mora who was being animated. Now he was quiet and smiling; no one talked at all. They reached the village and dispersed their separate ways, each to his own home. Simon met Michael at the corner of Strawberry Lane and the two walked together into their cottage.

"There's time to wash before dinner," Simon said. "Have you had a good day?"

"Yes, indeed, thank you," his guest replied. "And you?"

"Just a day of preparation for the funeral tomorrow; finishing off the coffin, making arrangements with the family, that sort of thing."

"Am I to understand that you don't work in the mines?"

"No, no. I just tend to funerals when the need arises. Most of the time I take my place at the coal face like everyone else."

"Even the Mediator and his Retainer?" Michael enquired.

"Oh no, of course not. No, those two have special positions in the village. No, you wouldn't see them with blackened faces. Not in a month of Sundays."

Michael washed in the bowl provided just inside the back door. A cold refreshing of his face and hands and tidy of his greying hair. Simon meanwhile disappeared into the cottage leaving Michael to fend for himself. Looking around he noticed nothing special, a manual laundry and washing area, a small room and bath, a small mirror, towels and a chair. Walking through to the kitchen he felt the warmth radiating from the coal fire, a pot simmered on top smelling of beef and herbs; most probably their dinner. A long wooden work surface with a bowl and pitcher of water lay along the wall beneath the window, dried flowers hung from the ends of the window and various tools used in the preparation of food hung from the walls: pots, pans, knives and ladles.

"Michael," Simon called from the wash area.

"Here in the kitchen," he called back.

"Trudy, will serve if you will join us at the table."

They all came together and before long were enjoying a hearty beef stew with potatoes, parsnip, carrots and cabbage. Again the coarse brown bread was sliced and he followed their style of loading it with stew and eating from the hand. Conversation was minimal while the focus of consumption was in progress. However after dinner and over a cup or two of herb tea Simon and Michael related stories of their pasts, each reminding the other of some person or event which they had experienced. Before they knew it the time fast approached 9pm and the continuance of the hearing at the church.

Chapter Four

The Hearing Continues

Quickly Simon and Michael made their way to the church still talking together. The building was again full, every man, woman and child packed into it. Even the cats turned out in force, some on laps and still others strutting around freely rubbing themselves on legs of chairs and people alike. Again Michael was ushered towards the front and made to stand before the whole village. The Mediator called the hearing to order.

"Order, Order. Let us get things underway this evening." Some still hadn't noticed so he called out sternly, "Quiet please at the back!" All heads now turned towards the front he began to bring everyone up to date. "You may remember at the meeting last evening the stranger spoke of adventure, a word not recalled in our village and I asked that some research be done as to why this was so. Retainer, what did you discover from the archives? Come up here and tell us."

The Retainer walked to the front holding open a leather bound volume and said "Mediator, I have searched the archives and the writings of Gregory the Great. The manuscript is vast and covers, as you know, all aspects of life in the village. However there is no mention that I can find, of adventure according to the definition the stranger has given us. There has been the odd occasion of individuals however in the archives who took it upon themselves to stray from the norm of life in the village over a period of time but who for one reason or another did not persist or remain in this vane. This may or may not meet the definition the stranger has spoken of depending on the view point or interpretation of the reader."

"How so Retainer?" enquired the Mediator.

"Well sir, the most notable either ran off or expired of the disease sir."

"Yes well never mind all that. Let us get on with what we know. Is there any further information?"

"Well, not really sir."

"Is there any further information from the floor then?" said the Mediator. A young man stood and the Mediator acknowledged him. Michael at first did not recognise this tall individual with pale skin until the Mediator spoke his name. "Mora, what have you to say this time. Be brief!"

"Mediator, today I learnt something," he said in slow chosen words, "that a man is but a pick or a shovel in the hands of another if he can not be allowed to follow his own dream. A dream is hope and that hope is a source of life to him. I want to say that old Capel had dreams. He had hopes for a better way and now he is gone. But his dream is not dead. His hope for a better way is still alive." There was a note of common agreement from the villagers before the Mediator once again stepped in.

"Order, order. Retainer, read section three of the manuscript, about page twelve I think where it speaks of unofficial group discussion."

The Retainer shuffled through the pages and found the piece. "Should anyone at any time slide into contrary thinking and speak any variation of the truth written herein, he or she shall come before the Mediator, or his current Retainer in the first instance, and be cautioned if necessary of the consequences pertaining to deviation from the way determined to be the best path forward for the District of Kind."

"Thank you Retainer," said the Mediator. "I think it is clear from the words of Gregory the Great that order is to be maintained at all costs according to the collective wisdom of the manuscript. Any further information from the floor?"

"Mediator," a voice called out. "May I ask a question concerning how the world outside of this district deals with dreams?"

"The only one who has knowledge of the outside world is the stranger," said the Mediator. "Mr. Longbottom describe how it is in the world." Michael considered the question carefully and lifting his head spoke to the gathering.

"In the world outside of the district of Kind, men do indeed dream of new and exciting things, great works and accomplishments. An individual needs courage to follow his or her dreams because the outcome is not assured, whether one will succeed or whether one will fail. Where one may fail another may eventually succeed, the dream lives and often whole villages may share the same goals. But I must say that dreams can be suppressed by fear, fear of failure and fear of change."

"The people of this village have no dreams!" proclaimed the Mediator.

"Not so!" a voice called out.

"Order, I will have order!" the Mediator demanded.

"Mediator," the same man called from the gathering.

"Yes, what is it Mora?"

"Old Capel had dreams and so do I. He is dead now but his dream lives. Inside of me his dream lives even though he is gone." There was mass agreement from the floor.

"Order, order," said the Mediator. "I will maintain order. That is my responsibility. I was chosen and given the brief and I will carry it out to the best of my ability, to maintain the proper function of the district according to the collective wisdom written in the manuscript of Gregory the Great."

It was fairly plain to see that there was an undercurrent sweeping through the people, dragging the hearing to places unseen. Michael knew the powers that be were at war for supremacy over these people and their village. One had a strong grip and the other was caught in the struggle to tear its hands off their dreams. The weak in the valley would gain strength from the ranks who followed, gaining a thread of confidence to apprehend whatever they could as they took more of the formidable mountain before them. Power was at stake and the one who held the mountain would feel at this time quite threatened. It was time to become the peacemaker.

"Mediator," said Michael diplomatically. "May I say how taken I am with your strength of character, how able you are to control the hearing. I wonder if there is a way that all might gain from this, a way in which the individual might find fulfilment of his dreams and the collective advance. By all accounts this district has not advanced to the degree that those outside have. It is in the adventurousness of man that he improves his lot in life."

"Yes, this needs some thought, wouldn't you say?" said the Mediator. "We will adjourn until tomorrow evening."

As Simon and Michael walked back to the cottage together some thoughts were persisting in Simon"s mind. Troubled by the growing disenchantment with things as they were he began to speak his own mind with Michael.

"We are a good people Michael. We are obedient to our tradition. But we don't know why. We want to step out but something inside knows that to step out would cause us personal difficulty. It is easier to remain as we are and remain knit together than to bring about change. We do not know what will become of us. Can we cope with changes and remain in this degree of order and relative peace?"

"You will never know if you never try," Michael replied, "but it is my experience that people are much more resilient than we imagine. Relationships are much deeper when they go though adversity together."

"My own life is not so important Michael, it is the life of the village that I am concerned about. We don't want to divide the village and cause friction that may not easily be resolved. That is my fear."

"Fear, yes. It has a lot to answer for this power of fear. It rules the lives of more people in the world than you could imagine. Fear of life, fear of death, fear of change and even fear of staying the same. This demon prince rules people. If you are adventurous than it will reject the status quo. If you are not adventurous it will reject change. Fear has power over us all."

By now they had reached the cottage, entered and sat each side of the fireplace. The embers were still glowing; Simon raked them over and added a few lumps of coal before continuing.

"How then do you deal with fear Michael?"

"Well, I guess I just treat it like a strong wind. If I choose to stand out in the open it will harass me but if I choose to seek shelter it does not affect me."

"How do you take shelter from fear then?"

"Think of an idea as if it were the wind which buffets you. What is it that can give you the equal and opposite force sufficient to counter its power?"

"I don't know, maybe another idea or saying perhaps."

"Yes indeed. You are on to it."

"Like, sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me."

"Like that but much more potent, much more profound. Something totally trustworthy."

"The only totally trustworthy thing I guess is the Bible."

"You are a Bible believing people then."

"Isn't everyone?"

"No, by no means. There are people all around the world who hold no store in the Bible at all. Millions haven't even seen it."

"How can that be? The scriptures are the line which we live by. God is our guide in all things."

"Not so Simon. The writings of Gregory the Great are your guide it would seem from the proceedings of the inquiry."

"Well yes, but that is the realm of village order. The Bible is the realm of personal order."

"A question then. Which do you think is first, the writings of Gregory or the writings of God?" teased Michael.

"I get your point. The manuscript has been elevated above its position," Simon mused softly.

"Let's put it this way," said Michael, "there is a wind."

"Well with that perhaps we should turn in for the night."

"A good idea. I will not take too much rocking tonight," Michael stated as they rose to retire. Sleep did come easily for him but not before recalling the people in his day; Capel"s wife Sheela in the infirmary, the Retainer in his office, deep in the coal mine with Mora, the Hare and the shadow over the village, Simon and the Mediator's hearing. These pieces of the puzzle were a lot to take in but they were his lot for now.

"What are your plans today Michael?" Simon enquired over breakfast.

"I thought I'd see if I could catch up with the spiritual leader in the village."

"He will be tied up with the funeral this afternoon. You will need to see him this morning if you can."

"Will he be at the church then?"

"No, in his office as usual."

"And that is where exactly?"

"The Retainer, he's the one who looks after religion in the village."

"You mean, you don't have a spiritual minister."

"There was one but he died in my grandfather's day. The Mediator appointed the Retainer since he looked after the books in the town."

"Do the villager's not read then?" enquired Michael noting a hint of divergence.

"Not much call for it when we have someone who does it for us."

"Do you have school for the children?"

"They learn from the rest of us," said Simon. "Not much call for readers at the coal face either. Do you read then Michael?"

"I do, as do most people in the world outside of Kind."

"Is that so," he mused, "what on earth do they read?"

"There are huge libraries of every sort of book you could imagine and more. People read to learn, they read for enjoyment, they read about far away places and write about their experiences because it is basic to their existence. In doing so the reader is not dependant on the interpretation of one mind to view the world around them."

"I must be off to work," said Simon, "With the funeral is today at one and I must get things done. Everyone will be there." With that Simon bid him farewell and left the cottage.

Michael was a bit perplexed by the news that the Retainer filled the religious function of the village. Being under the employment of the Mediator and keeper of the writings of Gregory the Great posed a major problem of partiality. Suddenly the undercurrent in the village made a lot more sense to Michael. Could it be that one man controlled the mind of these people by having total control of all knowledge. Therefore keeping isolated from the rest of the world was part of his strategy and Michael would be a threat to him. Now he understood the reason for the inquiry and him being the accused.

Something about his little talk the day before with the Retainer, gave him the feeling that Roger was covertly helpful rather then hindering Michael in his quest for the truth about the village. The story about Capel's requests for better working conditions and that very afternoon being his funeral seemed to become a pivotal point in this inquiry he had been thrust into. Michael determined to speak again to nurse Sheela, being Capel's wife.

"Good morning," Michael called out as he entered the infirmary. "Nurse, are you there?"

"What is it?" came Sheela's voice from the other room, "is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes. It's just me again," he called.

"Oh, it's you Michael. How is your ankle today?"

"Actually my ankle is fine," he said looking rather sheepish.

"That's good. I'm glad you came back… to tell me that is," Sheela said realising she may have given the impression too strongly that it was his presence alone that made her glad.

"I wondered if we might talk some more."

"What ever about?" she said as she busied herself rearranging bottles.

"Well, actually it would be somewhat personal, concerning your late husband. If it's too difficult maybe another time, but I have the impression you wanted to talk about it."

"It depends what you want to talk about."

"It is about his challenge to improve working conditions at the mine."

"Sometimes I wish he had kept his mouth firmly closed. But it's to late now. He went down hill from then on, like he lost his own will to live. It was as if something happened at that meeting with the Mediator that really hurt his source of strength."

"Can you open that up a bit for me?"

"Well, he used to be a man who achieved big things, the most coal out in a day, the fastest and the hardest worker and because of his example in front of the other men he was promoted to mine boss. The guys loved him and so did I. But then he slowed right down, seemed almost lazy, then he became ill and could no longer work at all. I loved the old Capel but this change I did not like. Admittedly he was ill in the later part but the lack of vitality and depression in the beginning was not like him. I always thought that something happened at that meeting with the Mediator and I asked him about it. But every time he flew of the handle at me. I don't understand what happened to my man but I know something happened. This man they are burying this afternoon, he isn't my man. My man died long ago."

"Did he say anything about what took place at that meeting?"

"Only that it did not go well and that things would stay the same."

"He never spoke about the Mediator?"

"No, not a mention of anything else. It was as though he had died. From that day on he hardly spoke to me at all."

"I think I will have to talk to Mora again. Your husband shared his thoughts with him. Perhaps I can wait for him at the entrance of the mine so we can talk privately as we walk back to the village."

Michael went to the mines; coal was being loaded onto large sleds under a hopper near the entrances. A team of bullocks yoked together nearby waited for the big pull downhill to the river barge. Michael knew the connection between the outside world and the village was in the coal trade but someone was making sure that connection did not include personal contact. It had to be the Mediator; he was the only one who knew everything that was going on. It began to look like there was something sinister afoot.

The hare loped into the forest as Michael appeared at the mine entrance. He sat and waited patiently. The bullock team was well on its way towards the river when the first of the men appeared at the entrances. Before long Mora also walked out from the mine. Michael motioned him over and together they talked as they walked down toward the village.

"Mora, I wanted to talk to you some more about Capel. I wonder whether you would have some more pieces of the puzzle of his situation. I think it holds a key to the problems of this village."

"If I have any pieces that belong you are sure welcome to them."

Yellow flowers, dandelions, proudly stood on their pathway of green. Michael bent down and picked one to help illustrate his story.

"Mora, I am told that Capel was a bright and proud man. Is that right?"

"Yes," he answered puzzled.

"Do you think he was put out?" Michael asked as he crushed and rolled the flower between his palms.

"He was never put out like that but," Mora continued as he plucked another yellow flower and covered it with his hand, "he was never public again."

"He spoke with you in the chamber where the spring of water is, didn't he."

"That's the only place he spoke."

"Did he tell you what happened at the meeting that time with the Mediator."

"Bits," Mora said.

"Tell me why the flower was covered?"

"The flower did not belong. The flower was yellow in a green field. All must be green."

"But how did the green prevail over the yellow."

"The green grew tall, surrounded yellow completely and cut off its sunlight."

"And you see the sunlight as?"

"Hope . . . without which you die."

"I thought so. How would you say the green was so effective?"

"Green always looks green and saw yellow beginning to stand out. Green didn't know that yellow had another. Green thought that yellow was like green in his ways but he was mistaken. Yellow has as many followers as the dandelions in the field; the grass can not cover them all."

They walked on, both pretty much in tune with each other. It was time to part; Mora needed to wash the black coal dust off his skin and change into clean clothes.

Chapter Five

Capel's Funeral

Michael left the men at the church where the coffin lay in preparation for the funeral. He was awe struck as he approached; flowers covered the coffin, dandelions by the hundreds formed a carpet. Soon others began to arrive at the church, two here and three there, until bit by bit the gaps in the pews diminished. There was no organ playing; it seemed the village was devoid of music. The cats were in their numbers as they all came to see Capel off. The Retainer walked up the isle now dressed in robes of purple and white. Standing beside the coffin he read from the book of order.

"On this solemn occasion as we gather to see our brother off on his journey heavenward we pause a moment to consider his life. Let us pray. Merciful God, uphold us in this time of grief. Cause us to lift beyond our pain and see the prize of eternal life. Help us O God as we entrust our brother into your care. Amen."

"Amen," the people repeated.

"The Mediator will now convey the official record," announced the Retainer.

The Mediator stood from his official chair at the front left and addressed the gathering. "Capel was born to Iris and George forty two years ago on December 22nd. He eagerly took to work at an early age under his father at Valid mine where he rose to become boss at thirty years of age. He married then junior nurse Sheela and they have been together 22 years. He was awarded the medal of excellence for his high performance at the mine and carried out the position of mine boss with distinction. The District of Kind finds him to be as always a most valued citizen. There are no dependants and his former wife is now eligible for independent living in the widows cottages." With that the Mediator returned to his chair.

"Jones will now speak as Valid mine boss," announced the Retainer. Jones came up from the rear of the church and spoke.

"As you all know, I was boss of Valid for the last of Capel's working life. I started under him and was assigned his job after the onset of the illness. I found him to be an excellent example to follow and I owe everything I am today to his guidance. He was to me like my own father since my father had died. As representative of Valid mine we offer our condolences to Sheela and have a gift here from the men."

Jones walked down the isle and presented the package to her. Sheela stood to accept the plain brown paper package. Friends who sat beside her were eager to see what it was that she had been given. Sheela quietly lifted one end and trying not to disturb the proceedings peeked into the package to see a crimson material with gold highlights. That was enough to satisfy her curiosity for the moment but the friends were still none the wiser. Not very much emotion was displayed; the whole funeral seemed to lack the ritual that Michael was used too.

Meanwhile the Retainer committed Capel into the care of Almighty God and called for the pallbearers. Six of his work-mates made their way to the front and proceeded to take up the coffin, slowly carrying it out of the church. The people filed out behind and walked down the main street and out to the cemetery where Simon had dug the last resting place for Capel a few days before. Michael walked with Mora at the rear of the procession. Mora was one who did seem to be a little emotional even though restrained.

"At funerals I have attended in the past I have witnessed more emotional scenes than I have here. Is there a reason for why the village is so restrained?" asked Michael.

"We know," replied Mora.

"You know what?" enquired Michael.

"Everyone who rocks the boat dies."

"Dies?" puzzled Michael.

"Ceases to live," Mora said with his note of anger then easing, "ceases to rock the boat. We are resigned to it. It is just the way it has been all our lives. It's like there is some sort of beast that hunts them down and slowly they die. One day they are standing tall and then you turn around and they are chopped down."

"You are saying that everyone who comes up against the system gets killed off?"

"Yes, I guess when you look at it that is about it," said Mora, "We've buried so many good men, potentially great men. Why is it the good die young?"

"Could someone be killing them?"

"Who would do a thing like that. It is against everything we believe in, even against God's law. No one would even consider such a terrible thing. It just isn't done."

"Believe me Mora, it is a common thing among men. Don't believe men are above stooping so low."

"You do not understand, people just do not do anything wrong in this village; never have, never will."

"If a man had a lot to lose," said Michael, "if his power over others was threatened, he could be influenced to become a servant of evil, believe me."

"Servant of evil? We are Christians, church going folks, Bible people."

"You must know the Cain and Able incident then Mora," Michael quizzed remembering that few could read.

"Cain and Able were the sons of Adam."

"Cain killed Able when God accepted Able's offering and rejected Cain's."

"Cain killed Able, you say?" said Mora with an astonished look on his face.

"Haven't you heard? What about Saul trying to kill David?"

"King David?" Mora said astonished, "No."

"Have they not taught these things in church?"

"The Retainer told us that men put Jesus on the cross but He rose again."

Michael was by now seeing that the isolation was deeper then a physical separation from the things of the world, that it was also a separation from the unrighteous side of life on earth. It was as though he was in a place set up to remain as it were, holy. A place supposedly separated from sin by restricting knowledge but in doing so they had also shut off knowledge of things that were right. These people had erected walls to protect themselves but which had effectively become their prison. There was not an ounce of concern for the rest of the world; all eyes were focused on their own salvation but in doing so they were blind to themselves.

The coffin lay beside the grave. A few individuals were standing near but most were standing well back. The Retainer read the piece from the Bible about being from the dust and returning to the dust. The pallbearers lowered the coffin, retrieved the ropes and tossed some soil over the coffin. Slowly everyone filed past and tossed soil into the grave, some more and some less. Finally all were gone except for Michael and Simon shovelling the remainder of the dirt to finish the job.

"Do you think there is anything amiss Simon?" Michael asked as he helped, "I mean with the men who rock the boat dying prematurely?"

"I must admit it is kind of odd. I have..." Simon paused looking around to check they were out of ear-shot, "...I have been thinking it odd the way their bodies are faintly yellow. The women and old men are never yellow, just men like Capel here."

"What do they die of, these yellow ones I mean?"

"They have the disease don't they."

"You mean the miners disease?"

"They're very thin you know. Their bones protruding like some starved animal. And yellow skin. No one knows what they die of except they call it the disease."

"Has anyone tried to cure it?"

"There's only Sheela. All she can do is nurse them until they die. There is no cure for the disease."

Michael was thinking that if it were a mine related disease the boat rockers would not be the only ones to die, everyone who worked there could contract it. He determined that he would have to look elsewhere for the cause and it sure looked like the meetings with the Mediator had ominous signs about it.

"Simon, where does the Mediator reside?"

"Over there," he pointed to a white house on a hill overlooking the village, "that's the Mediators residence; lives there all on his own. The Retainer looks out for him and brings his dinner to him from Mrs. Bridges, she's the finest cook in the village you know. That's been the Mediators residence ever since Adam was a boy."

"Does he have many visitors?"

"No, not really. He's not very popular you realise."

"Old Capel, did he ever go up there?"

"I believe he did, when the business about the mine conditions were being discussed."

"How long was he there, do you think?"

"I heard some say he was there all the day. It was a long time ago. Yes, I heard that Mrs. Bridges had to cook two meals that day."

"Thank you Simon, that's very helpful. Very helpful indeed."

"Well, I want to thank you too Michael, we've cleaned that pile of dirt up in good time thanks to you."

"No trouble. I will see you later."

"Right you are. I'll just finish up things here and see you at dinner."

"Bye," said Michael as he strode off towards the Village.

The Mediator seemed the person he needed to talk with next so Michael made his way directly to his residence on the hill overlooking the village. A pathway led from the road in to the village, which could not have been well used but was never-the-less sufficiently evident in the field. The fact that he didn't have many visitors and the openness of the pathway didn't really add up. Possibly the Mediator had occasion to walk to the coal barge at the river to take stock of the situation. There seemed no other reason for a pathway so detached from the general flow of traffic in the village.

The Mediator's house was larger than it first looked and was well protected from wind with rows of tall evergreen trees on three sides. Once again the house was white and the surrounds well manicured. A cobbled path led to the front entrance that had an extensive front porch overlooking the village. There was a well beside the house with the bucket and winch covered by a shingle roof. Black birds flocked around the trees, alarmed noisily as they were surprised by the stranger's sudden appearance. Michael took hold of the brass door knocker and rapped three times. He was a little anxious but he overcame it with an almost inaudible prayer. A shout came from inside.

"That you Retainer?"

"No Sir. It's Michael Longbottom," he called back through the door.

The door latch rotated and it swung inward before him. The Mediator was dressed in a robe and holding a glass of what looked like red wine. His remaining grey hair was ruffled and he was chewing on something.

"Longbottom. What are you doing here?" he said abruptly.

"I wondered if I might visit with you Mediator," Michael humbly enquired.

"Why certainly. Don't get too many visitors up here. Come on in. While you are here you may call me Darius, it sounds a little less formal."

"Darius it is then," he confirmed as he stepped inside the dimly lit house, "and I would be more comfortable if you would call me Michael."

The walls were dark stained timber panels and the hallway extensive. Little light penetrated but he was able to see enough to follow his host into a room with plush seating and a grand piano at one end. The room had one very large window behind the piano affording a spectacular view of the river. There was a slightly stuffy male air about the place and paintings of men lining the walls took Michael's interest.

"Former Mediators, they are," Darius said. "The one at the far end was the first named Lethial. Then," as he pointed towards the next, "there's Paul the first, Jeremiah, Damel, another Paul, Hertoc, Digby, and myself."

"And the one on the wall opposite with the long grey beard?" Michael enquired.

"That Michael, is Gregory the Great, as we call him. He is responsible for the manuscript that keeps this village in order. He wrote everything necessary for our wellbeing from the knowledge of his Grandfather. It was following his death that the Mediators began to be appointed. He was the last of the Ogden family line. The Ogden's were our royal family if you like, a wealth of wisdom and humility. Truly loved by the villagers they were; they thought the world of them."

"So there has been eight Mediators since the manuscript was written by Gregory the Great, is that right?"

"That's correct. I am the eighth."

"How does it work then; the appointment of a new Mediator that is?"

"It's a simple process really. The Mediator selects a Retainer and the he learns the way from the Mediator. Successive Retainers learn the written word and then learn from the manuscript. The Mediator continues to mentor his Retainer until he dies when the Retainer automatically takes over the position; there is no other qualified. The new Mediator then recruits a new Retainer and teaches him the way."

"Is there a library available to the Mediator to learn?"

"Just through there," the Mediator pointed through the hallway, "A mass of books of all sorts but I have not read them all by a long shot."

"Say half of them perhaps?" enquired Michael to get some idea of his reading.

"No, I'm not much of a reader really. I have so little time you know. Would you like a drink?" the mediator offered raising his glass.

"Water would be fine thank you."

"You sure you won't share some wine with me?"

"Water would be great, thanks."

As Darius went out to get the water Michael could see that the Mediators eyes were closed too much of the understanding available to him through the library. With only one other able to read in the village it left a big gap in their mind-set which together with their manuscript probably predisposed their isolation. The Mediator had been gone some time before he returned with a bucket of water. He poured it into a pitcher and brought it in.

"There you are," the Mediator said as he handed a cup of water to Michael and stood the pitcher on the table, "fresh from the well."

"You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble. I wasn't that thirsty really."

"I don't keep any in the house. I drink the wine which is good for the stomach."

"I haven't seen vineyards in the district. Where do you get it from?"

"It comes on the return barge for the church communion. We get most of our supplies on the barge when it returns empty. It is the order you know, just as it was before my time. There's always more than they need at the communion so I bring the remainder home with me. I have ended up with quite a cellar of wine from the past."

"Does anyone else drink it with you?"

"The Retainer has always shared the wine with the Mediator. It's part of our tradition and is part and parcel of our special relationship."

"What happens when the villagers are here with you, I mean like Capel, did he drink wine also?"

"Of coarse not. It is not for them to drink the wine except at the sacrament. No that would never do. Water is the working man's drink. Sobriety has been and will remain the making of our men."

"But you offered it to me," Michael said.

"You are a stranger, not employed in the mines. I have not thought of you as a working man. I don't know quite where you fit in actually, or even if you fit at all. My thoughts are that it would be simpler if you left again. But that is not for me to decide. My role as mediator is to maintain order and find consensus for the benefit of the district. I'm not a lord as such but a maintainer of the way. Our royalty so to speak, the Ogden family, died out and left us only with their wisdom written down by Gregory."

"So, if I understand this correctly, the Mediators have allowed the village to keep going in the absence of any other available to rule."

"That is about the sum of it. There was some talk of one of the Ogden line coming back to us at which time the Mediators would automatically relinquish the position back to where it rightly belongs. But as you see there have now been eight Mediators continuing the tradition."

"How would the line come back?"

"The story goes that there was a major feud between Gregory and a brother. Supposedly his name was George and he took his inheritance and left to the world outside. There is a possibility that there are descendants from him in the world but it is impossible for us to know for sure."

"Would it not then be an idea to send out a party to try and find them?"

"No one has been out into the world for generations. We are not that sort of people. We keep close to what we know, where we are safe."

"The world outside is not that fearful. I have lived there all my life and really it is quite a pleasant place. Well mostly," Michael added suddenly remembering some unpleasant incidents he had faced.

"How do you think we might find any descendants of the Ogden line generations removed from us?"

"Probably through the electoral roles and registration offices. There are people who find other people as their profession."

"When you say a party to go out to search, how many do you think would be needed to go out to find and prove there to be a descendant out there?"

"Well, a couple of men would probably do fine. Perhaps I could assist them and together three of us should be able to complete the task."

"This needs thinking seriously about but I do not think you will find two men who would leave the village, we are not, as your new word says, adventurous people. Never have been."

"I think not Darius. I have heard there are men who think outside the square." Michael realised he had coined a phrase unfamiliar to him and said, "that is to say they are quite open to new ways."

"What do you say? Some of the men have been talking to you. Are there more out there challenging the way?" the Mediator asked a little angrily.

"No, no," said Michael quickly calming the alarmed man, "not so much challenging the way, more like men are everywhere with their dreams and aspiration unfulfilled I would say."

"Dreams and aspirations, we don't have room for dreams and aspirations. We are maintaining order which is most important otherwise we would fall apart. We would have nothing without order."

"Order is good, all civilisations need order but history shows many ways of maintaining order, some that suppress the people to achieve it and others which manage it as part of their continued growth."

"Are you suggesting that order is being achieved by suppression then," the Mediator aggressively asked.

"What I am saying is that there are several ways that work quite well and it would be wise for a man to investigate all ways in order to be able to see the best."

"The way we do things is the way it has been done for eight Mediators now, each learning the way from the previous Mediator. The way has worked now for a very long time."

"Indeed and times change, people change. At the time of the Ogden's it may have been prudent for it to be that way, a war, a depression, even the feud between Gregory and his brother. However in times of peace another way may be better for the village, one more open and accommodating of their own personal dreams. In times of strife people draw into factions and order needs to be imposed to bring about a successful resolution until a natural harmony re-establishes itself. But when harmony exists men can push the boundaries of their existence and explore God given talents."

The Mediator took up his glass and sipped some more wine. He was taking it in Michael thought. The wine had mellowed him from the abrupt man he first met at Simon's door.

"Let me do some thinking about this Michael. My dinner will be here any moment. I'll catch up with you at the meeting later."

"At the meeting then it is," said Michael as they rose and the Mediator escorted Michael to the door.

"Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye," the Mediator said as he walked off.

It was late by now and dinner would be on the table. Michael briskly strode off down the pathway trying to make up time so that he would not be holding up Simon. As he entered the door Simon greeted him.

"Thought we might have lost you there for a minute or two."

"I'm sorry Simon, I have just spent some time at the Mediators residence and it was quite profitable I think," said Michael.

"Dinner is on the table. Come eat before we have to be at the meeting."

They didn't speak much, being fully occupied with satisfying their hunger. When dinner was over they quickly made their way to the church.

Chapter Six

A Resolution

The church was filled so quickly. Michael took his position at the front. The Mediator seated nearby stood to begin.

"Order, order. Order please." Darius said in his stern manner. "This word adventure is important I have come to believe. We are not adventurous and therefore we remain the same, not that in my opinion it is a bad thing but I have cause to think that there is a possibility that a true leader of our people may still be available to us. The family line of Gregory the Great might have descendants in the outside world." A gasp of astonishment carried across the gathering. "Order please," said the Mediator. "I do not believe there is even one person in this meeting that has an adventurous spirit sufficient to go out and find any such descendant of the Ogden line. However I seek the people to nominate any man they might consider strong enough to cope with such an adventure. Are there any nominations?"

There was a considerable silence before Simon stood up.

"Mediator, what would happen if they do find a descendant?"

"Why that is simple," said Darius. "My role would be complete and the descendant would assume the position of leadership immediately on his arrival."

There was a widespread response and gasps from the audience.

"Mediator, I would like to nominate Mora," said Simon.

"Mora?" Darius said puzzled. What do you say Mora, would you be willing to go on this adventure with Mr. Longbottom?"

Mora, amazed and perplexed, slowly stood and without knowing what he as doing said hesitantly, "I would. Yes, I would go with Michael."

"Interesting," said Darius. "Are there any others willing to go out?"

"Mediator," said another voice. "How about your Retainer who is able to read and write and would be most useful in the journey."

"No, no, the Retainer must remain in case for some reason he were lost. I must insist he remain with me," said the Mediator.

"Mediator," another voice called out as he stood. "I would like to go."

"Jones, is that you?"

"Mediator, I know Mora only too well. I believe he needs some oversight from someone responsible. I have always wondered what was beyond the barriers that keep us here. I propose that we board the coal barge on its next laden journey and when it reaches its destination we should make our enquiries."

"Jones you speak wisely. Nomination accepted. I will now open the floor to discussion.

Several spoke to and against sending out the men. The main concern was some fear of change as would be expected. One old man stood and spoke.

"The return of a visionary leader would be good for the village but oppression they don't need," he boldly said.

"How can we be sure there will be an immediate transfer of leadership?" another older man asked.

"I assure you all that it is in my brief to transfer leadership immediately upon the reinstatement of the Ogden family name," said Darius. "Isn't that so Retainer?"

"That is correct," said Roger. "The brief states that the Mediator shall hold office only in the absence of a rightful leader. As soon as a blood descendant of the Ogden family appears in the district the Mediator's leadership shall immediately cease."

It was agreed that any descendant found would be investigated to determine his true nature. That seemed to ease the people's minds so the Mediator stood again to speak.

"Now if there are no others I put it to the vote." There was a quiet pause then he said. "All those in favour of Mora and Jones travelling with Mr. Longbottom on the outgoing coal barge to search for and retrieve any suitable descendants of the Ogden line please say aye." There was a resounding agreement. "Those against," the Mediator said but not a nay was heard. "Then the will of the people is that this adventure shall proceed. We will find a replacement for Jones at the mine while he is away. All things being in order they shall leave before the week is out. Is there any further comment?" He paused but there was none. "Then this meeting is closed."

"What on earth did you two talk about today, Michael?" asked Simon as they came together.

"A little history and the Ogden's, a little about the Mediators, a little about the outside world. Things quickly became evident that there was the possibility of a descendant who might relieve this situation the village has lived with for generations."

"Michael," interrupted Mora as he approached, "fancy that. Not at all what I was imagining would come of these meetings. Who would have believed it? We're off on a great big adventure, as you call it."

"More than you think my friend, more than you think," said Michael.

"I almost wish I was going with you," said Simon, "but I must admit the thought is a little too much to contemplate. No I'm one who is better off here, I don't think I have the courage."

"Jones what do you say?" asked Michael as he too approached them.

"Just between you and me," Jones said looking around, "Capel and I were considering doing this very thing but his health declined so quickly we gave it away."

"Hallelujah," Mora proclaimed in excitement.

"Hallelujah indeed," said Michael. "How long do you think it will take to get ready for this?"

"I've been ready for some time now," said Jones, "I am off home to pack a few things."

"You married Jones?"

"No dependants either," he said with a smile.

"What about you Mora?"

"I'm as free as a bird, Just need to say goodbye to my mother."

"Be gentle on her Mora," Jones cautioned. "She's probably thinking her world has come to an end."

"Yes," said Simon, "her world is coming to an end since you were her reason for getting up in the morning. I might ask my wife if we should take her in until you get back."

"Tomorrow then perhaps," Michael suggested.

"Tomorrow's fine by me Michael," said Jones, "but the barge doesn't leave until the following day sometime in the early dawn."

"O, yes I forgot about the barge. I don't like these things much. Do you think it will be all right?"

"Who knows Michael, neither of us have been on one and anyway this way it will be as much of an adventure for you as for us," said Mora.

"Tomorrow we will make ourselves ready, say our farewells and tidy up at the mine. I will need to brief the new boss about a few things and there' something I need to do," said Jones.

"What's that Jones?" enquired Mora.

"There is a certain young lady I need to talk too. Someone I have had my eye on for some time."

"You are a bit of a cool cat then Jones," said Simon, "I thought you weren't the marrying kind."

"You might say I consider long and well before I make any decisions but when I do I stick to it," Jones revealed.

"As for me, I just go with the flow," said Mora.

"That is why I am going with you. You will be the one who gets side tracked. You are not able to focus on the task at hand, too prone to temptations," said Jones.

"Temptations indeed," said Michael. "The world is full of temptations, most unlike this village. You people have removed all the things and teachings that cause men to fall. You haven't been exposed to the evil that is out there in everyday life. The one thing I will be able to help you with, if you listen and take heed of what I say, is to identify the traps that newcomers fall into. Each one is baited with something seemingly harmless that you will desire. It will not be easy to discipline yourself to keep to the path we are sent out to walk."

As they talked they walked towards their homes and now as each one reached their place they bid the others good night until Michael and Simon were left to turn down Strawberry Lane and into their cottage. They said their good-nights and retired to their rooms.

In bed Michael once again reworked all that had happened that day: the discussion with Sheela about her husband and the talk with Mora, the yellow flowers and the green. Then there was the funeral so official and emotionless; a sense of resignation to the death of one of their own; not even a hymn to send Capel on his way puzzled him about their religion. Then there was the talk with Simon afterwards and the impression that Capel's death was related to the Mediator. Then the visit with the Mediator himself and how well that had gone. Then the Ogden's, the unused library, the possibility of a descendant, the resolve at the meeting to send out a party to search any possible leader. What a day it had been; who would have believe him if someone had said it would have gone like this.

Something still puzzled him though, something about the Mediators place, the wine and the water. It seemed to be saying something but he didn't quite catch it at the time. Aha, he thought, the Mediator and the Retainer only drank the wine. The water from the well I was given to drink but didn't, was not consumed by them. The water from the well could be contaminated? I will have to get a sample of the well water and take it with us and try to get it analysed.

With that he drifted into the dreamy land known by some as Nod. In this place he dreamed vividly like he had at times before, perhaps set off by the cheese at dinner. There they were the three of them on the barge frightened by the black clouds chasing them, like a monster seeking vengeance, throwing lightning and thunder bolts at them, pouring out of its mouth a flood of brown filth. And again the trio in a city street, then suddenly Mora was gone, disappeared. And again another scene, four of them now being surrounded by villagers cheering, raising them up on their shoulders, dancing and singing in the square.

When dawn light stirred him Michael remembered the night visions as if they were real; so vivid they were that they had become indelible. It was obvious they were something to do with the adventure ahead and he concluded that it was a good dream, even though in the beginning the clouds were ominous and Mora disappeared. It gave him the confidence needed to take on the role he was to have as leader of this party into the world. There was more there now though, a sign "Marley Street," a picture of the a man with a trinket in his hand. Though he tried to figure it out none of this meant a single thing to him except they hung in his mind like the portraits on the Mediators wall.

"Michael, there is someone here to see you," Simon's voice called from behind his closed door.

"I will be right with him, Simon, just give me time to wash and dress." As Michael came out to the main room he saw Mora and Jones there with Simon.

"Good morning Michael," said Mora.

"Will you come and join us for breakfast?" asked Jones.

"If that is all right with Simon, sure."

"Yes, yes, you go off and make plans with you fellow adventurers. God knows you have little enough time to prepare," said Simon ushering them out of his cottage.

"What's up guys, I mean what is so urgent?" asked Michael.

"Dreams. We have had dreams," said Mora hardly able to contain himself.

"That's strange, so have I," Michael said as he walked briskly in the warm early morning sunshine.

"Come into my place here," said Jones as he guided them into his cottage and sat them before a hearty breakfast.

"What did you dream Mora?" asked Michael.

"Well," said Mora between mouthfuls of bread and cheese. "I was lost in a great big village, so big it was like the whole of the land was covered with buildings, and a mystery man came to me offering a beautiful woman. She smiled at me and I went with her then she was chasing me; trying to kill me. I was so afraid it woke me up. I hardly slept for fear Michael. I'm not so sure I want to go on this adventure anymore."

"I have had a dream also Mora," Michael said. "You were with us in the streets of a city then you disappeared, I think it is a warning to you not to be tempted but to stick together as a team."

"Yes, I think so Mora," said Jones. "Stick with us and things will go well for you. And don't look at women, that's the bait that will get you in trouble by the sound of it."

"Yes, indeed," said Michael as he took a piece of bread.

"I had a dream as well Michael," Jones continued, "In my dream there was this man who came to me and in his hand there was a trinket sparkling in the sunlight. He gave it to me; said it was mine and gave me some paper. What do you make of that Michael?"

"It looks like your temptation is in the area of riches Jones, the pursuit of which has been the downfall of many a man. You haven't been exposed to the grip of greed and lust in this village. They are powerful if you don't realise what they can do. If the riches look to come easy you can be sure they have entrapment of your soul in mind. My set of night visions speak of what is happening. I saw the trinket in the man's hand and the name Marley Street. I dreamed that we were on the barge when dark clouds came after us with great anger. These dreams you have had are possibly a part of this monster that threatens us and causes fear to rise up in us. But I also think there is enough truth in them for us to be confident because of my last vision. There were four returning to a most jubilant village, dancing, singing and raising us up as heroes. Four, don't you see, we found the new leader."

"Like returning heroes," said Mora, "I like the sound of that."

"Don't let it go to your head Mora," said Jones. "Pride comes before a fall. You have got to get through the trials first."

"In every endeavour man has set before him there are trials and temptations," Michael said, "Do not underestimate the powers of darkness who have set in their minds our downfall. The dark clouds in my vision threw all they had at us, lightning bolts, thunder claps, a deluge of a flood but someone was on our side, forces of good will overcome them if we can maintain our integrity."

"What is integrity Michael?" asked Jones.

"Not only the greatest of human attributes but also the one that keeps us in favour with our friends. Integrity is that part of us which frees us from shame and guilt, that separate us from the powers of good that can help us. It is about sincerity and keeping high moral standards. A lie will break it; a criticism of a friend may shatter it. If our words and deeds betray us we have lost it."

"So we have to be on guard then, I should say. Protect ourselves from these forces of darkness as you call them," said Jones.

"They are darkness because they always have evil intent. Though they might look like they are helping us their sights are on our fall, so that we become images of them."

"You are a wise man Michael," said Jones. "How do you know these things?"

"Experience my friend, years of experience. That's what you two do not have a lot of. But if you will learn from me you can avoid the dangers, if you will no you will learn from them, hopefully."

"I do hope I can learn it from you Michael," said Mora.

"Think of it this way," Michael explained, "today we are packing our bag for the journey, things we will need. Just think of these things I'm saying as items needed for the journey. We have each had a warning dream as I see it, pack them in your swag."

"Swag?" queried Mora unfamiliar with the term.

"It's a term they use in Australia to mean the things you carry when travelling light."

"Australia?" Jones enquired.

"A huge piece of land across the seas, but let's not get into that now; I'm starting to feel like a school master."

"Look, I need to get up to the mine and break in the new boss," said Jones rising from the table. "You two stop here as long as you like and I will be back as soon as I am able; hopefully about lunch time."

"Right you are Jones," said Michael.

"See you a little later then," Mora said. "Can you get my things from the mine, there is a hat and coat there on my shelf."

"Sure, leave it to me," Jones replied as he was going out the door.

"What should we be doing then Michael?"

"I want to get something from the Mediators place before we leave," Michael said thinking about the water sample. "Why don't you spend the day with your mother; she would appreciate that I'm sure."

"You think so? Maybe you are right," Mora said.

"Lets go then and we'll meet back here at lunch."

"Right then, see you later," said Mora and headed out the door towards home.

Michael had a chance to look around Jones' place. It was a bachelors abode for sure. A simple two roomed box with nothing much in the way of adornments. A bed and drawers, kitchen and table with a wash tub stored by the back door. The only son of deceased parents Jones had lived by himself for quite some time. He was tidy though, everything in its place: coal fire swept and reset, bed pulled together and clothing stacked in the corner. His grounds had no gardens but he did have a large front veranda open to the west and with its own love swing; perhaps a romantic at heart, a perfectionist, obviously highly capable to be a mine boss. Michael felt assured this man would be an asset on the journey. But as for Mora, his heart was good but whether he would be more trouble than he was worth was yet to be determined. He would have to keep a close eye on Mora even though Jones was there to do the same.

He walked up to the Mediators residence with a bottle he found at Jones' place, this time by the well worn village pathway. Steps were cut in several places to ease the zigzag path up the steep hill. This path brought him directly through the smelly bird laden trees to the well. An old wooden bucket sat on the stone surround with an ancient rope tethering it to the equally ancient winch. Bird droppings formed a ring around the well obviously from the edge of the roof. Taking the bucket he lowered it into the dark water that could be seen not far below then dipped and lifted it again with the old winch. He filled the sample bottle from the bucket and slipped it into his pocket; it would be submitted to a laboratory as soon as he found one in the city.

As he walked back down to the village Michael was trying to weigh up the variations in character he noted in the Mediator, seeing two quite different people, a man who was stern and controlling in public and in private quite a kind and helpful human being. The wine obviously had an effect but there was more to it than that, perhaps an antagonism with the villagers. Possibly in his learned mind as opposed to the villagers impoverished education, he saw them as below himself. Then again his need to maintain order may have caused him to believe he needed to put on the hat of an autocrat. What ever was the case there were signs of polarisation in the people, some might say discontent, others accepting it as part and parcel of the human condition. All was not rosy that was for sure but everyone knows that roses have thorns.

The day was particularly delightful and the walk a pleasure but as he entered the village again he noticed a group of six women huddled together in their conversation. Nothing overtly secret but none-the-less their body language hinted that something was up and it probably had to do with the party going out of the district. This was a first in their generation and therefore significantly unknown to them to be a concern.

"Good morning to you ladies," Michael said cheerily as he passed them.

He walked on into Main Street and towards the square thinking that Sheela may know something about what is happening.

Chapter Seven

Division and Departure

Michael knocked and entered the infirmary to find the nurse handing over a wrapped paper to another woman.

"There, you put some of that in your food each meal time and it will help," said the nurse.

"Thank you. It should do fine," the woman said as she left.

"Good morning Michael," Sheela warmly greeted.

"It is indeed. Good morning to you too."

A parcel was open on the bench; the one given to her at the funeral the day before. The contents on display a beautiful cape in crimson bordered with gold.

"How is that ankle this morning?" she said.

"Not a bother at all. I came to see you to talk really."

"That is nice but what ever about?" she asked.

"I get the feeling something is up. Do you know what it might be?"

"Some of the women are not so sure about this party going out. There is talk; rumours are going around. Not being allowed to speak the women felt their concerns were overlooked at the meeting last night. There wasn't time to let their men know their feelings before a decision was made to go. Now they feel alienated. Some are quite cross."

"I see. That is quite understandable," said Michael. "Is anyone in particular behind all this?"

"Well, Mora's mother Milly certainly is speaking her mind in opposition and she has quite a following. The women of the village are in an uproar."

"What, all of them?" asked Michael.

"No, I'm certainly not against the party going out, it was my husband's dream to do just that. But he died too soon. I guess a few are against, some for it and the rest don't really know what to think but are swayed by their close friends."

"Perhaps more discussion is needed to help those who are fearful."

"Why don't we talk to Mora's mother, she's really the main one against it."

"Good idea Sheela. Let's do that," agreed Michael.

"Why don't I ask her to come in and we can talk here, that way we will be on neutral ground."

"Go on then I will wait here and keep an eye on things."

Sheela left and after a few minutes was back with Mora's mother in tow. She was well on in years but strong. Milly had lost her husband years before and so attached herself even firmer to her son. He was all she had and life was throwing her a curve ball, and it was obvious that she didn't know how to receive it.

"Hello Mr. Longbottom. What are you doing here?" Milly asked.

"Nurse Sheela and I had been discussing the division amongst the women folk concerning the party going out tomorrow. Mora is a good man Milly, you have done a good job there raising him. You will be proud that they thought him one who at his age was able to take on this important job for the district."

"Well yes, but there are a lot of things which can go wrong?" Milly said in a very concerned voice.

"This is true," said Michael, "I can not deny that things can go wrong. But at the same time I am confident that we will be successful and that being the case your son will be a hero in this village."

"How can you be so confident?"

"Faith Milly, I have faith."

"We all have our faith but God didn't spare the father of my boy. How can I feel at ease when he is the only one I have left? And what will become of a lonely old woman."

"Milly you know I came from the outside world. I know what it's all about. I have lived all my life out there and it isn't that scary at all. Most of the time things go along quite smoothly and I will look after your son as if he were my own. I am really quite fond of him and I will be with him all the way. And Jones will be there also; he is a good man."

"Yes, Jones is a good man, sensible I say," Milly said. "But I am still anxious for him, for myself. I get lonely, very lonely in our cottage."

"Simon has suggested that he was going to ask his wife about you coming and staying with them while we are gone. I can't guarantee it but I think they will invite you in."

"That's nice of them," said Sheela, "and if not with them Milly you can come and stay with me. That would be nice for me too."

"Stay with you . . . I'm not too sure I would feel right," said Milly.

"It would only be temporary, just a week or two until we get back," said Michael.

"A week or two? I will have to think about it. What about my cats, they will need taking care of?"

"You can still spend some of your days at home with the cats Milly, they will be fine," said Sheela.

"Why don't you go home and think about it. Talk to your friends and your son and have some faith in the Godly way you brought him up," said Michael.

Milly left still a little bemused by it all.

"Who's next then?" asked Michael.

"Leave them to me," said Sheela. "I will go help them pull their horns in."

"Be gentle with them wont you."

"These two don't need gentle, they need a good telling off. Just feeding the flame types, if you know what I mean. Take away the embers and they will stop inciting the others."

"Right then, I'll leave it in your good hands," said Michael as he made his way out. Stepping outside he was accosted by a group of angry women.

"You, if you hadn't come here we wouldn't have this happening," one woman growled.

"Yes, you are the trouble maker stranger," accused another.

"Who asked you to come and ruin our peaceful lives?" yet another yelled as they pushed and jostled him.

"Ladies, ladies," said Michael defending himself with his arms. "If things were so peaceful why were so many agreeable to the vote last night?" But they continued to push and shove him. One hit him with her shoulder bag, another an umbrella. Their uncertainty and fear about their future had become a raging beast. It was a mob ready to lynch him from the nearest tree. Then suddenly in the thick of the struggle Michael was reminded of the dream, a dirty angry cloud trying to stop the journey. In the midst of the terror and with the knowledge of the dream's outcome of success Michael regained his peace; he stopped fighting them and took two more blows before falling to the cobblestones.

"Michael, Michael, can you hear me Michael," said an angelic voice. Michael it's me Sheela. Are you all right?"

His eyes began to focus as he stirred, trying to gain some consciousness. He was experiencing racking pain in his head and felt with his hand a lump as big as an egg at the back. "What happened?" he asked.

"The women knocked you out Michael," said the nurse.

"What on earth got into them?"

"They are a bit repentant just now. They did not realised how aggressive they had become until they saw you sprawled out on the ground as though dead."

"Something sure got into them. Ow," he cried out as he touched another lump. "Surely it couldn't have been the fact that two of their own were going on an adventure."

"Michael, they've never done anything like that before. No one knew it was in them."

"It's all right. It wasn't them," said Michael remembering.

"What do you mean?"

"I had a series of visions last night, dreams about the journey. One showed this angry darkness coming after us throwing bolts of lightening and claps of thunder, and spewing brown filth at us like a flood. These women aren't attacking me, its a force, a power that is not about to give up the control it has had on these people. It is inciting the women folk and it got out of their control. Fear is a powerful force, especially the fear of change. Ow," he cried out again as he found another injury on his arm.

"Here, let me," the nurse said as she eased him back onto the table and opened his sleeve to check for damage. "I think you will find they are very remorseful right now."

"Thank you Sheela. There is a funny side to this you know."

"What is that Michael?"

"When the men find out there will be some explaining to do."

"You are right, there will indeed," she said chuckling and helped him on to a bed nearby, placed a very comfortable feather pillow under his head, pulled up a blanket and gave him a cup of tonic that tasted disgusting like aspirin.

"This will ease the pain. You get some rest, you have had a concussion and you need to take it easy for a while. I will get someone to make some soup for you."

"I will rest for a bit," said Michael but I want to be at Jones' place for lunch."

"I am afraid it is a bit late for that Michael, you were out for a good while and lunch has well and truly gone."

"What time is it."

"It is more like dinner time. The men folk will be home shortly."

"Does Jones know what happened to me?"

"Yes, both he and Mora have been in to visit but you were unconscious. I advised them to go home and carry on getting ready to leave."

"Mora, has he had a talk with his mother yet?"

"Yes, and it's all sorted out now. He has promised his mother he will be back within the month," Sheela reported.

"How does she feel about him going out now?"

"A lot happier. Behind it all she thought that he might get to like it out there and never return. As soon as he made a commitment to return she relaxed. Milly has agreed to come and stay with me until he comes home, so that is good isn't it."

"Well it certainly looks like the storm has passed and the adventure will continue as planned," said Michael as he nursed the aching arms and head. You're a very capable woman Sheela, I feel so at ease around you. Thank you." With that he lay back and waited for the tonic to take effect. Jones and Mora came in after half an hour, by then the sun had gone to its rest over the mountains.

"Bit of bother there, Michael," said Jones. "Let the women get the better of you they tell me. You all right then?"

"Not so bad really Jones, a bit bruised and a splitting head but nothing that wont come right given time."

"That is a nasty bump on the head you have there," said Mora chuckling. "Which one did that to you?"

"I don't know who it was but she must have had coal in her handbag I reckon. Used it like a flaming sling swirling around her head."

"Do you think you will be all right for the barge leaving in the morning?" said Jones.

"I think I can manage it all right but I wouldn't fancy a horse ride just now thanks."

"Can he go home now nurse?" asked Mora.

"How is you head Michael?" Sheela asked.

"Better thanks, it's just the bruises are tender now. Guess I'll have to put up with that for the best part of a week."

"They will look pretty funny as they change colour over that time," she said, "but if you wear a hat I'm sure no one will ever know. I think you might as well go now but I want someone to keep an eye on you for the next couple of hours."

"I will do that," said Jones. "We are all going to bunk in at my place tonight cause we have to be off before the sparrows wake in the morning; they say the barge is gone by sun up. You sure we are not pushing things too much?"

"There's not much we can do about it when tomorrow's the day the barge leaves this month. We will be there with bells on come hell or high water," said Mora.

"Never mind the hell and high water bit Mora but we will be there, that is for sure," said Michael feeling apprehensive enough about the barge ride. With a friend at each arm Michael left for the relative safety of Jones place where he had set up a bunk for each of his travelling friends. From the stew pot that was simmering on the stove he filled three plates and they eat heartily.

"I have put together some food, some bread and cheese for the journey and some water containers," said Jones.

"My mum has made us some cake and there is a cut of ham as well," said Mora.

"We should do well then," said Michael. "All I need is my few things at Simon's cottage before we go."

"Already been taken care of," Jones said pointing to a parcel. "It is all down in the corner over there."

They talked for some time before Jones considered the threat of a relapse over and Michael was feeling almost himself again. Conversation continued a bit until Mora realised he was talking to himself; the replies had ceased and snoring had begun. It was just for him now to get the excitement out of his system enough to get a few hours sleep before they had to leave.

Before Mora knew it Jones was rattling his shoulder.

"Rise and shine lad the sparrows are restless. The light is just beginning to show and we need to go. Grab your swag and we will take the road on the adventure of a life time. Michael, come on then, wake up. How do you feel this morning?"

It took Michael a bit to realise where he was. "My head is a bit sore where the bruises are but I reckon I'm up to it. The rest of me seems to be attached."

Three abreast they made their way down the sled tracks to the coal barge at the river. The sky to the east was beginning to brighten and the tow lines were attached to the tug billowing smoke downstream, unaware of any unregistered passengers. They had to run but just made it onto the barge as the rope tightened and it surged out into the current. They were on their way before they could contemplate more excitement or phobia. Nestled in the coal the two tall men said their quiet goodbyes to their homeland fast disappearing behind them.

Michael was settled enough and could sense their anxiety was a different one than his. Theirs was about the unknown of the big wide world ahead but his was about the known, his seasickness had always been a nightmare and if the barge rocked at all he would begin that same old feeling of wretchedness all over again. It was for that reason that he did not indulge in breakfast with his travelling companions as the sun peeped its first rays over the eastern bank of the river. Mora was particularly excited, talking non-stop. Jones just relaxed back against the heap of coal looking at the orange dawn taking a hold of the once star filled sky. By the time the last bright stars disappeared into the blue they were a long way from home. The water was fortunately smooth and the only disturbance was the occasional flight of mallard ducks overhead noisily quacking their disapproval at being disturbed so early from their rest.

"What do you think is ahead of us Michael?" asked Mora.

"Eventually this barge will come in to a wharf somewhere down stream and we will need to get off before they see us here. We could get into trouble with the authorities if we are caught being stowaways. There will be a town nearby and from there we should be able to get some of my money out of the bank. Then we might catch a train or bus into the nearest city where we will try to find a registry office, library or hall of records to begin our search for descendants of the Ogdens."

"We need money to travel?" queried Jones.

"It may be some distance to the nearest city, perhaps several hours or a days journey. Just remember that everything will be different to what you have been used to in the village, everything! If you can take it in your stride you will be fine but if you hesitate or get separated from me the best thing you can do is ask a policeman."

"A policeman?" queried Mora.

"They wear a blue uniform and have," said Michael as he wrote it with coal on a barge board, "POLICE on a hat or sleeve badge. Now remember what that looks like Mora, it is important. You will know when you see one; they are the keepers of order in the world. If you can't find a policeman go into a place where they have things for sale and ask the store attendant. They are usually very helpful but don't just ask anyone on the street, that may not be helpful. If you go missing, and we do hope you do not, we will make a meeting place of the police station."

Hours and hours passed on the barge. Michael fortunately had not a hint of sickness so he joined the other two for bread and cheese as the sun reached its zenith. The weather was warm and the water they had brought with them refreshing. Mora was getting impatient with sitting on the hard coal and tossed a few annoying lumps in the wake of the barge as he began to pace across the stern.

"Michael," said Jones, "What will we do about accommodation tonight?"

"There are houses for travellers with beds to rent for the night called hostels. There are also hotels and motels with full rooms to rent. As long as we have money we will be well taken care of."

"Do you have enough money for us to do this each night Michael?"

"I think we will be all right for a while Jones. Do not worry about it. It's these bruises that cause me a problem."

The day wore on and endless bends came and went on the broad expanse of river. Hills and plantations of trees passed by. Other craft could be seen from time to time but nothing notable. The river was a highway to somewhere closer to the sea but they had no idea where. Michael had never ventured this way before, this being much further south than his usual haunts. Sometimes they came very close to the banks of the river and it was tempting to make a jump for the shore, even if they were to get a little wet. But they stayed put and waited.

"I want you both to take note of the position of that high peak to our right," said Michael pointing. "That is a good reference point to remember to find our way back to your home. Any map will mark a peak as prominent as that one. We will call it "The Pillar" shall we; sort of looks like one doesn't it? I have a rough idea of where the village is from the north but if we can not return from the north we may have to go overland from the south."

"How do you know what direction North and South are without the mountain range of home," asked Mora.

"The sun comes up in the east, Mora, and goes down as it is now in the west," said Jones, "just as it does at home."

"Of course, I had never thought of it being the same everywhere," said Mora feeling a sudden lurch of the barge.

"The tug is getting ready to pull in by the feel of it. Yes, look, the chimneys of a town over there," said Michael. "We are here at last. Get ready my friends for the adventure is about to consume us."

Chapter Eight

Gateway to the World

The barge reached the wharf just as darkness took hold of the river. Not a soul was about apart from the crew aboard the tug. Before they had a chance to see what was happening the three men were clambering up the ladder to the platform above. A single light faintly illuminated the area that looked like a half abandoned yard with a couple of piles of graded coal at one end. They quickly scampered across the dark end of the yard using the stacks of coal for cover as best they could. A hole at the corner of the netting fence allowed them a fortunate exit onto the road beyond.

"That went well," said Michael as they composed themselves again by a street lamp. He pointed ahead to the lights. "We'll make our way into the town over there." A van went past them towards the gates to the yard they had just come from.

"What was that?" asked Mora never having seen the likes before.

"Motorized transport," said Michael. "A van probably for the tug crew to get home. You will see many types of motor transport like large trucks and small cars, trains and buses before you get back home again."

As they continued in the semi-darkness of the outer roads and presently they came upon old buildings, warehouses and industrial sites. Everything looked so different for Jones and Mora and they marveled at the size of them. The deserted road gave way to streets with an assortment of houses, brick, weather-board, stone and stucco. Mora and Jones chuckled to see, even in the street light, such a variety of their colours. Large windows were lit up bright and they could see people inside going about their dinner routines, tantalizing smells drifted out into the street. As they approached the town centre the houses gave way to shops, some well lit and still trading.

"Come with me," suggested Michael "Your first taste of the outside world." They entered a corner dairy. Inside the outsiders were accosted with masses of packages, colours and shapes all competing for their interest. Michael selected a large flat package and handed some coins to the attendant.

"Here eat this," Michael said as he unwrapped the bar and broke off a large piece each for Mora and Jones.

"That's delicious. What is it Michael?" asked Jones.

"That my dear friends is temptation, the most delicious treat a mouth could savour. It's called chocolate."

"That's great," Mora said as he chewed. "Can I have some more?"

"Yes, but don't eat too much. It's a treat to have occasionally but not for excess," Michael warned as he broke the remainder in three and passed it around.

"Why do you call it temptation?" asked Jones.

"Because my friend," Michael chuckled, "the next time you go past a corner dairy like this one it will dart out to you in the street and drag you in by your desires." The others laughed also but underneath they really had no idea what Michael was talking about.

"Our next task is to find an ATM so that I can get some of my money out of the bank. There should be one around here somewhere. We'll try nearer the centre of town."

Michael walked up to a wall where there was intricate well lit detail and pulling a piece of card from his pocket slipped it into the wall. He fiddled about a bit and some noises could be heard in the wall, then it spat out some leaves of coloured paper into his hand.

"These my friends will get us a bed for the night when we find one," said Michael as he waved several twenty dollar notes to his two amazed disciples. "This is money; bank notes that each have a value. One man does his work and earns these dollars and puts them in a bank like this for safe keeping. Another supplies a service the man needs and he pays for it with some of his dollars. That is the way of the world and while we are in it this is the way we must do things. The card I put in the wall gave me access to the money I have saved. No one else can access my money."

They walked through the town centre and along a street with many lights each side. There were lights flashing in the buildings and presently Michael guided his friends into one of them. He asked the woman inside for a room for the night. She led them through a maze of corridors to one of many similar doors and unlocked it for them. Inside they could see two sets of beds; each had one on top of the other.

"That will be thirty dollars. The facilities are at the end of the corridor. You will need to be out by eight. Payment is in advance," she stated in a very business-like manner.

"Thank you Miss," said Michael handing over the bank notes before she left. "This my friends is a backpacker and these are our bunks where we will sleep tonight. Pick a bed and make yourselves at home. We can wash and find toilets at the end of the corridor down that way."

Mora chose the top bunk and Jones the one below him, so Michael threw his gear on the lower bed opposite. They found the toilets and Michael showed them how to use the coin operated showers. Someone had left soap in one shower compartment so they apprehended it for themselves and enjoyed hot water flowing from the wall.

"The world," observed Jones profoundly, "offers you so much from its walls."

"This hot water is so soothing, I could sit under it for ever," said Mora until suddenly the coin ran out and it turned extremely cold.

"Everything comes at a cost. Everything," Michael laughed. They broke open the ham Mora had been carrying and feasted on it by rolling chunks of it in the heavy bread. Well satisfied they retired.

"That's our day my friends," said Michael as they settled into bed and turned the light out. "Tomorrow will be an even bigger eye opener; that I can promise you."

Mora was restless and rose well before the others. Michael stayed in bed knowing that it was early yet to be starting the day. Jones just lay there enjoying the fact that he wasn't responsible for the great hole in the ground and didn't need to hurry to be there for his men. He looked over and saw that Michael was awake.

"Has this town got a name Michael?"

"Some of the shops had it as part of its name, Providence."

"Doesn't that mean something like caring for the future?"

"I believe it does, yes, God's providence - taking care of our needs."

"That's quite interesting considering what our adventure is all about."

"I guess you could say that," said Michael. "I wonder what the day will reveal for us. I thought we would visit the town library and check the electoral roles for names. I have a funny feeling that is not where we will get our leads but we should still check it. We may find Ogden's but it will be the registry of births, deaths and marriages that will probably reveal our leads. We need to go back six generations or more. There is a possibility that it will show up on computer there. We are looking for a man who left the village who's surname was Ogden having been married, having children or dying. In death there is often a grave stone at a cemetery somewhere often with inscriptions about family. Marriage certificates list parents and birth certificates usually list the parents occupations and where they live so you can trace their family tree."

"Do we know his whole name then."

"Yes, the Retainer gave it to me, George Michael - brother to Gregory James, sons of Ulyses George and wife Enid Marideth Ogden."

Mora suddenly burst into the room all excited. "There's motor transport out there by the hundreds following each other somewhere, but why I don't know," said Mora.

"That's the main road in and out of this town Mora. The people will be going to the city to work. This is the busy time called rush hour. It is time we had a bite to eat and got ready to follow them. Let's get some of that bread and cheese together for breakfast," suggested Michael.

All packed up again after breakfast they made their way to the town library, a small room with row upon row of book shelves diagonally across the floor. The assistant librarian pointed them in the direction of the electoral roles at the far end. They looked up the name Ogden and found dozens. Michael recorded each name and address on some paper nearby. Only one lived in the town of Providence by the name of Jeremiah David, 13 Dreadnaught St. Michael showed the others how to use the town map to locate where he lived. It was little more than two blocks from the Library so they made their way there immediately. They knocked and presently the voice of an old man could be heard.

"Just a moment, I'm coming," the man inside said as he opened the door to the chain.

"Excuse us sir," said Michael, "but we are trying to find descendants of a George Michael Ogden. Are you by any chance related to him or know of anyone who is?"

"George Michael," the old balding man said. "No, there's no one here by that name."

"Do you happen to be Jeremiah Ogden?" said Jones.

"That's me, I'm Jeremiah."

"Were any of your ancestors named George Michael by any chance?" asked Jones.

"Not to my knowledge; I was adopted by Cecil and Mary Ogden. I don't know their parents names; they were an older couple when I came to them."

"Thanks anyway Mr. Ogden," said Jones, "Sorry to have troubled you. Have a good day sir."

"Well that eliminates that one," said Michael as he crossed his name off the list. "Many of the others on this list are in Wilmington so I guess we should ask around there. According to the sign out on the main road Wilmington is either the city or a suburb of it up that way. We'll see if we can catch a train or bus there this morning."

They walked to the town centre where Michael had noticed a train station the night before. A check of the timetable showed that trains were due to leave at 7am and 10.30am each day. By now it was well past 9 o'clock so they purchased three tickets and waited on the platform for the 10.30 to Wilmington. A newspaper vendor had a position by the ticket office so Michael secured a morning paper. The other two sat taking in the strange sights and sounds of a railway station. Pigeons cooed above and occasionally dropped down for morsels on the platform. Someone across the track was cutting and hammering steel. People came and went; some stayed and waited with them. Eventually an enormous slow moving machine rumbled into the station. The train was late and a few people disembarked before they followed Michael and the others on board. Mora was a bit tentative about boarding, wanting to look at the great monster some more, but quickly it began to roll again and he made his step up into the carriage.

"A threefold cord can not be quickly broken," said Michael.

"What's that Michael," asked Jones.

"One may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. A threefold cord is not quickly broken. It's a piece of wisdom Solomon wrote which applies to us here and now. If we can bind together and be united like a three strand rope we will have power over any force that tries to break us but if we are separated each then is vulnerable."

"That's good, Michael," said Mora, "I can understand what he was saying. Each of us have talents that are weak by themselves but when we pool them we help the whole to do what we set out to do."

"Very good, Mora," said Michael. "I"ll tell you more though, If we lose you we will spend so much time trying to find you that we may not find the person we're looking for."

"You are right, if we split up we become nothing," said Jones.

"You must keep an eye on us Mora," said Michael. "All of the time keep close. There is too much that you do not know about the big wide world. Look at this train for instance, the door is safe when the train is in the station but while we are moving we can not use it, otherwise we might be killed."

"Good point Jones, thanks," said Mora.

"You may need to use one door though," said Michael. "Just down the end of the carriage there is a toilet, the door to the left by the end door. You may use that one while the train is moving but not while it is stopped in the station. You clean it by pressing the button which flushes it with water after use."

The train rumbled on through the countryside and the outsiders took in everything that went by. Their fascination with factories, houses, bridges and vehicles occupied their conversations for the duration. Michael had many questions to answer for them. However it was not long before they were entering the central station of Wilmington amid much hustle and bustle on the platform. They stepped off the carriage into the throng a little apprehensive having never seen so many people in one place before. To these outsiders it was all a bit overwhelming at first. Jones was tipping his hat to everyone he passed until Michael suggested he desist before he wore himself out. They made their way onto the street where Michael hailed a taxi.

"Taxi!" Michael called loudly as he motioned to the other two to join him inside the cab, "Come on guys another new experience. Take us to the central registry please."

"Central Registry Office it is than," confirmed the driver.

Their speed in the thick traffic had the two in the back ducking for cover several times as the taxi made quick lane changes, turned corners and shot away at the intersections. Their necks strained to view the tops of building that reached so high into the heavens. Signs flashing out their neon messages sure had their interest even though they meant nothing to them; the enormous M evoked another question.

"That's McDonald's, a very popular place where you can get food fast. All around the world you can find McDonald's by the big M sign," explained Michael. The Taxi pulled up in front of a very tall building with huge steps leading to the main door. "We're here. Time to get out," said Michael as he paid the driver with another bank note.

"Wow," said Mora now standing on the lower step. "They sure make big building here in the city."

"Land is so valuable in the central business district," said Michael. "They need to make the most of every bit of it. They build up to get as much revenue as possible from their small plot of land. Companies pay a lot of money for a prime position on a floor in a central building. This one is occupied by Local Government who have all the records. Keep close, this is where we could get separated. It is a maze of floors and doors and you can get lost in here. If we get separated we will meet here on the steps."

Michael surveyed the signs on the wall inside and discovered the Registry Office was on the thirtieth floor, walked to the lifts and pushed the up button. The doors opened and out poured a dozen people. "Come on guys, quickly now," Michael said as he escorted them into the lift. Mora and Jones looked decidedly odd as the lift lurched upward but regained their composure in time for the abrupt slowing at floor seven. They looked at each other without words; there were too many questions in their eyes. Two more entered there and again the door closed and they were pressed downwards. After three more stops and starts the doors finally opened to the Registry Office. Michael ushered their reluctant forms out and into the wide marble floored reception area.

"Can I help you sir?" asked one of the women behind the counter.

"Yes. We are trying to find descendants of a person," said Michael.

"Just one moment I will get someone to assist you," she said and walked to the rear. Presently a man came out, introduced himself and escorted them to a side office. There they all sat before his desk.

"What name are you researching then?" the clerk of records said as he turned the computer screen towards them.

"Ogden. George Michael Ogden," said Michael. "Probably showed up some six generations ago."

"O G D E N, "the man spelt as he typed in the search. "Now let's search for George Michael. Yes there we are, George Michael Ogden, there are three of them . . . Well that one is too young for a start, just born last year; we'll delete him from the list. Now the first one is still alive and living in Wilmington. Hello, this other one has no birth record; that's unusual."

"He might just be the one, said Michael, "what have you got on him?"

"Married a Jane Susan Pickersgill. Three children; Nancy Jane, Mary Susan and Mark John."

"Only one carrying the name of Ogden then," said Jones.

The man tapped away at the keyboard making a search for Mark John Ogden.

"Afraid not," he said, "He died aged six years. End of that family's name but let's have a look for Nancy Jane . . . Here we are, Deceased, Married James Alfred Cooke, carpenter . . . Two children; Alice Marie and Deborah Elaine." The two outsiders were looking pleased with the revelations though totally bewildered with the process. "Now the other child Mary Susan," the man said as he typed it in. "Never married, had a child though to unknown father, named him Michael George. Retained the surname Ogden. Let's have a look at Him then. Sorry, deceased unmarried.

"We only have Alice Marie and Deborah Elaine," said Jones.

"Cooke, Alice Marie," said the man as he typed, "D.O.B matches . . . Married James Daniel Russel . . . one child James George."

"Sounds promising," said Mora. "There's that George name again."

"What about Deborah Elaine then?" asked Jones.

"Cooke, Deborah Elaine," said the clerk as he typed yet another enquiry. "Married Edward Craig Simpson, No children, both deceased, auto accident not long after the marriage."

"So it looks like we should follow Alice's line, this James George Cooke," said Jones remembering the names.

"Cooke, James George," the man typed in. "Hasn't died as yet to our knowledge, no marriage, no children."

"Is there an address on file," asked Michael.

"You would have look for that in the electoral roles or the phone books," the man said.

"Could I have a print of that information," asked Michael.

"Sure," the man said as he began the printout. As it finished he gave it to Michael and told him where the roles were. They paid for the service and went to the roles nearby where Michael looked over the printout.

"So we are looking for James George Cooke," said Jones.

"This is the main Electoral Role for Wilmington Central. Then there are the other electoral districts surrounding it," said Michael.

He flicked through the book but found no one by that name. After looking through several others he finally found a Cooke by that name, occupation listed as farmer. The address was Wasbourne West. A check of the maps showed it to be quite some distance away. It would be a days travel at least by bus so they would need more money than Michael had on him. Firstly though he must find a laboratory to test the water sample so looked one up in the yellow pages.

"Grant's Analytical Laboratories, there we are," said Michael. "I have a sample of water here I want to get tested and I have found a place nearby that can test it for me. We'll go there directly."

Chapter Nine

James George Cooke

The band of three were in high spirits as they made their way through the crowds on the street. The Laboratory was close on Marley Street, Michael remembered the name mentioned in his dream. He slipped inside to drop in the water sample for testing. When he came back the enormous "M" of McDonald's restaurant had drawn the others to its doors.

"Could we go in Michael?" asked Mora.

"I'll have to get some more cash first. There is an ATM over there," said Michael. "Stay here and I'll be right back."

Suddenly the two felt quite strange left standing there on the busy pavement beneath the big M. They kept their eyes firmly on Michael as he dodged his way through the river of people. As they were watching him Jones felt something bump into him from behind. A young man dressed in a leather jacket then walked away arrogantly speaking some strange dialect like "Ain' chew got no bread, eh?""

"What's that all about Jones?" Mora asked.

"I don't know for sure but I think he had his hand in my coat pocket."

"What would he do that for?"

"Pretty strange fellow if he though I could fit a loaf of bread in there," said Jones.

When Michael returned and led them into the restaurant. The place was packed full of people eating and children running around. The bright colours were strange to the outsiders and the smells delicious. They stood in line and discussed the menu.

"Do you want fish, chicken or beef?" asked Michael.

"Beef for me," said Mora eyes bulging at the choices.

"Beef will do fine," said Jones quite nonchalantly.

"Three Big Mac Combos please," Michael said to the young woman at the counter and handed over more bank notes. Once served they took their trays and sat together on the corner by the children's play area. The outsiders watched Michael open the red package and followed his lead. It was all new to them as they saw him pop a few fries in his mouth and chew.

"Suck on the straw," Michael said as he took a sip. Mora did so and spluttered as the sensation of fuzziness launched beyond his mouth and into his nose. The Big Mac"s were reasonable easy for them to master in comparison.

"This is very good," said Mora.

"What is the awful stuff we are drinking?" asked Jones.

"That's Coca Cola, the most popular beverage in the world," answered Michael. "Most of the drinks are carbonated to make them bubbly and more refreshing. You will get to like it."

"The sauce on this beef is delicious," said Jones munching through his Big Mac.

"I really like these things," stated Mora lifting up a french-fry. "Can I get some more?"

"Here have the rest of mine," offered Michael as they left.

"The bus depot is along this street according to the signs," said Michael as they walked further along. "Hopefully we can catch one to Wasbourne West today."

A man came up to them hawking his wares from a stall under cover of some shop awnings. He had gifts and jewelry on offer.

"Wanna buy some trinkets for the ladies," he asked.

"No thank you," said Michael.

"They are pretty things Michael," said Jones. "I wouldn't mind picking up something for someone I know."

"Jones, they will cost you money which you don't have. And I'm not about to buy it for you right now. We'll have to think about it another time."

Jones turned away a bit disappointed but knowing the truth of what Michael had said. Somehow, he thought, he would have to earn some money in order to buy a piece or two to take back for the woman he admired. Michael sensed the desires rising in Jones.

"What would you like to do with your life Jones, that is if you were free to live your dreams?" Michael asked.

"It would not be in the mines, I can tell you that."

"Do you dislike it immensely then?"

"Let's say that I have to discipline myself to the same old dirty job day after day. I would like a bit more sunshine in my day."

"Yes I hear you, but you aren't answering my question. What about dreams?" asked Michael.

"We have not been allowed to dream. It only caused trouble in the past. But just between you and me I carve things out of Gnarlybark wood. Small people and animals, miniatures."

"Are you good at it? Sorry that was unfair," said Michael apologetically.

"Here," Jones said as he pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and opened it towards Michael.

"Jones, they are beautiful. A thumb sized child, a Hare and a Horse in unusually patterned wood grain. They are exquisitely oiled and polished Jones. You are very talented. They would sell so easily."

"You mean someone would give me money for them," said Jones.

"We'll go back to that hawker we met and see if he is interested."

"Do you think he would give me bank notes for them?"

"Yes, many," said Michael. A smile came over Jones' face as they quickly backtracked to the vendor's stall where Michael did the talking.

"Sir, please, excuse us sir," he said to the hawker. "I wonder if you might be interested in purchasing some stock. My friend here has some pieces which he might sell should the price be right."

"I have plenty of stock as you can see, what would I want with any more?"

"These are vary rare and special, much sort after pieces. Show him Jones."

"Where did you get these my man?" asked the hawker not able to disguise his interest.

"A man carved them in a distant land," Michael stated trying to keep Jones as creator out of the deal.

"How much do you want for them?" the hawker asked.

Jones had his eye on a gold bracelet the hawker had on his stall and was about to suggest a trade but Michael gripped his arm to hold back his words.

"My friend," said Michael, "would part with them for say twenty five each. You would surely get fifty a piece even today for them."

"Fifty," the hawker said, "do ya think that much? Ten a piece and that would be plenty."

"Twenty and you'd profit more than double," Michael came back.

"Fifteen and that's my limit."

"Put them back in your pocket the man is ripping us off," Michael said to Jones now bewildered by it all. They began to turn away.

"Tell you what," said the hawker, "I'll give you a fifty for the three but I want your details. If you get more I want them."

"Deal," said Michael shaking the hawker's hand.

"That good for you Jones, fifty bank notes for the three?"

"I wondered if I could have that bracelet there, is that possible?" asked Jones not knowing the worth of what was offered and pointing to the shining jewelry on display.

"That's twenty and cheap at that," said the hawker.

"The bracelet and thirty then," said Michael still holding the hawker's hand.

"Thirty it is," the hawker agreed and he gave the bracelet and cash to Jones as they traded the pieces.

"Thank you sir," said Jones smiling and they resumed their way through the crowds of pedestrians to the bus depot.

"Is that a good trade Michael, those bank notes and the bracelet?" asked Mora who had been watching it all very closely.

"What do you think Jones?" Michael asked.

"These notes, will they get us to where we need to go, because I have got some more pieces in my other pocket if they are needed?"

"You have? Fantastic! You keep them safe. They are as good as money in the bank. Yes the notes will get us well on our way."

"Well then," said Jones eyeing his acquisitions, "it is a good deal then isn't it." They all chucked together and walked on briskly. The depot had several buses in the station and it was getting near mid day. The clerk at the ticket office told them the bus was due to leave immediately from the far end of the depot and issued them with passes. Quickly they ran to the large green and white bus with its motor running at the far end and boarded. The high seats were plush and covered with sheepskins. Few people were on board so a window seat was available to each of them. As the bus lurched forward the outsiders couldn't help wondering where their lives would turn next.

The road ahead led into mountains weaving and winding as they negotiated the river valleys and passes. The scenery was spectacular with snow capped peaks above and dense green forest right to the road. Shear drop-offs led to a mighty river below; one false turn and they would all be splattered on the rocks below. Hour after hour they climbed and dropped again to the next river valley and the scenery kept them from boredom. Michael had dropped into a light sleep with his head against the window, rocking occasionally with the forces of each corner. The bus stopped at an isolated roadside shop and there they bought themselves some food, drinks and some chocolate. The journey continued well into the night with a change of driver.

By morning the scenery had changed to open wilderness. Scruffy bushes and the occasional small tree were the only things that passed their windows. Conversation was minimal, only the brief greetings as they each stretched their legs down the isle. Most of the others were young to middle aged single travelers. One guy had introduced himself to a young woman and they were enjoying each others company at the rear. The driver made a stop for breakfast at an inn called "The Peregrine" in a very small desert town.

"Let's get something to eat shall we," suggested Michael looking at the menu. "What will you have, shall we try a traditional cooked breakfast then?"

"Sounds good to me," said Mora.

"Yes please," said Jones.

"Three bacon and eggs please and coffee," Michael ordered from the waitress.

"Coffee?" inquired Jones looking a little mystified.

"A hot drink most people like with their breakfast," said Michael.

Their orders were before long delivered to the table by the same attractive waitress. Mora couldn't keep his eyes off her stunning figure and long long legs; he would have very nearly followed her back to the kitchen like some mesmerized fool if Jones hadn't physically restrained him.

"Temptation, my friend," said Michael.

"Chocolate?" asked Mora snapping out of it and remembering the pertinent lecture.

"Same power over you my dear fellow, just different packaging," said Michael. "Eat your meal while it is hot."

"This is very tasty but bitter," said Jones of the cup of brown liquid. "What is it?"

"Coffee comes from a special type of bean. It is able to wake you up and get you going," said Michael. "You can add sugar and cream to make it more to your liking. Sugar is the white crystals in the bowl there. Try adding a teaspoonful or two." Jones and Mora both did so and stirred the brew just as Michael was doing to his.

"That's better," said Mora after tasting his coffee, "It is like putting honey on your bread."

"A bit sweet for me," said Jones.

"Put a little less in next time then, try one teaspoon."

"Mora, for heavens sake keep your eyes in your head," Jones rebuked as he noticed Mora about to follow the waitress.

The bus again resumed its journey with another fresh driver. It would be another four or five hours until their destination. The road followed a wide river obviously low in flow with its exposed shingle beds and small braids of water. Ahead were more mountains but the river valley through them allowed the bus to pass mostly on the flat. The hills were green grassed with cattle roaming freely; red and white faced Herefords, coal black Angus and a few crossed black with white faces. Sheep as white as the cattle faces were also broadly spread on the hills.

The road opened again to a rich fertile plain with crops of corn and lush pastures closely fenced into small paddocks. The town of Wasbourne West came into view announced by the driver to be less than ten minutes away. The paddocks had dairy herds hungrily consuming the lush pasture into their stomachs. This was a significant rural town, centre of a mix of agricultural activities. They were first out of the bus onto the lonely platform and they sort directions from the attendant.

"Do you know of a James George Cooke in this town?" Michael asked the attendant.

"Old Jim Cooke," he replied. "Sure I do."

"Can you tell me where to find him."

"I would say right now at the church near the town centre. But you're a bit late if you wanted to talk to him, he died at the weekend. The funeral is this afternoon; I'm just about to close up and get there myself," said the attendant.

"Oh no," said Jones, "we're too late."

"What did you want with Jim then."

"He was the last descendant of a family we have been tracing," said Mora.

"Look I'm going there now, would you like a ride?" asked the attendant.

They accepted and went in his old rattler of a car into the rather large town. The church was full by the time they arrived. The coffin already in place and the congregation singing with feeling "How Great Thou Art". The outsiders were a bit perplexed by the loudness of the organ and enthusiasm of the singing in the church.

"Michael, is this normal in church?" asked Jones.

"Yes indeed."

"Even at funerals."

"Quite normal Jones, although rather spirited today I must say."

A man dressed in casual clothes appeared at the front and spoke very loud.

"Michael, how on earth can he speak so loud?" asked Jones.

"That black thing in front of him is catching his voice and making it louder through those two boxes up there on the front wall," Michael pointed.

Mora and Jones were bewildered as the man spoke.

"Jim Cooke was a fine man of the people," he said. "Not only Mayor of this fine town of Wasbourne West but also president of Rotary, Chairman of the Board of Caxton Dairy, and owner of some of the finest dairy land this side of Wilmington. I knew him well as Pastor of this parish, for many a time he came to me to discuss the hard decisions he was forced to make on behalf of his people. Like the time they asked him to go into politics and join the government, he turned them down to stay with the people that needed him. He gave his all for Wasbourne and its district and it cost him his own private life. He is a man who we can say retained his integrity before God." The speaker took his seat and another came forward and cleared his throat.

"My name is Joshua Heddison. Most of you will know me as present Chairman of the Board of Caxton Dairy Products. I have known Jim Cooke now for most of my life, but it was in the time after he fell ill and I was appointed to take over from him that I really came to understand what made this great man tick. Jim took time to go to church, but more than this he took time to be with God. I have to confess that I have been a poor church going man and even poorer in my prayer life, but Jim set me on the path during a talk one evening when he was in hospital. That night he closed his eyes and prayed in a way that I never before understood. He was speaking to God as his personal friend, someone he knew and it touched me so much so that I knew our problems at the plant were heard by God and in hand. He was dying but still helping others. I will forever be indebted to this man." With a tear in his eye the man took his seat and another came forward.

"Hello, I am Rex Pain, current president of Rotary for this area. Jim was as you have heard a member and for a time president of this chapter. I'd like to tell you a little story that exemplifies who Jim was, that many of you may not know. There was a time when Rotary was struggling with not only flagging memberships but also internal factions. Jim at the time had no more weight than any of us involved, however he often would sit quietly not becoming involved in the verbal battle. Finally one night we all stopped dead quiet and the chairman turned to Jim and asked him for his view. Jim sat there without even raising more than an eyelid for such a long time then said just a few words of wisdom, pearls they were. He said, "I have sat and I have watched. I have opened my ears and heard and I have perceived this . . . When men have their hearts set on their own interests they forget about God." We were not overly religious men but that night we all, to a man, sat back and considered each our own actions. That was the end of the division and following that night Rotary has moved ahead in strength." The man returned to his seat and another came forward.

"I'm Raymond Johnston. I work for Jim Cooke and run his farms. Jim has employed me for forty odd years. I started as his farm hand and as he taught me I rose to become manager of the Hampton farm down Ailsbury Road. As time moved on Jim took on Mrs. Pixley's place when she died. Then two farms came up for Mortgagee auction when the bank foreclosed on them during the downturn. Jim bought up the mortgages and kept the owners on as managers of each. Then Old Sam Price died and Jim took on the property and added it to the Hampton farm. Progressively one farm after another ended up added to the place until we became what we are today. The Jim Cooke Estate now covers most of the district but I can tell you this, it happened not because he was greedy but because of his big heart for people. When people were in trouble he came to the rescue and they repaid him with their loyalty. We loved him." The man returned to his seat and one after another people came forward to tell of how Jim Cooke had saved them from disaster.

Michael and the other two looked at each other and realised that they had just missed knowing one man who would have helped their village out of their isolation. The choir sang praises and all were invited to a banquet put on by Jim Cooke himself in his last will and testament. It seemed the whole town was there, hundreds of joyous individuals who seemed to celebrate the life of one man. A dance was in progress to a live band, a smorgasbord of foods and refreshments were being served, there was no withholding of anything. In the entire crowd one man stood out to Michael, a loner who kept to one side. He decided to introduce himself.

"Hello, I'm Michael."

"Gerry Williams-Burke, Attorney for Mr. Cooke's estate."

"Really," what an opportunity he thought. "My friends and I are here trying to trace descendants of the Ogden Family and believe that Mr. Cooke was the last of the family line," said Michael.

"He did not marry but he has left an interesting statement in the will. Apparently he had been making payments too a woman for the last forty-two years. She may have had a child to Mr. Cooke who could possibly be heir to the personal estate although the property has been put in trust for the people of Wasbourne West."

"What does that mean for an heir?" asked Michael quietly.

"Mainly the personal effects and a tidy amount in saving and bonds."

"Does she know?" asked Michael.

"No, actually I am about to hire a private detective to find her," said the Attorney.

"Could I be of service to you then in tracking him down?" asked Michael, "We have news also for a possible heir."

"You say we, who else is with you?"

"I have two men with me who are from an unusual district which has been isolated for many generations and this man could well be the equivalent of their royal family. It is a bit like a kingdom without a king and they would like to do something about changing it."

"Why don't you three come to my office at ten in the morning and we will discuss this further."

"Thank you sir, we'll be there," Michael agreed shaking his hand.

The three enjoyed the celebration, eating their fill and watching the strange antics of the people as they shuffled and twirled on the dance floor. To the outsiders the whole thing was so joyful they could hardly imagine it was a funeral, so different to the official function they were used too. The night wore on and they were getting tired, it had been a long couple of days travelling. They found accommodation at the Hotel, a single and a double room. They slept in a bit, not requiring breakfast after such a lavish meal the night before.

Chapter Ten

Finding the Heir

At 10 am the three travelers entered the door of Havishaw, Williams-Burke & Co. The receptionist directed them in to the office marked G. Williams-Burke LLB where Michael introduced his travelling companions.

"Good morning Gentlemen. Do have a seat," said the Attorney. "I have before me the last will and testament of James George Cooke and we have researched that he is indeed a descendant of the family Ogden as you have said and more so an Ogden of unknown origin."

"We know where he came from sir," said Michael. "It is a place called Gnarlybark in the district of Kind. "These gentlemen with me are also from that same place. They are all illiterate bar two who manage the district on behalf of the Ogden family. We are here on their request to find descendants in the hope that one might return with us and set a course for the district's future."

"Yes, indeed," said the Attorney. "My job as I have said is to find a descendant of James George Cooke so that I might discharge my responsibilities for the remainder of his estate to him or her. I have an offer from yourselves to find this individual, is that correct?"

"Yes, that is correct," said Michael.

"All right then," said the Attorney, "Since there is no monetary gain that you could get through this venture I am prepared to offer you an allowance and travel expenses for whatever time is required to achieve this end."

"That is most generous and might I say timely sir, as my own resources have diminished so to speak," said Michael.

"The woman involved in this is one Penelope Jane Longbottom and her last known address . . ."

"Mull," said Michael interrupting him and looking rather surprised.

"Yes indeed, how did you know?"

"My mother's has that name," said Michael. They all looked at each other a little shocked.

"What, does that mean you might be the one we were looking for?" stated Jones.

"Well it does look a bit odd doesn't it," said Michael. "I knew I had a father somewhere but she always kept it a secret. Surely it can't be me."

"I'll make an enquiry at the office of births, deaths and marriages," the Attorney said and pressed a button of his intercom. "Miss Farthing make a birth certificate inquiry for the name of the son of Penelope Jane Longbottom of Mull. Straight away thank you."

"This is a bit unusual then isn't it," the Attorney smiled acting now a bit less formal. "So I take it your surname is Longbottom."

"Yes indeed, Michael James Longbottom at your service."

Before long the secretary knocked and brought in a slip of paper for her employer which he opened and read.

"Penelope Jane Longbottom of Mull, son Michael James Longbottom, No father mentioned." the Attorney read. "How old are you Michael?"

"Forty two years of age."

"Birthday?"

"March sixteenth," said Michael.

"That seems to be correct," said the astonished Attorney, "At first glance it would appear that you are the heir to the remaining James George Cooke estate, however I must do some more checking. I think under the circumstances it would be advisable to get a investigator to do it, don't you?"

"Indeed," agreed Michael.

"Why don't you go out and have a look around the estate and I will get back to you tomorrow when I have found out some more," said the Attorney.

"Could we? That would be marvelous."

"There is a small cottage out there that you may use, well marked on the Ailsbury Road by the Cooke Estate sign. Here are the keys, feel free to make yourself at home. I will give you a letter of introduction to Ray the manager before you leave. Please do not remove anything from the property, it is all itemised, but feel free to inspect."

"Thank you sir, You have been most helpful," Michael said earnestly as they shook hands. "This is amazing; I can hardly believe it."

"I will send you verification tomorrow then," the Attorney said.

The small band of travelers couldn't wait to see what Michael had inherited. They made their way directly to Ailsbury Rd and the estate about half an hour's walk past Caxton Dairy Products. The entrance was plain except for the large slice of log with Cooke Estate carved in it. The cottage was obviously the newer building by the sign set in green pastures. Further removed from the road amongst shelter trees was an old white timber house with red roof. The cottage was compact and painted yellow with a green roof and had green and red shrubs surrounding it rather than flowers. An old copper coloured tree stood protectively behind it and it was guarded all around from wandering cows by a white picket fence. The key fitted the cottage door and the men familiarised themselves with its contents: a couch and two easy chairs with foot extensions, two bedrooms with two beds in each, one double and the others singles, a fully electric kitchenette with large breakfast bar and pantry full of food stuffs. In the corner a square black object puzzled Mora.

"What is this for Michael?"

"Push the button at the bottom there," he pointed.

There was a high pitched whistle and a woman's voice said "at three o'clock. The game will resume afterwards. Next the news with Phillip . . . " Then as they stood amazed hearing music and a man appeared in it and began telling of a war in the Middle East, tensions in Israel and pictures of ruined buildings and people trying to move the rubble.

"It is called television," explained Michael. "It is a means of conveying pictures and sound to entertain and inform us in our homes. Some people spend their entire night glued to the screen. It can be quite sad really the power it has over them."

"Michael, this is amazing. Look, people speaking in a strange way . . . and birds speaking like us." said Mora seeing a cartoon as the channel changed.

"This is moving so fast Michael," Jones said just as glued to the flashing images.

"Later tonight we may be able to watch a movie," said Michael, "but for now we had best turn it off again otherwise we will get nothing done." Michael reached into the pantry and took out two cans of beans, opened them and tipped the contents into a pot that he had placed on the stove. Soon the pot was steaming.

"Almost everything we use in our homes uses electricity to run," Michael explained. "This pot is being heated with electricity passing under it. That television makes pictures using electricity and we have electric lights for seeing after dark. We don't use coal or even a fire much anymore, its all done with electricity because it is cheap and clean."

"What does it look like?"

"You can't see it Jones, it's too complicated for you to understand without a science education."

"Sounds as if it is like coal," said Jones, "a fuel source that is cold but given fire it will cook food, boil water and keep us warm."

"Electricity is much more though. It can be used in many different things. It will even do your hard work for you by driving machines that can dig coal out of the ground and move it to the surface," said Michael.

"We have to get some of that stuff and take it back with us," said Mora.

"It's not like coal in that sense. But we could produce it by a water driven generator then connect it by wires to machines in the mine. But that's way to far beyond your understanding. It is a dream though that could be quite achieved back at the village. But let's get these beans into us and then go look at the main homestead." Michael poured the beans onto three plates and put a fork in each before setting it on the breakfast bar. He showed them the way to use a fork by example and they took to it quickly swallowing down the hot beans in sauce.

The homestead was hidden in the trees but as they rounded the main gates into the driveway an excited yellow Labrador dog greeted them. It barked a couple of times in a non threatening manner, then wagged its tail in welcome as it came up to Michael's outstretched hand for a rub behind the ear. Turning the tag over on its collar Michael saw that it's name was "Dixie".

"Hello Dixie, you are a honey aren't you. Dixie meet my friends Jones and Mora."

"Can I help you?" a strong male voice called from the house veranda.

"Good morning," said Michael. "We were sent by Mr. Williams-Burke, Attorney for Mr. Cooke. I have a letter of introduction from him." This was the man they had seen at the funeral who spoke so well of his employer. He took the letter and quickly read it.

"Welcome," he said, "I am the manager Ray Johnston."

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Johnston," Michael said shaking his hand, "and this is Jones and Mora."

"How do you do. Please, call me Ray," he said as he shook hands with the others. "The letter introduces you as the apparent heir to the estate. Congratulations Mr. Cooke was a man of considerable means."

"Apparently," said Michael, "the properties I am informed have been put in trust for the people of the district. No doubt that will mean you too Ray."

"Is that so," said Ray seemingly amazed. "What then is your part in all of this then Michael?"

"It seems that if all turns out to be correct and I am his son, I receive his personal effects and any surplus after cleaning up his affairs."

"Well then, why don't you come in and have a look around. I was just doing a bit of tidying up inside the main house but I haven't managed to make much of a dent in it as yet," said Ray.

The front steps led onto a long veranda which intern led through the large front door into a passageway where a tall rack held a couple of hats, a coat and an umbrella. The floors were deeply polished dark timbers with rugs neatly laid down the centre. The walls were papered from floor to the very high ceiling and on them were hung photographs with similar faces to the Ogden portrait Michael had seen hung in the Mediators residence. Inside were: libraries of books, old art-works, glass cases with birds of all sizes and colours, small animals and plants, exquisitely made furniture, sideboard and dining suite, deeply buttoned leather couch and chairs, clocks of all types and numerous china and crystal pieces, the place was full of object d'art.

The man was not a collector of art as such," said Ray. "He was the recipient of much gratitude from those he helped. Over the years all this has arrived and he didn't have a heart to disappoint anyone by getting rid of it. Really he was a simple man who in doing the right thing has accumulated the admiration of many people. It seems it will be your task to dispose of all this in a manner in which you see fit."

Michael saw the enormity of the task but had no attachment to it, as had been the case for his father. Immediately he saw an auction to sell the piano and accordion, gramophone and records, the pots and pans, refrigerator and freezer, washing machine and dryer, beds and sundries. It would take a lot of work but the place had to be cleaned out. In the garage there was a red Toyota sedan gleaming with polish, tools for garden and repairs, boxes of nuts and bolts, hedge-cutter and chain-saw, trimmer and mower. He began to think of these items as chapters in an biography of his life, old telephones, broken parts, a lantern, a tent, tins of old paint. Here was a humble man who apart from heading headed the major enterprises in the town, fixed his own car, trimmed his own hedge and went out camping. In the corner a selection of fishing equipment, a surf-caster, a trout rod, reels, waders and tackle boxes.

"Look at this Michael," said Jones holding a dusty cardboard box.

"It's a dumpy used to set out the levels on a building site."

"Wasn't his father a carpenter?" said Jones.

"I remember someone in that family line being a carpenter," said Mora.

"Look, there are some more old carpenters tools," said Michael, "Do you know the whole of the family history may be in this place. All the others have died so it would all end up in his hands. This is my heritage, my history. I may never have met them but now in these their possessions I am getting to know them." Michael began to feel something stirring inside, a thread pulling at his heart, a bonding being established. For once in his life he was beginning to feel some sort of belonging, something he knew was missing was now fitting into place. He was becoming emotional and a tear formed in his eye and slowly trickled down his cheek.

"Why?" Michael said in hushed tones to himself. "Why didn't he come to see me. Such a loved man, so kind that everyone gave him gifts of appreciation, yet his only son. Mum what happened between you two?"

"Michael," Jones called, "come and have a look at this trunk, it's full of old pictures."

"A fishing trip beside a lake. That is him isn't it?" asked Jones.

"Yes that's Jim, he loved his fishing," said Ray.

"This must have been his parents," said Mora.

"Or grandparents," suggested Jones.

"Look on the back. They often write who and where on the back," suggested Ray.

Granddad and Nana Ogden, Springsville," Michael read aloud.

"Who's this beautiful girl with the bears?" said Ray bringing up another photo.

"Let me see that a moment . . . I think that is my mother when she was young. Pene Jane and Jim, Teddy Bears Picnic," Michael read from the back.

"That confirms it Michael," said Jones. "There's your mum with James Cooke. Proof enough for me."

"Look at all these photos. There must be hundreds and hundreds of them. Some look pretty old, see how they are brownish. The paper wasn't so good in those days," said Ray.

"It doesn't prove anything Jones," said Michael, "until it is confirmed with my mother I could be anyone's child. But I do agree that everything looks like this is my father. Something inside me says he is. I can't get over the coincidence of my looking for myself, as it turns out. It's so strange. I was forever going on little journeys thinking I was finding out about the world around me but really I guess I was looking for who I am and it appears I may have stumbled into my own destiny."

"For everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven," Ray quoted.

"I think that's right Ray, " said Michael. "The season is upon me. My time has come. But I've had enough of this right now. Ray what do you suggest?"

"How about I show you around the farm," said Ray.

"That would be great," said Michael.

"We can take my utility," said Ray. "There are a few bales of hay on the back so you guys can ride up there and get a good look at the farm. Come on, the evening will be on us before you know it."

"That will be a great experience Ray, these guys have never seen a working dairy unit before so you will need to give us the guided tour," said Michael. Mora and Jones climbed on the back of Ray's Ford utility and Michael joined Ray in the cab. They set off down a dusty driveway towards the milking plant and Ray explained out of his window what was happening there.

"There's about two hundred and fifty cows being milked right now. Another two hundred and fifty have just gone through and there are two more herds the same size to go through the shed before dark. The cows rotate on a giant platform that holds fifty at a time and by the time they go around once they have given all their milk. From there they go to their next paddock of grass already set up for them. While that herd is being milked the next herd is brought in ready to follow straight after the last. It takes four milkers about four hours twice a day to milk a thousand cows. That's about 20,000 litres of milk a day being held in those refrigerated silos beside the shed. Tankers come and pick up the milk each morning."

They drove through a gateway past the milking shed and down a gravel lane as ray continued.

"The farm is made up of seven small farms that once were run by individual families. Jim acquired them progressively, as it became less economic to operate small owner operated units. We now have four herd managers, each with an assistant and they each take care of a quarter of the whole land use. It is my job to oversee the entire land use options. Currently we are moving away from traditional all grass milk production where we stored grass hay and silage during peak growth times and fed it out again in the poor growth times of winter. The livestock stay outdoors all year round on the farm and we meet dietary shortfalls by the use of a composite feed management formula which includes the mixing of maize and other grains, vitamins and minerals fed to them around milking time on a feed-pad. We have a nutritionist advising us and she uses computerised scientific analysis to determine our feed plans."

The talk was well above Mora and Jones who were now just sitting back ignoring everything but the scenery. There were trees in most paddocks but mainly the farm looked open and tidy. Herds grazed here and there and young stock were clearing out the rougher areas and hill sides. Ray drove down to the back where the farm dropped onto a river terrace. The river was a long meandering thread of silver, forming oxbows around river flats. Here and there trees grew beside the river, willows and poplar mainly, past efforts made to control it's course and reduce pasture damage during floods. After an hour or so they came out a gateway and onto a side road which brought them back to the main road and the cottage. From there Ray left them and returned to his own place further down the main road.

The three sat down to a meal that Michael prepared and spent the rest of the evening watching television, a movie starring John Wayne which Jones and Mora thought marvelous except for the killing of a man by the star.

"Why did he kill the man Michael?" asked Mora.

"It is part of the story. The bad guy was out to kill him and his family so he had to be stopped," said Michael.

"But killing is not allowed," Jones stated.

"This is only a story," said Michael. "Remember that. But it does show us that it's not good to keep violent thoughts stored up in your heart. Eventually it will come back on you. It's the old story of good overcoming bad."

"But couldn't they have worked it out with the Mediator?" asked Jones.

"In the days when that story was set there were no Mediators available, there wasn't even any law back then in the west. The way they defended themselves was with the gun. There have been many different ways of keeping order in the world but sometimes order comes well after people have first settled an area," explained Michael.

The two outsiders were not completely comfortable with it but went to bed thinking about the strange ways of the world.

Chapter Eleven

Clearing the Estate

Michael was clearing up after a breakfast of Cornflakes and toast when there was a knock at the door. It was a courier with a package for Michael. He signed for it and came back in opening the large envelope.

"What is it?" asked Mora.

"Looks like documents," said Michael as he read. "It is confirmation from the lawyer saying 'You have the go ahead to do what you see fit with the personal effects of James Cooke, i.e. contents of the homestead and out-buildings excluding the land and buildings which are tied up in trust for the people of the district.'"

"Well," said Jones, "I guess we had better get on with it then."

"I'll contact the local estate auctioneer in the town," said Michael as he picked up the telephone directory and began to flick through it. "Here we are 543 8860." Michael punched in the numbers and began talking to the Auctioneer. They confirmed that morning as a suitable time to inspect the estate and he hung up. His talking with this object in his hand puzzled Mora and Jones. Michael noticed their puzzled looks and explained.

"This is a telephone," he said. "It allows people from all over the world to talk to each other. I have another call to make to get the water analysis results." Michael dialed the number on the business card that he had been given. The full results were ready, the diagnosis was positive.

They made their way over to the homestead and set about stripping the beds and bagging clothing out of the drawers. A very nice sheepskin jacket hanging in the main wardrobe appealed to Mora.

"Michael," he said holding the jacket up. "Do you want this?"

"Why, would you like to have it Mora?"

"It's very warm," he said, "yes I would."

"Then it's yours, you will have earned it by the end of the this job." Michael went to the garage to get a spanner and on returning showed Mora how to undo the bolts and dismantle the beds. Just then the Auctioneer arrived.

"Good morning, my name is O'Conner, Danny O'Conner."

"Thank you for coming Mr. O'Conner, I am Michael and these are my friends Mora and Jones." They all shook hands and Michael led the Auctioneer in to the homestead.

"Basically everything has to be sold Mr. O'Conner. I may retain a few items in here but nothing of great value. It includes the garage contents but I will retain the car," said Michael.

"This will be a large auction in itself sir. Probably in excess of five hundred lots I should say. There are antiques and collectibles so it will be a popular event I believe."

"When were you thinking of selling the estate then," asked Michael him.

"I would be able to fit it in with the scheduled auction this week. There will be time to advertise it in the midweek papers."

"Then we will need to truck it all to your premises. Could you arrange a removal truck for the job?"

"Certainly, we could deduct that from the proceeds. Would you require assistance in packing it all up then?" asked Mr. O'Conner.

"I think the three of us would be able to complete the task over the next few days. What do you think Jones?"

"Yes, I guess we can," affirmed Jones hesitantly.

"We can do it," said Mora.

"I will have a truck here on Thursday then and the auction will be Friday 10 am," concluded Mr. O'Conner as he was leaving.

"We will look forward to it then," said Michael. "Truck Thursday and auction Friday at ten."

They continued now with more purpose washing some of the linen, clearing out cupboards, and boxing up pots and pans, plates and utensils in the kitchen.

"Hey, look at this Michael, bank notes," said Mora. "They were under the cloth on the side board."

"I wonder how much there is. Twenty, forty," counted Michael," two hundred, three hundred, five . . . there's around nine hundred dollars here. That should keep us in Cornflakes and petrol until the auction proceeds become available."

"Petrol," Jones queried.

"The car in the garage runs on petrol and it can get a bit costly if we use it, which we will. This money is a Godsend. I was at the bottom of the barrel at the bank. I can't believe all that has happening to me; it has been a whirlwind these last few days."

Michael pocketed the money confidant that it was now his inheritance. Inside the sideboard he found cups and silverware, glassware and plates. Beautiful painted designs and shapes of another era, Royal Doulton, Carlton, and other labels. Sets of silver teaspoons, knives, platters and such. He wrapped then all in newspaper and placed them in cartons ready for transport. Meanwhile Jones was packing the food and other items from the kitchen cupboards and Mora cleaning behind him.

The Library needed packing so Michael moved on to that. As he read the titles of the first books he began to wonder if some should not be kept to build a resource for the villagers. Most were old but so varied that their collective wisdom would benefit the isolated village. Education would surely have to come to Kind but there were so many books. Obviously titles about commerce in the 1950"s were out of date but Moby Dick though old was still a great lesson today. So it was that he sorted the library to save cartons and dispose cartons; roughly two thirds to a third. The cartons were all placed along the hallway ready for loading on the truck a couple of days later.

Inside the old scotch chest in the master bedroom Michael found more personal memorabilia. Three service medals from the war, three stripes of rank and a crown badge, he was a Sergeant Major, a gunner; also an electric razor, cards and some letters. He opened some to see they were from friends then came across one he could not pass by:

The letter explained it all for Michael; his mother had spent most of her life in and out of mental institutions as a manic-depressive. It wasn't until recent advances in drugs that she was able to have a slightly better life. She must have got pregnant and decided not to drag James into it all. He probably didn't even know he had a son but made payments to her so that she wouldn't be found wanting. Such a generous man and obviously so in love that he never married.

Late in the day Michael decided to take the Toyota car out for a drive. It was registered and had a current certificate. He checked it had oil and topped up the radiator with water but unfortunately it would not start, the battery was dead. They pushed it out of the garage and Michael turned it around. The driveway had a little slope towards the road so they again pushed it until it rolled nicely downhill. Michael selected second gear and engaged the clutch as it picked up speed. The engine turned several times then with a jerky surge it burst into life, popping and blowing smoke out the rear. Mora and Jones jumped in the surging vehicle and by the time they reached the end of the drive the engine was revving reasonably well. Michael kept the engine speed up high for a while to charge in the battery. After a few minutes he realised the fuel gauge was not showing much petrol and guessed he had better get it to a filling station before it ran out completely. He remembered there was a garage with pumps at the Caxton Dairy not far up the road. There he filled the tank to the brim and continued towards town, the engine by now running beautifully.

"Is this a good motorised vehicle Michael?" asked Mora.

"It's not too bad by the sound of things. She's an old car but a good one; done about half of its expected life I guess."

"Can we eat at McDonald's again," asked Mora.

"We could but I want you to have another experience to broaden your outlook. We are going to celebrate with a meal at a restaurant, the finest and most expensive of eating houses and here we are, Chateau Landmark." They entered and were escorted to a table set for four. Each was given a menu that meant nothing to the outsiders. But they looked over it anyway just as Michael was doing.

"What would you like tonight gentlemen?" asked the waiter.

"Please run through the menu for us waiter," suggested Michael.

"Certainly sir," the waiter said, "Chef's soup tonight is a freshly made chowder. His special is rack o" lamb with mint sauce and a side dish of roast vegetables." He then ran through the menu detailing Aberdeen eye steak, sockeye salmon, in-season quail, orange roughy, and various other exotic dishes. Mora and Jones just looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders not comprehending a thing. Michael sensed this and asked them.

"Do you feel like beef, lamb, bird or fish?" asked Michael.

"Bird," said Mora.

"Fish sounds good," said Jones.

"Waiter," said Michael, "I would like the steak medium rare and please bring the quail and the roughy for the others. Could we each have the soup and some garlic croutons."

"Certainly sir. Do you want a wine list sir?"

"Please have some house red and white brought over to us, thank you."

Mora looked around while they waited what seemed like an eternity and noticed the elegant dress of the people compared to their own casual attire and how each table seemed insulated from another by their own intimate conversations. Some were drinking wine, others water and one a large container of bubbling brown liquid. Quiet music filled the background so that no conversation could be overheard.

The waiter came back with the soup and croutons and made placing the dishes extremely precise. By now the outsiders had become used to following their guide's actions but found the array of utensils to eat with quite a puzzle. Michael showed them by raising the rounded spoon and began to sample the soup while also holding the crouton in his other hand from time to time. They verbally acknowledged their approval, as they tasted each.

After they had finished and dishes were cleared the wine waiter came with the two decanters of wine and poured a sample for Michael to taste. After he showed his approval the waiter poured a glass of wine for each according to their preference and left. It was quite some time before the main course arrived. They were obviously a small serving compared to what the outsiders were used to; by the way they sat back in their chairs and looked at each other. Their faces were saying "what is this?"

"How's that quail Mora?" asked Michael.

"It is small but very nice. I like the gravy on the roast potatoes."

"And your fish Jones?" Michael Asked.

"Can't taste it for this sauce they have put all over it." Jones grumbled, "But the sauce is good and I like these little brown ball potatoes, they are really nice."

Michael was enjoying his eye steak although it was a little rarer than he liked. The outsiders hadn't yet learned the proper manner of using the knife and forks so were at times somewhat crude with their food. A desert of apple pie and cream followed. Irish coffee and mints rounded off the dinner over an hour later then they drove back to the cottage.

The following morning they packed up the garage items before the truck came for the estate. The team unearthed many more treasures. They kept some tools but nothing added to Michael's knowledge of his father. They helped load the truck and by lunch it was on its way to auction. Their part of the job was now complete and they could take the afternoon any way they wished.

They decided to explore the incredible scenery of the nearby mountains and valleys in the car and traveled two hours up one valley across the pass and down the other. The peaks were blanketed with snow and the forest was dense. The sun was hot and with the car windows down it allowed a rush of cool air to blow through. Mora was thrilled by the speed of travel sometimes putting his arm out into the wind, sometimes even his head, but Jones was a little fearful of a sudden and accidental stop. They did stop purposefully at the beginning of a walkway to a nearby waterfall, which had a swing bridge to cross. Each walked across timidly and marveled at man's engineering spanning such a distance of water and later a tunnel to ease the way for walkers. It was dark by the time the returned to the cottage and they were tired. They eat a quick meal of bread and cheese recounting the day and went to bed early.

The morning of the auction dawned cold and wet. By the time they arrived at the Mr. O'Conner's Auction House in the town many had gathered to view the large estate. Michael talked to the auctioneer about the day's events.

"Is it a good auction then Mr. O'Conner?" Michael asked.

"We are quietly optimistic at the moment."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Normally you would see only say a dozen in here at this time before the auction but as you see there are over twenty and they have been coming through like this all morning."

Meanwhile the Attorney arrived and came over to where they were observing the assortment of items.

"Good morning Michael, Danny," said the Attorney tipping his hat to each of them.

"A good morning it is too," said Michael.

"A good looking estate lot here isn't it?" said the Attorney. "I wonder if I might have a word with you Michael?"

"Certainly, excuse us for a moment," he said to the Auctioneer.

"There's a little matter I'd like to clear up if I may," said the Attorney.

"What's that," asked Michael beginning to wonder if all this good fortune was about to fall into a big hole and swallow him up. It had all been too good to be true he thought to himself, the bubble was surely about to burst.

"There's a matter of the stocks and bonds which your father has acquired over the years. He owns a large shareholding in Caxton but the intent of the will is that it will remain part of the trust given back to the people of the district that makes sense. There are a number of other investments, two of which are notable. There are 60,000 shares in Tillman Building and Forests and 120,000 in long term bonds."

"That much!" gasped Michael.

"A conservative estimate is that they are worth about a million, give or take."

"That much!" gasped Michael more.

"I'm afraid so. It's all quite sizeable don't you think and therefore needs some management."

"I'm a little bit shocked just at the moment."

"I can see that," said the Attorney. Do you have any idea what you might want to do with it?"

"Right now leave it where it is. I have another inheritance in this place where my two friends have come from. It looks like I have a job to do there bringing it into the twenty-first century. The investments may well be needed to help these people, educate them and build their future. It is all a bit of a whirlwind; one day I am a virtual vagabond and now I'm looking like being responsible for a people and a fortune."

"Do you think you are up to it?"

"If you mean am I educated the answer is yes much more than they. If you mean is it what I want to do the answer is I'm not sure. It is a big change from carefree to careful; a big change from just me to everyone," said Michael.

"I will leave you with that at present and if you like I will be happy continuing to represent the estate."

"Yes, please do. Thank-you." said Michael.

"I'll leave you my card then so that you can contact me when you wish. Until then we can set up a trading account with sufficient cash balance to service your needs. The proceeds of this auction will be quite handsome I should think. Leave it to me."

"Thank-you. Goodbye," said Michael as they shook hands and parted.

Some time passed and more and more buyers arrived for the auction. The three outsiders mingled amongst the assorted lots arranged before them. The large building was near packed when the Auctioneer announced he was about to begin.

"Good day ladies and gentlemen," he stated. "Terms for the auction are written by the door as you entered, payment is by cash today before any items may be taken from the premises unless otherwise agreed with the auctioneer. Each person wishing to bid will require a number issued on registration at the office, if you haven't got a number please register now. Please make your bid clear by raising your number card, the room is crowded and it will be difficult to see everyone. Now let's get down to business. Lot one, what have we got. What am I bid for these hedge clippers, who has ten, ten, ten, dollars, five and go then, five I have five, six, eight, ten, twelve, twelve, twelve, dollars it is, anyone else." The hammer went down. "Twelve to number seventeen. Lot two, what have we got, a spade, who's got ten, ten , ten dollars, I have twelve fourteen, eighteen. . . "

The bidding was lively and the small garage items were getting things well underway. People were paying near new prices for things others would throw out. This was a much-loved man and people were getting a piece of him for themselves. The local priest paid more than new price for a weed-eater; two fought over a rubbish tidy with leaks. A woman nearly came to blows with another over ownership of a food processor so the auctioneer reopened the bidding and settled the argument at a price even higher than before to the same woman. The Auctioneer called for a runner to carry his sheets to the office but he couldn't get through the crowd so his passed the sheets through the people overhand to the back. The atmosphere was electric with bidders raising several numbers at once causing the bids to skip rungs of the accounting ladder. The antiques and collectibles were last to hold the buyers after many hours of bidding. Royal Doulton and Cartonware sold extremely well at prices expected in the antique shops. The Colonial oak furniture and leather chairs were snapped up without bidding dropping below the opening call. Finally the piano came up, the last lot on the list, bidding started at two thousand and climbed in five hundred's over four bidders. The final hammer fell to an older lady for five thousand two hundred and fifty. Within five hours all was sold and cleared out of the rooms; it was over and the estate quickly moving out the door. The three hundred and twenty odd bidders had each secured their piece of the man they admired so much.

Chapter Twelve

Preparation to Return

Michael knew that now the time had come to take up his destiny and for the band of three adventurers to return to their home. Now a man of means there was one thought on his mind, something he'd been postponing for years because he really hadn't been confident in who he was. He had to return to see his mother and see if a friend of his was still around. They took the car and their meager belongings and traveled to Mull, which was the place where it all began. The journey was long and uneventful, driving through mountains and out again to scrubby plains, past little towns and villages, just stopping every couple of hours to quench their hunger and thirst, refuel and use the toilet. Finally Mull was in view and the car had done them proud.

Michael made for the sanatorium where his mother had been for some time. A check at the front office confirmed that she was still in room 103. He went in alone leaving the outsiders in the grounds. He knocked on her door but there was no reply. A nurse at her station revealed that his mother was out in the gazebo so he asked directions to find it. Walking down the isle other patients greeted him and walked by. Eventually he found the outside door and covered walkway to the gazebo, white with glass all around, and inside he saw his petite mother sitting quietly.

"Hello Mum," he said with a hug.

"Michael, how are you son?" she asked lovingly.

"Mum, I have some very good news and a little sad news. I hope you can cope with it."

"Yes, what is it then? You are looking good son."

"I have been on the most amazing journey."

"What, another one of you wandering adventures?" she scorned.

"Wait a minute, let me finish. I was tramping on the other side of the river, through some mountains and by some strange fate I ended up finding a village, which has been isolated from the rest of the world for many generations. It is quite an amazing place where the people live simply with very limiting structures that keep them almost backward. They are uneducated except for the two who manage it and even they couldn't be called educated compared to what we are today. Anyway to keep it brief I ended up taking two of the men with me in search of a possible descendant of the leading family who left the district generations ago, that he might return and lead the district into their future."

"Quite noble of you son," she quipped.

"Anyway our search led to James Cooke."

"James," she said and was about to continue but was stopped.

"James Cooke has passed away mum. Whether by chance or fate I happened to arrive for his funeral. It was there that I met his Attorney and the following day while talking with him we found out that James had been sending you money each month. Do you remember a private detective coming to see you? You didn't realise it but he came so that proof might be found that James Cooke had an heir to his personal estate. That made me a very wealthy man mum, something in the vicinity of a millionaire."

"A millionaire? James always was a good man."

"I know what went on between you two and now I know who I am. Mum, it's like I finally found myself and I've found my destiny too. I now have to go back to the village I found and lead it. I have the education and resources to help them grow. I'm going to see Cindy Jacobson and I'm going to finally ask her to marry me and go to this place to live."

"About time Michael," she said, "about time!"

"It's good to be with you."

They talked some more in the gazebo about her health and friends and family and Michael assured her he would continue supporting her there. Then Michael remembered his friends and an hour later drew the visit to a close. His next port of call was his long time sweetheart who lived not more than a few minutes away in the town of Mull. He dropped the others off in the town and gave them some cash with instructions that he would be back right at that spot in less than an hour. Michael then went to Cindy's house.

"Michael!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him.

"Cindy, darling I've come to ask you something."

"What would that be Michael? Surely this isn't a proposal," she teased.

"Cindy Jacob's will you marry me?" he said half kneeling.

"Marry you, yes, yes, yes I will," she said a little shocked after all these years and thinking he was just fooling around again.

"Well, that being the case I have news for you. I Michael Longbottom have found my father and in doing so I have become a man of means. I have inherited a portfolio of stocks and bonds and savings that is worth more than a million. You are going to be a millionaire's wife, Mrs. Longbottom." They hugged and kissed each other very excitedly and it turned from excitement to passionate for quite some time there at the front door. Eventually they came up for air with Cindy not believing he luck saying "Today? Can we get married today at the registry office."

"That's fine by me but I've got some more to tell you," said Michael. "I have an obligation to lead a village into the future, a place isolated for many generations. I need to live there and that means you will need to be with me and raise our family there."

"As long as it has a big soft bed and running water I will go anywhere with you," she said.

"I might have to pipe in some running water but the bed is guaranteed. This place is so backward and the people need your skills as a teacher. Will you also run a school?"

"That is what I am trained for. Sure I will help anyway I can so long as we are together forever."

"Then get your girlfriends and mum and dad on the phone and be at the registry office before it closes at 4.30. I'll go get mum and bring my best men with me; let's go get married. One other thing, when we get to this place I want a proper church wedding, okay?"

"You're on. We will do it properly, white dress and all."

"Right then let's get going. I'll see you at the registry office in an hour then; is that long enough for you to get ready?"

"I have waited long enough for this. I'm not going to give you a chance to back out of it. Today is the day." They kissed again and parted temporarily before coming back together in another passionate embrace. Finally the unglued themselves and whooped with excitement as they rushed off.

Michael went back to the sanatorium in the car to get his mother to dress her best and returned to gather his travelling companions from the town centre. Jones was there but Mora wasn't with him.

"Jones, where's Mora?" asked Michael.

"He went that way a few minutes ago and said he would be back shortly."

"I am getting married within the hour. We need him back now," said Michael urgently.

"You are getting married today, you'll need a ring?" pointed out Jones.

"Good thought. You wait here and I will go to the Jewelers across the street. Don't go away. Jones this is my mother Penelope," Michael introduced as an after thought.

"Pleased to meet you," Jones said politely.

Michael rushed across the street to Mill's the Jeweler and announced to them he was getting married today an needed two plain gold rings; one that fitted his finger and another that was a little smaller for Cindy. They found two suitable rings and he had inscribed on them something Michael had written on a scrap of paper.

Mora had still not returned by the time Michael came back with the rings and it was getting near time to be at the registry.

"We'll drive around and see if we can find him then," said Michael but though they looked everywhere he was nowhere to be seen. In the end they just had to be at the registry and parked the car outside. About a dozen people were inside with Cindy now all prettied up. Michael joined her and their details taken and the appropriate paperwork completed.

"Do you Michael James Longbottom take Cindy Fiona Jacobson to be your lawful wife?" the Justice of the Peace asked him.

"I do," said Michael.

"Do you Cindy Fiona Jacobson take this man Michael James Longbottom to be your lawful husband?" the Justice of the Peace asked her.

"I certainly do," Cindy replied.

"Then by the authority invested in me in this town of Mull," the JP said, "I pronounce you man and wife. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom."

A chorus of cheers went up as they signed the papers. As quick as that, after all those years of friendship, they were married and about to embark on a most amazing adventure together. The whirlwind was still surrounding Michael.

Jones thoughts were for Mora being somewhere out there lost somewhere in the town. Night was coming on and Mora was nowhere to be found. They went back to the town centre but he was not there. Jones felt awful about it.

"Don't worry too much about the young fellow Jones," said Michael, "remember the dream. The dream showed that he would get separated but that four of us would get back and one was Mora. He will be all right I just know it, have faith my friend."

"Never the less when I get my hands on him I will have a word or two to say to him," said Jones.

"I think the best thing to do tonight," said Michael, "is for us all to go back to Cindy's place and start preparing for our journey back to Kind. I think we have been away long enough and we should bring to them this good news as soon as we can."

They ate well that night a hot meal purchased in the town and celebrated with a little champagne. Michael delivered his Mum back to the sanatorium after dark and made another tour of the town in case Mora happened to be wandering around. On his return Jones was trying to think through the return journey.

"How do you propose to get back there Michael?"

"The same way I got in. We should hire a boat and cross the river. From there I think I can find the way. It took me over a week on foot but with some horses we might be able to do it in a few of days."

"Can't we take the river down?" asked Jones.

"Maybe, but it may not be the same one. It may be too dangerous who knows. No I think we should retrace my steps. It is the safest way and we can do some checking to see if the river is navigable downstream before any attempts are made," said Michael.

"That's wise. I'm not much of a horseman though we do not have much call for them where I have worked," said Jones.

Cindy made Jones comfortable in her spare room where there were two single beds made up for him and Mora. It was then that the newly-weds went off to her room to a night long awaited. Cindy had remained chaste even though their relationship had been going for over a dozen years. It was a long wait for a middle-aged woman but she would have it no other way. The wait was well worth it and happened so suddenly that she now realised the whirlwind had taken her into its grasp.

It was a late start in the morning, the newlyweds enjoying lying in, but time marched on and there were preparations to make for the return journey. Michael and Jones left to search for Mora and make arrangement for some horses while Cindy set about packing her belongings for the change in life. She resigned from her teaching position and they very kindly were able to bring in a relief teacher to allow her immediate release. Her girl friends came to help her pack and clean the house. Friends of friends were looking for a flat and hearing of the sudden shift decided to rent the fully furnished house instead. Things were all moving so quickly into place that it gave her an assurance of things being as they should be.

A farmer was located by the local stock and station agents who would be willing to part with four riding and four pack horses. Michael and Jones traveled with the agent to the farm some miles from town. The farmer was a talented man with horses and had quite a reputation for placid stock as they were about to find out.

"Hello Jack, how are you today?" greeted the agent.

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Fine and dandy. These are the gentlemen I phoned about. This is Michael and this is Jones," the agent said as he introduced them. "Now where are these animals of yours Jack?"

"I've got them in the yards here. Now you will see there are two geldings over there and two mares, they are suitable for beginners to ride. Both mares should be in foal but it is early days and it won't bother them to be ridden, in fact it will do them good not to get too fat. I want two fifty each for them. Over there in the other pen are four draft animals ideal for packing. They can be ridden but you'd find them a bit wide to sit on for a long stretch. They can carry quite a load as long as you just walk them at their own pace."

"These guys will need saddles and pack frames won't they Jack?" suggested the agent.

"I have some gear for them which I could part with. Altogether I'd want four hundred a piece though."

"That's thirty two hundred for the lot," Michael totaled. "I don't suppose you would consider renting them to us would you?"

"I might consider it but how do I know I'll get them back?"

"Might I suggest full payment be made to our firm," said the agent, "and on their return a fee might be deducted for the use and any damages, including commission for the firm."

"I'd want twenty percent plus any repairs and losses."

"That sounds acceptable to me," said Michael. "Can you have them ready tomorrow?"

"Sure, not a problem."

"I don't suppose you know how we can get them across the river tomorrow," Michael asked.

"Across the river? As a matter of fact my brother-in-law has cattle over the river which he brings back and forward by barge. I'm sure he would be happy to get the horses and gear across. But I'll check if tomorrow is suitable and get back to you."

"Excellent. Couldn't do better than that. Thanks Jack," said the agent.

Happy with developments they made their way back to the stock firm. There to greet them was Mora, smiling from ear to ear.

"What are you doing here. Where have you been Mora," asked Jones with a little anger in his voice.

"Sorry Jones. I came back but you were gone. I searched for you but I couldn't find you. It was dark before I finally gave up and was taken in by a very kind lady."

"Taken in by a lady?" Michael asked skeptically.

"She was nice and we got on real well. She was very free with herself," Mora said.

"Do you mean to say that you slept with her," Jones asked.

"Everything was going fine until this morning when she demanded money from me and you know I don't have any. She was angry so I ran out of her room and have spent the morning trying to find you."

"Mora," said Michael, "I think you have just unwittingly spent the night with a prostitute. That means that she was no lady, she has sold sexual services to you but you being a dope didn't realise what was going on and are in trouble if she catches up with you. How much did she want?"

"Two hundred," she said.

"Can't leave you anywhere can I Mora," said Jones.

"I think it's a good thing that you are getting out of town," said the agent laughing. Before long they were all laughing and finishing the deal in the office. Jones filled Mora in on Michael's marriage and the horse trek the next day. Mora was hungry so Michael gave Jones some money for them to buy him something across the road and a warning to keep his head down in case that woman was prowling the streets.

That afternoon Cindy suggested they go to a horse trekking place for lessons. Cindy was an accomplished rider from her childhood days at pony club so she was an asset to the journey ahead. Michael had ridden before but needed to learn about packhorses. Jones was a complete novice and Mora was a bit slow to pick things up being a bit tired. Three hours of tuition brought them up to being able to handle the animals over most types of country. The day ended with some sore backsides and apart from a fall Jones took they were in pretty good shape for the journey ahead.

Jack phoned in the evening to say that his brother-in-law was actually intending to get some stock back from across the river and would be happy to take them across with him. He suggested 9am to be a suitable time to meet at the Junction Road end. If they were there at 8am Jack would help load the pack animals for them. Michael then phoned his Attorney giving details to make payment to the Stock and Station firm first thing in the morning. All was in place for the last phase of the adventure.

Chapter Thirteen

Horse Trekking Home

The dawn arrived gloomy with light rain coming off the mountains but the forecast was for improvement by noon. They arrived at the long wooden barge beached on the side of the flat river a little later than planned. Jack went with them and loaded the pack animals as they crossed so that his brother-in-law wouldn't be held up. The barge engine revved high and made the crossing short and sweet. They pulled in to an eddy on the other side to make their way back upstream. The front ramp was lowered hydraulically and each animal unloaded by Jack. The four adventurers mounted their horses and each took the rope of one of the pack animals. They thanked Jack for his efforts then were off along the trail that would take them all the way home.

The next hours went by fairly smoothly. The horses followed the well-worn cattle trail along the high shelf of the river. The sun intensified as the early drizzle melted away. Larks hovered high in the air singing their joyous song. For two hours the river remained the same wide expanse curving slightly toward them. The pack animals though heavily laden with equipment walked almost sleepily, with eyes seemingly closed, following the steps of the horse in front. The riders were breaking in their behinds to the seemingly unforgiving saddles.

The terrain ahead then changed to mountainous and Michael led them away from the river to the trail he had found in the forest. Exploring the hills on previous occasions he noticed a flattened area with a trail leading from it into the high places. Word had it that these were long neglected tramways on which timber was extracted from the hills. The iron tracks had long since been removed but the easy contours they had carved in the hills for them remained open enough for walking. Pieces of support timber still littered the cuttings but the bridges had been removed. The others were enjoying the change except for the occasional fallen branch that they needed to find a way past. The foliage hung completely over the track causing the light to be mostly a pale shade of green filtered through the leaves. Moss grew on the rocks and from time to time clay lay exposed beneath them.

They stopped in a clearing about mid day where the trail branched into two. Michael knew the way ahead was to the left; he had marked it with a piece of cloth so that he would know if he became lost. They boiled a billy, ate some bread and cheese and enjoyed the sunshine as they drank tea, nestled in the long grass. Talk was of nothing important. Michael and Cindy were enjoying togetherness, resting against each other. The horses grazed on the long grasses bunched here and there in the clearing. Nothing could have been more idyllic but an hour had passed and Jones began to ready the horses for the trail.

The left fork was similar to the trail in to the clearing but there were more streams, less open patches and some difficult tree-falls to negotiate. One had them stumped for some time until Mora accidentally slipped and fell through some branches to find the trail again. They hacked through with machetes and made a way for the horses to pass. Michael was whipped in the face by rebounding branches following Jones on foot through a tight patch of bush. Two hours of this walking and riding brought them to a dangerously narrow track where the left side had fallen down a precipice. They walked the horses through one by one, Cindy shielding their left eyes with a branch to prevent them shying from the sight of the big drop-off. They all passed through safely.

As the day wore on Michael was becoming more and more aware of the need to find a good campsite before dark. He remembered a stream that he stayed beside but was unsure of just how far ahead it was. He didn't want to get there right on dark but they needed water and a piece of elevated clear flat ground to pitch the tent on. Cindy was beginning to ask awkward questions about where and when but right then Michael could not answer them. The trail was difficult and dropping markedly into a valley and he hoped that this was the valley he remembered. The sun had gone behind the mountains and he had less than an hour to find something suitable. Finally, as the light was fading and about a half-hour before dark, they found the very clearing he remembered. A grassed shelf littered with small crisp leaves above a small trickling stream offered a welcome relief.

"Jones," said Michael, "why don't you and Mora break down the packs animals loads and tether them over by the grassy area and pitch the tent there on that flat ground. I'll gather some firewood from a tree I remember from last time downstream. Cindy, how about rustling up some sort of a meal for us."

"That would be great Michael if I knew how to put up a tent," said Jones, "I'm afraid I haven't much experience with tents."

"I will show you what to do," said Cindy. "While I'm getting the dinner ready."

Michael returned dragging several branches and began breaking and chopping them into pieces. He had a massive pile built after about ten minutes so he drew some rocks together to make a fireplace. By the time smoke was rising Cindy and the others had the tent erected and sleeping gear arranged inside. The horses were tethered on a long rope stretched between two trees and happily chewing away at tufts of grass. Cindy prepared a stew from food she had brought from home. With some bread the hot stew was soon devoured and with a brew of black-billy tea in hand they began to relax around the fire. Michael threw on a few more logs to increase the flame and stop the irritating smoke from getting in his eyes. They lay back on their saddles and covered their backs with the horse blankets to keep the cold damp night out.

"Reminds me of the time of the cowboys, this does," said Michael.

"That stew was good Cindy, how did you make it so quickly?" asked Mora.

"Just a few cans of various meat and vegetable mixes thrown together," she said nonchalantly. "All you have to do is open the cans and heat, they are already cooked when they can it."

"That was a good days ride Michael," stated Jones. "I'm a bit sore on the old backside though. How many days do you think it will take us to get home?"

"I think two more will see us there. But, it won't be as easy as we've had it. It took me seven days to get there on foot but I did take a few wrong turns that added to it."

"How do you mean, it won't be as easy?" asked Cindy.

"Well," said Michael, "I was on foot and there were a few very steep pieces that I'd call gut-busters. We may have to skirt around them to get horses through, especially with the packs. I think we can do it but it will take a bit of exploring to work it out. We follow this stream for half a day probably then it meets a river that passes through a gorge. I couldn't go that way on foot because it was a bit deep and cold so I had to climb over the rocky outcrops on the left side."

"But we are on horses," said Cindy. "We might be able to take them through the gorge, they can swim you know."

"There's a thought," said Jones.

"The river wasn't that deep or full of rapids from what I saw of it. You know I think we just might be able to do that and it could well cut half a day off our time. I don't know if it is the river, which flows past the village, so I need to get back on the left bank to follow the route that I know. I don't want to get lost out here."

"No we don't want to end up lost in this wilderness," said Jones.

"Anyone know any stories, songs or anything?" asked Cindy.

"Mora could tell us all about his night out with a lady," suggested Jones chuckling.

"I don't think we need to hear all the gory details of that escapade," suggested Cindy.

"I know a tale or two," said Michael. "There's this story about a skinny Bear."

"Let's hear about it then," said Mora.

"Well it goes like this," said Michael. "As the snow melted away a very skinny bear climbed out of his bed. He'd been asleep all winter and now that it was spring he stood up tall and stretched, yawned and said in a deep roar 'I'm hungry.' So he ambled off his favourite river to catch his first scrumptious salmon. But the days passed without a fish and he was starting to get really grumpy. He scratched his head with his great big paw and said 'This is no good. There are some big fat bears in a club over in the next valley. Maybe they'll know how I can catch some food.' So off over the mountain the skinny bear went, along the trail, through the bushes and down the valley till he saw the sign 'The Bearly Madeit Club'. He asked the big fat bears to help him catch more fish. They sprinkled water on his head at the club and said it would make him wise. So with his confidence renewed he went back over the mountain along the trail, through the bushes and down to the river again. The hours passed and the days came and went but still he caught no fish. This was now one really grizzly bear. He stomped back over the mountain, along the trail by the bushes and down to the 'Bearly Madeit Club' and said, 'I tried harder but still I can't catch any fish.' There was silence at the club for a while before the fattest very wisest bear stood up and told him that salmon probably weren't coming because a great flood had destroyed the salmon eggs two years earlier. The skinny bear was so devastated when he heard this that he just walked out. He was so sad as he wandered back along the trail. He sat hopelessly on a rock and cried out with a loud 'Boo-hoo-hoo' which we all know is bear language meant 'What on earth am I going to do?' If he didn't get food he would surely die. Then through the tears he began to notice lots of juicy red berries on the bushes and then bees flying in the air which meant there might be honey nearby. Greedily he slurped up the berries as he searched for the hive; the bees didn't like him much as he helped himself to their honey. As he gorged himself for the remainder of the short summer the once skinny bear grew bigger and bigger. The snow was all ready beginning to fall when he returned to his den and tucked himself up snug and warm again in his bed. He smiled to himself, wiser in the knowledge that he was one bear who had joined the club, and barely made it, but, he had made it."

"Hey, that's a good one," said Mora but I don't understand. What is the point of it?"

"The point is that things change and change involves us. We are stubborn to leave our old ways until we are forced to change through dire circumstances. But if we seek we will find and if we ask we will be given, not usually by those we think should help but it is often in our own pain that we hear and see and perceive the answers and the truth."

"O Michael," said Cindy cuddling up to him, "you are so wise."

"Not me my dear," he humbly stated, "this was a dream I had about my own changes. I am just recounting someone else's wisdom."

"Who is that then?" asked Mora.

"Who gives dreams," asked Michael with his finger pointing towards the stars.

"Oh, you mean from heaven?" said Mora.

"The scriptures account many great men were led by dreams. Joseph would have to be the best example."

"Tell us about Joseph," said Mora.

"Joseph had a dream about eleven stars the sun and the moon bowing to his star. And another about eleven sheaf's of grain bowing to his sheaf and his eleven brothers became jealous and tried to kill him because they knew the dreams meant, their father the sun and mother the moon and his brothers the eleven stars. The brothers sold him to traders and he ended up a slave in Egypt. But his master perceived him to be responsible so he made him overseer in a prison. There he interprets dreams, which prove to be correct, and he ends up freed to interpret the king's dream about a great drought in Egypt. So he is put in charge of making sure there is enough stored in the seven good years predicted by the dream to get Egypt through the seven years of famine. Things are so bad that his brothers come to buy grain and end up realising that the man they are buying from is their long lost brother, who saves all of his family."

"That's a fantastic story Michael," said Jones.

"More than you know," said Michael stoking the fire. "The amazing thing was that Joseph knew God had saved his family by putting him in that privileged position after some terribly dreadful years in prison. Dreams started the process and continued it until God's will was complete."

"You know Michael," said Cindy," I had never seen that story like that before. I had never taken much notice of my dreams."

"What about the other dreams Michael," said Mora, "what about the bad ones?"

"You don't think nightmares come from heaven, do you?" said Jones. "More like hell if you ask me."

"I think Jones is pretty much right on the mark, don't you?" suggested Michael.

"So let me get this straight," said Cindy, "some dreams are guidance and others just fill us with fear."

"Just as some stories enlighten us and other just scare us?" suggested Mora.

"Dreams are after all simply heaven-sent stories," said Michael. "We can think them insignificant and just disregard them. Sometimes they are forgotten before we wake up but maybe that is where the notion of Deja vous comes from."

"You mean feeling you've been there before," said Cindy.

"Yes, when you get into a new situation but you swear somehow you've seen it before," Michael explained. "There is a time in your waking moments when you are transferring from deep sleep to awake, dream time some call it, and your mind has been transported elsewhere but gradually catches up with your body again laying in bed. It is often at that moment I'm given an insight, a word, a feeling that is useful to me during the day when my mind has to be, even for safety sake, alert to things of the world about me. Sometimes I can catch ten minutes snooze and I awake with a fresh insight and motivated again, even though I may not have considered seeing anything in particular."

"I have had that too, now that I come to think of it," said Jones. "Like when you wake and know how to do the job that puzzled you before."

"Who else has a story or a song," asked Michael.

"I have horrible dreams," said Mora, "people chasing me all the time, hiding from monsters and running away."

"Like that lady of the night you met Mora," suggested Jones chuckling.

"It's not funny," said Mora angrily, then mellowing out said, "But it is like that."

"Mora, if you do the wrong thing you will have feelings of guilt," said Michael. "If you do the right thing and resist the wrong those nightmares that haunt you will be replaced with mystery that lead you ever onward on the right path. Those are your demons making life hell for you. Some people carry far too much guilt and at some stage you need to get it out of yourself.

"Let's get some shut eye," said Cindy. "I'm bone tired." So they went away to their beds thinking about this other place in the mind, this kingdom of dreams men sometimes travels in.

Jones had the horses saddled and ready early, having a fitful night trying to sleep with a rock under his hip. The pack animals just needed the camping gear loaded and secured before they left. Breakfast was bread and cheese washed down with thick black campfire coffee. Cindy and Michael had a good night cuddled up together on a double mat. Mora could sleep on a rocky crag by the sound of his heavy breathing. By eight o'clock all were remembering their bruised backsides in the saddle as they guided their pack animals down the small stream.

Before long another stream joined theirs and it grew more significant in size. The wound their way back and forth across the ever-growing stream to grassed shelves on either side. By mid morning their stream could be classed a river with great shingle deposits on either side. The water was low compared to obvious flood levels and that was a blessing for ease of travel. The scenery was beautiful with forest reaching down from the mountains, breaking into short-cropped grass, then gray shingle and sparkling clear water. Signs of deer were everywhere but by now they were nowhere to be seen. Bird song could be heard over the horse's heavy breathing when they were away from the babbling rapids. The sunshine was delightful compared to the damp early morning air of the campsite.

Mid day found them near the gorge entrance tucking into some lunch and a brew of black billy tea. The bluffs each side were indeed too much for the horses and the option of the river the only one. They were apprehensive but also determined. Cindy took it in her stride and led the way crossing at the tails of the long pools before the fast turbulent water of the runs. Tall gray rock walls raised on each side of them but the low water level eased their way. Fortunately at the head of the gorge the packhorses didn't need to go much deeper then their bellies but the riders occasionally had water lapping their seats. It hadn't looked to be a long monster when Michael first saw it from above but in the belly of the beast it seemed it had a very long intestine. Heaven knows what would become of them if a flash flood swept through it. Its belly was deep and wall to wall; there they would have to swim with the current to the tail that narrowed before opening out from the gorge.

Here again Cindy's experience paid huge dividends. She demonstrated as she entered the pool, holding the horn of the saddle and letting herself glide over the back of the horse as it swam head high in the water. Mora quickly gained confidence along side. Jones was not so confident, afraid and out of his depth he hated the whole experience. Michael was tentative at first but knew he needed to give confidence to Jones as their mounts became submarine in the cold water. The packhorses had the advantage of containers each side covered with canvas that simply floated them gently along with the others.

Suddenly Mora lost grip of saddle horn and flailed about for a bit unable to swim. Cindy turned her mount and urged it towards the panicking young man. Mora went down, then re-emerged again gasping for breath. Cindy urged her animal across until they came along side of Mora submerging once again. She reached down and hauled Mora up by the shirt collar, gasping for air and flailing his arms. She yelled at him to stop but he persisted. She knew what she had to do. Dragging him up to her saddle she smacked him one across the back of the head. With some sense knocked into him Mora took a grip of himself and the saddle horn and they finished the swim together.

Mora's unburdened horse was first out on the shingle at the tail shaking itself of excess water. Michael and Jones emerged together on their mounts, water pouring off them. The pack animals were finding a footing again and trotted out one by one further down the tail. Finally Cindy walked out having let the horse go as they reached the shallows with a very shaken Mora on board. The beast had exacted a toll on the travelers so they set about building a driftwood fire to dry out and once again restore their composure. Jones gathered the horses and tied them to a rope he strung between rocks while tea was brewing. The loads were secure and dry, the crossing a success even though Mora's experience shook him up badly.

"You could learn from that incident Mora," said Jones as he began to strip off his wet clothes by the fire.

"How's that Jones?" said Mora.

"Twice in the last few days you have drifted away into danger," said Jones now down to his underwear. "You need to remain twisted in to the cord that makes us all strong. It is something you have to make yourself do because you have that tendency not too."

"It was just an accident," said Mora.

"No Mora," chided Jones, "I don't think so. All your life you have been like this but you don't have to remain that way. If you consciously think about holding tight you will avoid these trials you continually have to face."

"This is good advice," said Michael. "Heed what he says Mora and life will be easier for you."

After about an hour they walked the horses out of the gorge and up a steep bank to mount again the grassed terrace above. The going was very easy now with only occasional tongues of bush coming down to the river to negotiate. Michael and Cindy rode along side each other talking about what was ahead for them while the others rode in line behind them. The newlyweds were discussing the possibilities of children and hopefully a large family. Michael being an only son of a single mother wanted to experience the vitality of girls and boys growing up together. Cindy would be happy if in her late stage of life she managed to produce even one. Then Mora's horse began to come up lame so a stop was called. Cindy came to have a look and held up the offending hoof.

"Looks like a bruise," said Cindy. "Sometimes a sharp stone pushes up into the soft area inside the shoe and causes internal bleeding, then it swells and becomes increasingly sore. We need to get the weight off it and allow it to find soft ground on which to walk."

"Where do I ride then?" asked Mora indignantly.

"If we shift some weight around and lighten one of the pack animals you could ride up there," suggested Michael.

"Look it's getting pretty late in the day," said Cindy, "and we have another day anyway to ride so why don't we make camp here."

"That sounds like a good idea," said Jones. "Are we on track Michael, is this the river Tee?"

I'm not sure, there's still another obstacle in our path, another range of mountains. All I know for sure is that I came this way, in fact I camped just up ahead by a side stream and I think it's only a short way, perhaps ten minutes on foot."

"Good, let's camp there then," said Jones.

Chapter Fourteen

Tempest and Homecoming

Just as he remembered, there was the fireplace he made not more than a few weeks earlier. The ground was flat grass and after inspection by Jones found to be without hidden rocks this time. They quickly set up camp above any likelihood of danger and settled in for another night beside the campfire. Ample firewood nearby allowed them to build a roaring blaze and then they allowed it to die down to red hot shimmering embers without flames licking the sky or smoke to bother their eyes. The few beech trees surrounding them offered protection from any wind and a place to stretch the horse rope for the night.

Everything seemed perfect that evening as they were discussing the events of the day. But a rather fresh wind began to disturb the fire blowing ash around the camp. Before they knew it the warm evening had turned to cold and rain began to fall. The storm was hitting them full force and buffeted the tent with heavy rain and gale force winds. Sheltered inside the travelers at first felt reasonably comfortable but against the roar of the storm they heard another sound, the horrifying sound of a stream in flood, moving boulders, straining its banks. Jones looked out of the tent to see a torrent surging through their campsite just beside the tent. Fear rose in all of them as they were about to have their shelter swept away.

"We have to make contingencies incase the water rises any more," Michael warned.

"We are on the highest ground now so what can we do?" asked Jones.

"We could move further away from the flooding stream, perhaps up in the edge of the trees," suggested Mora.

"We could but I'm not sure if in this storm we can make a shift like that without light," said Michael very concerned.

"I've got an idea," said Cindy very calmly. "Why don't we just put ourselves into the hands of one who calms the storm. We will have to put our faith together and pray as they say because right now there's no other way."

The rain outside was still pouring down on the tent in fierce waves from above and roaring at them in a swollen torrent from behind. Before long it would be seeping inside the back corner of the tent. Cindy saw the hesitation in the men and taking the lead she dropped to her knees and closed her eyes in a prayerful pose.

"Father in heaven," she began, "I hope you can hear us over the noise of the rain and the flood. I hope you can hear us and save us from the water, just as you saved Noah and his family when you cleansed the earth of unrighteousness. Lord I ask that you would keep us safe in our tent," she prayed now shouting over the storm, "protect us from the tempest because of your love for your own."

"Jesus in your mercy command the storm to abate," Michael began to pick up the prayer. "Utter your word and we will be saved."

Jones and Mora by now were also on their knees, afraid and pooling their hopes with the two praying. They were not accustomed to individual prayer and were restrained by their belief that God would only hear the prayer of the priest. Water full of sticks and leaves now entered the rear corner of the tent. Their faith waned as the situation looked more dire. Jones gathered the gear from the effected corner and piled it on the opposite side but they became even more afraid.

"Get back you filthy water," Jones yelled. "Get out of our tent."

"That's the stuff Jones," said Michael sensing Jones inadequacy. "Commanding it to get out. Turn your fear to faith for the scriptures say, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind." Suddenly there was a groaning and a crash outside as a tree split and falls on the corner rope, pulling the tent down. The water pushed still further into the tent and now threatened their gear. It was too late to shift it.

"Got an idea," said Mora startled by himself, "A trench. Dig a trench around that side of the tent to take the water away down hill."

"Good idea Mora," said Jones. "Here grab a shovel and you and I will shift some coal like only we can." The two miners broke out into the heavy rain and their shovels hit the ground like ploughs, ripping up the sod and hurling it into the night. The water began to get caught in their snare and before long the level in the tent dropped and dropped until it finally disappeared. They continued to excavate in the dark until they felt they had taken command of the situation. The two brave miners returned to the shelter of the tent soaked to the bone but smiling. The rain had now eased but the once small stream remained a roaring torrent overflowing its banks for several more hours. There would be no sleep for them that night with the rumble of boulders moving in the stream nearby but they were content just not to have to have moved everything in the pitch-black storm outside.

Morning light revealed the extent of the devastation and shock to the travelers. Huge boulders were now sitting in the campsite, half of which was now a gravel bed. Two trees had gone completely and a third lying at a strange angle, uprooted by the power of the flood. But turning around behind them all was as it had been the day before, horses still tethered on their rope between two trees, soil intact covered in green grass. It was as though a line was drawn by the trench they had dug in the night, one side destruction and the other side unaffected with their tent poised on the edge of a knee-deep ledge. All they could do was to gasp and thank God.

The main river was running high with a brown timber broth rushing by. Crossing that day would be impossible. Their tent was left to dry for an hour or more before they could load the packhorses. Breakfast was slow, their bodies tired from the strain of the night. Fire was difficult to start but eventually Michael was able to light it using dead branches still in the trees and a piece of candle. Before long he had a billy heating water over smoky fire.

The sun was high before they got away. The ground was saturated and the horse hooves dug it up as they walked on down the river but after a couple of hours the ground hardened again as if the storm had been localised in the head waters of the river system. The trail now led inland because of wetlands, away from the river and passed through a few stands of once magnificent trees. They marked the remains of some ancient forest, possibly destroyed by a great fire but there was no way to tell. Their trunks were silver gray mottled with lichens and clean of branches right to the tops where all of they formed a canopy of green. The feeling in the tall trees was like a cathedral, pillars holding up the roof and giving off an air of majesty, a reverence, an awe of something greater, more magnificent.

Before them lay the last hurdle to cross, a range of mountains which came right to the river and formed the bluff that was the border of the district of Kind. Michael had found a trail that offered access over a pass. He had spent most of a day following useless leads in the hills before he found the one that they would take. The forest had very thick undergrowth unlike forests inhabited with deer. He had cut his way through overgrown parts and the trail was now easily followed, although they had to widen it in places for the packhorses. Michael walked ahead and cut branches back here and there for the others. By mid afternoon Michael opened the branches at the top of the pass to show the others a magnificent view; there ahead of them was their village.

As they cleared the trees at the base of the range the day was near its close. Mora asked for permission to ride ahead with the good news that they were back safe and well. They all agreed that would be a good idea to go and let them know they were coming and the news about Michael's inheritance. So Mora galloped at high speed across the open fields ahead of them. Michael could feel a presence about him, a feeling like he had in the tall trees. It made him emotional and seeing it Cindy rode over and held his hand.

"What is it dear?" Cindy asked.

"I have this feeling like I am being escorted," said Michael. "It's strange but it's like a hundred or more are with us, shouting and cheering, ushering us in to our home, our rightful place. I feel like I am a king come home from war and the people are overjoyed to have us back in our rightful place again. It's strange but real. It is as if we are in the company of the heavenly.

"It is real Michael," said Cindy. "You are the heir to the leadership of this place."

"I hope they take it all right," said Michael nervously. "Some of them beat me quite badly the day before I left so I'm a little apprehensive coming back like this. It is all a bit scary, this business of actually leading a people into their future. I hope I am a good leader, I really am untried."

"Michael, when they hear about your father and the inheritance they will understand."

"You don't know these people though honey, they are not like us in the world. They don't take easily to change and they are so set in their ways, like concrete. They may not be able to accept what I am after generations of mediocrity. Even getting them educated will be a big ask."

"Don't you worry about their education," said Cindy as they looked deeply at each other. "That is my concern and I do not have any apprehensions about it. I have a method of teaching that I have dreamed about for years but not been able to do in the school system. I just know it is for these people. I know it!"

"Now I am absolutely sure you are the right one to have beside me. That is the kind of confidence I need to do this service for these people. I love you honey," Michael said and he softly squeezed her hand."

They rode in to the main street and passed Strawberry Lane. No one was out but by the smile on Mora's face Michael knew something was up. They rode in to the square and suddenly dozens of miner's lanterns surrounded them lighting up the whole place. An excited cheer rose up as the residents welcomed their heroes back into their midst. Mora had the town out to greet them and they were mobbed as they dismounted. Simon forgetting himself wrapped his arms around Michael in his exuberance. Jones saw his future bride across the crowd smiling at him. He made his way to her and hugged her with all he had and she in return. He took the bracelet from his pocket, slipped it over her hand and they kissed. Mora stood beside his mother, his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist. Sheela rushed up and hugged Michael tightly, making him feel a little uncomfortable as he shrugged a look of puzzlement back to his Cindy standing alone. All the while the villagers cheered their heroes on their return. Even the cats smothered the travelers wrapping their tails around their legs and smooching their faces against their trousers, reclaiming them as their territory.

The Retainer called them all into the well-lit church using a bell to announce himself over the dim. Inside there were tables set with a banquet laid out on them, meats and hot dishes, breads and fruit and adorned with creations of flowers on each table. Michael was overwhelmed. He had come in tired, dreading the worst and the village had turned out to greet their future leader with joy, with love and a banquet to boot. They ate; no they feasted and rebuilt their strength in the enthusiasm of others.

"Can I have your attention please," announced the Retainer. "Quiet please. We have heard the good news now Michael would you please say a few words to us."

Michael moved towards the front leading Cindy through the crowd and turned to address the village.

"People of Gnarlybark I am glad to be home," said Michael emotionally as the people cheered. "I have wandered for many years looking for something and now we know what it was. I want to introduce you to my new wife, Cindy. She is a teacher and I hope that you will take advantage of her, that is to get educated," he said as they chuckled. "If you will have us we will lead you into your future." Again the crowd cheered in approval. "I have inherited a legacy that I am sure was destined to bring this village out of obscurity and into its place in the wider world. But right now we have been through a harrowing last couple of days and would like nothing more than a hot soak and a soft bed. May God bless you all for your love shown here tonight." As his finished another cheer of excitement rose from the people, his people. Afterwards Roger came and spoke to Michael and Cindy.

"The village has prepared for such a return as this and the Mediator has relinquished his house back to its heir. The place has been all cleaned up in readiness and awaits you. Congratulations Michael, I had a feeling about you but I didn't know what it was at the time. It was like you had a presence about you, a light, an understanding of things."

"Thank you Roger. Tell me is there a large soft bed up there in the Mediators residence by any chance."

"Well actually there is, the very bed that your forefathers had, a large and very soft bed indeed, fit for a king."

"I shall take my wife up to her nest then and it shall be her dream come true," said Michael. "Thank you."

Michael took his new bride up the track by lamp to her new home. The pack horses had already been unloaded by friends of Jones and Mora and the couples personal possessions were stacked on the veranda outside. They paused at the top of the steps looking at the few items and books they had brought with them. Their lives didn't seem to amount to much materially he thought. Then Michael swept Cindy off her feet and having opened the door carried her inside just as a husband should do. Holding the lamp high Cindy saw for the first time her new home.

Their priority was to get some sleep. They washed as best they could from the pitcher and bowl of water, the dull yellow lamp light revealing the natural curves of his brides womanly form. She was no centrefold pin-up but never the less still had the attractive face and shape that always drew his eye. She caught sight of him watching and in a brief moment of shyness covered herself with the towel. But then inviting him over also, she washed him tenderly. The bed could have been hard in actual fact but they would not have noticed it after several nights unwashed, camping and in the company of others. The night was theirs and the world outside dropped from existence, the bed a paradise and their whole focus one another.

They slept late in each other's arms and the house was well lit by the low morning sun streaming in the windows. Cindy rose first to view her new home and putting on a robe Michael joined her after a few minutes.

"Don't drink the water," he said. "I have had the well analysed and it has a bug in it, a type of Hepatitis. I am thinking that it has been the cause of several deaths. I will have to arrange a different source and I will have it running inside as soon as I can arrange it. Meanwhile we can get some water up here from the stream."

"I am glad you told me before I had a glass," said Cindy taking in all around her; the polished wooden floors scattered with coarse woven mats, the ornately patterned cupboards below the heavy wooden bench, large colonial window above with heavy brown drapes drawn to each side.

"The kitchen looks strange without a sink and taps doesn't it?"

"Sure does but that I will rectify," Michael assured her. "Looks very masculine doesn't it. I'm sure with the help of some of the village women you can put a feminine touch to it."

Leading through the back door she saw a wash room, again without water taps, and a storeroom with shelving along one wall. A simple outhouse provided latrine facilities. Beside the laundry annex in the main house were two rooms suitable for children or guests, empty except for two very old dressers with square mirrors. The walls were of the same polished vertical timber planks as the entrance hallway. They were dark rooms needing some brightness to lift their dour mood. Their large bedroom window fortunately had an easterly aspect allowing the early morning sum to cheer it up. The planking on the very high ceilings were dark stained. The grandest room was the formal lounge area where Cindy lifted the lid of the grand piano and while standing casually tinkled of a few bars of Vivaldi to check its tune.

"I shall enjoy having this here honey," she said to her husband as she again closed the lid. "We need to make plans for our proper wedding with the village."

"Would you like to organise it with some of the ladies?" Michael inquired giving her a hug from behind.

"If you introduce me to some of the ladies today I'll see what we can do."

"Unfortunately I don't know many," admitted Michael, "I have only had a bit to do with nurse Sheela actually so all I can do is to get you two together and see where it leads. You will need a dress made I guess. I'd like it to be special."

Cindy looked around the walls now rather bare without the past mediators hanging there. The leather couches and chairs she thought beautiful and smiled approvingly to her husband. They dressed and brought their possessions in from out on the veranda. Michael added his books to the collection in the library, rummaging through the existing titles and extracting some old titles that were of little value to make space for the new. The colours of the new additions even though old by worldly standards brightened the look of the library considerably. Cindy unpacked her kitchenware's placing them strategically ready for her role as housewife. Her ornaments she placed in a glass cabinet and on the sideboard by the piano. All their clothing brought from Mull found appropriate homes in their dressers and freestanding wardrobe. Finally most things were in reasonable order and they were ready to go down to the village and meet what the day had to offer, Michael to organise water to the house and Cindy the wedding.

Fortunately Cindy was an outgoing type and Michael only had to introduce her to nurse Sheela to realise he need do nothing more. They hit it off like wildfire delving straight in to the topic of the wedding. Sheela was excited by the prospects of such a grand event the likes of which were never known in these parts. Before he knew it Michael was becoming invisible so he quietly slipped out the door to the Retainers office across the square. The ladies were at their business in the market selecting their needs for the day. Michael looked back to check the infirmary entrance and noticed the spire of the church illuminated brightly by the angle of the sun. "Things are about to change in you," he quietly proclaimed.

Roger was at his desk as usual sorting papers and generally doing what ever Retainers do.

"Good day Roger," Michael said cheerily. "How are things in the District of Kind today?"

"Good day sir," the Retainer replied formally. "Very well thank you."

"Tell me," said Michael, "what is the state of things now that I have arrived and been elevated in this way?"

"Well, sir," Roger said before he was interrupted.

"Please call me Michael, a bit less of the formalities please."

"Michael, yes indeed," the Retainer said. "Well, sir, ah, Michael, the state of things. Well, the Mediator has accepted from documents given to us last night, that you are indeed the rightful leader of this district and he has therefore given your family home back to you, which is your inheritance. Secondly the authority which did always belonged to the Ogden family and given to them by the people, that has long since fallen into the hands of the Mediators due to the absence of an heir, has returned to you from this day forth. If it is agreeable to you he will be your assistant and mediator of the people and I will remain his clerk."

"You say that I have all authority in the district. Is that correct?"

"The authority comes from the people given to you via your ancestry in trust and is seen in law as a benevolent fiefdom."

"Is there no official hand over required?" Michael asked.

"Actually, no. It is a simple matter of heredity, the Ogden family returned and you resume on their behalf the empty position. To put it simply just get on with the job, it's yours."

"I would like to make as couple of changes right from the start then Roger," said Michael taking authority. "I like you and it looks like you can do the job of keeping records and such just fine. I shall call you my clerk and we shall drop the title of Retainer. The Mediator I find abrupt and I would like to change his role but I'm not sure how to tell him."

"What do you have in mind for him," Roger meekly inquired.

"I believe you are a little overworked and I believe he knows the job quite well. How would you like to have him as an equal? Where you specialize in matters of records I would have him specialize in matters of facilitation."

"And by that you mean?"

"Putting into place structures and procedures for a new way of life for the village. We have to bring it out of the rut of its past and into its future promise. I would call him manager but he would have to learn new ways."

Just then the door opened and Darius walked in to the office.

"Good morning Michael, Roger!" said Darius acknowledging each.

"Good day to you Darius," said Michael. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Direct I think," said Roger to Michael quietly.

Michael seized the moment and fully understanding his calling he took authority over the district's future.

Chapter Fifteen

Restructuring

"Darius," said Michael, "I have changes which will need to be made to take this people into their future and in that I have no more need of a Mediator. However I have need of an educated person who would facilitate the changes that are necessary and in that you would have to learn ways of managing people which take into account their dreams and personal concerns about change. Do you think you can adjust to a new way?"

"I will do my best," said Darius, "I have always done what is expected of me and will continue to do so in the future."

"I see the need for you to learn techniques of people management and suggest we work from a book I have starting tomorrow. I propose Jones join four others which you and Jones may select. Who do we have who is a man of God?"

"Old William," said Roger. "There is something about him that makes you feel God is with Him."

"Yes Old William," said Darius.

"Right then we will set him in charge of church matters," said Michael. "I do not want to burden you with too much change but I also feel a couple of other things will need attention. We could use a new name for this village, one that gets away from who we were and embraces our future. With the approval of the people I would like to change its name to something like "Ventura"."

"What does it mean?" asked Darius.

"I think it is a variant of adventure," said Michael not really knowing where it came from, "meaning something like going somewhere. In the world of marketing the brand name is everything and we need to have others see us as positive and progressive."

"I must admit it sounds better than Gnarlybark," said Roger.

"We also must get our people educated in letters and numbers. Cindy is a trained and experienced teacher and she has ideas on how to run a program of learning. We must raise the level of education so they can accept change and meet their new lives head on. I know this is all a bit sudden but these things might as well be initiated now while the euphoria of my arrival is present."

"How do we get the people over the fear of change that has kept us where we were for so long?" asked Roger.

"I don't think it was fear of change that kept you all there," suggested Michael. "In actual fact I think it was more to do with the system sitting upon you all and a lack of willingness to step out of it without sufficient knowledge. I hope to set people free of those bindings and inspire them to not only have a look into our future but also to become members of it."

"How will you do that Michael?" asked Darius.

"By helping them live their dreams," said Michael not absolutely sure what he was talking about, "and helping them retain their integrity. It's a balance between ideas and practice I guess. Some will know already what has been on their hearts to do and I believe that it is heavens way of making sure every need of society is met. Jones for instance had some beautiful carved figures on him when we travelled and we sold them and purchased travel with some of the amount we were given for them. That is the way we will move ahead, finding the talent and desire to meet a need elsewhere. Right now we only have one output which is coal but in the future we will have multiple outputs. Jones already has a market assured for his product."

"So the village can bring in more than our basic supplies because it sends out more than its basic production," said Roger putting it all together.

"Yes that's about it and as each part of the leadership team we need to make everyone feel they can come and talk freely about their hopes and aspirations and that we in turn will not kill their dreams. Dreams are life and we must never make little of them."

"Michael," asked Darius, "this production and supply, what happens if we get more than we give?"

"That is what we hope will happen," said Michael, "so that we can improve our lives, bring in things that help us. The thing we have to watch out for is that we avoid bringing in things that will harm us. That is what I meant by retaining our integrity. What has tended to happen is that temptations came in with the improvements and they can become destructive."

"How do we avoid those?" Roger asked.

"That is why we need a spiritual man, he is our link to our success. Life in dreams is heaven sent and heaven knows the temptations that confront us. We have to have that moral guidance to retain our integrity because if we do not retain it we will be left to wade in the mire of our errors. That can be pretty ugly, believe me!"

"Why bother with all this?" asked Darius getting agitated. "What is wrong with the way we have been? We have kept our integrity."

"The integrity is not intact," said Michael. "The people are prisoners dying without the freedom to become who they were created to be. They are living but dead inside when all the time it was for them to have abundant life. We have to set them on a path to their own destiny, to whatever it is they will become. It's a journey and the adventure that is the spice of life."

"I think I see a bit of what you say," said Roger. "It is not how pure we are in our eyes but the perspective of heaven concerning the fulfilling of our destiny."

"How does it feel, Darius," said Michael, "to continually have to go down that mine shaft every day of your working life?"

"I do not know, I have never had to do it," Darius answered.

"There are some who are happy to do that for a while," said Roger, "but consigned to the coal face for your whole life is to some a bit much. I know I have heard them."

"Have you enjoyed your job as Mediator?" asked Michael.

"Not always," said Darius. "It was lonely at times but it had its good points. I was clean and looked after."

"Would you have chosen that job though?" asked Michael.

"Of what was available, yes," Darius said.

"Therefore you saw the world around you from the position of your dream fulfilled," said Michael, "but could not allow anyone else that same privilege. They could only see the world around them from the position of their dream unfulfilled. Don't overly concern yourself about the past though, knowing what we now know that we can at least attempt to right the system. The structure will stand on four cornerstones: fulfilment of dreams, training and education, spiritual integrity and community good. Each area will have a leader and if something arises which does not fit that foundation it has no place to be built with us."

Sheela had brought together some women to assist Cindy with the organisation of the big event. The decision has been made that the wedding should take place in five days, and each was expert in each area of concern. Mary who was talented as a dressmaker would help Cindy with the production of a wedding dress. Mrs Bridges the town's best cook would take care of the banquet and Deni a skilled baker would make and decorate the wedding cake. Sheela would assist Cindy as bridesmaid organising every detail of the event. Much excitement was brewing amongst the women folk as details of the most unusual wedding began to circulate on the grapevine.

Michael left the records office with information about some pipe they used in the mines to feed water from the stream on the hillside above to supply his house. Twenty lengths of it were acquired and brought down to feed from a rock pool in the spring. Mora and Jones helped him piece them together and lay them in a trench they dug through high points to level the descent to the house. By nightfall a tap was fitted and turned on inside the kitchen awaiting fresh water to flow out of the drum in the spring. After several nervous minutes a sudden hissing could be heard and with a rush dirty water gushed into a basin they fitted into the wooden bench top. Michael's promise to Cindy was fulfilled as the water quickly cleared of pipe cleanings.

Much more work was required the following day to fit out the washroom for laundry and bathing. Michael knew that hot water on tap would have to become a reality as well. His plan was to insert a loop of pipe from a tank behind into the coal fire that would circulate and heat water. This would be a new innovation to come to the village and of much interest to the men folk. Michael noticed Mora's enjoyment of the days events and decided to offer a dream to his mind.

"Mora, I can see you enjoyed this job today," Michael said. "There is an area of expertise which a person might take up in fitting out the whole village in time with hot and cold running water. He would be referred to as a plumber. If you were interested you might learn the science and engineering of this profession and be responsible for this area in future."

"Could I?" Mora responded excitedly.

"I have books and you can learn to read them and become a plumbing expert," said Michael. "You will need to have lessons but in the meantime you can begin laying out a water reticulation system in the town and have relevant parts of the books read to you."

"What about me Michael?" asked Jones.

"I had thought you might follow through with your carved figures and oversee the area of art and craft production," said Michael.

"That would be more in line with my dream. Yes you are right."

"I would like you to join us in a management team tonight also Jones," suggested Michael.

"What time, where, I will be there," said Jones.

"Why don't we meet at my place after dinner," said Michael. "Say at seven."

Seven o'clock came around quickly, dinner had been brought up to the house as it always had been. Cindy was just cleaning up when the others arrived. Michael sat them in the lounge and offered coffee, which Jones accepted but others refrained. They had brought along four others and proceeded to introduce them to Michael.

"This is Jacob the carpenter," said Darius introducing a dark haired wiry man in his fifties. "He has been overseer for some years and has on many occasions built what none of us thought possible."

"Pleased to meet you Jacob," said Michael.

"This is Walter," said Jones introducing another well built, dark haired but slightly greying man. "Walter is in line for promotion at the mines and has very good people management skills. Beside him is James the overseer of Vigil who is more of an engineer."

"And finally this is Pauli," said Darius, "We think he is a bit different and wonder if he is the brightest of all of us. His mother dropped him on his head as a baby and he just knows everything."

"Well gentlemen," said Michael. "Thanks for coming. I have asked you all here to be part of the management team of Kind. It is my hope that you will feel free to bring any ideas you have for the improvement of Kind to this group and know that you will not be knocked back by the rest of us. We are going to work together to take this district into its future that it might prosper as part of the wider world. Each of you will have an area of responsibility. I have already suggested that Jones become supervisor of arts and craft. Darius being the only one educated is to take a position of overall facilitator, meaning that I hope he will help everyone with his education to find ways of making things happen. Jacob is obviously the one to remain head of construction and James engineering if you are all happy with that." A general approval was made by all.

"It sounds as though with some education Pauli might well fit the role of an academic and Walter we should wait and see what needs eventuate. Let me say that nothing will alter with the mine at present but as individuals find their own feet and begin to produce they will be encouraged to move into it at first part-time and as income is generated they may leave the mines. This is a process of gradual change and I hope that each one of you will ease into it by what we learn in these meetings. We can not drop the coal output before the other is earning for us."

The meeting moved into some lessons on various styles of people management, from autocratic to team leadership, and encompassed ideas about moving away from confrontations and encouraging individual dreams. The whole philosophy that Michael believed in was exposed to the scrutiny of others. They were all struck by the change but at the same time embraced its liberating ways after generations of confinement. Darius was able to bring up several points that were raised in the book given him the day before and these were discussed freely.

"Is the autocratic style of leadership necessarily a bad one?" asked Darius.

"Autocratic leadership," said Michael, "is a form of absolute rule which does not take into account the ideas and feelings of those who are being ruled. The style tends to alienate the leader who can become extremely protective of the position. This has led to some dictatorships killing those who come into conflict with their directives. A better form of leadership consults with, communicates the process and involves those underneath so that they avoid conflict."

"Is democratic leadership the better way then?" asked Darius.

"Well democratic can get bogged down in split voting," said Michael. "There are grey areas in most decisions and left to man's own thinking they can end up with so much compromise just to find a way ahead that they find themselves in dire straits."

"What is the best system of leadership them?" asked Darius.

"Theocracy is a way ahead and the way I hope for us. We lack the wisdom required for good judgement because we can not see ahead, so we hope that in realising God to be the supreme leader and source of all wisdom that He will guide us even by speaking through our people at times. I have been reading some of Gregory's writings and it would seem that a Theocracy was the style of leadership in those former times. It is not about us going places and enlisting divine help but rather seeking His direction and moving with Him. It is getting late and on that note, if all is done, we should close with prayer."

After a long session of prayer they left and Michael and Cindy discussed the days events, the wedding arrangement and the shift in emphases over management of the district. Things were progressing quickly in the organisational stage.

"We are dependent on your skills to educate as many as quickly as you can," said Michael.

"I have a bit of an idea I want to pass by you, dear," said Cindy. "I would begin by gauging the learning ability of as many as want to learn but select only ten or a dozen from that group with aptitude; I could train them quickly because I could give them individual attention. They then in turn could go home and teach ten or a dozen of the slower and younger ones the things they had learned. This would spur on and reinforce their learning because they would need to know it well to teach it to the others."

"That sounds terrific honey," said Michael hugging his wife. "This is the way. The further we can get away from school, as we knew it the better. This would work in so well if you took them for a couple of hours in the late afternoon so that it didn't interrupt too much of their other work in the mines at this stage. They could then spend a couple of nights a week educating their groups. How would you go about it?"

"I think I would begin by showing the letters, shapes and sounds of a few words which make up a saying and see who could pick it up easily."

"Sounds good to me," said Michael. "Make sure each student really wants to do this before they start so we don't have any fall away half way through. We will put the word out for those interested tomorrow. But enough of that for now, we have shapes and sounds to pick up ourselves."

In the morning Michael put the word out that education was available to everyone in the village and twelve would be selected from those who were at the church at 3pm to be tutors to the others. He then went about finishing the plumbing at the house with Mora, fitting waist pipes to laundry and bathrooms.

Sheela's group of ladies worked with Cindy in the morning with arrangements for the wedding. The dress was cut out of material Cindy had purchased many years earlier in anticipation of Michael's long awaited proposal. She always knew he was the one it was just a matter of when he was ready.

At 3pm there were 46 men, women and children gathered in the church. Cindy gave each pieces of paper and a pencil then began writing a saying on a large board in front of them. She ran through the letters and sounded them out asking the students to copy the letter shapes and sounds as she progressed. When she had finished going through the sounds three times she asked for those who thought they could sound out or read the whole saying to come to her in private and do so. Gradually one by one they came forward and spoke in her ear. Cindy took the names of each on paper and graded them for accuracy.

There were twenty eight who came forward and over half of them spoke the saying correctly. On her list Cindy had six men, four women, five teenagers and two children who had shown aptitude but two of the teenagers were misbehaving during the testing and she thought better of including them. The two children were a little young to be given responsibility of teaching others and a teenage girl was flirting with the men so she left her out for the time being. The remaining twelve consisted of two elderly men including old William, two older women, and two women including nurse Sheela, four men of various ages one of whom there was Pauli, a teenage boy and girl. She let the others go and asked the twelve to remain to talk with them.

"Thank you for coming everyone," Cindy said. "You are important to the future of your people. You are each going to be tutors of others. My job is to bring you each to the point where you can bring others to that same point. That point or goal is to be educated in letters and numbers. You are going to be our future to communicate and calculate. Any questions so far?"

"Why do we need to learn these things," asked one of the men, "when we can already count and communicate with each other?"

"Good question," replied Cindy. "There is much more available to us when we can read. Books hold knowledge of things and ways that can make life easier for us. The Bible is an example. In this collection of books we have been given not a plan for life but wisdom about our lives. It is in the stories that we learn how to handle situations which arise before us but if we can not read them or can not get them read for us we are left deficient."

"I understand," he said.

"Counting is good but it is so much more help to be able to calculate. You know that five fingers on one hand and five on another amounts to ten fingers, and that two lots of full finger counts is twenty," Cindy said and demonstrated with her hands. "To calculate is to say that two groups of five amounts to ten, two groups of ten amounts to twenty, four groups of five also amounts to twenty and so on. If you are a shepherd and have a hundred breeding sheep and you know that each ram can successfully mate about fifty ewes then you can calculate that you need to make sure you get at least two rams to serve them all without counting fingers and toes. And if all the ewes have two lambs but ten out of each hundred lambs die then you are going to get one hundred and eighty lambs from the two rams."

"I can grasp that," said one of the women. There was general agreement.

"That is enough for today," said Cindy, "I do not want to over burden your minds at this stage. What I would like you to do though is to take your pieces of paper home and show what you have learned today to your family and friends. Show them what I showed you, be like me and do what I do, then you are teachers. You may not understand everything yet but you do understand this lesson and that is all that matters. I will see you tomorrow same place same time. Are you all agreed?" There was unanimous agreement and they showed their hunger for it and appreciation with applause. This touched on a cord inside Cindy, for once in her teaching career she was appreciated, she knew this was her calling.

The following days passed quickly as Michael and Cindy slipped into a routine of instruction and discussion. Individuals began to share their dreams and aspirations with leadership, one or two of which showed considerable entrepreneurial flare. Immediately Jones established an art and craft workshop and took two young men in under his wing. Jeremy had skill with timber selection, cutting and storing material for both Jones and his own love of bowl making from Gnarlybark burrs. The other was Markus who was talented with the brush and paints. Though he dabbled in pictures for the time being he was utilised painting nature designs on the bowls and clothing on some of the carved figures. A woman named Jessie also joined them at times because she liked to paint and wanted to learn from Markus. This was the first industry to take shape based on the foundation of the sales and outside contact Jones had already established.

Before they knew it the day of the wedding had arrived. It was a chance for the village folk to celebrate their hopes for the future and their admiration and love for their re-established first family. The writings of Gregory had at least kept alive the fondness for them and even though many generations had passed the reputation had not diminished. Intertwined in their folk tales were stories of their benevolence and love. Their future was being re-established from their past and great celebrations were being organised around this, as far as anyone were concerned, their royal wedding.

The people began to gather in the Village Square by mid morning. It was a perfect day with the sun high and warm in a cloudless blue sky, only the slightest breath of wind stirred red ribbons strung from a centre pole down to the outer rim of the square. The air was charged with excitement. Children ran around colourfully dressed with cream and golden pampas plumes held high in the air. Girls held arrangement of large colourful flowers and had ribbons tied to wands dancing in the air. There was an all-encompassing atmosphere of joy echoing off the buildings.

Michael dressed in his black suit watched from the church steps enjoying the festivity until the nod was given that his bride was approaching. He went in with Jones and the rest of the village. Darius, though familiar with marriage ceremonies had been tutored to update his style. He took the centre stage and a hush fell over the congregation. A choir had formed and began like angels to sing in many parts. Then the bells rang out their chorus as Cindy entered. She was stunningly beautiful dressed in satin white and short train with a fine veil off her face. She alone walked ahead of her bridesmaids holding a posy of yellow flowers, and took Michael's hand at the front. Sheela quietly fell in beside Cindy with Jones beside Michael.

"Today," said Darius, "we have gathered before God as is fitting, to celebrate the recent marriage of Michael and Cindy and to recognise them as our own first family re-established once again in the district of Kind. Michael, have you taken this woman to be your lawful wedded wife to love and to cherish in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, forever more?"

"I certainly have," said Michael.

"Have you Cindy," said Darius, "taken this man to be your lawful wedded husband to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, forever more?"

"I have," said Cindy.

"Then in the sight of Almighty God, Father of all his children, let this marriage be blessed and fruitful, multiply and let there be harmony as long as you both shall live. You may exchange rings as a sign of your vows before us this day."

Michael took hold of his wife's hand and slipped the ring inscribed "Thanks for the Day" on her finger. Then Cindy took Michael's hand and slipped his ring on, inscribed in the same manner.

Then Darius said, "People of Kind do you give these two before us, Michael and Cindy, to be your first family in all matters of leadership?"

"We do," said the congregation in unison.

"Then let it be known in all the land," proclaimed Darius, "that this day the people have witnessed the union of their future and the future of these two as heirs in the District of Kind and will faithfully follow their guidance for the good of all concerned. You may kiss the bride." Applause and cheers rose from the congregation as they showed their love for each other. The handsome couple walked back down the middle of a cheering congregation who followed them outside in a symbolic manner.

As they entered the square the singers made a merry tune with a quick step and the line of villagers circled the square behind Michael and Cindy who were then ushered to the centre. Back to back around the great centre pole they held each others hands as the people danced with all of their might, falling into beat with the tune, twisting to the left and then to the right. Michael watched and sensed the symbolism as if they were undecided, looking into the leaders then turning out away from them. Then Jones left the outer circle and danced toward the centre in diminishing circles until he to was standing with Michael and Cindy in the centre. Gradually people followed dropping from the outer circle and dancing towards the centre. Symbolically each stood with the couple watching outwardly at the remaining few who were slower to give up their position.

Finally the last remaining couples joined them and the singers began a surging melody, loud then soft, loud and soft and the people in the centre holding each other's hands pulsed outward with the increasing volume of the singers and back as it subdued. Michael was fascinated with the symbolism of all joining around him and his wife then together reaching out to the world. Then suddenly there was a crashing of cymbals and they all broke away dancing individually to a new joyous song came forth. There was celebration, hats flung into the air and men and wives arm in arm twisting and twirling.

Meanwhile tables of food were being brought out into the square, lavish spit roasts of lamb and pork, barons of beef and seasoned turkeys. Everything the village could produce was on offer, ornate pies, vegetables and fruits. The feasting and dancing went on for hours in fact into the night. No one would forget the day of Michael and Cindy's wedding and the village officially launched itself into the future.

Blood Inheritance

Chapter Sixteen

Leadership Meeting

Mora knew he was late for the meeting at 10am. A few leaks in the village water system had meant an early start but the once unhappy miner could relax a bit now that the system was again watertight. Obviously he was not the only one late this morning, their spiritual leader was just ahead on the steps to the house that once housed their controlling mediator. Mora still had trouble getting used to the change in leadership after a lifetime of seeing the white house on the hill as a forbidden area and abode of the one who continually opposed their dreams. Their spiritual leader William had helped considerably, guiding Mora into an acceptance of Darius now as an equal, forgiving him in mind but in his heart there still lay some lingering resentment for the years of repression. They arrived at the well together, the symbol of so many fallen miners remained. Briefly the two of them stood beside the old boarded up water source remembering. A moment or two passed before they spoke.

"I wonder if we'll ever know what it was like?" said Mora.

"Know what was like?" asked William.

"You know, the struggle they had dying without realising their dreams."

"Let's hope we never have too. Somehow I wouldn't be surprised if they were enjoying the present transition just as much as we are. Perhaps they are up there watching our moves as spectators from the stadiums of heaven."

"That's a good way of looking at it, kind of makes it easier to let go of the pain, as if life never really arrives at any conclusion but just shifts to a new level."

"We should go in Mora, time marches on," suggested William as they continued towards Michael and Cindy's front door. "This well, of all places, is almost a memorial to a way that was and a vivid reminder not to go that way any more. But I'm sure there are many other ways that would be equally effective in blinding us to the truth. We need to be ever vigilant on our watch."

Mora opened the door for William without hesitation, knowing that now this home belonged to a friend and because of that a place of casual access. Inside the lounge the leadership group now assembled. Holding up a steaming cup of coffee Michael pointed in silent invitation to his friend for one of the same. Mora nodded his approval.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," Darius said sarcastically as he noticed their late entry.

"Sorry to have held you up," said Mora feeling the bite of the old authoritarian rule not yet fully removed in the district. "I am afraid the water supply was showing the effects of the lack of experience I have in the field."

"Priorities Darius, priorities," old William said. "Not all of us are subject to the kings of order but quite often instead the princes of disorder. I for one can not put aside the duties of intercession when so noble a one as our Father in Heaven has us in His grip."

"Friends," interrupted Michael, "let us focus on the journey ahead rather than the places we have been. I know that we all do what we must and in the long run together we move forward. As you know, we are all here to discuss the name change for the village. Gnarlybark as a name is a symbol all that was and the suggestion is that a change to Ventura might help to launch us into the future. What thoughts have we on this issue? What are the people saying about the change?"

"Well Michael," Jones initiated discussion, "you know I am in favour of the change. I think it would be great but not everyone feels this way. There is talk of some opposition although I have not personally heard any. I think the people are reluctant to express their feelings openly, which is understandable after our years under the Mediators."

"What do you mean by that Jones?" interrupted Darius.

"Forgive me," apologised Jones. "I did not mean any offence to you especially. I was referring to the system we were under for so long that evoked feelings of insignificance in the people, feelings that we did not matter or that our opinions were some sort of uneducated nonsense. It was not that long ago that we were totally repressed for what was touted the good of the district. Really the reluctance is a legacy of the system we were under."

"I think Jones is right," agreed William. "I sense the same thing and know that others must feel the same way. Much of our new freedom depends on our confidence to speak about our ideas. If we can not leave those inhibitions behind that linger in our mind we risk remaining with them physically. We must help the people to trust that their opinions and ideas are going to be treated with respect by those who lead them. This has not been the case in the past."

"Can't we simply tell them that?" said Darius, "put out a statement or something."

"It's not quite as easy as that Darius," said Michael. "When you are talking about human emotions you are talking about a very sensitive area. If you were stabbed by a thorn bush repeatedly in your attempt to get to the fruit tree beyond, wouldn't you try to find a way around without the pain of more stabbing thorns?"

"I suppose so," said Darius, "but what's that got to do with all this?"

"Darius," said Michael sternly, "remember we are talking about people who have been hurt by the system, just as the stabbing thorns. You were a major part of the system that has hurt them. You have not been on the receiving end of it all. If you had been you would understand. Please accept that it is all over now and we need your education to help the village into the future."

"I still don't know what all the fuss is about," scoffed Darius, "but I suppose I will have to accept what you say."

"How does that feel?" asked Michael.

"I don't like it but I guess I will just have to come to grips with it," said Darius.

"They are just little pricks but now I think you know what the thorns feel like," Michael said before quickly moving on, "What about you Jacob, what are you hearing?"

"I'm not aware of much opposition," said the carpenter feeling a little reserved about giving his opinions in case the others ridiculed them. "For what it's worth I believe we should make the name change to mark the changes that are going on. I hope that it will help us to leave behind all of the ways we operated under before. We are different now, as if a new infant born out of the old mother. We are a new identity and we need a new name so that we can identify with it. That's what I believe."

"Well said Jacob, well said," remarked William supporting the new comer to leadership.

"Yes indeed," agreed Michael with the others. "James, what have you to contribute?"

"I don't mind as long as I don't have to go down those mines anymore and I think that's the feeling of most men in the village."

"Agreed," stated Jones.

"Walter, what have you to offer?" asked Michael.

"I've heard some grumbles; two especially who didn't know where we are going. I talked with them and gradually they came to see the vision. It's all about communication I believe. People get some funny ideas at times, from where I don't know. I guess our job is to put to rest the false beliefs by instilling the truth in their minds. It takes a bit of time but in the long run it's well worth it to have them on side."

"He's right you know," said the young blond Pauli. "I've been learning a bit about the way people think in relation to their senses, feelings, emotions, memories and actions. Psychology it's called. If we can get their thoughts sorted out they can proceed much happier than if they are forced into compliance. We get the same thing in the end but all are happy with it instead of having them enter into it begrudgingly."

"Thank you, you are so on to it Pauli," said Michael. "I have an idea you are going to be of immense help to this transition the way you are progressing. Cindy tells me you have a good grip of reading already. That is incredible in such a short time and now you're reading psychology, amazing."

"I still need a lot of help from Cindy. There are so many strange words in the books I read. She is very patient."

"Yes," said Michael, "it is a big task that my wife is performing for us but I can tell you that she is loving the challenge of being able to live out her dreams with you all. After years of suppression in her own field of teaching she also is enjoying the energy of this new freedom."

"She is doing very well," said William. "I have villagers coming to me with Bible scriptures seeking guidance on their meaning. I must say that I do not always have the answers except to direct them to a higher source."

"Well then," said Michael, "it seems that Gnarlybark is a piece of the past and Ventura is our future. How about we spend a week sharing with the people that we desire this change in name and if there are no objections after this period we shall make it official. I want to stress to you all that this is tentative at this stage. It is by no means absolute. I would like the people to feel they desire the change and that it's going to be their Ventura. I want them all to own it. You all need to understand the importance of this."

There was general agreement and even though Darius secretly did not see the point of all this pussyfooting around he also nodded his approval. They moved on to general business.

"The reticulation of water to all homes had almost finished its first stage of development with mains supply to every street," said Mora. I estimate that connections could begin the following week when taps and piping arrived on the barge. I would like two or three additional workers to join me team for this next phase of water reticulation." Three would temporally be assigned to him from the mines.

"We are advancing quickly at the craft workshop," Jones reported, "with production building so that a shipment could be possible within weeks rather than months. We will brand each piece with the Ventura name as soon as it was made official." He showed the stylised iron brand that James had made for them to burn the label into the base of their works. "This will be the mark of excellence. It will sell district products all over the world." His faith in the future of their craft products seemed unquestionable, so much so that doubt at this stage found no place at all.

"I have been hard at work organising the instruction of the teachers." Cindy reported. "Pauli is my star pupil," (she knew that he had potential far above her own). "My task is to lift Pauli as high as I can and when I no longer can help him from my own knowledge I will keep him moving by correspondence. I want Pauli to stay in the village to assist in the education of the people but if he wants to go further afield I feel we must let him do so. In the mean time I am exposing Pauli to the library and especially to works relating to the human condition. Teachers meet with me three afternoons a week and most were rapidly advancing in reading and writing. This is fortified by their evenings spent passing on what they had learnt to their house groups.

"Walnut trees are growing all over the district," Michael's wife continued. "A group of enterprising ladies have begun to go beyond their usual activities in running their households to collect walnuts for profit. Two or three sheds erected in strategic places have helped to facilitate drying and packaging shelled walnuts. We have plans to utilise the profits for a special purpose and that is to update medical practices at the infirmary. Two books have already been given to nurse Sheela outlining advances in the use of medical techniques to overcome some of our common ailments. Although she has needed help reading them the photographs the drawings give her much inspiration and have advanced her knowledge of medicine. I suggest however that serious medical situations should be referred to expert help outside the district."

"A communications and air link will be established to facilitate this. It is the most practical way," said Michael who then discussed plans for the generation and distribution of electric power, the understanding of communications with the outside world and what it meant to have an air link with planes flying in and out of the village. For some time they fully discussed it all and finally understood all of these radically new concepts.

"How are things at the mines Walter?"

"Production is dropping away considerably now that fewer men were working them," the mine manager reported. "Two poorer quality mines have already been closed and it looks like another one should be closed within the month. Demand is dropping with advise from the company that they would only be interested in the A grade product from now on. They are prepared to continue the premium payment but only for top quality product, quoting the loss of a major customer to natural gas as reasons for this change. A decision has been made to appoint some men for grading to ensure the quality control of product above ground and to appoint quality control personnel at the face to prevent needless energy being wasted on extraction of poor grade coal. A system has developed where one in five of the men will be above ground at any one time, reducing their time below ground to four days in a five-day working week. Previously almost all the men have spent six days a week below ground for all of their working lives. With these efficiencies and the greater output per man underground we can maintain a similar income for the district utilising two thirds of the previous manpower." There was agreement among the others at the meeting.

"Very good. Thank you Walter," said Michael then turned to James. "How are electricity plans going James?"

"A set of eight high-speed water turbine generators are to be ordered," said the engineer. "When fixed in the stream near the mines they will generate sufficient electricity to operate the mines and the village. The stream, originating as it did from a spring, has a constant flow and sufficient fall to allow us to add more units as the demand increases without a requirement to dam the stream. Distribution of the electricity would be done by buried cable so there will be no alteration to the general environment."

"We have almost completed the tower and building to house the microwave communications link," added Jacob the carpenter. "Just a few more days should see it finished."

Michael concluded that equipment had been ordered with sufficient hardware to give the village its connection to all forms of communication. The plan was for two stages in this development. The first and most important was to connect with the outside telephone system and the goal was for six units to be functioning within a few weeks. They were to be installed with fibre optic cable in Michael and Cindy's home, the Administrator's office, at the Manager's office, the Art and Craft unit, two at the mines and a public phone in the square. Two computer systems would also be connected to the internet at Michael's house and at the manager's office. A second stage would be installed over the following months with each home linked to the system. Power connections would be laid at the same time. Contractors were to come in to install this and train up men to become reasonably proficient at maintaining these services. This stage was being financed mostly out of Michael's inheritance. With the infrastructure in place Ventura would begin to be able to do business.

"At this stage we have three industries that can bring funds into our economy," said Michael, "coal from the mines, crafts from Jones' business and walnut production. We have a cash inheritance that is going to diminish to very little after the installation of power and communications. Our financial position is that we can continue like this for some time just surviving as we have but our backbone is not getting any stronger. I have a feeling the decline in coal demand will continue rather than reverse. To be honest I think we may lose the coal before long and will need to replace it with some other significant income source if we are to survive. I want you all to think about this; I believe we can aim for a target beyond that which we need, to all that we can be. I believe that we are more likely to hit the target of what we need if we aim for something greater and therefore be in a better financial position. I would like you all to talk about this with everyone, fertilise the ground so to speak, nurture ideas and help things to grow, encourage entrepreneurial activity. Can I have your ideas?"

"I have seen things," said William.

"O yes, what's that?" asked Michael.

"The old Gnarlybark," the old seer continued, "I am told this is special to us alone. I saw in a night vision the leaves drip liquid into a bowl. At first I thought this was dew in the morning but the bowl became a lamp and it produced a great light. Although it was night the lamp made things as bright as day. Then one came with a terrible wound on his hand. He took some lamp oil and spread it over his wound and it was healed. I have seen this three times."

"Could there be some essential oil in the leaves of the local tree?" asked Michael.

"There is a fragrance about the Gnarlybark in the summer," said Walter. "A kind of sweet sent before the leaves turn and fall."

"The women folk use it with their washing. Their mothers and grandmothers have done so for as long as I can remember," said William.

"There might be something in those leaves which could be medicinal," suggested Michael. "There may be some income in it to support us, or at least something Sheela could use. Why don't we distil a small quantity and carry out some trials. Pauli, I wonder if you might be interested in doing some research and development. You could establish a laboratory or something?"

"I guess I could if I knew what it was," said Pauli.

"A laboratory is a place where people do scientific tests and trials on substances," said Michael. "We'll get you some equipment and books on the subject."

"Well, I'll give it a go if that's what you want."

"If you are interested find someone else to help you and teach him or her as you learn. It's important that we increase our knowledge of our resources and publish it so it is not lost. Intellectual property developed from R&D is extremely valuable because it becomes the foundation of our enterprises."

"I don't understand Michael," said Darius.

"Sorry, I'm talking another language. R&D is an abbreviation of research and development and intellectual property is what we have learned that has the ability to create income. Does that help?"

"Yes it helps," said Darius.

"Does everyone feel comfortable with all of that?" asked Michael. There was general agreement. The meeting had just about exhausted the business side of things and people began to excuse themselves. Jones stayed on to discuss the Art and Craft side of things with Michael over lunch. When he had finished seeing the others out Michael invited Jones to the dining table for a piece of apple pie with berry topping that Cindy had made the previous afternoon.

"This pie is delicious Michael," Jones stated with delight.

"She's a treasure, that wife of mine. I don't know why I didn't settle down sooner," Michael mused.

"I'm thinking of doing the same," said Jones.

"What, making apple pies?" Michael said amazed.

"No," Jones replied. "Settling down I mean. Susan has agreed to marry me."

"Congratulations. I expected you would make a catch of that girl before too long when you purchased that bit of jewellery with your first earnings. Then I saw you two dancing around when we got back to the village, well."

"We'd like to marry at the end of the month, if that's all right with you."

"Of course it's okay with me. You don't have to ask my permission to get married around here," said Michael reflecting on the Mediator days.

"I wasn't meaning that," said Jones, "I want your support there at the wedding as my best man. Would you do that for me."

"I would be honoured my friend. We've grown quite close, you and I since the trip into the world."

"I feel you are like, well, I look up to you and yet you teat me as an equal."

"Of course we're equal, don't be silly," said Michael.

"It's just that you are our leader and I'm, well," Jones hesitated, "I'm so uneducated."

"My friend," said Michael, "I hold more value in our relationship than anything you know or can do. I just like you as a person. I would be honoured to be your best man at the wedding just as you were there for me at mine."

Chapter Seventeen

Technology Arrives

"Guess what honey," Michael said to his wife when she came in, "Jones here is getting hitched to Susan."

"Yes I know," Cindy stated. "Susan and I were just discussing it this morning. She's going to use my wedding dress and make a few changes here and there, lengthen it for one thing. Planning is already under way with the wedding team we had. The ladies are having a lot of fun. I have some more news for you and I might as well tell both of you since the whole village seemed to know before I did. I'm told we're going to have a baby."

"Who, us?" stammered Michael, "a baby?"

"It happens you know," said Cindy. "The women folk can spot it a mile away. Mind you it would have taken much guessing us being newly weds and all."

"Honey that is great news," said Michael, a smile forming from ear to ear.

"Congratulations you two," said Jones excitedly. "An heir to the line of Ogden."

"Do you know," said Michael, "I wondered about taking that name for us here, since that is what it's all about. Sounds better than Longbottom too don't you think?"

"Could we do that?" asked Cindy.

"We can do it legally if we want, by deed poll."

"I'd like that Michael," said Cindy. "It would mark the change in our lives and sort of put round pegs into round holes, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," said Michael. "I've felt a little like the square peg most of my life and I'd like my children to feel they belong, that they have roots here. Yes, I think we'll do it."

The barge being due to arrive had the whole village turned out at the wharf. For the first time in their lives they came to witness technology arrive in Kind. They were at once excited and bewildered. Crates of all sizes could be seen stacked three and four high accompanied by men in blue overalls on the deck of the returning coal barge. The tug slowed as it came along side the wharf and ropes quickly secured their future. The air was a full of excitement from the villagers. Under instructions men transferred crates to the coal sled and were soon on their way up to the village.

Michael stood at the top of the hill in front of his home with his wife surveying the scene. He wanted his people to enjoy the excitement for all it was worth suggesting the mines be left unmanned for the day. They watched the first load move beyond the houses into the village. The two of them finished their coffee and arm in arm went to join in the activity. They arrived just as the first crate was opened to expose a microwave dish that would beam communication signals to and from the rest of the world. He was moved to say a few words to those gathered around wondering just what it was they were looking at.

"Friends, this is your future arriving, as it is, in a number of wooden crates. We are about to embark on a ride of wonder and amazement. Things you have never imagined are about to dazzle your eyes and tingle your ears. Where once you could only imagine and dream, tomorrow you will see with your very eyes. As these technicians install the generators and electronic equipment the huge distance between the world and our home will diminish to nothing. In fact the whole sphere we call the planet Earth will suddenly be available from inside your own home. Strange ideas and crazy notions will be placed right in front of you and it will be for you individually to decide what to make of it, what to choose to take in and what to choose to leave out. Where once you were imprisoned by the thoughts of your leaders, from this day on you will be free and responsible for your own choices. From experience I can say this; be careful that the wrong things do not tempt you, but having said that, enjoy your new found freedom."

The villagers cheered as Michael finished. They were primed and eager mostly to take on all that was new. Under Walter's organisation the technicians directed crates be carried to various places where they would be needed. The miners were eager to help. The women folk began dispersing to prepare food for their men and soon there was a hive of activity with hardware being set in place every which way. Men were digging trenches and laying cable, carpenters opening access into buildings, engineers fabricating racks and benches for the equipment to be mounted.

Surprisingly quickly things were completed and mainframes readied to accept the first electricity. Telephones were being connected to each other and tested. Suddenly the first ringing phone was heard in the village drawing a crowd to see what was making such a noise. Michael picked up the receiver in the square and spoke the first "hello" to the technician up at his house. Then Cindy came on the line asking Michael to pass it to Sheela, then Jones, Mora and many more fascinated by the voice of Cindy in the telephone.

James the engineer had been working with the technician mounting turbines in the stream that would generate their first electricity. The units being small and powerful sat in the fast runs between pools on tripods driven into cracks in the bedrock. The first three turbine generators were connected to the distribution unit housed simply nearby and released to spin with the flow. The needle on the voltmeter instantly flicked to the green line marking the correct supply level and tests proved they had sufficient output to run the microwave link and computer equipment. James gave the signal down to the village that power was now available and ready for connection. It had been many hours of hard work.

The small dish on top of the tower was being aligned by one of the technicians with a similar one somewhere south east on the horizon. The pitch of his test equipment increased and increased until a constant high tone could be heard.

"Signal!" yelled another technician in the shed. "We have hooked up."

"We are connected to the world," said Michael and a great cheer went up.

Being late in the day food and drink was now brought out into the darkening square and the people were very excited. Nothing like this had happened before. It was almost too much for some women who sat to the side in quiet reflection, unable to comprehend the dramatic events. An electric light bulb was fitted above and with the flick of a switch the square was illuminated. Villagers cheered and danced around with the children, boosted by the amazing event, though they did not understand it at all. After a short while a piece of equipment was set up high on one of the tables. It flickered like a fire, flashed a couple of times then showed vertical bands of vibrant colours; red, yellow, blue and green.

"People I give to you the world," said Michael. "This is a computer monitor, a viewing screen. When the technician is ready he will, I hope, be able to connect us to the world network of communication called the Internet."

Suddenly the flickering changed and there before them shining for all to see was the first transmitted image they had ever seen; the Internet Service Providers homepage. A gasp of awe raised as Michael searched for and produced images on the 19" monitor they were familiar with; a cow and calf grazing in green fields, a sheep with twin lambs, a man and woman arm in arm. Then their world became somewhat bigger as Michael introduced things foreign to them; an image of a whale broaching, an ocean liner on a placid sea, a jet airliner flying through the clouds, all of which he explained as best he could. The people were shaking their heads with wonder. After about an hour Michael had talked himself out. He returned the computer to the office. The villagers spent the rest of the evening animated with all the wondrous things they had seen. Michael and Cindy quietly drifted off to their home totally exhausted by the day's activities.

By the time they had risen and had breakfast, work on the installation was well underway once again. The miners returned to their toil underground except for a few who remained to assist the technicians. In the following days more turbines were mounted in the stream and their power distributed to the mines where electric lighting was set in place for the first time. The miners were astounded at the daylight conditions they could now work in while underground. It would be some time before electric motors would relieve them of the task of moving coal above ground. Cables laid in trenches were buried as tests to check them out were completed. There was a lot of tidying up and finishing off work to be done by the technicians, but essentially most of the contract had been fulfilled after only a few days of work thanks to the efforts of the miners.

Michael made a phone call to his mother.

"Hello mother. I'm ringing you from the village. We have the communications link up and running so I thought I would give you a call."

"Michael it sounds wonderful," she said. Penelope was well and enjoying the sun again in her favourite gazebo at the sanatorium

"We have installed a microwave telephone link and we're on the Internet. The equipment went up so quickly that I would have hardly believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. The villagers are overwhelmed and bewildered with it all."

"It's so good to hear from you. I have been wondering what happened to you this last month or so. You never write."

"There's not much point when you have no postal service. Remember we have been isolated. I've got some great news mother. Are you ready for it? You are going to be a granny."

"Cindy is pregnant already?" she gasped. "Oh Michael, I'm so pleased for you both. Everything sounds such an adventure. I so would like to come and see it for myself."

"Mum, when we have some easier way of travelling here I would like you to come and see what your son has been up too. We have plans for a runway but I don't know when that would be ready."

"What sort of runway. Are you going to have planes coming in?"

"Just little ones I think mum and perhaps rotary wing as well in case of emergencies," said Michael.

"You let me know as soon as it's ready and I will be on the first flight in," she stated excitedly. "Hurry it up wont you, I sure could use a break from this place."

"Sure mother, we'll get a room set up and ready for you and I'm sure there is someone here who would love to look after you permanently."

"Do you think so Michael? That would be a dream come true."

"Mother, it would cost nothing because of the way people are here. They just pitch in and help whenever they are needed. It is very special and I hope it never changes. There's not the need for money to change hands because we are one in everything we do. It is not so much a group of individuals fighting over as big a share of the cake as they can get like we're used to. The people here have no concept of greed, or self for that matter. They own everything and there is plenty to share in the love they have for each other."

"Do you think they would love me too Michael?" asked his mother.

"I am your son. Of course they would love you. I am held very highly here, a bit like royalty," said Michael.

"Do you mean to say that I would be the kings mother?"

"Something like that," said Michael. "Why don't we leave it there for now. I have things that need attending too so I will phone again."

"Thank you Michael, I always knew you'd come to something someday. I knew all the time what I put in to you would come back eventually. Give my love to Cindy wont you."

"Sure, I will. Bye for now," said Michael.

"Goodbye son, bye."

Michael broke the connection and handed the receiver to Cindy to phone her family. The two of them hugged and shared the receiver as Cindy told the good news of their baby. Cindy's mother was ecstatic, whooping and yelling over the phone so much they had to move the receiver away for a moment.

Michael left his wife to it and went into the offices of the village administration where the computer had been installed. Roger and Darius were there along with Pauli watching the technician checking the program functions.

"How is it looking?" Michael asked the technician.

"Office is running," said the technician, "E-mail is on line, the scanner seems to be fine and any moment we should see the printer drop out a test file. Yes, there it goes now."

"How much memory does it have?" asked Michael.

"Forty gigs of RAM, plus you've got 20 megs of storage on your service provider. Your address is [email protected] and there is your password," he said pointing. "I've written it down over there. It's all yours."

The others were looking a bit lost.

"Thank you," said Michael sitting down at the workstation as the technician left. "I can show you a bit of navigation on this thing if you like. With this mouse here we can move this arrow around the screen and point it at objects. This left button on the mouse opens the file you are pointing at like this," he demonstrated. "By clicking on this "x" in the top right corner we tell the computer to close this program. As you can see the screen has now changed to our desktop. Each of these small pictures represents one of the computer programs just as though they were files on your desk. This blue "e" at the bottom represents the Internet and a click on that will connect to the World Wide Web to gain information that we might need. The small envelope at the bottom is our electronic mail. This light blue "W" on a page is the writing program and the "X" is the accounts program. These will be the main work programs we will need in the next few months. By pointing to the one you want to use and clicking it opens so you can begin working on them." Michael demonstrated.

"I don't see the point of all this," said Darius frowning heavily. "What's wrong with the way we used to do things before all this."

"The way you did it before was fine. This is so much easier, when you get to grips with it. For instance, doing calculations is really easy in Excel," Michael said as he opened a spreadsheet and typed a few figures in the squares, entered an equation and instantly the row of numbers were added.

"Incredible," said Pauli. "That's so fast, how does it do it?"

"All I know about it is that inside this computer there is an electronic brain and memory not unlike ours. It operates so fast that we would take years to calculate on paper what it does in a fraction of a second. But it does so much more. It will calculate a whole years figure in a blink of an eye, alter everything in a split second when we make changes and convert all sorts of figures and print it out on paper."

"We did alright before," said Darius showing his disapproval.

"Don't let yourself be threatened by it. It's just a means to an end. If we are to move ahead then this is the world we will need to be working in. There is a computer revolution happening out there as significant as the steam driven industrial revolution. We are fortunate to arrive at this time when the business playing field is being levelled as it is. It is possible now to market products directly from the producer to the consumer and deliver within a day, all paid instantly by electronic banking. In the past we required middlemen, adding their cut onto the end price to cover their handling. We have an opportunity available like no generation before us."

"I still don't like it," Darius said grumpily and walked away. "I liked it the way it was. Why do you have to drive us into this technology?"

As Darius left the others gathered each side of Michael devouring his instruction, Pauli because he was fascinated with it and Roger because he could grasp a little of the power it could give him to fulfil his position as administrator of the village. Michael ran them through the Internet connection process, checking their e-mail, began a search on the Internet and encouraged each to conduct their own searches. Pauli grasped it almost straight away and continued on with Roger who was struggling with the double clicking mouse.

Michael moved on to other things. He wanted to check out the generators and the lighting at the mines. He could hear from a short distance away the turbine generators high pitched whine. All eight capsules were now in place, hardly affecting the flow of the water except for a slight bulge where they lay. The fall of the stream at that point was steep causing the flow to accelerate and concentrate into the very expensive turbines. Their efficiency and life expectancy were far superior to any other type available, quoting ten years minimum before servicing. These turbines were the Rolls Royce of water generation developed with knowledge gained from the jet aviation industry. They looked to be the right choice after all.

At the mines Michael immediately noticed the improvements; as he walked down the shaft entrance there was no more diminishing light. A cable strung along the centre of the ceiling carried special low heat bulbs that eliminated all shadows from the mine. For the first time he felt comfortable walking in there. Each side the men were working hard in brilliant daylight conditions. The men were going about the job happy and laughing. Applause began to rise as he drew near the face; they were showing their appreciation for the improvements. It was satisfying for him but he knew in his heart that these men would soon loose sight of the wonder of this new treat and return again to the glum feelings of old. As far as the mines were concerned he felt the writing was on the wall. He wanted to get these men out of there for good.

Cindy met him as he returned to the house, dinner was not far from being ready. They kissed and stood looking over the river scene dimming with the fast encroaching evening. A flight of mallards circled above, the wings whistling as they passed by.

"How has your day been sweetheart?" asked Cindy.

"It has been a marvellous day. The mines are lit up like daytime with the electricity now connected up there. It is awesome to see things go ahead so quickly. What about your day?" he asked.

"We have been working hard with the team getting ready for the wedding."

"Oh yes. How are things preceding?"

"Really good. After ours they are quite confident. We are doing things just a little different though and that makes it interesting," she said casually before her tone became more serious. "Michael there is something I am a little worried about though."

"What's that?" he said turning to face her, hugging her a little tighter.

"I think someone has been into our house while we were out."

"What makes you say that honey?" he said stepping back a bit.

"It's just that I felt strange when I came home; the door to the cellar was open a little and you know we never go down there. When I went down everything looked fine but there was a strong wine smell," she said puzzled.

"Well there is a lot of wine down there dear," stated Michael. "It's no wonder."

"I never smelt wine inside bottles before. Something doesn't seem right. I made me feel uneasy. I think someone has been down there."

"Well I don't know who but I'll keep it in mind. Perhaps we should lock up while we're out," suggested Michael. "Come on lets go in, it's getting chilly."

Chapter Eighteen

Cracks Showing

Mora was busy with the water reticulation, making advances to the system with the arrival of taps, sinks and piping. Two houses had been fully plumbed out by the time Michael came to see the work. Mora had gained a pretty good grip of the job even though at first it had been a struggle getting used to his new tools. He had learnt the hard way that with the kind of pressure in the main system was supplying he needed to make sure the seal was perfect. His team of men were fitting kitchen sinks and wash tub outflows into rock filled drains they had sunk outside. The drains would be a temporary measure until a waist water system was installed some time in the future. The system Michael had advised was simply installed to supply pure cold spring water to three places in each home, one of which would supply a water heating coil in their coal fires as time and resources allowed. His idea was to upgrade the villager living conditions step by step while retaining some of the character of their previous lives. Mora worked on for a bit before noticing his mentor was watching him.

"Hello Michael," greeted Mora with a start.

"I was just admiring how far you have come in these last few weeks," said Michael.

"It is not that difficult really once you get used to the way things go together. It's hard work but satisfying to see the progress."

"How are you finding overseeing the others?" asked Michael.

"OK," Mora said. "Once I have showed them what I wanted they just went ahead repeating the same thing house after house. It is all I can do to keep up with them but I'm learning that I don't have too. It's not like the mines where we were all relying on the other to keep the flow of coal moving."

"So is it better to be doing this sort of thing?" asked Michael.

"Anything could be better than the mines. I hated it down there," Mora said with a sigh of relief.

"How are you looking at this job, now that you are well into it?"

"Michael," said Mora after a moments thoughtfulness, "when there's two taps in every sink in the village running hot and cold I will be able to look back and say I did that. It was my part in the development of the district."

"I think you will do well my friend," encouraged Michael.

"Have you seen the Mediator, I mean Darius, around lately?" asked Mora slipping back into their past momentarily.

"Not much."

"Neither have we," Mora stated. "He's been keeping to himself. No one seems to know where he is or what he's up too."

"He was a bit grumpy the other day when I was showing Roger, Pauli and him the way around the computer," Michael mused. "He wasn't very happy at the meeting the other day either come to think of it. I wonder if something is up? It would not be unusual for someone in a position like he had to get off side with us all. Thanks I will look into it."

Michael looked around the plumbing job a little more before walking off in search of Darius. The old Retainer's office now had a new sign saying "Administration" on the door. Michael entered to find Pauli and Roger concentrated on the computer screen.

"Hi guys. How are you getting on with that new machine of yours?" Michael enquired jovially.

"Getting there at last," said Pauli. "Every now and then it stops and we can't do anything but restart it from scratch."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of computers gentlemen. Have you tried control alt delete," asked Michael.

"Pardon?" Pauli looked puzzled.

"If you get jammed up," suggested Michael, "press the control and alternate key here together and hit delete and a option box will come up on the screen showing which program is not responding. That allows you to close it down while retaining the rest of the Windows system. Usually it is just a matter of opening the program again and continuing. Make sure you save your work regularly because any unsaved work you had done will be lost and you will have to do it again."

"Control alt delete all at once you say," repeated Pauli making sure he had it right. "Why didn't someone tell us before. We have been so frustrated over this. Thanks Michael."

"Yes, thanks," echoed Roger.

"How does it feel?" asked Michael.

"What's that?" asked Pauli.

"To be entering this new system of the twenty first century?"

"I feel like my other half is still pegged to the clothes line of the nineteenth century," said Roger rather spontaneously, "and the stretching line is about to break."

"You will get over it Roger," said Michael chuckling, "I think."

"I feel like I am right where I belong Michael," said Pauli. "I was born for such a time as this. I love the learning experience, even if it is a bit frustrating at times. I feel like I'm on a marvellous adventure and there's a prize at the end, when I find it."

"That's great Pauli. Take it easy on Roger though," said Michael chuckling. "I would hate to come in and find his bottom half lying on the floor detached from his top half with blood and guts everywhere just because of a computer I had introduced him too."

"I will take care of him, don't you worry," said Pauli.

"Have either of you seen Darius this morning?" Michael asked changing the subject.

"No, we have both been in here together since early on," said Roger.

"Any idea where I might find him?"

"Haven't a clue," said Pauli. "He has been a bit grumpy lately."

"You could try his place Michael," said Roger. "It's the one at the end of Blackbird Street, on the left."

"I will try there," said Michael leaving. "If you see him let him know."

"Sure," said Roger returning to Pauli's moves on the computer.

Michael made his way towards Blackbird Street. The weather was changing with dark clouds forming over the mountains. It looked like a patch of rain would hit before the day progressed much further. Jones was walking towards the Art and Craft building beyond and seeing Michael turned to meet up with him.

"Good morning Jones," Michael greeted cheerily.

"How are you Michael."

"Good thanks Jones. Yourself?" Michael enquired.

"Cloud nine, I believe is the saying."

"You would be what with the wedding coming up," Michael smiled.

"Don't like the look of the weather, there is a change coming," dodged Jones.

"Have you seen Darius at all this morning?"

"No, but he was in a foul mood yesterday, parading around after lunch like an angry bull. Saw him heading up to your place. I assumed he had an appointment with you."

"No, I was out all day," said Michael. "I have an idea. Would you come with me to his place, I think something might be up."

"Sure," said Jones, "I can spare a few minutes."

They walked to the end of Blackbird Street and entered the property where Darius had moved to when they heard an heir was returning to lead the district. The cottage was small and the grounds untidy. Brambles covered the fence from the field beyond and long fescue grass held their heads through the wires. Broken wooden items were lying here and there; one looked like a chair and another a box of some type. Michael knocked on the door but there was no reply. He knocked again, a bit louder this time. Still there was no reply. Jones went around the back to see if Darius was there. Michael opened the door and called out his name. The smell was overpowering. No reply came.

"Jones, come in here," Michael called out.

"What is it?" asked Jones as he came in behind him. "Whew! What is that smell?"

"Wine my friend," said Michael peering into the bedroom. "Come and look at this."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Jones. "Is he dead or something?"

Darius was lying on his bed, a red stain across his chest and on the bedclothes. The curtains were drawn. Michael opened them and the window. As the light flooded the room it was obvious what had happened, a wine bottle lay beside him on the bed, its contents all over the place. A sigh came out of Darius as he stirred. The man was drunk.

"Cindy had a feeling someone had been in the house yesterday," said Michael. "The wine cellar door was ajar and the heavy smell of wine in the room. I guess this poor man had come to the end of his tether and had to have a drink. It's possible he has become an alcoholic over the years of drinking this stuff."

"A what?" asked Jones.

"An alcoholic my friend. Some people develop an addiction to the alcohol in the fortified wines. They have to have it, even need it. It is like a disease in the end and it rots their insides. That would explain his grumpy behaviour lately."

"Will he die then?"

"Probably, but then we all will one day," said Michael. "He will be Ok when he has slept it off. Look there's some more bottles over here in the corner. He must have polished off two or three last night."

"There's more over here," Jones indicated on the other side of the bed.

"Why would he do that Michael?" asked Jones.

"It is the addiction. The man can't help himself. He's fallen a long way and this new thing being shoved in front of him is probably all too much right now. It all makes sense. I have seen it before when people lose their position. They can't take the shame some of them. Others, well, some people go a lot further in trying to kill themselves. There is no point in us waiting around here. It will be a good few hours before he wakes up and then he will be grumpier than ever. I will have to lock up that wine cellar good and proper."

Michael and Jones departed carrying the last of the wine and the empty bottles. They had stripped the bedclothes and left Darius is a somewhat less wine saturated state. He had stirred a couple of times but was too drunk to remember anyone being there. With the windows open a bit the wine-laden air of the cottage soon freshened. Things would return to normal in time. Jones went on his way to his studios and Michael to inform Roger of his friend's plight.

"I found him," said Michael as he came in to see Roger. I think Darius might be an alcoholic; he's up at his cottage passed out on wine. I believe he went into my house yesterday and took the wine from the cellar. Do you recall seeing him like this before?"

"Many of the times we had wine together," Roger told him, "there was some excessive behaviour on the part of the Mediator. Several times he lost his balance and fell. I had put him to bed on other occasions. I enjoyed the times when we shared a drink but I did not like the feeling of too much wine. I developed the habit where I had a couple of drinks over the evening by sipping rather than bolting it down as he was inclined to do. It was not uncommon to see three bottles empty at the end of a session. It has been going on as long as I had been the Retainer and it had been getting steadily worse."

"I don't know what I'm going to do about it," said Michael. "He is a sick man and needs some help. I don't know of too many who ever fully get over being addicted to alcohol. They can get off it but hardly ever free of it. He is going to need a very good friend to help him through."

"I'll be there for him Michael. I always have been and I'm not about to stop now. Will there be any repercussions over taking the wine?"

"I think just telling him we know will be enough to make him think seriously about his lot right now. He has reached a pretty low point in his life at this time and I don't see any sense in rubbing salt into the wound. Let's see what develops before we take any further steps."

"Thank you Michael."

"I will see you later. Keep and eye on him won't you."

"I will go up there later and check on him," said Roger quietly.

"Later then," said Michael leaving.

The question about the future of Darius worried Michael as he walked away. His addiction had reached the point where he could not be trusted and in a place like this isolated village such things were not at all common. The people would learn the truth eventually, even if only by rumour, so it would be better to have the truth right from the start. The old way was to have a public meeting on the issue but what would be the new way? Maybe it would be easier to send him out of the district. Maybe, but no, he was ill and just as any sick person they deserved treatment for their problem. He determined to go and seek some wisdom.

Old William was at the church when Michael arrived. He had hoped he would be. William was adjusting something at the front, a candelabra, tidying the dripping wax from the sides.

"Are you free William?" asked Michael as he approached.

"Always free and as it happens available at present," the old seer said in his carefully considered manner.

"I have our first people problem to deal with and I thought a bit of wisdom might be advantageous just at this point. I wonder if we could seek the Lord about it."

"Just what is it that has happened?"

"We have just found Darius compromised by communion wine in his cottage. Seems he went into the cellar in my place without permission and took quite a quantity of wine, then preceded to drink himself into oblivion."

"How do you mean?" puzzled the seer.

"He has been grumpy for a few days and now he is passed out on his bed covered in spilt wine. He's as drunk as a skunk."

"Oh, I see," said William. "There could be repercussions to unrighteous behaviour like this coming into the village."

"Seems it has been here a while. Roger says he has been behaving like this for years. I believe he is addicted to alcohol, he has become an alcoholic."

"That explains a lot then."

"What about?" asked Michael.

"There is a principle in scripture concerning the loss of God's blessing on the land when sin comes into the camp. The condition of the village has been deteriorating for years and I never could understand why. There was no apparent sin in the camp. Now I know there was and it begins to add up. It was like you know it takes three things to achieve a certain result but all of the time there was one piece missing but the result was there right before your eyes. Who would have thought such a strict man would be the weakest link. The weight he laid on the people to keep in order. There was so much repression. We will intercede for him."

With that the two men lowered their heads in silence seeking God for their people. After some time Michael went away with a kind of assurance that God was effecting the repair of the breach and had been doing so for some time; that this was just another piece of the darkness coming to the light. William stayed, occasionally uttering some unintelligible language, caught in the intercession begun an hour earlier and groaning from the centre of his very being.

Determined not to let the incident create any damage in the community Michael began to speak this with his leaders, that they too might speak the truth and understanding of alcoholism to those they meet over the next day. Hopefully, he was thinking, this might avert a major incident and in the process keep the hearts of the people at least some way towards Darius and any eventual healing.

As the day progressed Michael saw his future more clearly. Perhaps it was the prayer time or perhaps it was just his maturing in the role, but whatever the case he knew things now that he could only wonder about before. Something had changed, a kind of simple perception that all was in hand, as though he had lost his reassurance that God was indeed in control of their future. It gave him confidence that no matter what went on, whatever went wrong all would turn out according to the divine plan.

"I guess this is faith," Michael said to his wife after telling her about the days events there on the front porch. "I had never seen it quite like this before. I thought that you just had to believe in God, you know, in what the Bible said about Him."

"You have always had more faith than that," said Cindy. "Remember the time when we came in to the district on horseback and you sensed heavenly excitement. And the dream of four arriving back here when Mora went missing in Mull. There is your faith. I think you have more then any of us around here."

"Old William has faith," Michael deflected it back at her. "Do you know that he was so deeply in prayer with me that it was if he wasn't with us. For all I know he could have been right in the throne room of heaven. He was making some pretty strange sounds."

"The one thing I know is that we have awesome sunrises here but as for sunsets," she grumbled, "it's always chilly."

"Dinner for two then my dear?" Michael suggested.

"Dinner for three. Don't forget the baby," she reminded him patting her slightly rounded tummy. "Come on there's a chicken and roast veggies in the oven."

"I thought I could smell my favourite dinner as I came up the hill," he said. "I love you."

Chapter Nineteen

Sealing the Cracks

Rain had fallen all night and still clung to the hills mid morning. Michael had found the Chess set and thinking of Darius decided to challenge him with a game. Darius was looking a little humble when he opened his cottage door. He had tidied himself up and the dreadful smell of wine had almost gone completely.

"I wondered if you might be interested in a game," Michael said showing the chess set to him at the door.

Darius looked at the board and then at Michael for quite some time before he responded by making way for Michael at the door. Words were not forthcoming. Michael set up the pieces each side of the board on the small table. Darius sat deeply puzzled by this turn of events, something frankly he considered totally out of order at a time when men should be working. But he played along with the icebreaker Michael had devised as a means of showing he was not the condemning type.

"Why don't you take the first move," Michael suggested turning the white pieces towards his opponent.

Darius advanced his a pawn two squares. Michael quickly advanced a knight through his pawns to the right. Darius shot His Queen into the open. Michael thought it dangerous to expose the Queen so soon but his plan was to challenge with more bold moves from his knight, knowing it could move through pawns and take his opponents important pieces trapped behind. Darius slid his free bishop diagonally through the pawn slot into the field of play. Michael became weary of the two dangerous pieces on the board and cautiously advanced a bishop's pawn. Darius lifted his Queen and replaced one of Michael's pawns.

"Check mate," stated Darius.

Michael was dumbstruck. He looked but he couldn't believe his eyes. There was the opposing Queen one space from his King. If his King went to take the Queen the Bishop on the diagonal would take the King. He had been taken in just a few moves.

"Well I'll be darned," said Michael still shaking his head in disbelief.

"It is a set play. Quite well known actually," said Darius without humour. "I am surprised you did not know it."

"Well, you learn something every day," said Michael. "Show me how that went again."

Daruis repeated the moves explaining the way it went. The game had achieved its purpose breaking the ice nicely.

"Would you like some tea?" Darius asked.

"That would be great thanks," said Michael. "Another game perhaps?"

"If you think you can handle it. I have other moves. Not quite as quick as that though, I must say," Darius poured steaming water from the range into two mugs and brought them over.

Michael reset the board and a longer more interesting game began as they sipped their herbal infusion. Conversation evolved; finally it came to the issue of the previous day.

"I apologise for the events of yesterday," said Darius somewhat unconvincingly. "I lost my grip but at least no harm was done."

"Under your old system what would you have done with someone who broke in to your home and got drunk during work hours?" asked Michael.

"There would be a hearing before all the village," Darius replied.

"And what do you think would become of a person who did this?"

"Who knows," replied Darius. "It has never happened before."

"I think under the old system that person would have faced some punishment don't you think? At least he would have faced ridicule before you and the whole town."

"It is true that he would have been singled out and humiliated."

"What do you think I should do with you then?" asked Michael.

"You will do what you have to do and I will do what I have to do," said Darius resigned to the fate set before him.

"Will you accept my judgement?" asked Michael.

"What choice do I have," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"You could leave the district or you could accept help," said Michael.

"Leave?" Darius replied. "What would become of me out in the world? I have been living this way for too long. The world is too strange. No, I must stay but I do not need any help."

"Darius, there is a problem with alcohol in that people can get to the stage where they become dependant on it. I think you have reached that stage after all these years. It is called an addiction. You will not be able to help yourself. You need help from others."

"I don't need help from anyone," he abruptly stated.

"Darius, this is quite common out in the world. I can assure you that it won't be easy to stop. The wine will become a craving again just like it was for you yesterday."

"I wasn't craving it. I was just sick of all this change you have brought in to this village. I can't get to grips with why it has to be. If I were still in charge there wouldn't be any of this electronic gadgetry and we would be better off for it."

"Who do you think is in charge here then?" asked Michael.

"Well, by rights and blood you are the leader."

"Yes, I am the leader but I am not in charge," said Michael. "It is not like a game of chess where there are two opponents and one loses. I would hope that a higher power than me is in charge here, otherwise we have no hope for the future. Can you not see that the time had come."

"How do you work that out?" Darius arrogantly said.

"I walked in here by more than chance," suggested Michael. "When I found out that I was the last living descendant of the Ogden family I was more surprised than anyone. But I came to realise it was no coincidence. I believe that it was my destiny, a destiny set in place in the planning room of heaven. Demand for coal has all ready fallen; they have cancelled contracts for the poorer grades. You were holding on by the skin of your teeth the way things were. It's true isn't it?"

"They had been warning me that demand was falling off but they gave us a few months grace until I came up with a solution. That is why I had to let Mora and Jones out with you to find an heir. I would have stopped it otherwise and sent you packing. I didn't expect you to find yourself though; that was a surprise."

"How did you cope when Mora came into town with the news?"

"I went home immediately and gathered up my thoughts," said Darius. "Then I figured I had better get everything I needed immediately transferred into the cottage. By the time you had finished celebrating with the people I was well into some wine. Two days ago I ran out and I started to get more and more agitated. You know the rest."

"These are the classic symptom of alcohol dependency," stated Michael. "Surely you can see that we can't allow you to continue like this and condone this behaviour to everyone else. One in ten drinkers are likely to go the same way. Before long there will be more alcoholics in the village. Let's nip this in the bud now before it gets out of hand. It"s a disease and it needs treatment."

"I don't need help from anyone. I can sort this out myself," Darius stated.

"I don't want to get confrontational with you over this. I know this is bigger than most people, we care about you. Let people in before it is too late. Let us help you through the tough times ahead."

"I will handle it myself," Darius said in the stern manner that denied anymore discussion.

"I'll leave you the chess set. You might enjoy a game with your friends," said Michael, who removed himself before the argument exploded, which he felt threatening.

As he returned to the square he couldn't shake feeling that Darius was too proud to accept any help especially from those who had been subject to him in the past. It would be too much of a weakness in his own eyes for him to cope with. What to do with a deposed leader, that was the question. If he felt that he had something important to contribute he could again find purpose in his life. Why not create something for him to lead. The trouble was his style of leadership made life distasteful for those under him. Whatever it was to be he would need to have special people around him. Someone was needed to oversee the Gnarlybark leaf oil research and development and if it was successful eventually put it into production. But if he failed though, what then? He had already offered that to Pauli. Michael needed to talk with Pauli and see what his thoughts were. He found him still engrossed in the computer at the administration office. The two were working on projections for the next month and things weren't looking too bad.

"Hello Michael," greeted Roger. "You know this guy is brilliant, he has already worked out how to use the spreadsheet program."

"Hello Michael," said Pauli. "It's great to have help files inside the program and that technician still with us. How can we help you?"

"I just want a word with you actually, Michael said. "Do you remember that research and development program we were discussing?"

"The leaf oil thing?"

"Yes, that's the one. I wondered how interested you are in it. Did you want to take it on?"

"I will if that is what you think I should do," said Pauli.

"Maybe there is something else you would be more interested in," said Michael.

"Well actually there is. I have been thinking about all the things offered to me lately but the one thing in my heart is to learn. I want to find out as much as I can and then I will be able to make the right choice for my future. Besides these computers are fascinating. They are information stations and I can find out so much from them."

"How about I give you that responsibility then. You can be our I.T. man, the one who researches all we need to know to make our way in this world."

"Sounds like me. I can help teach everybody that way," he said proudly. "But who will take the reigns of the leaf oil research and development."

"I think I have just the man in mind but it will hinge on you feeding him with the knowledge and allowing him feel like he did it himself. If you so much as look like you were in charge then it will not work. You need to be the humble information station for everyone."

"I think I understand and it will be my pleasure."

"Thank you, I appreciate that," said Michael.

He would have to air it with the planning group but as it was Michael felt it would be the very help that Darius could accept to get over his present problems. There was no hurry for the distillation tests to begin but the sooner it started the quicker Darius might regain purpose in his life again. Rather than tell him immediately, Michael would approach James their engineer with diagrams of apparatus to see if the production of some distillation apparatus could proceed.

"Pauli, would you do a search for distillation apparatus design on the Internet for us as soon as possible. Look for stills, essential oil, distillation and stuff like that."

"I will get right on to it," he said.

Meanwhile Michael went on in search of William, hoping that he had a little insight gathered during his time with the one in charge upstairs. Old William was not at the church but sitting under a tree further around the square. The shade was welcome now that the rain had passed. William was pleased to see Michael smiling from ear to ear as he approached.

"It is a perfect place to sit and watch, yet far enough removed to remain within your own thoughts," the old seer observed.

"I have been with Darius," said Michael. "I played a game of chess with him this morning."

"He is a good strategist is our old Mediator," said William. "He was quite clever in dealing with people, hardly gentle though, straight for the jugular."

"I know what you mean," said Michael. "His chess was the same. He had my King in a few quick moves.

"I well remember some occasions where some pretty strong men confronted him," said William. "He used every tactic in the book of dirty tricks to reduce them to tears. I know; they wiped them off on my shoulder. I am glad that type of people management is over, it makes my life a lot easier. It is over isn't it?"

"As long as I am in the position I can say to you it is over," Michael assured him. "Did you find out much from upstairs?"

"Upstairs?" enquired William. "Oh, upstaaairs. Do you know that in Old Testament times the sinner would be stoned to death by the villagers?"

"I'm sure there's a few who would happily do that even today," Michael joked. "They were tough times, but today what is God saying to us?"

"I felt there was no healing for the man," the seer reported. "Pride has his heart and the leviathan's scales shield any penetration. I fear that no matter what you do he will remain in his sin. He is a danger to our people."

"Is that from the Lord?" asked Michael.

"I wouldn't say that exactly. More like a judgement based on a long history with the man and lack of input to the contrary."

"I want to give him a chance," said Michael. "I think I'm going to let him put some body to the wings of the vision you had, the healing oil project. He is saying he doesn't want any help but if he has an important project he might regain some purpose. If we give him people who don't mind the authoritarian leadership, this might kill two birds with one stone."

"What about Pauli?" cautioned William. "I thought you gave the project to him."

"I have discussed it with him already and it seems he would rather source the technology and let Darius do the job done. Seems he is fascinated with the computer for now and wants to learn as much as he can."

"I agree that Darius needs to find some purpose again. But he is a hard man Michael, some might say too hard."

"Those kind of guys can sometimes achieve the results we are looking for when others can't," suggested Michael offering some of his worldly knowledge. "Coaches of sports teams for instance can push their guys into great wins."

"I have this feeling that it's a waste of time."

"I do not argue with you. I can see his pride. The option is eviction but he would only get worse in the world outside. I know I am a little more forgiving because I have not been under him like the rest of you but he deserves a second chance; we all do."

"True, I would hope for the same," said the seer.

"What would you ever do wrong?"

"Do not think I am above error," William responded sharply. "Don't put me that high up on a pedestal that I become a god. No, you are mistaken. I am as fallible as the next man, it's just that I possibly will see my own error and recover from it before the rest of you know about it. God forbid that it ever should get worse. Don't forget to uplift even me in your prayers."

Michael went on up to the arts and crafts to see the progress on the upcoming shipment. Cartons ordered for the purpose were stacked at the far end of the large wooden floor area. Sections had been partitioned off for various departments. Jones was selecting a piece of wood from the racks at the side where timber was seasoned. Three others were at work wrapping and packing various objects. A series of bowls turned from the local Gnarlybark burrs were polished and gleaming in the sun light. Amazing patterns revealed from the burrs by the craftsmen made them truly outstanding. The initial order was not large but representative of what they were able to produce. Cutting boards with strikingly stained blues and yellows were stacked nearby featuring bold lines. Large wooden spoons also deeply stained in the blue and yellow were intricately carved on the thick end of the handles with wavy line motif's unique to the district. Vases and goblets painted with vivid colours stood beyond were unusually heavy in the base to render them stable. Then there was Jones" intricate pieces, some small, some larger and all with the twisting grain of the Gnarlybark tree. He had created a set of chessmen and stained them darkly as if they were ancient, only the tips showing the lighter colouring reminiscent of long use. The most magnificent piece though, stood much taller than the rest. A rocking horse that would not seem unusual in an elite Victorian chamber styled on the one Jones himself had rocked his years away on as a child. It was eye catching, a real stunning piece with saddle and reigns which floated perfectly back and forwards.

"Jones I can't believe you have done all of this in such a short time," said Michael obviously awed.

"I haven't done it alone my friend," said Jones. "These wonderful people have selected and gathered the timber, chipped and carved, stained and painted all hours to get this lot ready. It has been a work of passion and such a pleasure to be a part of."

"Well I just have to hand it to you all, this is quality like I have never seen before," said Michael, his eye still roaming the magnificent rocking horse. "If this doesn't establish the name of Ventura I don't know what else would. I want you to know that I am very proud of you all and tell you how wonderful it is to be associated with what you are doing. Awesome, truly awesome."

"Have a look at this piece over here," suggested Jones and he bent over the table and lifted another piece of artwork towards Michael. "Look at the depth of colour. Isn't it wonderful!"

Michael's eyes did not at first see quite what made this picnic scene stand out until he noticed the signature was that of the apprentice Jessie. Her work had such quality he had not realised it to be other than that of Markus.

"Well done Jessie," said Michael earnestly. "You have a real talent there. In fact I would like to commission one just the same. As it happens my mother has a special anniversary coming up and I would love to be able to give her something as beautiful to remember that special time. There is one thing I would like changed though, if it were possible. Could you give the man a fishing pole but keep the picnic scene just as it is."

"I would be honoured to do that for your mother," said Jessie. "How long do we have before the anniversary?"

"When you see the airfield almost ready for use it will need to be finished," said Michael. "My mother intends being on the first flight in the Ventura and I hope it will coincide with a very special memory of hers."

"It shall be ready," Jessie assured him.

"Thank you all," said Michael. "These are exciting times. With everything going as it is most of this may be able to be flown out on the return flights."

"How long do you think it will be Michael," asked Jones.

"About the end of the week I should think," he stated. "Is that long enough to have this lot ready?"

"I think it will work out fine," said Jones.

"Right then, we will send it that way," said Michael. "Keep the packages no bigger then the rocking horse and it will all fit in the aircraft. I will arrange a courier to meet the plane at the other end."

Chapter Twenty

First Flight

The week moved fast. Everyone was busy preparing for the exciting event of an aeroplane arriving in Ventura. A group of miners had been assigned to prepare the strip of land needed to take the incoming twin engine plane. Michael himself oversaw this important project, understanding as he did the necessity for a smooth compact length of runway in the direction of the prevailing winds. A reasonably level site had been chosen that had a gravel substratum on the first tier above the river. Levelling was achieved by the miners removing the high areas with pick and shovel onto the bullock sled and shifting it to the low places. They first removed the turf and levelled the substrata before replacing the grass, leaving it looking as if it had always been that way. Several large rocks that showed above ground in the path of an aeroplane were dug around and buried down deeper out of harms way.

Michael was impressed by the way these men worked. They seemed to thrive on the labour at hand. They were tough men who seemed to know the value of their effort. He admired their work ethic, their devotion to the task at hand in spite of the arduous nature of the job. Secretly, in the first days, he thought that they were making a show of it just for him but as the days passed the progress kept marching on even without him being around. What is more they seemed to be enjoying being out in the fresh air, their pale white backs tanning under the moderate sun, the odour of sweating labourers catching his nose and jovial banter reaching his ears. He wondered how long this Old World integrity would remain in the district, as they tasted the delights of life in the new way.

With the task nearly reaching completion it was time he contacted the aviation people about certifying the strip and arranging a flight in with his mother. He phoned the officials confirming completion to the specifications he had been given and gained permission for civil aviation to make test approaches to inspect the airfield. They would take place the following morning and given the go ahead, flights could commence immediately. He was requested to mount a wind direction sock in orange colouring to the side and to have clearly defined marker boards along the edges of the runway. Michael confirmed that all would be in place by 10am. Being confident all would be approved he phoned his mother advising her that all would be ready and if she were prepared to wait with the charter plane at the airport the go ahead was likely in the afternoon. Some special supplies were ordered and waiting to be flown in with her.

The village folk were getting pretty excited with the impending wedding and the arrival of their first aeroplanes both on the same day. Preparations of all sorts revolved around the passengers arriving in Ventura and its freight departure. Last minute packing and checking of the art and craft consignment kept the trio of artisans busy late into the night. Jessie putting final touches also to her first private commission.

The wind sock and markers were finished by morning and being put in place. All of the villagers sat on the small hill nearby while as men laid out the red and white painted marker boards along the runway edges. Suddenly from the east a drone began to develop catching the attention of the spectators. A large white twin turboprop plane swept in and circled overhead, wing tip down, viewing the runway from several hundred feet. The noise startled the people, some a little frightened at first. Children cried and were tucked under their mother's protective arms. The plane circled again lowering its undercarriage and sweeping further towards the mountains behind them. Again and again the monster tipped its wing towards the airfield making even lower passes. Just when they thought it was leaving the pilot turned and with lights shining brightly from its wings and wheels down, set a course directly towards the centre of the runway.

Michael's heart was in his stomach. A lot hinged on whether or not they saw fit to allow landings on this ground. The plane lowered and lowered drifting seemingly forever before touching down but maintaining the nose wheel above ground the pilot tested the ground beneath. He travelled along most of the full length of the runway like this before again becoming fully airborne. The noise was frightening to the uninitiated. The pilot alternately tilted his wings, waving to the crowd of spectators as he disappeared to the south from where he came. Again the place returned to its placid quiet and they awaited the verdict. Almost immediately a cry came from Cindy at the top house.

"WE ARE OK!" she shouted, slowly waving her arms, "WE"VE BEEN APPROVED!"

A great cheer rose up from the villagers, dancing and hugging each other with tremendous excitement. Knowing the tremendous dangers of flight Michael calmed them and suggested William commit the airfield into the hands of the Almighty. William had a better idea.

"With your permission Michael," the old seer said, "I would ask the people to all join hands on the runway in as big a circle as we can be and there we all give thanks."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Everybody please, go down to the runway and form a circle," Michael directed to his people. "It is alright, the plane will not come back. Please form a big circle for William."

They skipped and danced their way down from the small hill and onto the short-cropped field arriving into form. From within the circle of excited people William shouted, "GO OUT - GO OUT ALL YOU WHO WOULD DESTROY." The people shouted back "GO OUT!" with so much noise that it made the earlier aeroplane seem quiet. Then the old seer prayed a little while in silence then shouted again. "COME IN ALL WHO WOULD BLESS IN THE NAME OF ALMIGHTY GOD." The people shouted at the top of their voices "COME AND BLESS!" And they danced as a great big twirling mass swinging each other like some great folk dance before breaking off in laughter and excitement towards the village to await the first passenger flight in.

Michael was delighted. The runway was approved without any further work required. He met Cindy in front of the house, kissed her excitedly then went inside to phone the approval through to the charter firm at Mull Airport. The approval had already been phoned through from Civil Aviation with navigation co-ordinates and directions for approved altitude and co-ordinates through the mountains. Their ETA was approximately 2pm and they confirmed the passenger and supplies were secure awaiting departure.

"Everything seems to be going according to plan," Michael said as he joined Cindy again. "Their estimated time of arrival is 2pm."

"That is exciting honey," said Cindy. "I hope your mother is used to flying."

"She has flown before on a commercial flight and had no bother but this is just a light aircraft over rugged mountains at low altitude. I hope it doesn't get too bumpy for her."

"Do you want some coffee?" Cindy asked.

"Yes thanks," replied Michael. "I've been a bit anxious today. There has been a lot to do and so little time. I will be pleased when I see that plane turn around and take off again loaded with Jones" consignment. It will be good to have mother safely settled in here also. It has been a long time since I've done my best for her instead of trying to sort myself out."

"What do you mean. You've been all right!" said Cindy puzzled.

"I haven't really. I spent so many years wandering all over the place in an attempt to find out who I was and what I was good for, that she had to be institutionalised. I didn't care as mush for her as I did about myself."

"You were just confused," his wife consoled. "Who could blame you with a psychotic mother and no father. How on earth did you cope?"

"Day to day I guess," said Michael. "I never really thought about it until they took me into foster care."

"How old were you then?"

"I had just started high school. I was missing a lot and when the social workers came around to talk to mother she was throwing a wobbly in the corner. She couldn't hide it any more. God it was a relief not to have to worry about her each day. I never knew if she'd be there when I came home. That's why I missed so much school. I only went when she was well and of course that was getting less and less."

"Oh Michael," Cindy said feeling his hurt, "How on earth did you handle it?"

"I didn't really. I was fortunate to spend some time with a Christian couple. It was there that I learnt that the way I had been living wasn't normal, that there was a whole other life out there. But I still didn't know myself. I spent the next lifetime finding just where and how to fit in. I was lost without some reference points to guide me. Life was unbearable at times. I went crazy and lived on the streets, had a few years of labouring jobs, some cash jobs but mostly work schemes and the dole. Nothing lasted more than a few months. Sometimes I got into a bit of mischief with the guys. I was busted for pinching stuff and being drunk and disorderly once or twice, you know how it goes. Then I took up travelling about, hitchhiking, hopping freight trains, hiking up in the hills and living in shacks. I spent some months in a shepherd's hut once and nobody knew I was there. I helped myself to a few animals to keep me alive but lost a lot of weight in that time. I came back looking like something out of a concentration camp."

"I had no idea," said Cindy comforting this man she thought she knew.

"By the time I met you I was over the angry bit. I found some peace in just accepting myself for what I was, a no account drifter. You get used to it after a while; being of no fixed abode. All of my earthly belongings bundled up in a pack. That pack did some miles. But I learnt a lot in that time with all the jobs I had. It was after the better times of a job for a few months that I would come and see mum and you again. If you had seen me at the other times you would have both disowned me; I was a right mess."

"Surely not! You always presented yourself really well with me, the perfect gentleman."

"O I could turn it on. I learnt it from my foster parents. They were always so refined and I just copied them. Even at church it was just a matter of "When in Rome do as the Romans do." I even got baptised like they did, carried a Bible and dressed up to the nines. The Bible came in handy when I was out in that shepherd's hut. I had nothing else but the old tin labels to read so I read it from front to back then back to front and everywhere in between. It was out there that I reckon I met God, Christ or something."

"Tell me about it," Cindy said eager to know how he came by his faith.

"It was strange really," said Michael looking distant. "It was no blinding light experience like St. Paul's but none-the-less a turning point for me. I was really low and I prayed like we used to do in church, except this time it was just me and this mythical God they always told me about. I was at the end of my tether and quite frankly ready to end it all when I said something to the effect that I would rather be a slave to God than like I was in the world. Like I said, it was no blinding light experience but when I look back I realise that was the end of the anger and the frustration. After that I ate that Bible like it was a continuous supply of Cornflakes. I had nothing else to do. I came to understand it, like it was apart of me. I saw myself in the characters and began to model myself after the better ones. David seemed to me to be someone I would like to be. God knows I had faced my share of lions and bears. My Goliath and Saul's would fall."

"Now look at you," said Cindy. "King of Ventura."

"It was ferreting through my father's possessions that brought it all together," Michael said tears rolling from his eyes. "When I saw my mother's picture in his trunk something awakened in me. Then I found her letter to him and it clicked, like the breath taking moment your sweaty body hits the icy stream. I had a destiny like no other, I was his blood as if I was one end of a transfusion in progress, my veins filling with his heritage. No more was I one of the candidates in some job interview. I was the one. I was born for this."

"Now you have me," Cindy said as she took her man and hugged him close. "We have a baby on the way and your mother is arriving in a few minutes for you to be the best you can be for her again. You have turned out to be a good man Michael Ogden, your mother will be so happy for you and should your father happen to be watching from heaven I'm sure he would be so proud."

"I wish I had known him. He sounded like such a good man."

"Look at yourself sometime," she said, "I have no doubt he is in there."

Suddenly Mora burst in to the room.

"Sorry Michael, but the plane is here. It"s descending from the mountains now, Come on quickly," he said.

They ran down the hill with hardly enough time to wipe the tears from their eyes. The plane was completing its landing and by the time they arrived had finished taxiing. The engines cut and the door opened as a man disembarked. Out came a thin hand, there was Michael's mum smiling beneath her wide brimmed hat. Her blue and white summer dress ruffled in the breeze as she paused like some movie star for a photo opportunity. She was every ounce the royal mother full of grace and poise there waved to her son before accepting assistance to step down. Michael took her hand and two small girls presented her with flowers. The villagers were expectant and Michael took the opportunity to introduce her to his people.

"Everyone, let me introduce to you my mother, Penelope," he said. "Mother I want to give something to you to mark this day. This is approximately the time when love blossomed well over forty years ago, when you and my father, the last descendant of the Ogden family, continued the line that has allowed this moment to be. After all these hard years I hope this gift brings fond memories back of that wonderful time. Jessie please could you make the presentation."

Jessie came forward and offered the commission to Penelope. A smile came over her face as she took it in. The memories flooded back of her man James George Cooke and their wonderful picnics by the river. She took the plaque and hugged it to herself.

"Thank you so much," she said slowly. "You have made my whole life. You have given me back hope. Thank you very much."

"Welcome to Ventura Mother," said Michael kissing on her cheek. "It is good to have you with us."

Settling his mother in was easy; she arrived with two suitcases holding all of her worldly possessions. One was bursting with clothing and the other her precious ornaments carefully wrapped in tissues. Michael picked up the cases and walked his mum to the big house that was to become her permanent home. One of the two spare rooms had been totally refurbished in preparation for this day, with a three-quarter bed, ornate dresser and comfortable chair. A wardrobe had been set in the corner by the door and lovely rich yellow and gold curtains gave the room a warm cosy light. The bed had been covered with a quilt, matching the colours and shades of the curtain material, made by the local ladies to honour their leader's parent.

Cindy showed her mother-in-law around the home, a little apprehensive of the possibility of having mental illness in the house. Michael had assured her that in the event of the slightest sign of ill health he would have assistance in or have his mother shifted to the infirmary. That alone settled her sufficiently to welcome her mother-in-law into their home.

Meanwhile the great preparations of Jones' big day had reached the point where it was time to let it all out into the open and help them get married. By four o'clock all were assembled in the church. Jones was dressed in a fine suit with his best man. The choir sang quiet pieces in the background accompanied by the piano brought down from the top house. The music changed abruptly as the wedding march announced the bride's arrival at the door end of the isle. Briefly Jones was awed as his future partner made her was gracefully towards him. She was stunningly beautiful, so much so he wondered why she accepted a proposal from such as him. It was not as though he was not a good catch but to him she was such a pure and refined flower that he could only bruise her with his brute strength.

Accompanied by her father, a co-worker of Jones' in the mines, this sweet rose finally took his arm and they turned to their spiritual leader, nervously about to play his part in the proceedings. This was William's first wedding and something he never imagined he would ever be asked to do. But at that moment all anxiety fell away, they had run through their vows several times in preparation and the exchange flowed quite naturally. William offered up a prayer and blessed their future together, laying his hands on each of foreheads. Michael handed their locally forged rings across to them on the call and Jones ever so gently placed the ring on her finger. Susan then placed a ring on Jones' finger and looked up into his eyes smiling. William announced the marriage was now in the hands of God and charged the villagers to care for them. To the delight of all, Jones took his wife in his arms and tenderly kissed her on the lips. Roger came with documents to sign for the official record and the choir leader introduced a soloist singing a new song telling of a special love that grows as the years advance.

Suddenly there was a crash; a ruckus developing at the back.

"Get out of my way," a male voice rudely broke in. "Can't you see I need to get up."

A shout erupted and a scuffle, an incident between two or three by the door. Several men gathered around trying to sort out the disturbance. Michael instructed Jones to stay with his bride and hurried to try and find out what had so brutishly interrupted such a beautiful an event.

"Darius! What on earth has got into you?" Michael asked as he came face to face with the culprit. "Have you been drinking again? You have, I can smell it. For heaven's sake man!"

Darius stood there waving about just looking Michael in the face defiantly.

"Who do you think you are?" said Darius. "Think you're some kind of saviour to the world do you? Can't make me do anything."

"Darius you are making a scene," said Mora standing next to Michael. "Come on, do the right thing. Come with me and we'll let this wedding continue orderly."

"Huh, order," scoffed Darius. "What do you know about order you little upstart. I'm the one who knows about order. I was appointed to bring order and look at it now, it's all out of order."

"Come on Darius, you're not yourself," said Michael. "You are the man who knows the strategy. This is not the tactic that wins the day. It is Jones' moment. You have to wait for your turn."

Mora led Darius out. He was too far gone just then to fight anyway. As they headed generally in the direction of Blackbird Street things once again returned to their former decorum.

"Where did he get wine from this time?" Michael asked those nearby.

"He has been drinking in the vestry all day," Markus stated. "There is the wine left after the communion services."

"What are we going to do with that man?" Michael asked not expecting a reply.

"One rotten apple," Old William said quietly beside him as Michael turned to see who was speaking.

"I admit you are probably right my wise friend," said Michael. "But we had to give him the chance to prove himself. He had to be given some grace but now we know what it is we are up against."

"I am not so sure you know it all as yet," suggested William. "We are only seeing the surface, it is bound to go right to the core. I am worried about how much might be underground and how far back it goes."

"Let's not have this ruin Jones' day any further," said Michael. "I want this day to be about aeroplanes and mothers and weddings rather than drunken fools."

They entered into the celebrations with a banquet of food, music and much excitement. The disorder was forgotten for the time being and the newly weds were launched on their journey with dancing and frivolity well into the night.

That evening Penelope was overtaken by the genuine warmth of spirit and love shown to her by the community which set in her heart some kind of belonging that she had never before experienced in her psychotic loneliness. It was as if a healing balm had been placed on her thoughts and a challenge set instead to dream of precious freedom to come. The relative security of such an unworldly place had managed to put at bay the anxieties and pressures she had needed to deal with in the world outside. A routine would begin to develop where Cindy and Penelope strolled down to the village square each day and participated in the kind of long talks that only woman truly love.

Chapter Twenty One

Ugly and Beautiful

Again there was strife to contend with over Darius and his love affair with the demon drink. Michael had been hoping it would never come to this but the deception and disruption it was now causing threatened, as old William had inferred, to destroy the whole bunch. They could not contain it if the rot spread any further. There was no reason it should except by seeding the minds of innocents; their naivety was a thing of beauty not often found in this world. Their culture was at this point pure as driven snow and Michael longed to keep it that way. Thoughts of the inevitable cross-pollination with the outside world raced through his mind, the possibilities of further rot creeping in and destroying this garden. At the present time their minds were blissfully unaware of the darker side of man's capacities under the influence of the serpent of old. He wondered if they could hope to keep this Eden in God's hands alone.

Earlier than would normally be the case, Michael sent for his team to assemble at the house for an extraordinary meeting. Darius of course was summoned as part of that team. His look was dark to say the least, like the minutes before a fierce storm hits the land. Fingers of dread reached Michael as he entered his lounge. All were gathered and the decision needed to be ratified by all concerned. This was probably the worst dread a man as gentle and considerate as Michael could ever conceive.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice everyone," Michael said to begin the meeting. "As you all know one of our number is struggling with an illness and until this point has not been able to accept assistance. I am going to give Darius an opportunity to speak. I want you all to give him a good hearing so that what he believes may be tested amongst his peers. Darius we are all willing to listen to your views, so please feel free to say what you really believe."

Darius sat dark and menacing for some time before speaking.

"Firstly I do not consider you all my peers," Darius began defiantly. "We are not equals in the sense of knowledge and learning; some of you are totally uneducated. I have come down through a long series of Mediators selected and educated to serve this people for their own good. Michael has not been trained as I have. He is the illegitimate son of a mentally ill woman. What is he to us but a trace of blood to some past leader none of us can even remember? What does he know of the life we have led? What does he know of the suffering we had faced together? We have walked that road, a road that is special to us. I did the job I was nurtured for, the job my teacher did and the one before him. How can we walk away from that road? It's just not right. This is too different and who knows where it will take us. What guarantee have we got that this outsider can lead us to a better place? Tell me that!"

There was some silence for a time. It was a compelling speech but Michael had to draw out discussion.

"What you say about me is true Darius," said Michael eventually. "I do not deny it and I want you all to know that I have no specific training in this field. All I have is the conviction that Gnarlybark could not remain in those dark times. Things were getting worse but that knowledge was being kept from you all by this man who carried it all on his own shoulders. Unfortunately he turned to alcohol to help bear that load. Now that alcohol is proving to be his undoing because it has been able to get the upper hand on his spirit. This spirit is now showing its colours and we can all see it. These colours are dark and I feel a danger to this place."

"I also see these colours," said William in his slow wise manner. "The truth of it is that they may be even darker than they seem. For scriptures say that where envy and self-seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing will be there. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. If you are prone to judge look at these two and see."

"A bull has a place," said Mora, "and it is best to keep it out of the veggie patch but a butterfly can abide anywhere."

"Precisely," said William.

"May I speak what I know?" Roger asked.

"Certainly," said Michael. "Feel free to speak."

"I also have been trained in the way of the Mediators. While I have been his friend I did not feel comfortable with his teachings. I am afraid I was rebellious but patient. I knew that one day I was likely to become the Mediator and I could not do to this people what he was doing. I dreaded going in to leadership without knowing any other way. I tried to find out by reading but I was given so much other work to do. The writing of Gregory the Great were vague but I could see in it hints of mercy and a freedom we did not exhibit. I fear we were not being given the benefit of opportunities others might well have had. I believe there are actions he took that if people knew about them there would have been open rebellion. In all this time I supported his actions because I did not have the fortitude to stand against him."

"What sort of actions did he take," asked Michael trying to get to the bottom of it all.

"Lies. They are all lies," said Darius.

"Settle down Darius," Michael cautioned. "He hasn't even said them yet."

"One day I found this bottle," Roger said holding a small dark brown bottle with a dropper lid on it. "I picked it up out of the bucket in the well. I had never seen one like it but an account came through my files from a company with the same name typed on it as the bottle. There was only one person who had outside contact."

"Lies, I told you they were lies," defended Darius.

"Darius, let the man speak," said Michael. "What was on the bottle?"

"Simply the company name Bailey ACC. Unit 1 and this symbol."

Michael looked at it closely, "I'm not sure what that is. We will get it checked out."

Darius looking quite edgy by now suddenly left the room.

"He'll wait," said Michael and they finished the meeting without him.

Looking in his apron Mora found the very part he had been trying to find to fix the tap. Water is a funny thing especially under pressure, seemingly looking for the weak spots, the vulnerable places left by less competent tradesmen and with one almighty shove it bursts into the freedom it seems to so desperately desires. And it can be so very destructive, this one having carved its signature in the ground outside the cottage big enough to bury a small man. With the mains supply tap shut off he worked to replace the cross-threaded part.

"Perhaps there is a way of reducing the supply pressure," spoke the familiar voice.

"Hello Michael," said Mora looking up. "Made a mess didn't it."

"Sure did. Was it a faulty tap or something?"

"Poor workmanship I think," Mora confessed. "What is worse, I fitted it myself. Mrs Featherstone went completely mad at me. She said it soaked all her linen and the colours would run or something. She was hopping mad at this newfangled water business. I had to mop up myself to settle her down. She said she was happy enough with the old buckets then slammed the door as she left."

"We all make mistakes my friend. The trick is to remain teachable I think, instead of hardening up inside like Darius," Michael said. "If our opinion of ourselves gets the upper hand we are bound to fall sooner or later. The job looks near complete."

"There is still a lot of hidden work to do yet before we can start on the hot water systems. It"s going to cost a lot more as well."

"Don't I know it," admitted Michael. "I can't go on forever spending the inheritance on local amenities but I felt this was one of the things that could free us up from unnecessary time consuming jobs. With electric lighting and water on tap, life is just so much easier. We need to break a new barrier in outside earnings before we should go on to the hot water stage."

"We have been heating our water on the stove since anyone can remember so it's not a bother for us," said Mora.

"They will notice the difference when they can turn on a hot tap. Eventually they will take it so much for granted they will be screaming out for you to fix it if it fails."

"I know what you mean. I enjoyed those showers when we were out in the world looking for an heir. There were so many amazing things out there," said Mora looking a bit distant.

"Have you got sufficient stock to complete this stage of the water supply?" asked Michael.

"Yes, in fact there is surplus so you don't need to worry about the water system," Mora assured him.

"That is good," said Michael. "I do suggest you look at ways to reduce the pressure though because a blow out like this inside a home would be pretty messy."

"I will do that," Mora agreed. "Perhaps a supply point lower down the stream or a breaker point and tank or something halfway down."

"That sounds good. I will leave you too it," Michael said and as an afterthought called back, "Get some info from Pauli if you need ideas. He can find it on the Internet."

"Thanks," said Mora. "I'll see you later."

Michael literally bumped into Jones around the corner of the cottage puzzled at seeing him there. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be of on honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" puzzled Jones.

"A break away with your new bride. You know, a bit of getting used to each other in some special surrounding."

"I'm afraid we are not accustomed to having a break away. Life just centres around things here and that's the way it is. Where would one go on a break anyway?" Jones asked as they walked together towards the square.

"That is a very good point my friend. We will have to do something about that. Isn't there a place in this district that could be made a little bit special?"

"Like what?" asked Jones.

"Like a beautiful place where lovers can sit and enjoy nature, maybe swim and breath in new life," suggested Michael.

"There is a lake in the mountains," Jones pointed over the mines. "It takes a couple of hours to walk in to it but it is well worth it. It's wild and so beautiful. There are fish in the lake and deer in the forests."

"How big is this lake then?" Michael asked.

"It is big."

"Do you think we could build a cabin up there for people to take a break in for a few days or maybe even a few cabins where tourists could come and pay to enjoy the scene?"

"Maybe," said Jones. "I had better take you up there and you can see for yourself."

"Good idea, how about a few of us will go up this afternoon and do some thinking about the idea. Is there a good trail leading to it?"

"It is a little steep this side but once you are over the top its all gently downhill."

"We could build log cabins that melt in to the surrounding forest," Michael envisioned, "people could be taken in by helicopter or even horse trekking. We could earn some revenue from tourism and they would be far enough away not to effect our way of life."

"Would it change our special place though Michael?" asked Jones a little concerned.

"Only one small part of it my friend," said Michael assuring him. "I have seen it done in a way that made it feel and look better. The impact on the environment was negligible. It can be done well."

That afternoon Jones, Jacob and James led Michael into the mountains beyond the mines. The climb was steep and in no way negotiable by horse as it was. However with engineering things could be made much better, especially with a cutting angled to the two most promising ridges. Although it was hard it did not take long to ascend the range to the pass. As Jones had said the going was all downhill and less steep on the other side. Trees surrounded them all of the time with little opportunity to see beyond the canopy. Beneath it was carpeted with the small round dried leaves of the indigenous beech that dominated these mountains. The open nature of the forest at times lay testimony to the browsing of deer and occasionally their sickly sweet scent caught Michael's attention. It would seem they were prolific although never once did they show themselves as the party walked by.

Eventually the forest gave way to rough grasses standing almost as tall as a man covering an area of what looked like a river flat. The bright yellow flowers of buttercup made a striking show amongst the deep greenery. Deeply gouged dry water concourses from time to time impeded their progress lined with pebble beds exposed to the heat of the sun. They broke out onto the river proper following one of these for ease of access, its waters flowing at speed over a loose gravel bed. Jones paused for a moment, sweeping a cupped hand in the shallows to take up a drink. The others followed suit taking their time to enjoy the relief.

Jones continued on downstream leading the group, passing pools and bends, negotiating bluffs and logs jams but mostly wading in the gravel shallows for ease of travel. The tall grass fell away behind them and the river opened into a broad delta covered with feeding ducks, swans and smaller aquatic fowl all going noisily about their business. As they approached flights erupted on their wings except for the swans that seemed content to swim away rather casually. They had young in tow and were leading them off to safety.

The lake itself, or the part of it they could see, looked from a distance deep green but as they walked closer the water was crystal clear and cool. White sandy beaches could be seen in the bays across the water. The air was drinkable, fresh, the atmosphere definitely God-breathed. A plop caught Michael's attention and looking around to where it came from he saw a Kingfisher fly off the water's surface into a nearby tree. A swirl out further indicated a fish feeding beneath. It was busy with life and awesomely beautiful.

"This is an arm of the lake," said Jones. "You can see much more around the corner but still not all of it."

"This is fabulous my friend," said Michael. "But so overgrown. It's a wilderness. Are there some special places you could show us today?"

"Sure," Jones said, "but it is quite a distance on foot. There is a small dinghy over here we can use to go and check out likely spots."

Jacob and James had righted a small clinker craft painted white like everything else from the village with a pair of oars and room enough for all four. The lake was like a mirror, the mountains on the other side reflected in it perfectly. The entrance of the men disturbed the perfection momentarily until they rowed around the corner. The rich green forest came down to the shore, bowing gracefully, shading rocky outcrops and fallen logs, creating mystery about some dark recesses beside them. Now as the rounded the corner, the lake proper opened before them, a great expanse of water slightly ruffled by the fresh breeze now catching their dinghy.

On the other side, perhaps an hour's rowing or more away across the lake, was a towering monolith of granite and forest rising seemingly vertically out of the lake. Other shores were low green forested hills rolling back to bluish spinal ridges. Close by nothing but the shoreline trees could be seen. As they rowed further a bay opened to the left and a beach not more than a few hundred metres long came into view. Behind the sand a grassed flat overlooked the beach just big enough for a cabin to nestle in between the trees. Instantly Michael could picture it as an idyllic retreat from the hustle and bustle of the world.

"There it is Michael," said Jones, "It has to be one of the best sites around the lake. The small flow to the left is a spawning stream for fish in the lake. It is a very good place to catch fish and it has a lovely grassed valley it flows through which is good for walking."

"It is beautiful," Michael said awed by the scene. "Can you imagine a cabin made out of logs right up there above the beach Jacob?"

"I have never seen a cabin made with logs," said the carpenter, "but I can sure imagine it would be a good place to stay, that's for sure. How would you propose to get logs for construction? If you cut down trees nearby you would ruin the scene."

"I have been thinking about that also," said Michael. "I think we would have to select logs from around the lake and float then in here. In other places they take one tree out from here and there so that it doesn't look like any trees have been cut at all."

"Yes, that sounds like it might work," said James.

They changed course diagonally to the right across the arm they had come from. The area looked at first inhospitable until they had entered the arm far enough to see around some protective trees on a headland. Here again a small terrace of flat land could be seen to the left of a long narrow inlet tapering to a point at its innermost. This was quite protected from the breeze and as tranquil as anyone could imagine. Two waterfowl glided across it carving a long string of expanding ripples.

"My place," said the engineer. "It is called Jacob's landing since I had an incident here a few years ago."

"He was getting out of the boat and slipped," said Jones. "He fell and cracked his head on a rock. Spilt a lot of blood and we were quite worried about him for a while so we made camp here overnight. There are still the remains of a shelter we made on the terrace over there."

"I came right overnight and we walked out the next day," said Jacob. "The two of them were a touch afraid I wouldn't wake up and they'd have to carry me out."

"I can understand their concern," Michael said, "considering the tough hike it is back to the village. So is this it Jones, just the two sites for building?"

"No, there are several more but I'm not sure we want to go all the way around the lake today," said Jones. "There is one more to look at on this arm of the lake. I will take you to that one at on the way back."

They cut their way through the placid waters along the side of the arm and in to another inlet, this time being wider and steeper on the sides. It looked cold and foreboding with shadow from the tops behind covering the water.

"It looks better in the morning," Jones assured. "The sun is low at present but it is good up until mid afternoon. There is a small stream at the end with easy access to the water there. On top of the shelf to the left is a flat site covered in bracken that would be big enough to take a cabin. It has a different atmosphere; very moody compared to the others but an excellent base for hunters. Over the ridge behind it there are large clearings of swampy land where the deer love to wallow. I have seen groups of a dozen or more at a time in there and about seven great wetlands carrying hundreds of waterfowl.

They did not stay long, preferring instead to head back towards the village before darkness caught them out for the night. The potential was terrific with tall straight trees needed for cabin construction dotted all round the low hills. They were only concerned about one thing and that was the time it would take to selectively log and raft timber to a site with little other than manpower to do it. They would have to find a way to shift these heavy logs through the forest and onto the sites. They would need to overcome some specific engineering challenges so they would not create any ugly scars on the land. The only one idea Michael had was to fell and prepare all the logs then hire a heavy lift helicopter to airlift the logs into position. It would be very expensive but at present no other way seemed to jump up at him.

Jacob was however a very innovative engineer and time would tell if he were ingenious enough to devise a way. Unbeknownst to Michael his mind was already at work eliminating the obviously ineffective ideas and expanding on the possibilities. As they approached the trail that would lead them back out, his mind was hauling logs over the lower hills with rollers, winches and hawsers. Across the arm of the lake he had long ropes strung with trains of connected logs site bound and lifted on overhead pulleys.

The walk home was easier than the walk in, the trail lifting gradually to the top of the ridge then dropping steeply to the mines below on the village side. They discussed construction techniques and devised mental plans for water supplies and waste disposal. Michael knew well the log cabin look. He had a long held desire to build himself one, maybe now his dream would come true here in this wilderness near Ventura. It was near dark by the time they arrived and they went their various ways home. Plans needed drawing and ideas given due process before proposals could be put to the meeting. However Michael was convinced this was a starter, well worth the manpower required to get something established.

Chapter Twenty Two

Dealing With Fallen Leader

Sometimes house meetings would get underway as early as seven o'clock. People were eager to learn; at least most were. Some still preferred to stay the way they were and as far as Cindy was concerned if that was their preference it was their prerogative. Some were too old really for this type of education but age was no barrier to them if they wanted to learn. The method was not as academic as the world was used too, more a case of learning by experience. Cindy purposefully kept things applied to the life their people led. Her motto was simple "if it wasn't practical it was of no use teaching."

Simon, one of her main group of students, had quite a following in the house meetings. He was about twenty-five, dark and tall. The children gathered around him because of his witty and unexpected style. He was forever making them laugh and play. He even invented a game to speed up their learning. He had a natural gift to make learning fun and they were gobbling it up like chickens following a trail of breadcrumbs. Unofficially, as all things were recognised and conferred in Ventura, he became the primary educator, his status teacher, without any formal training, a natural and he loved it.

Another, a slip of a girl in her teens, showed talent early on but this time with the older villagers. Bonnie was one of those naturally gracious girls, slightly shy, serious and kind hearted. Her grandmothers had raised her and her affinity and genuine patience with the older generation had many of them gathering around her to learn. On one evening she repeated the lesson over three times for those who were struggling, and still she retained her smile. When asked why they'd gone so late she replied "but they really need the help." Such was the devotion of the teachers.

Michael was hoping that the pressure would calm down a bit for Cindy as the pregnancy developed but it never did. It was her own choice to pour herself out as she was and her energy level kept up to the task. His wife seemed to love what she was doing so much so that the energy sprung forth endlessly to meet the need. He admired her genuine caring and excitement at seeing her dreams realised before her eyes. A dozen times he had seen her flop in the chair then hearing the phone ring bounce up to float down the hill again to the village for one thing or another. Secretly he thought she thrived on the chatter that took place in the woman's circles. For whatever it was that satisfied her he was thankful; nothing would have been worse than to see her moping about the house in some melancholy dejection.

News came in to them of the safe delivery of the consignment of arts and crafts. Jones' product had been seen by a dealer of note and considered for special treatment at a gallery owned by Jean Claude Vivaron, notable for the establishment of some of the artistic giants of post-modernity. Permission was now being sort to display some of his work with other post-modern forms at the Vivaron Gallery within a few weeks. Michael had to talk it over with Jones. They met at Michael's house in the morning.

"Good news my friend," said Michael smiling broadly. "You look to be a star on its ascendancy. A man named Vivaron is asking to show your work as part of an exhibition of post-modern form. He is apparently very excited by your work, probably because it is outside of the mainstream of the current style."

"Does that mean that my work is different?" asked Jones.

"I'm not so sure that is what they are saying," said Michael, "but they are asking if they might display it with the others to see what sort of reaction the public will have about it. I guess that if they like it then the art world will also. If that happens to be the case, and I think it will be, then your work may attract prices far above anything we had initially imagined."

"That's good for Ventura," said Jones, "but what I don't understand is why?"

"In the world monetary value is applied to strange things at times. If it is rare and highly esteemed among men it becomes collectable and buyers compete for it at auction. They see its value in terms of what it might be worth in years to come. It becomes an investment that might rise in value many times over while they hold it in their possession.

"If it is destroyed in a fire it is worth nothing," suggested Jones.

"Don't worry they insure the item so that they get the money for it anyway."

"Let me try and understand this," said Jones, "there could be more money in single pieces than mass producing hundreds."

"If this happens the way I think it might and you become collectable," said Michael, "yes, that is exactly how you should play it. That rocking horse for instance is a piece of art rarely seen in the outside world. The pieces would become known by your name. "This is a Jones," they would say. How would you like that?"

"It sounds ridiculous but if it brings in what we need to help our village I will make some other pieces."

"Your signature is in your style," said Michael. "It is that difference which will make you a household name and carry Ventura with it. Establishing the name is everything. Let's give Vivaron the go ahead to price the items as he feels and hopefully establish your name in the marketplace. It sounds like he is the one person who could do it for us but we will have to negotiate a fair deal with him otherwise he may end up with more out of it than us."

"Would it be right to just use the Ventura name rather than mine?" asked Jones.

"I think it would better for us in the long term," said Michael, "but you personally will miss out."

"What am I without the others?" asked Jones.

"That's a very community minded notion my friend. It is hardly one many people would think of in this day and age."

"That is our way," said Jones. "It has been as long as I have been around. I can't heat water or cook our food if someone hasn't dug the coal for my fire. Why should my hours spent in the sunlight benefit me ahead of the other stuck underground, am I more valuable than he?"

"It is a pity the rest of the world can't see things that way," said Michael. "Greed hasn't reached this neck of the woods yet it seems."

"Can you reach the stars all on your own?" asked Jones. "Of course not, we do it together."

"As far as I am concerned let yours be the example then for everyone; not so much a co-operative but a community."

"But Michael the example has come from you already."

"How so?" he said slightly baffled.

"You poured your inheritance into the electricity, water and communications."

"I never saw it that way," said Michael. "I always saw the inheritance was from a man I never knew to all our futures."

"That is how I see what I have to offer," said Jones. "From our Father to all of us."

"You are quite something Jones," stated Michael very impressed with his friend. "You really have it sorted out."

"What do we really need that I don't all ready have?" Jones asked. "I have my wife, shelter, food, and a dream becoming fulfilled."

"You are so right but not many see it that way at all. They get so caught up in the pursuit of money they forget what is of real value. They think that with great wealth they will be more secure but really it makes them inclined to trust in their own strength which is contrary to the Biblical example."

"Let them do what they will but as for us," said Jones, "let us stay on the straight and narrow road."

"Indeed," agreed Michael.

Darius had gone missing from the meeting. All week Michael had wrestled with his troubled adversary in spirit asking himself repeatedly the question he couldn't answer, "What to do with Darius?" If he would only behave himself he could get on with the new project management. It was possible he had broken from the village and taken to the outside world but inside Michael could not figure that of this strong willed controller.

The knock at the door was the beginning of understanding what had happened to him. There Darius stood, leaner and seemingly humbled ready for what ever Michael decided to do with him.

"Darius, I was hoping you would come to see me," said Michael not sure about what was to follow. "Come in."

Darius did not speak. They sat in the lounge of Michael's house and in light of the old Mediator's state of disrepair brought out cake and coffee to revive him. Darius ate and drank slowly masking as best he could the near starved state he had obviously suffered. There was no telling what he had been through these last days but signs were speaking of him fending for himself out in the wilderness. Michael decided to take the charitable road, feeling somewhat sorry for the old leader.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Michael asked.

For the moment Darius was not forthcoming but slowly he thawed and words finally began to take form. "I have been thinking about things," he said.

"About us and where you fit in all of this?" Michael asked.

"I can not make it out there," Darius began as though a convincingly reformed character. "It is hard once being in control and then not being able to rationalise a thing. Sometimes in high places the view is so stunning you forget the hardship of being there. But then in the low places you can find it even harder."

"I know what you are saying. I also have lived in both places," said Michael falling further into compassion for this thorn in his side.

"I am like the prodigal son hoping there is even a morsel for me in my father's house," Darius said as close to begging as he could utter without saying he was sorry about his theft of wine or apologising for his appalling rudeness. He was playing as close to the boundary of the rules without actually stepping into the right side. Michael's first instinct was to nurture and Darius knew it.

"There is a feast I can prepare," said Michael, "but what assurances have I that you will not disturb the peace of this place again and throw the food in our faces."

"I know what order is. I have been doing a lot of thinking about it."

"I have need of someone to manage the new project, the essential oil trials and production to follow. I had hoped you might be willing to take it on with a few others to help you. I would like you to think about it and get back to me when you have decided."

"I also had hoped you might offer this position to me. I am the man for this project. I will make it happen for you all."

Michael was a little undecided about this man's genuineness; his words and body language didn't match. There was a slight hint of smugness, indifference or something contradicting the words leaving his lips. He was weary but what could Michael do, the only other option was a hard nosed eviction which was against everything he believed in. And the evidence wasn't in yet over the bottle Roger had reported found in the well.

Darius took over the essential oil project immediately and looked to be a changed man. With his two workers they set up a small laboratory in a disused cottage with all the necessary equipment. Distillation of the Gnarlybark leaf oil had reached trial stages. Under the leadership of Daruis his team achieved a result. The oil had a warm, glowing feel to the skin not unlike a muscle rub but without the strong smell. Instead the oil had a mildly sweet scent like maple syrup and true to old William's vision it burnt pure. Darius ordered more batches distilled to complete field trials and due to the efficiency of the distilling heads and easy collection of local raw material several hundred millilitres were forthcoming.

Experiments were conducted to determine healing qualities according to the vision. They found that the oil was taken in rapidly and indeed cuts and burns healed quickly without any signs of infection. The product had an anaesthetic quality that meant injuries lost their stinging edge quickly. It eased sprains and strains and was useful even as an antiseptic around the house. They had found a possible cure-all to add to the various potions and treatments available. Michael decided to seek accreditation to sell it as an over-the-counter medicine but because it was simply an essential oil the authorities suggested that it be listed simply as a natural health remedy. They named it Ventura RIO, short for Rapid Injury Oil.

With this testing phase finished, things were now ready for Darius to begin production proper. Heat generated by their poorer quality coal, now otherwise unsold and in large stocks nearby, generated steam to be forced over the leaf material thereby quickly vaporised the oil. As the steam condensed the lighter oil would separate and be bottled at over 98% pure. Utilising this method Darius suggested production potential to be limited only by the supply of leaf material at present being harvested by hand. If some way could be developed to machine harvest leaves the sky was the limit. Machinery was available out there but Michael was not all that keen to introduce engines, mechanics, parts and all of that business to the district. He hoped another solution might be found for the time being and gave it to James to think about.

James came up with the answer within two days. Based on the electric fan his plan was almost too simple. The metal fan placed against the foliage stripped leaf from the trees and blew the resulting diced material along flexible piping to a waiting meshed cage. One man could collect a whole day's production and transport cages of material to the plant alone where once many were needed. They had their system and began to build up to full production.

For a time this seemed to be satisfying Darius and more outbursts of drunken disorder were not occurring. They were sure his access to wine had been cut off but behind the scenes Darius appeared to be hiding something. Michael knew who he was up against and never underestimated the fact that he would eventually make another move. When it happened though Michael couldn't believe his ingenuity. As production had properly begun things eased off for Darius at the R.I.O. plant. He had more time on his hands and finally one morning he failed to appear at the plant. Michael feared he was ill and visited him at his cottage. A knock on the door failed to draw any response. He opened it and called out but again no reply. Inside the gloomy room there was no indication of life, just the strange odour of spirits, the methylated variety often used at he infirmary. With no indication of anything out of place Michael left again and asked around the village, finally calling on Sheela.

"Have you seen Darius by any chance?" Michael asked her.

"No, not at all," the nurse replied.

"Is everything all right here?" he asked noting all the new medicines and equipment on display.

"Yes, fine thanks," she replied. "Why?"

"You are not missing any methylated spirits by any chance?" he asked knowing that alcoholics have been known to drink the liquid with milk when they are desperate.

"I will have a look," she said, rummaging around in the storeroom. "No all seems to be in order. There are still two bottles on the shelf as usual and the quantity I keep in the surgery area looks intact."

"Keep an eye on it will you please," Michael said. "I thought I could smell meths in the cottage of Darius. That's all right then. Don't worry I must have been mistaken. The smell might have been left over from that incident with the spilt wine."

Michael quietly went around asking if anyone had seen Darius. Roger hadn't and neither had the others. He was becoming a little worried that he might have hurt himself but there were many places about he may have gone instead of straight to work. Finally he came across one of the boys who had seen Darius heading towards the mines early that morning. He went by Jones' studio and asked if he would go with him to try and find Darius, Jones being familiar as he was with the shafts. They went up together and asked at each of the working shafts but no one had seen him. Three poorer shafts had been retired and they checked those as well. There seemed to be no sign at all in the abandoned shafts. They were standing outside scratching their heads when they noticed a mist coming from a thicket of trees nearby. On closer inspection it seemed to be a mix of smoke and steam which was most unusual. Jones entered the thicket and just as quickly came out and indicated to Michael with hand signals and a finger across his lip to come in quietly.

"Have a look at this," Jones said quietly as Michael approached.

"Is he in here?" asked Michael.

"He's got a fire going," said Jones. "He seems to be asleep."

Michael entered with Jones. Brushing aside a scrubby branch saw Darius sitting on a chair in front of a steaming apparatus once part of the initial trials at the R.I.O. plant. The smell of methylated spirits hovered around them.

"God, is there no end to this?" Michael seemingly asked no one in particular. "He's brewing alcohol and looks to have passed out."

"What shall we do with this lot?" asked Jones.

"Just put the fire out and when it cools down we'll get it put under lock and key," said Michael tipping a jar of alcohol out on the ground. "This man is beyond help. I dread to think what he's going to come up with next."

Jones doused the fire, tipped over the steaming still to quench the embers and took the other arm of their fallen leader. He could not be fully roused but stepped forward occasionally with them as they half walked-half dragged him back to his cottage. There they dropped him on his bed and left him to sleep it off. He looked like it would be the next day before he came around and was good for anything. Most things they could solve but this one refused to come right no matter what they said or did for him. His sickness was now truly confirmed and obviously rooted deep inside him.

Chapter Twenty Three

Development Begins

It was eight in the morning. The adventure had well and truly begun. A cabin at the lake had been given the go ahead. Over the previous weeks trees had been felled around the immediate area of the lake's entry arm had been hauled on rollers to the waters edge. Much of their bark had been peeled away where they fell and the denuded and uniform logs were now gathered at the lakeshore.

Danny was in charge, another tall wiry miner with logistic skills far above his former low station in life. Long hawsers had been ferried across from the building site by dinghy and the first log attached for the winch to haul across. He looked long and hard at the devices set up to make the job possible. Above him a derrick arm reached out over the water carrying a hawser through a strong steel pulley. A huge winch drum carried very little hawser at present but by the time the logs began to arrive for the cabin it would be full. The winch, powered by a small engine, was especially brought in for the task. Danny pressed the starter button on the signal from across the lake, threw the lever and looked up to see the tension being taken up by the slowly revolving winch drum. The hawser came up taught, the engine laboured and the derrick creaked. Then, slowly, logs started to move from their assembly point out into the lake.

Three men ran the operation, the same ex-miners who had over the last few weeks felled and prepared the trees for the cabin. Gradually more and more logs joined the procession until a slow train were strung out nearly half way across the arm. Danny slowed the engine to ease the tension slightly; better safe than sorry. Damage would only cost them time. Noise from the operations shattered the pristine peace but they all knew it had to be for a little while.

The first logs now hugged the sandy beach ready to be lifted onto foundations prepared days in advance. This would be a three-room rectangle with sleeping quarters each side of a communal preparation and dining area. One at a time the logs were being lifted from the lake into place. Chainsaws had also been brought in by helicopter with the winch gear. Michael had trained men on their use and found themselves now cutting logs into shape. A team of builders under Jacob methodically stitched the logs together according to the pattern laid down by the plan. It was impressive to see the cabin take shape, log by huge log, no windows and doors at this stage, just a great rectangular box rising as the hours passed. The inner divisions were to be put in place later using sawn timber. The windows and doors cut where required and frames fitted accordingly. The derrick and winch were working perfectly hauling, lifting and placing logs.

Meanwhile parties had brought in supplies on horseback from the village across the mountain. Food and equipment arrived regularly and more helpers with it. The scene became a hive of activity with more than forty labourers and supporters on site during the day. Men were chipping logs and manhandling them to fit snugly together while others plastered the joints to ensure the weather stayed on the outside. Roof rafters and ridgepoles angled into the blue sky above making no sense at all at first but with purpose and precision they began to form the second level of the cabin. The roof space would become two more rooms elevated well above the lake with dormer windows facing the incredible view in front. They were building accommodation for around twenty people, a place that could offer the villagers a retreat in groups if they chose.

Michael had not been a part of this day's events. He had flown out with the chopper to conduct some negotiations with Jean Claude Vivaron following the success of Jones" initial introduction to the cream of the art world. Several of his works had caught the eye of collectors as predicted but along side of this Vivaron was determined to show his work again and this dictated some careful arrangements and contracts. On arriving at the airport Michael was met by a limousine. Gerry Williams-Burke his lawyer greeted him and suggested they discuss the situation on-route.

"Good to see you again Gerry," said Michael. "How long has it been, five months now since we met at the funeral of my father?"

"Was it that long ago?" the lawyer replied. "I guess it was. How time flies. How is everything at home?"

"It has been incredible," said Michael. "Progress has been amazing and the people have taken too it like bees around a sugar jar. I am humbled by it at times and excited about."

"Things have been going well for you elsewhere also," said the lawyer as they moved away from the airport. "Those shares of your fathers were not doing that well where they were so I took the liberty of shifting a few of the poorer stock around a bit. Happens to have been a good move and near doubled their value in these last few months."

"What are they worth now?" asked Michael.

"With the other stocks doing pretty well also on the rising exchange, less the expenditure you have made from cash reserves I believe you are worth about one point two to one point four million now."

"That's pretty good isn't it," said Michael smiling broadly. "I was under the false notion we had drained our reserves so much that the pressure was going to have to come on our export business. Someone up there is sure looking after us."

"This is all on paper you realise and it could be wiped out just as quickly if the bears come out. I am of the opinion that you need to think about protecting some more of it," suggested the lawyer.

"Tell me what you suggest then," said Michael.

"At present you have some long term Government bonds and they are as safe as it gets while there's good stable Government such as we have, but there might be some advantage to buy land and buildings with it that could earn rentals income. I have here a prospectus for an upcoming commercial development. They are seeking investors and the return is about twelve percent and the capital gain you make over the period of ownership.

"This development, just what exactly will it do for people?" asked Michael.

"It provides more commercial space in the city for business people."

"I know the inheritance is for one purpose," said Michael, "My father made it from helping people and it seems to me I should also help people with it. Admittedly it is helping the district of Kind but if we are to protect some of the investment it should be along the lines of assisting people who need help. I would say the help this man is seeking is to pad his own bank account."

"It is certainly a money generating project I'll admit," said the lawyer.

"I'll tell you what Gerry," said Michael, "The first desperate farmer that comes into your office for help to stay on their feet, you offer to buy their mortgage and give it back to them to run. That's what my father did and I don't see why I should change it. Land has always increased in value, after all they're not making any more of it are they?"

"If that is your preference then I shall do that for you," said the lawyer.

"Now, what about this business with Jean Claude Vivaron?" asked Michael. "Have you gone through the contract?"

"Yes, I have gone through it and I have done some research on Vivaron. The contract is workable but I have some reservations about his commission level and responsibility to Jones. We believe he needs some protection against some of the things Vivaron is known to get up too from time to time. He is good at what he does but he does it in the end purely to make as much money as possible."

"Do you have some specific changes in mind?" asked Michael.

"I think we should ask him to include a backdoor clause for Jones should he change his mind in the future and want to market some other way. I would suggest a term agreement of three years initially."

"What term is there now in place?"

"It is open ended," said the lawyer. "Vivaron has Jones for life according to this document."

"Thank you," said Michael. "I had not picked that up."

"Commission is a bit excessive at the level he mentions," said the lawyer. "Although initially he has some major costs to meet without sales. I do think thought that 50% is a bit rich."

"What do you advise?"

"We think that 50% would not harm Jones for a while but it should reduce too perhaps 33.3% and 25% progressively each year of the contract. Remember he is direct selling and Jones would be unlikely to get such generous prices without the elite contacts Vivaron has. It is our considered opinion that there is room to move anyway."

"We should negotiate around that then," said Michael. "Let's hope he sees things our way and he agrees to the three year term at least."

"Yes," agreed the lawyer.

"On another note Gerry, do you know anyone who might be interested in a bit of fishing and hunting at a totally untouched wilderness lake?"

"I might know one or two," said the lawyer.

"We are in the process of building a log cabin at this place. It is a real hideaway retreat and we'll have it ready pretty soon. I have seen plenty of deer sign in the hills, mallards and swans on the estuary and fish rising in the lake. They have never seen any pressure so they should be really great for those who are interested. The main thing is the lake; it is pristine with forest right to the water's edge, no speed boats or cars, no phone just a beautiful wilderness retreat. Access is only by chopper or on foot."

"Leave it with me," said the lawyer, "I know this guy who is a hunting and fishing guru, some sort of federation president. I will send out a few whispers,"

The negotiation with Jean Claude Vivaron went ahead as planned following lunch at the hotel. He drove a hard bargain, his contention revolving around commission in the second and third year of the agreed term. Finally it was determined to remain at 33.3% for the final two years with right of renewal following that possibly at the 25% level. His argument stood on his determination to fully expose Jones' work to the world and that would cost his gallery a significant amount even in the third year. Michael had the offer before him to view Jones work at the gallery. Since he had to stay the night anyway he accepted Vivaron's invitation also to dinner and cabaret. This was part of Vivaron's well-primed promotion machine at work.

The dinner was the finest and the entertainment excellent. By pure coincidence Michael bumped into an old school friend. They had much to talk about, reminiscing about their younger days and adventures Michael had undertaken. John Houston-Tyler was now a successful architect with buildings spread across the country and as it happened president of the World-wide Organisation for the Preservation and Restoration of Natural Wonders. Their conversation led towards the lake development.

"Michael that sounds wonderful," John said amazed at hearing of a newly discovered wilderness lake. "Thank God, this is just what the organisation has been looking for. You see we want to see how our current thinking on design and development effects the environment."

"You might be interested in our development then?" Michael cautiously asked.

"We have been looking for an environmental oddity like this for some time," he said. "They are pretty rare you know. The hope is that we could monitor just such an unspoilt ecosystem over it's period of development as a test case for setting viable developmental pressure limits in the future."

"Would this effect us in any way?" asked Michael.

"Not in the least," his friend stated. "In fact it could be worth a bit to you. Any research we do will have to use the cabin you have built and that would be a regular source of income. Just think of it, teams of scientists and observers flying in each month for the next five or ten years and they won't be shooting the deer or anything."

"That sounds like it could work but what happens if you find what we are doing contrary to your beliefs?" asked Michael. "Do you stop us from developing the way we want?"

"Let me ask you a question," said his friend, "What would you do if we found you were damaging the ecosystem?"

"Fair enough. I get your point, we would change what we were doing."

"Exactly!"

They exchanged e-mail address'. Michael knew he would be in touch. It had been a successful day of networking for the village with their prospects looking even better all of the time. The lakeside project looked like it was all ready beginning to take off. He did not sit easily with the high life though rather preferring to be in his humble home, eating humble food, with his humble wife. But it was all part of this adventure his life had become and he was grateful that he was not taken as too much of an oddity in the highly sophisticated surroundings. It was late when they both retired.

As soon as he could arrange a flight Michael was back in Ventura. Landing at their small runway meant a lot to him, not least the ease of access compared to his original tramp in or their horseback return, but also the freedom to afford such comparative decadence. Yet there was little other choice apart from a long river boat journey that would cost as much. He had wondered if the purchase of a jet boat or some such amphibious craft might be useful for the district. But it had been only a passing thought with really not a lot of merit. There was an aversion deep within him to engines and machinery for the district. It just made life that much more complicated at present.

No one came to meet him, it was like arriving home from the office and finding a note from the wife that dinner was in the warmer. The plane took off again and he walked the lonely distance across the fields to his home on the hill. His business now successfully concluded he placed the brown leather satchel on the office desk and loosened his tie. He checked his e-mail to find two entries, some junk mail and a note from his architect friend John saying "Parties interested. Would like to bring three others in ASAP. Please advise availability of cabin. Would $1,000.00 be ok for two days? Arrive by chopper with all needs onboard. Regards, John."

Michael clicked on "Reply" and making space at the top of the message wrote, "Sounds great. Will advise completion with furniture. Think it will be ready within the a few weeks. Regards Michael." And hit send.

He put his face in his hands, tired and humbled, gave thanks in a deep sigh as a tear rolled out of each eye. This was the first moment he felt the intimacy of faith for some time. The battle of the task in front of him had precluded such reflection. He thought of how blessed everything was and had been, the wonderful advances and speed of development, how Jones was realising his dream and how good that felt for him personally. It was like he was flying after years of being left stuck in the remote nest, getting ready for the life as a master of the skies. His wilderness years had been painful for him, when nothing he tried came to anything and derision seemed his only bedfellow. This thanks was a deep emotional relief, a sigh from the core of his heart, where he began to let go of some of his inadequacies. Being a little man had been only slightly above being the smallest boy in his class of bullies.

Cindy came in.

"Hello dear. When did you get in?" she asked.

"Just a short while ago," he said rising and giving her a deep hug.

"Was it by aeroclub charter."

"Yes. Smooth as a whistle. Felt like I was a member of the jet set."

"How did things go?"

"Good. I have missed you too dear," said Michael not wanting to go over it all again just at that moment. They kissed instead. It was beautiful. He felt like he had just run across an old friend in the street, like it was by chance and the moment was so amorous. It was almost naughty, that mother might come in and catch them. But the prize was before them begging to be seized. They were both willing and it was okay. The risk was exciting. They were in love and had permission to make the most of it.

There was no sunset, or rearing stallions on the horizon, but there might as well have been for all they knew. Their compromised state of dress suddenly became embarrassing as Adam and Eve might have felt in the garden. It was okay to be this way in private but if anyone should walk in it was not all right. They fastened their fig leaves, recovered their dignity and got on about their duties as if nothing had happened. Occasionally they turned and smiled at each other, clasped hands warmly for a moment or two and kissed excitedly.

Their lives had melted together with one purpose in mind and the growing tie of the unborn child now beginning to make its presence felt in the world. Together they prepared a meal with that wonderful local wholemeal bread. Two blue and white English china plates were set out and, unlike the habits of the villagers, two ornate knives and forks, a tall set of salt and pepper grinders set with some whole grained mustard in a dish, perfectly brinned corned beef sliced on a platter and rich yellow butter. A treat just the two of them when life had been about everyone else. Soon their lives would be full of their baby on top of that and they were excited about it knowing this was a passing moment for two.

"Do you know Honey," Michael said, "really we are not here for ourselves. The greatest compliment is to be appreciated by others. To be there for others must be what we are here for. It feels good but it also feels like you are giving away something precious, like moments to yourself."

"Yes, but that's love isn't it?"

"What? Michael failed to understand.

"Love is about giving yourself to others, not because you have to but because you want to. It's saying I give up myself because I care about you."

"It's about striking the balance where you get enough for yourself and yet yield enough for the others. Sometimes I feel bound by the position to yield up myself to them."

"Ah, but that's them taking from you, that is different," his wife said. "Sometimes you have to in effect say no."

"But I don't want to be someone who says no. Or hasn't got time for them."

"If you feel like you are being used don't get on board. If it feels you should but you don't want too excuse yourself. If it feels good ride the train. That's what my mother says"

"I think I love you more than ever," Michael replied. "Sometimes you come out with the most extraordinary things."

They kissed again and prepared for their trek over the hills to survey and stay at the cabin. They would leave in the afternoon.

As he rounded the bend his eyes took in the new cabin gently blending into the surrounding trees. He wanted to be there when the helicopter brought his friend's party and make sure all was as in place to afford their comfort. It was as though the building was still cooling down from the heat of activity required to get it finished; steam rising from the roof though was probably more to do with the sun evaporating the overnight dew. Cindy turned now as he rowed closer to the patch of white sand that separated the greens of the lake and grass. The roof had also been a profitable perch for a heron that alighted from there. Timbers looked young and brown before the greying that takes place with weathering, the shingles reddish brown as their natural timber, doors and window surrounds painted white. The cabin was of classic style, log ends protruding uniformly with white weatherproofing in between. A veranda right across the front afforded an all weather outdoor feel with wide French folding doors allowing access across the whole central room. Two dormer windows protruded from the shingles above in balance with a stainless flue rising in between.

They had chosen to spend some time there alone at the suggestion of the planning group, first to christen the place as their appointed right. Above the beach a lift of a metre or so placed them on close-cut rough grass. Wounds were still visible of the recent work but astoundingly they had managed to make it look established with transplanted shrubs and a few pots of flowering annuals each side of the door. A pile of log ends, chips and sawdust had been tucked away almost out of sight at the rear, some had been effectively used for paths and mulch between the shrubs. A picnic table constructed was positioned right at the edge of the small drop to the beach.

Inside the timber fragrances were filling the air. It was fresh and open. A long dining table ran down the middle with solid wooden chairs. A stainless steel sink top ran across the back with gas heated hot or cold stream water. A gas hob and oven set against the wall to the left, a pantry and shelves on the wall to the right. Through the door on the left was a bunkroom with a table and sleeping for eight, well lit by two large panoramic windows. Through the door to the right a passageway with an exit door at the end and two rooms opening from the middle front and rear. They were identically furnished with two beds, shelves for clothing, a small table and two chairs beside.

Separate stairs each side of the dining room led to the two suites above. These were each furnished with a double bed and dresser, two chairs and a small table. While not spacious they could easily be promoted as romantically intimate and the one right of centre Cindy chose for them to occupy. They spent a romantic evening, having dined on chicken and roast vegetables, in each others arms gently swinging the love seat on the veranda and watching the sun go down over the lake, the forests ebbing away from their vibrant greens to blue and finally to deepening shades of grey. Every thought had drained away with the fading light, every little worry or concern vanished and as the stars came out in the warm evening sky they just drink in their majesty. In the morning they would welcome the first guests, who could imagine what future they would hold, right then they couldn't have cared.

Chapter Twenty Four

Tourists and Deports

Michael had risen early remembering the joy of a face washed in an early morning handful of cool stream water. There is something about the woodsman in him that appreciated the authentic commune that actions like it evoke. A landing pad beside the stream mouth needed to be checked; all was in order. A brief stroll up the narrow waterway soon opened into grassy flats behind the cabin. A doe looked up for a moment, squeaked briefly and joined her fawn to disappear across the stream. Further up as he walked a young stag watched and browsed intermittently seemingly unaware that humans could be a danger, then again, perhaps he was visually challenged.

Meanwhile Cindy had barely washed the sleep from her eyes and dressed herself in something more respectable for the day. Their plan was to use the dinghy to explore the lake before the visitors arrived. She refreshed herself with a brief hot shower, made coffee and sat on the veranda awaiting her husband's return. The sun hadn't arrived in force as yet, just bringing daylight and an eerie mist over the surface of the lake. A pair of swan's drifted across in front of the cabin carving a wake in the steamy mirror below her. She shifted to the picnic table for a better view of her husband returning along the beach thinking about the dream.

Two more deer sprung from the grassy flats as Michael strolled further up the stream. A large fish lay effortlessly gliding at the tail of a pool on the first corner, sucking invisible flies from the unruffled surface, leaving slowly widening rings. Birdsong of only a twitter and a warble blended together to make a perfect chorus in the early morning stillness. It was cool in the shadow of the forest giants around him, the bracing chill of a slight breeze at times raising tell tale goose bumps on his bare arms. He turned and retraced his steps to join his wife.

The coffee was mildly warm at best by the time he returned. Too eager to explore the lake some more he downed it in one major gulp followed by a second tip for the dregs. The dinghy was eager and rowing swift across the arm in the mist. The sun broke cover and with a sudden burst they were surrounded by brilliant light and heat where the shoulder of the arm met the main body of water. The lake spread for miles each way; where it's sleeping head lay the sun had yet to make its presence felt. The slurp and plop of a fish rise alerted them and they turned to see its rings spreading ever so slowly wider. The surface mistiness waned to reveal perfect reverse images of brightly coloured granite mountain peaks ahead. Everywhere there was water and forest. They were there alone drinking it into their souls, becoming one with the masterpiece, an original painted perfectly in that moment of eternity. How precious it felt to be there for even a moment such as it was. They sat there still for sometime spellbound, afraid their human efforts might damage something so perfect. The approaching whirr of the chopper broke it instead. They should return.

After the noise and flying leaves had settled Michael welcomed his friend John and guests. Representatives of the World Wide Organisation for the Preservation and Restoration of Natural Wonders had arrived to take up their watch, at least begin the long process of being an environmental watchdog. Michael was a bit sceptical but he trusted his old friend John implicitly. Michael introduced his wife to his friend and his friend then introduced a Doctor of Earth Sciences and his student lady friend researching a Masters thesis to be entitled Wilderness landscapes, the value of ascetics. Then he introduced Annette, also a student of environmental science who had been John's partner for the last three years.

They were made comfortable and their extravagant food supply was stored in the pantry. Cindy showed the girls around, making them familiar with the kitchen and facilities at the rear. One Scandinavian composting toilet outside serviced all of the guests; any odours kept at bay with of all things a handful of grass. The sink and shower waste went into a large soak hole with a grease and sludge trap to protect it from accidents. All in all it was a very environmentally friendly system with no demands on the surrounding land, forest or lake. Cindy finished their tidy-up and they prepared to leave their guests alone for two days.

John came out with Michael to return the dinghy to the cabin. While in transit Michael filled him in on what local knowledge he had, which wasn't much, but at least they were familiar with the layout of the lake and where the now marked track to the village was if they required help. With a little apprehension Michael and Cindy left John there to row back to his party at the cabin. They had a couple of hours walk ahead of them and Cindy was getting well on in the pregnancy. They would make several rests and be home by lunch. It was satisfying for them to see the white clinker boat calving its way out into the glassy waters but at the same time it evoked a sense of loneliness, as if it were they who had been left in the wilderness. A shiver came over them.

"Did you feel that too?" said Michael.

"Yes, what was it?" Cindy relied.

"I feel like we just gave away this place into someone else's hands."

"We probably did," Cindy rationalised. "Scientists are great ones for theories and theories can twist peoples thinking no end."

"I wonder who really owns this place?" Michael said as they walked up the track. "I must make some enquiries and secure title in case some bright spark comes in here with a bulldozer and puts up a whole bunch of ticky-tacky housing."

"Isn't that what these people have come up here to protect it from?"

"Supposedly, but you never know. Someone could discover gold or something, or start clear felling a bunch of forest at the other end. I would like to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You know when you were taking a walk this morning," began Cindy as they walked the track together.

"Before sun up you mean?"

"Yes. I had this recurring thought about my dream."

"What's that," said Michael, "a dream you had last night?"

"Just as I was waking. I was frightened a bit. I am not sure what to make of it."

"Tell me about it then. Maybe there is some meaning in it for us."

"It's a bit strange. You were directing traffic and cars were driving along in front. Then there was a crash and the driver's door closest to us sprung open. A crash helmet fell out of the car and rolled across the pavement to our feet. And here is the strange bit; there was a fish head in the helmet gasping for breath. Then you went to comfort two women we knew standing beside us but they weren't at all shocked by it."

"That's strange," said Michael. "I happened to be watching a large fish rising on flies in the stream about that same time. I was actually thinking to myself what a large gaping mouth he had."

"That's weird," Cindy responded. "What could it mean?"

"I guess in my leadership role I do indeed direct traffic," said Michael. "The car is perhaps symbolic of people going places on the world and the helmet speaks of salvation to me. What the fish head means…"

"Jesus spoke of making his disciples fisher's of men," Cindy volunteered.

"Perhaps a lost soul who looked like being saved," suggested Michael. "Do you know who comes to mind straight away - Darius."

"Our big problem child," said Cindy stopping and turned to Michael. "What on earth are we going to do with him?"

The trail had risen gently now for some time. They stopped for a short recess picking on a mix of walnut pieces, seeds and dried fruits. They drank freely from a water bottle and looked down the trail from where they had come. The sun had penetrated the canopy leaving a dappled light with the occasional bright patch on the dry leaf carpet on the forest floor. They both could have been deep in thought but actually they were just staring into the void. Inspiration came to Michael as boldly as the yellow ribbon on the trees marked the trail home.

"Salvation and apathy were in the same scene," said Michael. "The beheaded fishes helmet didn't save him and the ladies couldn't give a rat about it. What's the bet Darius is under a false illusion of salvation, a false religious belief and we have been letting it go on."

"His god sure seems to be located in the bottom of a bottle," said Cindy. "The demon drink is idolatry for sure!"

"Who really has salvation anyway?" asked Michael profoundly rising to complete the ascent. "I mean, how do we knew, any of us? I think we need to do some work on that when we get back. I will have a talk with William about the state of our faith in the village. Let's leave nothing to chance."

They crested the ridge and dropped quickly towards the mines, praying as they walked for God to be complete in the village. They thought and prayed about each person one by one, each child, each grandmother and grandfather, and of course their preoccupation with Darius. The mines came and went and the lower hills and the stream passed, finally they were again home, tired but revitalised.

Darius was not kindly disposed to visitors at that time. He preferred his privacy, even the solitary life of a hermit bachelor. Somehow he was maintaining his tea-total life style but he wasn't happy. His grumpy retorts were becoming legend; friends had all but deserted him. Roger as ever remained the loyal servant, perhaps because of his long association with his boss, perhaps because he knew everyone deserved at least one person no matter how bad they were.

So the day William, Cindy, Michael and Jones called on him they found it difficult. Darius was understandably nervous at such an advancing deputation, highly suspicious of their motives and cowering in his cottage as if hidden in a cave deep in the mountains. The knock on the door was cheery but the lack of response ominous. They knew he was there, Jones had seen him enter earlier. He opened the door and called out.

"Darius," he called. "Are you in there Darius."

Six long seconds of silence followed before the grumpy subterranean voice of the occupant trolled out orders.

"Get away from my doorway!" said Darius. "Who do you think you are coming at me like this?"

Jones was a little taken back by this. It sounded like the old days of the Mediator's draconian reign when fear seemed to shiver its way through his jelly like frame. He ushered Michael up to the doorstep to speak instead.

"Do you mind if we come in Darius?" Michael asked.

"Yes," came the retort. "I do mind. Go away and leave me alone!"

"We are coming in anyway you old fool!" said William storming past the others without an ounce of tact. "We have come to get you out of your cave!"

They followed William in to a flying bottle hurled across the room and smashing against the door post. William never flinched. Cindy let out a short scream. Jones hid behind Michael who was protecting his wife. William took the next bottle out of the villain's hand before he could do any real damage and opened some curtains to let the darkness out.

"Sit down you fool!" William ordered. "We are going to walk you through this and come out the other side into the light."

"Leave me alone!" Darius snarled. "Leave me alone!" It sounded like someone else speaking, low demonic voices spitting and hissing words like darts and spears belonging to some long forgotten tribe of natives with blowguns. William knew exactly what he was doing. He began to speak in equally foreign tongues, addressing the alien invaders directly with words even he did not understand. It shut them up.

"What's happening William?" asked Cindy coming out of her initial shock.

"There are more than a few inside this one," said the old seer. "I reckon we are in for a long session here. Why don't you go away a bit and pray a covering intercession for us. Michael, you are our authority figure so you will need to stay with me at the front so to speak. Jones, I think you need to be a rear guard. Be prepared in case he goes down. Catch him!"

Darius was shaking, his eyes scared and looking nervously at each person in turn, trying to find a way out. He started to rise but Jones held him down by applying weight to the shoulders. But he felt a shock as Darius reeled around, then snarled at him. William drew his attention.

"Who are you? William asked directly of the trapped man.

"Leave me alone man of God!" snarled the grotesque voices like running waters from deep in his throat.

"You need to know that Michael Ogden is the appointed authority in this district," said William. "He has been appointed by the people and by God to lead us all. There is no other force or power or principality that has reign over Michael under the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord of lords. What he commands you must obey!"

The room seemed to darken, whether by evil or clouds blocking the sun outside no one knew. Cindy in fear redoubled her intercession. Michael looked at William screwing up his face with uncertainty about what to say. William just eyeballed towards the ceiling indicating that God was the one he should wince at and ask for assistance. It came.

"Dark spirits," said Michael more authoritatively than was his usual style. "Dark spirits there is no place for you here. There is no place for alcoholism. There is no place for theft, deception or any other demonstrative behaviour like we have been seeing through this man. I am not allowing you to stay here anymore. I know who you are and command you leave this district and go across the river to the waste places and never return to this place again."

The sound of many running waters came forth like laughter. "Who do you think you are son of an unmarried deranged woman? You make me laugh!"

William took it that they were up against a stubborn adversary who may be deceiving them. He closed his eyes and prayed in the Spirit to determine the truth. The word he was getting was "LIER". He knew exactly what that meant for Satan himself was the father of all lies.

"Let the destroyer be bound!" William called out unwilling to believe just yet that Satan in person was bedevilling Darius. "Let him be bound with strong chains!"

Darius became rigid and lifted as his back straightened. They could see his lips tightly sealed, unable anymore to speak a word. The quivering remained to a lesser extent and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of his chair. Cindy redoubled her efforts to summon angelic assistance in the room. The light returned.

Jones was praying in a whisper behind, eyes open with arms raised towards heaven. Suddenly he was overtaken and a power raced through his being. He quivered and moaned and toppled towards Darius, laying his hands on their former leader's back to break his fall so suddenly that the room exploded as if he had launched into outer space. Something had!

It was a moment or two before anyone knew what had happened. Darius had slumped forward and, devoid of any energy to do otherwise, sprawled over the floor and Michael's shoes. He seemed to be kissing his feet, at least ankles and lower legs above the shoes. He was. He had been prostrated before Michael dealing with the change in leadership. He was moaning in something close to his old voice but the words escaped the others, only known to him.

"Thank you Father," prayed William repeatedly.

The others followed his lead as they each gathered their wits again. Michael reached down and lifted his old adversary to his feet. Darius was sobbing, his pride broken completely.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," said William not holding back from pouring prayer into the situation, "I baptise you, fill you and overflow you with the Spirit of God. Walk upright in the name of Jesus Christ from this day forward and for ever more."

Darius turned and took a long embrace from each in turn. Jones did not even hesitate, the surge of power that had run directly from heaven through him and Darius had taken away the old pain and he knew true forgiveness in his heart. He was still sobbing like someone traumatised but with a smile for the first time lighting his features. They stayed for quite some hours comforting him and singing psalms and spiritual songs. They broke bread, not in a ritual way but simply to fill the emptiness with togetherness, and poured from the tap into cups clean spring water now readily available. Darius drank and ate together with the others for the first time in months. His illness had kept him from them.

The Lord is my shepherd, the old style hymn, came to him. He sang the words "He makes me down to lie, in pastures green he leadeth me, the quiet waters by. I now understand those words," said Darius excitedly. "I feel like I understand it now. It's like, like I am another person, like I have been given a new mind."

"Some put it another way my friend," said Michael. "They refer to it as being born again. It is a new start in a fresh way of thinking. Everything will look different from now on. Not so much with your eyes but the way you perceive things. Where once you despised, now you will love. Where once you took for granted, now you will appreciate. Christ changes everything. You will make mistakes, we all did in the early days, but as time passes and you grow up in Christ you will look back and see what He has done and be amazed."

Michael and Cindy slipped away to let Roger know what sort of fire was now kindled in his friends heart. He was a little bemused but immediately went to his friend's side. Little did he know how contagious the fire was and received himself sparks that set on fire the passion in his own heart. One by one others heard of this great miracle and made the pilgrimage to the small cottage at the end of Blackbird Street. Over the next hours God made up for more than the dastardly deeds of the former Mediator by using the fire and anointing on him to minister to his once downtrodden people. He had become a spiritual man possessed even if temporarily of the Holy Spirit rather than the unholy one. Though the anointing ceased to flow later that night the fire remained in his heart for the things of God. He turned to scriptures and ravenously devoured the milk within turning once unintelligible parables into pearls of wisdom, proverbs into nuggets of gold and psalms into delights of poetry and prose. Now he knew what it as that Isaiah was on about and bothered to read the other stuff that he once had no time for.

A change took place that day in the village. Ventura had structurally changed already and physical changes were taking place but up until that day its spirituality had remained much the same, albeit with superficial renewal. The fire that came upon Darius that day would never fully be quenched. It was not well stoked from time to time but the embers never failed to be able to rekindle the flame. Generally speaking the religious compulsion of church disappeared and in its place a wave of ecstatic fervour grew. People became excited about the spiritual side of the things of God even the mystical and the miracle of Darius was never forgotten. He was given a new name, one given in love by the people to any one loved as one should be, that he would be known by in future. It grew on them all after a by-the-way comment from Michael one day after remarking what he had become like; his nick-name became Ted, short for the grizzly bear that had become loveable.

Chapter Twenty Five

Holidays and Tourists

A piece of nostalgia had been found fully restored and brought to Michael's attention through his friend John who stayed in the cabin. He had returned three times with various researchers and other interested environmentalists. The idea was to have available a vessel that could sustain its activities on the remote lake without the risk of diesel oils or petrol getting into the water. It was a steam vessel about ten metres long with vanished woodwork and brass fittings on a white painted hull with red trim. She was named Adventurer as it happened and it seemed right to retain that name. She had been fitted with the wood fired boiler so common to vessels of her vintage and supported with gas preheat in the boiler. Her cabin was able to comfortably seat ten on benches and at a push rated for fifteen.

It was on the morning of her arrival by heavy life helicopter that the whole village, at least those who could walk over the mountain, made their way in to the lake. She was magnificent and dipped straight into the deep green waters beneath a series of strops holding her aloft. They sagged as her graceful hull's buoyancy took her weight and with the release of the webbing cradle she was free, floating and ready for service. A pale plume of the gas fire rose from the single black funnel and before long the native wood fire turned the emission a little grey. She moved forward and turned towards the Villager's who had gathered at the delta end of the arm.

The people gingerly lined her handrails and overloaded the cabin to ferry them the short distance around the arm to the cabin site. They had never seen such a thing before let alone taken a ride. There eyes were big and with each roll of the hull they felt a new anxiety. However in three trips all had been moved successfully, the last taking a scenic ride out into the lake proper where they saw for the first time the awesome grandeur of their own wilderness gem. Few had even ventured this far in the long history of the village, especially the women and young. She was a simple vessel to operate, just a matter of keeping the boiler stoked with seasoned wood and releasing the pressure in the wheelhouse according to the speed required. Before long one of the villagers had mastered the skills required and took the helm from the temporary captain. He kept the Adventurer on course with passenger swaps periodically, exploring the lake for the whole day. The weather was more than kind and many streams and natural oddities were explored repeatedly. First the waterfall that cascaded directly into the lake from the granite cliffs, then dragon-like sandstone rocks unusually cut by wind and weather, then the outlet where the lake waters quietly entered a canyon with walls higher than the tallest trees.

Michael was most pleased with the people's response to the steamer. They obviously enjoyed it, their eyes as big as saucers, smiles from ear to ear and chattering continuously like a flock of mallards at lunch. Cindy and he stood back like parents often do when their children are contentedly at play, enjoying the sight of their people having fun. This was the first time they had broken out of the shackles of everyday village life and the experience was almost Mardi Grass. Without the ties of conservatism that the village espoused they were as adventurous as any people in the world, there was hesitation at first but with that hurdle of fear over they threw themselves into the occasion with almost reckless abandon. Pampas plumes were a favourite to be waved about in the breeze created by the vessel advancing up the lake. Those on shore danced about playing games of one sort or another.

Several fish were caught and split open on the grill to be picked at by all and sundry. They were quite large and went a long way with salads, bread and fresh pancakes rolled up for lunch. Michael knew things had not been like this before. The former reign of the Mediators seemed to lack any fun altogether. Various individuals came up to him during afternoon and commented on this new thing that was happening.

"This is an amazing thing Michael," said William. "I have not seen this type of joyous expression in the people before."

"I hope to make it a common thing my friend," said Michael. "People in the world work to play where the village has tended to just work. Everything seems so serious and they never have a holiday."

"A holy day did you say."

"Yes, a day or series of days when the people enjoy God's creation. Most workers in the outside world expect to take three or four weeks off each year to go to the seaside or mountains so they get a break from continual service. It allows them a special time to look after themselves and their families, to invest in their mental and emotional good health, to take up re-creation."

"Is this not dangerous?" asked William. "Could one get lazy and not want to return to service after so long?"

"It has that effect but people usually get back into the routine of their work again and anticipate their next holiday. Usually a three day weekend every three months or so, at the time of special Christian events like Easter and Christmas. Then some take a week here and there to attend things they would like to enjoy like winter skiing or an overseas visit."

"Are you contemplating the establishment of this holy day system here?" asked William.

"It's not so easy when the individual has no income as such," pondered Michael. "But we now have this facility for people to take time out to stay in. This is a part of the plan but they should by rights have the freedom and choice to travel into the world if they wish. I am not sure how I can help them with it. We would need revenue that can be diverted to the individual for that purpose and at present we do not have it. Internally the absence of money is a good thing. I believe it works better than if each earned their own cash income because some get more than others and it causes a social division between those who have and the have-not's."

"That would not be good," said William. "We are made equal before God and the village is all one. There is no hurry that is for sure. The people have not been accustomed to holy days and therefore will not be concerned."

"It is a basic human right in this world in which we live nevertheless and it must be addressed," said Michael gazing long out into the lake.

"I understand," said William now being called away.

Sheela replaced him.

"How are things with you," Michael enquired to keep up with developments at the infirmary.

"There is a lot of new things to learn."

"Are you coping all right with the changes?"

"As long as someone doesn't come in with a new one on me. Generally the health of our people is good. I dread the day I have to do my first surgery. I hope I don't get half way through and forget something important."

"Don't worry about it. Anything major will be flown out to hospital," said Michael reassuringly plucking a little more of the tasty fish on the grill. "You just need to know how to deal with the minor surgery items."

The cutter was returning, almost ready to end its day conducting tours of the lake. The first load of Villager's would next be ferried to the delta and the track end. The weather had been brilliant and except for a ruffle on the lake cause by the slight breeze nothing could have been more perfect for them all. The cabin had provided a centre for their outing and Adventurer their entertainment. They all seemed to go away drunk with the scenery or at least fortified in spirit. It had been a memorable day out.

Developments on the trail in to the lake began after that day. Everyone wanted to have easier access to their retreat. Those that were unable to walk the distance felt disappointed and stirrings began for works to be undertaken. It was to be a major undertaking but a roadway was envisioned with a tunnel through the ridge top to lessen the climb necessary on the village side. They were skilled with the pick and shovel and this task was very important, more important than coal some felt. On their days off from the mines, teams blew holes and tunnelled their way through a hundred metres or so of rock like men possessed. Others worked on the approaches blowing great bluffs away that impeded their easy access. Many Saturdays were given to the roadway and weekdays when they could afford the time off.

Soon the access was made complete with the excitement of hole-through. Within hours a cart was taken through and delivered less athletic villagers access to the lake and their cabin. Again Michael wondered about vehicles and how simple it would be to have an all terrain vehicle transport people to the lake. But he still had reservations. There was something quaint about a village without motorised noise as long as they could get by without it.

People began to take overnight breaks away to the cabin. In an ordered fashion Cindy and Michael made room for requests between outside guests using the facility. Four parties from outside flew in to use the cabin each month. They enjoyed their retreats very much and word soon spread far and wide so that bookings were being taken six months in advance.

Another attraction began to develop as more and more people saw the village and learnt of its unusual nature. Flights of a few passengers each time came in for day trips to visit Jones studios, buy and mingle with locals in everyday life. Ventura was gaining a portion of their fare from the charter service for rights to land on their runway. The tourist trade was looking like earning them a substantial amount through the season.

Michael decided it was time to begin introducing some who wanted to the outside world and to the few he made every endeavour to satisfy their curiosity by personally escorting them. What did not surprise him was the culture shock they experienced and inevitable desire to return home as quickly as possible. They were not after-all that keen to join the world but rather to make theirs a better one. After several exhausting forays into the outside world interest waned considerably. Two did however leave on a regular basis and eventually found some comfort in the world outside. The couple had holidays in various places and came back to tell of their adventures. They became ambassadors of Ventura spreading news of their homeland wherever they went. Theirs was a natural interest in anthropology, in peoples and cultures so that they brought back many different ideas and customs to show their friends. Generally the people were interested but not so that they wanted to join them. It never fully made sense except hat supposedly their traditional lifestyle was so part of them that the difference was too great to enjoy the outside world.

The type of people coming in to Ventura at first were those seeking to know a bit about this style of art now being promoted from the Vivaron Galleries. Arty people searching around for treasures to set them apart from the others, collectors getting in at bargain basement prices or so they hoped. The name was drawing them but gradually another class of tourist came forward seeking the other art form that was being presented. They were alternative lifestyle people seeking the Ventura way. Here a people existed without an internal monetary system, it was novel in the western world. Questions abounded; how could it be done? How could it be reproduced elsewhere so banks no longer held traditional sway over them?

Some even wanted to stay, or so they said. The idealism raptured them but as time passed they found the materialism they had become accustomed to far too big a mindset to let them go. After all who could imagine not leaving when the urge took them to gain some personal therapeutic gains from retail pursuits. As Cindy put it bluntly, the Cappuccino sect failed to assimilate with the herb tea brigade. Who could cope with pumpkins in stalls without charge anyway? Their plastic card had no more personal power than the local cats. In fact the later held sway over most. It was not unlike introducing oil to water.

One spin-off however was to see the Venturans become much more outgoing. They began to lose their innate shyness and made a name for themselves as the most hospitable people anywhere. Much of this owed its origin to the lack of tourist facilities and the need for a meal or hot drink from time to time. Because these things were not purchasable in the square people took them into their own homes for refreshment, not realising that this was not the custom elsewhere. Since there was no cost to the individual they were free to give it away. Michael saw no reason to change this at all; in fact he saw it could only be good for the district.

Hunters came in to seek out the unusual deer in their parts. A subspecies had developed with exceptional antlers for their type. Trophy hunters soon caught wind of the find and booked for prepaid guided hunts. They set a limit of two per week and because of the thickly forested mountains and swirling nature of the breeze in those parts an average of only one or two trophies was taken each month during the time when antlers were carried. Firearms had not been a feature of village life and so it was that little hunting expertise could be found. However a young man had spent some time in the forests around the lake sneaking up on deer had gained considerable knowledge of their habits. He asked if he might guide the hunters and after a little discussion he was awarded his dream to spend most of his days in the hills. He knew where the trophy animals lived and with some training from the local butcher became proficient at dressing down and carrying carcasses for clients. The venison often not required by hunters, mostly only wanting the trophy heads, was distributed in the village. The young guide became quite skilled and attained a reputation of being a bit of a preacher on the mountain tops and deep valleys around the lake.

The fishing was another story all together. The lake was a trophy fish bonanza. They had never seen a hook before let alone an angler. The angling around the shore was exquisite with fish taking artificial flies at first glance. They rose freely in the evenings and mornings and could be seen along the beaches during the day pouncing on anything that remotely resembled food. The fish were an unusual strain of trout with green backs and red spots, not unlike brown trout, except that their fins and tail were purple with white leading edges. Fish over four kilograms were not uncommon and two kilo fish were everywhere. A bag limit was set at two killed per day and returning fish to the water was being actively promoted.

Parties of anglers began to request the cabin but space was already taken up for months ahead in bookings and local usage. Another facility was needed and preparations were made for the Anglers Nest to be built on a site not visible from the cabin. It was simply to be a bunkhouse with communal dining and toilet facilities. It was all that was required to offer the average fisherman a place to rest his head. A discreet site by the trail in was chosen and building started immediately. The prefabricated building was imported and completed in just a few weeks. Although not an aesthetically grand structure it was purpose built and met the needs of humble fishermen willing to rough it a bit for their pursuit.

During this time of tourist growth the Ventura began a little grumble. Some were not taken by the ways of the visiting strangers. Leadership for a time had come under constant assault by individuals who could not at first see the wisdom of their continued presence. A deputation had even been sent to Michael expressing the disquiet amongst some villagers. Through his grapevine of leaders Michael spread the knowledge that they were being well rewarded by their visitors and that at present the village was literally surviving on this and other combined incomes.

William took up the sword at church and refocused their minds by preaching reference to scriptures about loving you neighbour and noting the Lord's heart through Isaiah 58. He closed his message with a warning not to allow the selfishness of a few to destroy the greatness of God's plans for them. His words cut deep! Gradually the grumbles turned to smiles again and the visitors continued to enjoy Ventura's Christian hospitality.

Chapter Twenty Six

From Disaster Change

"The mine, the mine!" a hysterical voice screamed. Michael ran outside Roger's office door to see what all the commotion was about. "The mine, the mine!" a young lad repeated at the top of his lungs. Their eyes turned to see dust around the mine entrances. "Oh my God," people were gasping in horror.

"Not a cave in. Oh no, not a collapse in the mine," a woman nearby said.

The townsfolk all rushed up to where the dust was still hung in the air. Miners were gathering around the entrance of Valid, their number one prized shaft that for generations had delivered A grade product. Two blackened miners were recovering at the entrance, sucking in the fresh air greedily and shaking their heads.

"What's happened?" someone asked.

"A cave in half way down the shaft," said one exhausted miner. "We just got out by the skin of our teeth. They are trapped down there, six of them, no air. We were just coming out with a load and the roof caved in."

Michael came up to them trying to make sense of all the commotion. Jones arrived from his studio; he knew the shaft well. Coal blackened men from other shafts gathered around looking for some leadership from Jones. Everything was happening so fast.

"What are we going to do?" one asked.

"How much came down?" Jones asked of the two recovering men.

"Don't know Jones," one said. "Seemed like the whole corner progressively collapsed. Maybe thirty or forty metres but I'm only guessing. It was coming down on top of us as we ran."

"We can't dig through forty metres of rubble with the roof still unstable," another said. "We'll have to find another way."

"We'll need to drop another shaft," said Jones pointing into the hills. "Down from the valley there."

"How deep do you reckon it would be?" asked Michael looking at Jones for an answer.

"Ten or twenty metres we always reckoned. Risky though when we don't know what sort of rock to expect."

"How many can work at the hole at a time?" Michael asked.

"Six all up," said Jones. "Two digging, two clearing and two shoring up. Two teams at work in three shifts. One team goes in the front and the other goes down from above. Simon you lead your men in the front door and be certain to shore it up good and proper. The rest of you come with me and we'll drive a low angle in from above. Get a feed of timbers going and prep the pipe drive. Right, let's get too it."

They knew the trapped men would be okay for a few hours while their air lasted but it was imperative that an air inlet was established as soon as possible. Pipe was prepared to feed in from the valley above; steel pipe driven by hammer through the rock.

The women folk not involved were comforting those who had men down below. Some were in shock and some were already preparing food and drinks for the workers.

Mora turned to the others at the face; their circumstances were dire. If only I had been working on the water system this morning, he thought to himself. Dust was everywhere but a head count soon determined that all were safe. Fortunately the cave in had been well up the shaft. Their lamps all pointed towards the centre, fear hadn't reached them as yet as they huddled together.

"What do we do now?" one blackened face asked.

"We should help dig ourselves out," another said.

"The grotto," suggested Mora. "We'll retreat down there and start a shaft through to Valiant. It can't be far; I've heard them through the wall. Someone will dig in from there I'm sure."

Gathering their tools, each man quietly moved deeper into the mine. The air was good and clear further down but knowing the entrance was completely closed made it feel eerie. They stopped and drank from the small flow of water while Mora marked out the spot a short distance away where he guessed a shaft would lead them out. The rock seemed fractured enough at that spot to be reasonable going, at least to begin with. In minutes they had established a doorway and were clearing away the tailings into the Valid shaft.

"Jones," Michael whispered into his ear. "Isn't there a shaft that comes close to the grotto down in Valid, you know from the mine next door?"

"So there is," remembered Jones. "I wonder?"

"Do you think it might be worth a team being sent down there to break through."

"That might be our way in to them. Come to think of it they could be working their way out from there as we speak. Why don't you organise a crew and send them in there. Try James and his guys."

Excited by this remembering the proximity of the other shaft Michael organised another crew and went with them down the Valiant mine. James had worked this area before and knew his way like the creases on his hand. They set a cart on the tracks and pushed it into position, hearing picks at work through the wall in front. Their own tools soon bit into the worthless brown coal abandoned many years earlier. It was quick digging but the clearing away took the time. The estimate was a good twenty metres or so and within an hour they were shoring up with Gnarlybark branches to support the ceiling. Cart after cart of the brittle brown material flowed out as they made staggering progress. But then their picks hit hard rock and all slowed dramatically.

Mora's men had struck the same hard rock, their own progress was not so good. The air was becoming foul and men beginning to weaken. A shovel glanced the head of one as they began to lose their edge. Blood flowed freely for a minute before Mora stemmed the flow with a bandage. One valuable man was down and out. The dust was choking and their lamps growing dim. It was time they took a back seat and waited. The water gave them some refreshment and they were thankful for that small mercy, at least they weren't going to die of thirst. Mora broke out their remaining food and they all picked at it until it was gone. Shock had now crept up on two of them; they shook unashamedly in the cold.

Jones had driven twenty metres of pipe into the hill. There was no guarantee he would hit the shaft, it was a matter of chance mixed with a little good judgement. But they had to try even if it meant several stabs in the dark before it found their friends and could deliver air to prevent the dreadful asphyxiation. Thirty metres and still the sledgehammer worked hard at the pipe. He would stop at forty knowing that by then they had missed the shaft below. They had and pulled the spear to try again.

Hours passed and now air had to flow for the men now likely faint with oxygen deprivation. A second spear failed and a third missed its mark. Jones had to maintain a pattern not more than three metres apart to ensure they didn't miss the cavity below. The terrain was difficult in the valley and footing even harder in the damp ground. Suddenly the pipe drove down freely. Jones lifted the driving cap and rammed a rod through the pipe dislodging the spearhead. He felt the joy of finding clear space below.

"Bring the air line," Jones ordered. "We are through, bring up the air."

"Here Jones," another said feeding him the pipe. "Push the end over the top."

"Get the pump working," Jones ordered before relaxing momentarily. "Thank God they have air. Let's hope it isn't too late for them."

Mora had heard the clang of the spearhead falling. He went to investigate and felt the life giving fresh breeze before he got there. The spear had come out of the side; a half metre more and it would have missed completely. The fear that had been stalking them retreated for now. The air was hope and the sounds of the progress next door pounded in his head. They seemed really close but he knew solid rock was a good conductor of sound. They could be two metres away or twenty-two for all he knew. The air had revived his dozing crew huddled for warmth in the cold semidarkness. He knew everything possible was being done for them up in the sunlight and guessed a crew was at work on the cave in itself. The best thing he could do now that they had air again was to restart the work on joining up with the men next door. His men were weak but still after years of mining they were able to mechanically continue with pick and shovel.

Now that he had the air pipe guiding them Jones and his crew began to dig through the undergrowth and soil to the broken rock separating them from the men below. They scraped and shovelled at an acute angle, boxing the sides as they went. Talk was minimal. Sweat flowed down their faces and dripped off their noses. At four metres they hit almost solid rock, cracked but painfully resistant to the pick and shovel. It was time for explosives. Charges were set and packed with sandbags then blown with a dull thud. With the rubble cleared another set of small charges laid. Again a dull thud and so the rock begrudgingly yielded itself to the rescuers.

James was also resorting to more aggressive methods on the rock separating the miners below. His charges were more dramatic but progress seemed painfully slow. Ridding themselves of the tailings cart by cart took a long time. The hole was necessarily becoming smaller, big enough only for a man to crawl through. It was all that was needed at present to get the men to safety. Another call of "fire in the hole" and another chunk of solid rock blew to rubble. Hours passed as the crept their way forward.

"Listen!" said Mora now five metres into the rock doorway. "That's not in front of us. They are to the left. We're off line. We need to alter course."

"How much by?" his companion asked.

"Listen," he said grasping for clues. "Forty five degrees left I reckon."

They altered course to the left and continued to chip away. Every few minutes they would be relieved as another two chipping weakly at the unforgiving wall. Their progress was little more than insignificant but it was morally worth metres. Mora caught sight of a glint on the ceiling, like a hint of distant stars.

"What is that?" he asked running his fingers across the roof. He trained his lamp on the glistening reflections and they shone even brighter.

"Gems perhaps," his friend replied. "Yes look, diamonds, they look all rough until they are cut."

"Well I'll be darned," said Mora. "Fancy that."

"To think we were so close to them all these years," the other said. "Looks like a seam of them running to the left. If we weren't digging our way out of here we would never have found them. Wait till we see their faces and tell them the news upstairs."

"I'm sure they are going to be pretty happy just to see us out alive," said Mora chuckling.

Jones' battle against the rock above was painfully slow but at least they had invested some air into the trapped miner's futures. They persisted into the night aided by electric light rigged overhead. Ten metres down and ten to go, they would be through they hoped by morning. Food and hot drinks arrived to fuel their painfully slow advance.

"To the left I think," James said listening to the pick strikes in the rock. "Yes, they are to the left and not too far either. They set a charge in the left wall this time. The blast took a great slab of rock out and fractured much more. Quickly they cleared it behind them, not bothering to move too much this time and laid another charge.

"Pull back, pull back." Mora said realising from the last blast the others were close. Cracks had appeared suddenly in their left side. They withdrew to the relative safety of the grotto and waited. They heard the next blast break through and dust crept in beside them. They were almost free.

"Are you guys alright?" said a voice out of the dark.

"That you James?" Mora responded.

"Thought you might like a cup of tea so we came down to get some water," said James nonchalantly.

"God, are we glad to see you!"

"Likewise," said James. "Is everyone all right?"

"One sporting a cut to the head but apart from general weakness we are all okay."

"The hole is small but if you can crawl through it we will escort you out to an early breakfast."

The news of their safety spread quickly. Jones" crew abandoned their hole to greet the fortunate miners on their way out of Valiant. He took Mora by the shoulders and just stared at him for a few seconds. It said it all. Mora relaxed from the emotional nightmare, let himself be embraced by his friend and allowed a few tears to escape the confines of his reddened eyelids and wash down his blackened cheeks. There was applause. Then they all just drifted off to their homes, mothers with sons, husbands with wives, to quietly take stock and give thanks.

It was not Michael's intention to keep running things the way they had been. Most of the time when things were going well things just stayed that way. He thought about what might be, but he was never really proactive in his leadership, apart from the initial structural changes that he felt absolutely necessary. Those things had energy of their own and would probably have taken a step forward with any new leader, given the opportunity. Now that the mine had collapsed it galvanised his thinking that maybe this was an opportune moment to pull out of coal altogether. Income from the mines some eight months down the track of this Ventura way was now less significant to their survival. They still had orders for A grade coal but the developments in tourism and sales of other products had overtaken coal in real income terms. Labour required to produce the coal could now be diverted into other areas of the dream. But dreams had not yet caught a hold of the miner's imagination. There was a group who had perhaps waited at the back of the line when the spiritual eyes were being dished out.

William had been busy during the morning but as the day progressed he found himself with some time to himself. He liked to just sit in his private study and gaze out the stained glass window depicting the shepherd and his flock. The red light today seemed so bloody, so vividly speaking to him of the sacrifice Christ had made, the blood of the Lamb shed for the atonement of all mankind. How could all appreciate the enormity of such an action? How could he make sure the sheep and lambs under his care truly had a grasp of it.

"William, are you there?" a familiar voice called from the main church building.

"I'm in here Michael. Come in won't you."

"There you are my friend. I have been looking all over for you."

"How can I help you?" the old seer asked.

"I've been thinking about the remaining miners," Michael began. "They don't seem to be a very inspired bunch. I thought they would come to us with their dreams and ideas to get them out of the mines but here we are eight months down the track and they are still underground."

"Does that bother you?" asked William.

"Well yes, it does," said Michael. "I don't want them down there much longer but what are we going to do with them if we stop coal production. It wouldn't be good for them to be out of work completely."

"Have you asked them about it?"

"Well no. To be honest I hadn't thought about it," Michael admitted wondering why it hadn't crossed his mind to consult them.

"There's one thing I have noticed about your leadership," said William, "you are inclined to just let things happen. Sometimes we need to take positive steps."

"That's funny, I was just thinking about this myself this morning. Do you think God might be trying to teach me something here?"

"Christ had to go to his death for us to have that vital connection with the Father. That might seem like things just happened but God had it all well planned. It was written hundreds of years earlier by the prophets."

"Yes, I know that but what's the point?"

"Blood Michael, blood," said the old seer reflecting on his line of thinking just prior to Michael's arrival. "The most priceless blood had to be laid on the altar of heaven to make up for the vile and hideous actions of man. After all the wages of man's sin is death, the price had to be paid. But God being extraordinarily merciful could not bring Himself to destroy all of mankind. He wanted them to realise the truth about Himself. So He became proactive, announced what He was going to do well in advance, prepared the circumstances and hatched his amazing strategy in the way that would show up once and for all the heart of His own shepherds."

"They played right into the His hands by crucifying Christ His Son."

"Do you understand Michael?" said the old seer. "The strategy was planned hundreds of years in advance. God could have done it there and then, but no He waited. Why? The time hadn't yet come. It wasn't Christ's day; it was still Satan's time."

"That is interesting," said Michael. "But how does that relate to what we are doing here?"

"We are in the ascendancy. We had reached a dark time and now the Father has brought us a man to set us free. But that change of light is never instantaneous, the heat of mid day doesn't arrive suddenly. This is an eternal story of cycles continually alternating between night and day. Genesis begins with it and sets the pattern; history just confirms it."

"I'm sorry William I'm not clicking on this," said Michael. "I hear what you are saying but I can't see the connection between this and the lack of vision with the remaining miners."

"There is a plan; believe it! Though it might not be revealed to you just now still there is a plan. Believe in that. Trust the Father; it's part of the faith journey. The day has arrived. It might be just 6.30 but the first rays of the morning light are upon us. It will become mid day eventually and then we will know everything."

"So what you are saying is that I need to know that what is will unfold as it should because it has all ready begun. And somehow this will be my faith even though I can't see the path ahead."

"You can see it! It is inevitable. Your wife becomes pregnant and a birth is inevitable. You don't go around thinking she will be this way forever. You have seen it begin and somehow inside you know it will produce a child. How do you know? History proves it; it's in the blood."

"So how do you think I should be more proactive?"

"Visualise the outcome and just relax confident that the Father is orchestrating each vital piece to bring all about in its time."

"What if we lose some men in another cave in?"

"Is that what this is all about?" asked the old seer. "This near miss has laid guilt on you. This is not your fault. You can not blame yourself."

"It had me so worried. I felt quite ill while they were down there. I'm not sure if I can send them down there again."

"Do all you can to ensure their safety but in the end they are all in God's hands. Talk to them and those that want to get out you can make a place for them elsewhere."

"That's good advise my friend. I will set a meeting. Thank you."

The men were assembled at the church the following day as decided. Michael would speak to them all about their future. He began by speaking about the near disaster.

"After the incident a few days ago," said Michael, "I have to ask you all to consider your future in the mines. We are almost at the stage where we could close them down for good but at present I do not have other work for you all. Some of you may not want to go back. That is fine by me. I don"t want any of you to be put at risk over a few tonnes of heating fuel. I would like some discussion about it. Please feel free to speak."

"I know the hearts of these men," said Jones. "I was able to get out of the mines and things are proceeding ahead well for my future. I have a dream and it is benefiting Ventura. That is very rewarding for me. Some of these men want to get out too but they are not dreamers. They are followers and enjoy the fellowship of working together. To some the mines are not so bad."

"I have worked the mines all my life," another man said. "I don't know anything else. It feels safer to remain than have to learn something new."

"I want out," said another. "Find me other work and I will be the happiest man on earth." Several others agreed.

Mora came to the front. He was trying to get something out of his pocket. He opened his hand in front of Michael and revealed its sparkling contents.

"That's a rough diamond isn't it? Queried Michael.

"We found it in the wall between Valid and Valiant when we were digging ourselves out the other day. There's more in a seam in the roof. Now I have work to do elsewhere but could those that wanted to stay mining turn their picks and shovels to diamonds instead of coal?"

The men crowded around Mora, transfixed by the large gem in his hand. The stone was probably worth more than a days coal extraction for all the men put together.

"I will only be happy with that if I could be assured of the men's safety," said Michael. "How many would rather search for diamonds?" Most acknowledged they were keen. "Jones, what's the prospects of finishing the rescue hole you started into Valid and shoring up from that point into the grotto?"

"I think the hole would be excellent for diamond extraction. Timber can go in from there and the tailings fed into the old coal cavities in Valid and Valiant. The grotto might even be built up, furnished and electricity laid on for the men to be quite comfortable down there. It is an ideal place."

"That sounds good to me," said Michael. "Those who don't want to do this please say so and I will place you with Mora for the time being. The rest of you may as well finish that new portal and begin harvesting diamonds. Remember though that no gem is worth a single man's life. I implore you to above all else do it properly right from the start with new timbers and good engineering."

Only three men wanted to get above ground and they followed Mora to work on the second stage of hot water systems in all of the houses. So the change took place.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Records and Realisations

"Michael look at this," said Cindy, her hand disappearing through the wall. "There's a cubby hole in here."

"I never noticed that before," he said with a puzzled look on his face.

"There are papers in here," Cindy said delving about in the wall. "There are lots of them, journals and stuff."

"Let me have a look. Put them over here on the table and let's see what they are."

"They're old," she said. "The paper has all gone brown. Some at the back are a bit mouldy and nibbled. They seem to be records of some type."

With the pile of papers and journals all now on the table they both began reading. Some common accounts were quickly perused and stacked neatly.

"Look at this dear," said Michael pouring over a large black hardcover book. "This dates back to before the Mediators I think. It's a diary of sorts recording events in this person's life. There's an entry here about the mines. They had begun a new shaft and called it Valid when they found high grade coal."

"This must date back generations," said Cindy sorting through the loose papers. "These are mainly accounts and coal company letters. They are just business stuff."

"There's a reference here hinting about some fighting," said Michael. "Oh, against the German's. It says, `people are saying the whole world is at war and thousands are dying in the battles. The world is coming to an end and we are preparing…` The silverfish have eaten that part away."

Michael gently turned the page over, trying not to damage the fragile old paper any more than he had too. Cindy had sorted most of the loose accounts and papers reading one after another and absorbing their contents.

"Looks like they were expecting the end was near," said Michael. "There's a reference here to the end time and debate over the rapture. The people were very religious, attending church every day before going to the mines. It says, "the Vicar said this morning the vengeance of God was at hand and the time was near." This sounds like end time preaching and they were preparing for survival without the rest of the world."

"Is that what all these accounts are about?" asked Cindy. They are full of large purchases of basic items; salt, rice, seeds, wax candles and stuff."

"What sort of quantities?"

"Four hundred bags of salt for instance."

"That's an awful lot of salt," gasped Michael. "I get the picture. Sounds like they were stocking up on the things they couldn't make themselves."

"It reminds me of the fervour that happened over the approaching millennial change a few years ago. Do you remember how the computer people were hyping up the likely problems with it clicking over to 2000? They all thought it would crash the world systems and the religious groups were stocking up on essentials to tide them over until things got back to normal."

"Some thought it was all going to end," said Michael. "Christ was coming back. People bought up generators to the extent that they ran out of supply. I wonder what they did with them all?"

"Probably still sitting in the back of their sheds."

"I wonder if that is why these people isolated themselves, like a religious sect nestled away in these hills? There's the odd reference in these journals to the predictions of the witnesses and the tracts."

"Do you mean the Watchtower people," suggested Cindy.

"I'm not sure it just says "the witnesses"," said Michael reading fervently. "Yes they are hearing rumours and prophecies about the end time. I have got to read all of this before I can say but it does look like they were being affected by strong religious zealots of the time."

Cindy went about her preparations for the arrival of her first born and the impending need of a nursery. The baby could arrive anytime now that it had turned its head down. Her mid section was so tight now she feared the stretch marks were going to rupture. By the strength of its kicking she knew the baby was healthy but she was feeling the strain of carrying this large bundle in front. Her back ached and it had been a while since she had seen her feet let alone cut her toenails. She was eager to see an end to it all but at the same time a little fearful of the pain she had heard much about. Her sister had gone on for hours without fully dilating before they did a caesarean section to remove the baby. Then there was that slight fear of a Down Syndrome baby, being so late in her childbearing life.

She put those things she couldn't change on the back burner for now and brought the things she needed to do to the front, working on the nursery seemed the perfect distraction. It was next to mother's room where they had prepared and painted the bassinet covered with net to keep out flies and mosquito. She had made a mobile with coat hangers and small coloured cut out animals dangling from it. Under the electric light now installed bright coloured projections danced around the walls as the gentle breeze caught them. In the corner by the door they had built a bench with a tin bath for washing the infant. Some soap perfumed the air on a pile of towels stacked nearby.

Michael's mother was more excited than anyone about her impending grandchild arriving. She had longed to hold a little baby again and had almost given up hope her son would ever produce one. The time with her son and daughter-in-law had gone surprisingly well. Her medication had been reduced because she was so enjoying life in Ventura. Her mental disposition was much more balanced than it had been for years. She felt secure unlike ever before and the lack of anxiety attacks allowed her a shred of hope that she might not ever have to return to the mental ward again. She meddled a bit in her son and daughter-in-law's affairs but they took it with a grain of salt, knowing in the end who made the decisions. If she meddled too much they would soon shift her into a cottage of her own with nursing help at hand.

At dinner Michael gave his summary of the journals he had been reading all afternoon. They filled in some missing history concerning his forefathers and why the village had become isolated from the world for so long.

"It seems," began Michael in between chewing mouthfuls, "that Gregory and his brother George fell out over their differing end time beliefs. "Gregory was of the belief that the world was going to end with the world war. George however thought it complete rubbish; the world wasn't going to end. The villagers being generally uneducated were swayed in their fear by Gregory's argument that the witness' prophecy was indeed taking place at that very time. Sensing that he was fighting a losing battle with his stalwart brother, George took his inheritance and went out to live with his beliefs in a world he was certain would continue forever."

"So that is how we ended up with George's blood leading down through James to you Michael," said his mother.

"Blood, yes," said Michael with old William's words of the previous day momentarily crossing his mind. "Seems that Gregory, with the end time teaching in mind, set about isolating the village completely from the invading threat and even had it almost completely forgotten about by the world. He had a deal with the Coal Company to keep the thing quiet."

"I guess that's why it remained isolated even after the war didn't bring about an end to the world," suggested Cindy.

"The journal shows that Gregory became ill, faded away and I suspect died because the journal is incomplete. Perhaps he stowed it in the cubby hole and died without anyone knowing it was there. I assume the Mediator was appointed in the absence of a successor and the isolation continued through ignorance of anything else. Remember that communication in those days wasn't what it is today. They were probably expecting George to come back an sort things out but he never did."

"Time goes by and here we are finally putting things right," said Cindy. "How on earth didn't they figure it out from the coal barge people?"

"Possibly the Mediator didn't know what Gregory was up too and had a limited view of his role," said Penelope. "Maybe he died before he could find George and the next Mediator just carried on."

"I can only speculate," said Michael, "except we know that it happened. For all I know the infected well water could have been killing them off and it wasn't until we had a wine drinking Mediator that the thing stabilised. Who knows, the irony is that true to the prophecy Gregory's world did end and alcoholism probably kept the world of the Mediators alive."

"There's some things I don't understand," said Cindy. "What kind of person gets caught up in these end time beliefs? I mean history shows it is crazy that they should have thought that way, yet people do believe these things."

"A lot of it boils down to the interpretation of Revelations and Christ speaking about the time of the end. Some people, who are zealous believers, read into this that one day God will bring the earth to an end. That is man's interpretation of the words and not necessarily God's intention when they were written. The "world" I believe is a word encompassing a philosophy. It is about the way ungodly people behave in the world. Think of it as worldliness as opposed to godliness."

"So when it talks about an end you're saying it may be talking about an end of that type of behaviour, an end of worldliness," said Cindy.

"Could be," said Michael. "The whole of scripture talks about the battle between the two; Adam and the serpent, Cain and Able, David and Goliath, Jerusalem and Babylon, Christ and Satan. The fact is that every prediction of a final end historically has proved to be false. Christ even talks about not trying to predict times and such."

"So why do they do it?" asked Penelope.

"I guess the preacher finds it advantageous to bolster their flagging congregations, speaking to fearful people unfamiliar with scripture. If you believed the world was about to end you would no doubt attend church, increase your giving and polish up your prayer life in the hope of a place in heaven."

"But what happens when it doesn't come about?" asked Cindy. "Don't they all leave again?"

"Christians are a very forgiving lot you will find," said Michael. "Historically those churches established on end times prophecy have overcome their errors and gone on from strength to strength with the next prediction."

"What should a good Christian do then?" Penelope asked a little defensively.

"If one is walking hand in hand with Christ on earth surely he will be also found walking hand in hand with Christ in heaven. If an end is to come what does it worry him. When he is born again he is from that moment adopted into the kingdom of God and as he continues loving God, his brother and neighbour, he is remaining in that family that belong in heaven. The world for him has come to an end, it dies away and he lives in a new way."

"So the end is always arriving for individuals and from then on it is to be about being loving and helpful to those around us in need," said Penelope.

"Think of the alcoholic who has a change of life, gives up his drink and becomes a good husband and father without any more violence and drain on family finances." Michael agreed. "We are here for each other not simply for ourselves. There's no simpler way to put it. Should we change just because someone says the end is coming tomorrow?"

"Look what it did to these brothers, Gregory and George," said Cindy. "It divided them and put the village into a mental prison."

"You don't have to tell me about mental prisons," said Penelope referring to her days of mental hospital incarceration.

Michael finished his dinner and went to speak with the old seer. When he met with William he continued their previous conversation, filling him in on the journal information they had found. He knew now something he hadn't realised before.

"The blood relationship had remained for the sake of the village. George went and lived in a foreign land. He was called out like Abraham from Ur of the Chaldees. The blood link was intact, invoked and potent. Here George was and his blood was important. It was his birthright as it would have been for his father James but it wasn't the day. James played his part by retaining, in fact confirming his integrity and generating a legacy that enabled his son to fulfil his destiny. The blood carried more than the right, it carried with it the strategy God had set in place from the beginning when Gregory was misled. This was a God fearing people whose shepherd had led them astray but God did not abandon his flock and returned to set them free."

"Christ is blood kin to Abraham," said William. "He is blood linked with David. That is the blood that links us all even today to the Father. It is as if the blood Christ yielded up at Calvary flows in our veins and with it the predestination to free the people around us. How can we do other than to do what is in our blood?"

"Indeed, it's like a transfusion," said Michael. "I think I now understand. Did you hear about the meeting with the miners?"

"No. What happened?"

"Three wanted to leave the mines so I sent them to Mora to help with amenities. They found some diamonds in the wall between Valiant and Valid when they rescued Mora's crew. The rest are going to finish the new portal from the valley where the air pipe was driven down and start shoring up the grotto as base for diamond extraction. They're all very excited about it as though they have been caught up in a vision."

"Oh God," William sighed. "You are more amazing than I had imagined." Tears rolled gently down his face. "How do we cope with the God who so patiently watches over us? He loves us so much and He set this all up. Everything, I mean everything, works for good for those who love the Lord, even the things that look bad."

"Does that mean He caused Valid to collapse?" speculated Michael.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that," cautioned William. "All I can say is that he allowed Christ to go to Calvary and death. But He rose again and that is what we are seeing here. Out of the tomb of the collapsed coal mine rises the hope of sparkling gems. Isn't that just like a doting Father? I mean, would they have dug through that wall if it hadn't been for the collapse?"

"Talking to them was sure a good idea," said Michael. "I don't know why I got so churned up about it. Hopefully I can relax in my leadership again and get this responsibility thing into perspective."

"Who is doing this thing anyway," said William, "You or God?"

"Thank you William. That just about sums it up."

Progressively a significant number of diamonds were extracted from the grotto site. The seam travelled each side of the rescue corridor but they were hard won. The grotto itself became a masterpiece of security and comfort for the miners, fully lined as though they were at home in their lounge and dining room. It had a fully equipped kitchen and toilet facilities stocked with plenty of food. The air was fresh and clean due to the inflow from the pipe having been extended directly into the grotto. The men were able to adopt a somewhat less laborious approach to mining now that their subterranean workplace yielded more profitably. Much of the time their work was in drilling and setting charges then sitting back while the air cleared after the explosion loosed its prize. Electrically powered conveyer belts fed the rubble away into the now abandoned coal cavities. Soon the whole mining process had changed from its once dirty and laborious tedium to a more sophisticated and casual pursuit of something rather more exciting.

The men liked their job and even became reluctant to give up their privileges underground. This all pleased Michael immensely and further relieved his anguish about having men still underground. He never gave up his drive to ensure that safety was paramount. The men recognised this attention to detail that their leader had instilled in them, as love for his people. They responded by creating what would become a thriving gem trade. By no means was this the greatest diamond mine in the world but buyers regularly flew in to make sure their source of raw material was secure for the future.

Ventura was becoming a name synonymous with originality and quality craftsmanship. The strange thing was that where other names often took a lot of money and many years to establish themselves in the marketplace, Ventura was advancing quite quickly because of its notoriety of being, as one prominent daily had headlined, "The Newly Discovered Lost Gem". Magazines found it fascinating that a village should have been isolated for so long. They flew their journalists and photographers in to cover the story for their readers so that the advertising value of their full colour spreads had been estimated as being worth millions. There being so little to focus on in the small village, the works of Jones, the diamonds, the wilderness cabin and steamer at the lake were covered in every feature and circulated world wide.

Enquiries were coming in from places they had never head of before and many could not be satisfied. This and the shortage of any accommodation in the village led to higher monetary compensation being offered and deals sort for exclusive rights of access. The idea of a hotel being built in the village had been raised and weighed heavily on Michael's mind for some time. He felt it would adversely affect his people's character and introduce a force too great to contain if it developed outside of their wishes. Michael and his team voted unanimously against the hotel chain's proposal and set up a policy of retaining their unique character by limiting visitor arrivals. As it turned out the competition for the limited access drove the return from air charter operators up to almost double their previous offer. How long this would last no one knew but for now their every decision had increased their income quite to the contrary of their thinking. Integrity is renown and less is more it seemed in Ventura.

Things were going too well, all they could do was to stand in awe and give thanks for the blessing. First one or two joined old William, then more began to gather at the church each morning. Like the birds at dawn they sang rapturous praise in wonderful harmony. No one preached a word, they didn't have to, all villagers knew to whom they owed this dream too. William was astonished at the spontaneity of their singing and thanksgiving. They came and went at will over almost an hour. There was no accompaniment, just the sound of mass voices in a jumble of heartfelt worship that made it seem that God was near.

Chapter Twenty Eight

The Village Swells

A new concern began to overpower Michael's thinking. A request had come in from a third time visitor asking if he might bring his family to live in the village. This concept had not crossed Michael's mind that the way of the village might become attractive to outsiders. It posed many difficulties in blending the worldly mind into the thinking of Ventura. For one they would have to give up all pretences to personal income otherwise they would be forever relying on it for things above the others. Could they live in this sort of isolation or would they be continually reconnecting with the outside world and was this a good or a bad thing. Some skills might assist the village but would selection on such criteria be fair. And for that matter would selection on race be an issue that they would have to consider. There would be other requests for sure and the first would set a president.

The enquiry was from an electronics expert and such a person would be most valuable in the district. He had a wife of ten years and three children up to the age of eight. They were not professing religious beliefs but looked to be of a good moral background. However they would bring with them all the thoughts and learning they had been sorting through out in the world and that could mean atheism, sexual immorality and a host of things they did not need to know about in the village. The thought perplexed Michael for days about how to safeguard the minds of Venturans from ideas like suicide, murder, incest, and other demonic activity. He decided to discuss the issue with his mentor the old seer. He found him at his place under the tree by the square.

"There you are my friend," Michael greeted him. "How are things in the kingdom today?"

"I might well ask that of you," William answered.

"It is well in the kingdom but my mind is troubled with a most puzzling request."

"Oh, and what might that be?" asked the old seer. "I take it you came to discuss it with me."

"We have a family asking if they might come and move in here at the village," said Michael. "He could be of immense use to us here, being a technician."

"How does that help us?"

"He would be able to maintain and improve our communications, computers and the electrical side of things that we are at present reliant on very expensive outside help, not that anything has broken down yet but it will."

"I see," said William. "That would be most helpful. So what is the problem then?"

"It is about what they might bring with them," said Michael, "the ideas they could influence the villagers with. There are all kinds of corruption in the minds of men and right now not in the minds of our people. I would rather it be kept that way for as long as possible."

"Let me get this clear," said William. "You are thinking that we should remain exclusive to reduce the risk of being infected by ideas that might come from these people."

"Basically yes," said Michael, "and the fact that if we open the door to one family that are right for us the door can not be easily closed again to someone who may not be right for us."

"Yes, that is interesting. Do you perceive many enquiries from families wanting to come here?"

"This village is quite attractive for those who do not find the outside world such a good place for raising their children. They will be looking for a place with less of the temptations, no drugs, alcohol, smoking, violence, theft or terrorism. There are extreme groups out there killing thousands of innocent people to get their point across. It's a war zone in which no one knows where they're going to hit next; it could be anywhere in the world."

"What makes this place exempt from such terror?" asked the old seer.

"I see your point," said Michael realising they were no longer quite so isolated. "We have changed and now we are part of the world."

"We always were Michael, it's just that they didn't know it. I would suggest you let them prove themselves and face a time of acclimatisation into our ways; perhaps three months or so. If they were not comfortable by then they could leave or if we found them disagreeable we could suggest they move on."

"I had the same thing in mind," agreed Michael. "If we failed to influence them in our ways and they began to influence us adversely we might talk to them and if necessary terminate the contact."

"Mentoring is the way I think," suggested William. "Assign a mentor to each and involve them in the home meetings right from the start. We will soon see what they are made of and whether it is good or bad."

"I think that would work," said Michael. "I'm sure it will. I will talk it over with the people. I want them to feel it was their wish to open the village to others otherwise we will be wasting our time. There will be so much hard feeling."

"Let it be so," agreed William.

"Thank you my old friend," said Michael. "I will leave you to your communion."

"It is not communion I partake in," said William. "It is total enjoyment."

"Never-the-less, goodbye."

It was not Michael's nature to dwell on issues and in discussion with the villagers he found no opposition to the specialist tradesman coming to the village. Perhaps it was opportune and God's desire that this man and his family were arriving to live in Ventura. Agreement had been reached that their assets and cash would be lent to the village for the duration of their time with them. If it only lasted for a few months then all would go back to them and they would be secure. If they found the life in Ventura acceptable then the exchange of houses and livelihood would be accepted as an equivalent to a community shareholding.

The Williams family rented out their home in the city and placed their savings and shares in the care of the Ventura solicitors along with Michael's shares and cash reserves. They arrived on the morning plane eager to settle in the house appointed to them on the corner of Main St. and Strawberry Lane. The whole village came out to welcomed them and carry their possessions from the runway to the house. Richard, the tall blond electronics technician, and Janice a slim natural brunette introduced their three children and unloaded their boxes and suitcases from the aircraft. Without further delay they freely mixed with the villagers, the adults having become reasonably well known during their previous visits to the village.

Richard was a peaceable soul who had seen much of life's worst and turned away from it. He had always thought there must be a better way and now that he had found it in Ventura he was determined to make it his family's life. They had left behind their stereo and television but not their musical instruments. Richard had an acoustic guitar and Janice a keyboard and flute, all of which the children also were learning. Richard brought his computer and tools but otherwise no appliance came that would make them stand out from the rest of the community.

They also brought with them their puppy, the first to live in Ventura for many generations. Dogs had apparently lived there in the distant past but for some strange reason they had died out. The puppy was a great novelty with the village children and they named him Adam because he was the first. The cats gave this leggy and rambunctious young golden retriever a wide birth and with hackles raised a fearful hiss whenever he came near. Adam had no fear, or no brains, making himself known to and loving everyone with a sniff and a playful confrontation.

Janice was a very refined and intellectual individual bringing with her a degree in anthropology. She was set to complete her doctorate by researching this new way of life. It was her interest in this people group that shored up the idea of a possible move to live in Ventura. The village was a sufficiently recent addition to the world that the effects of worldly encroachment on them could fully be researched. Her studies of cultures had opened her mind to the tendency of tribal loyalties to remain a strong bond until generations passed and nationalism began to erode it away. Here in Ventura a strong tribal bond was playing a major part in the rejuvenation of the village but incorporation by the globalism of the new internet technology promised and interesting conundrum. Michael was just as interested and supported her research.

With the arrival of musicians came the desire to create a band of players for entertainment and worship. Cindy, with her piano, took this task to heart and encouraged villagers who were showing interest in learning to play instruments. Gradually students emerged for the guitar, keyboard and percussion. This new dimension changed the atmosphere of the village as music accompanied their every occasion and reinforced their worship. In the square there were often individuals playing guitar and their beautiful notes added a delightful sound to the heart of the village, a heart that was becoming almost permanently festive. Visitors just loved it and offered their loose change to the players as they were accustomed to do elsewhere.

Richard immediately took up his role of technical advisor in the village. He worked in conjunction with Mora so that both formed the directive behind services in the village. Together with their team of five apprentices they slowly introduced the new technology into the workplace and even the mine. Not everyone wanted this technology, older folk were not cottoning on to it. Some even expressed opposition to the intrusion but children found learning on the Internet extremely stimulating and under Janice learned supervision some moved ahead very rapidly. Janice was also able to assist Pauli in his own advanced quest for learning. It seemed that the new additions were a tremendous boon for Ventura and they easily fitted into the life style of the village.

As time went by Michael began to gain confidence that other enquiries might now be looked at as possible new comers to the village. Two requests had arrived but Michael had put them aside. Now he revisited the old mail and asked for CV's which induced immediate responses. The first was a pastor and his wife. The Rune's were disenchanted with the church and had been searching around for an alternative system. They wished to be allowed to come and learn from the Ventura model, as they put it, requesting a "six month period of observation". Their children had all flown the nest and their love for God simply oozed from between the lines of their e-mail. They had very little in the way of possessions and assets except for a mobile home in which they had travelled broadly, preaching and teaching the Gospel. With the agreement of the leadership Michael extended an invitation to come to Ventura to live.

The second request, a painter and decorator and his partner of fourteen years who gave as their motivation simply "wanting to get out of the system". Michael made a check on the White's through his solicitor and found them to be declared bankrupts. They were not married, had no children, no assets and no declared faith in God yet they were requesting a place in Ventura. The leadership discussed their case long and hard before allowing them to enter with conditions to their access. The leadership made it plainly clear that they would be only allowed to live in Ventura under mentors assigned to them and for an initial period of six weeks, renewable upon consent thereafter. They had little to offer Ventura but Ventura had much to offer them.

The Runes arrived first and took up a small cottage on the outskirts of the village under the watchful eye of the old seer, William. Peter Rune had immense Biblical knowledge and was soon preaching and teaching at the church. William was grateful of this insightful input to lift his own Biblical knowledge and share the load of teaching. As it turned out William and Peter became very close and his wife Mary, a humble homemaker, supported both men of God as her service to the village.

When the White's arrived they were given a small cottage towards the mines. On arrival the two were asked to marry and after looking at each other for a moment, said they would. Dan White, a tall wiry dark cynical type, was appointed to the mines. It was a disappointment to the leadership but his desire was never to touch a paintbrush again. He took to the task with excitement that seemed a touch out of place at the time but with a miner appointed to mentor him they felt comfortable about it. Jude, his rather overweight and brash partner, elected to join the team at the RIO distillery.

From the beginning Dan did his best to fit in with the others but always seemed to make things difficult. He was at times objectionable but always made amends later when he was helped by his mentor to recognise his mistake. He was trying, according to his mentor, very trying! His cultural differences caused much friction with the other miners as he often talked about the way of life on the outside. It was in some ways subversive or would have been if the others knew what it was he was on about. They did not trust him but they did not really know why. Fortunately their loyalty to Michael and the village way of life kept their thinking intact.

The women folk were finding the same type of subversive talk from Jude. It seemed that they had come not to live a different life but to come to Ventura as agents of some another way. There was hardness about Jude as she talked about her partners of which Dan was the third. This was strange in Ventura and difficult for the people to accept as truth. Her talk was full of parties with heavy drinking, drugs and promiscuity. She had no time for children especially any she might have had. Stories of two being given away at birth shocked those who heard such things. The village ways were not penetrating her hardened exterior at all and as the weeks went by she lost even the friends that had been working around her. Dan and Jude had become more and more isolated as the weeks progressed and they seemed to be avoiding marriage. The people were becoming confused by the lack of wedding plans.

The Runes and the Williams' on the other hand were integrating very well. Even the children were enjoying the freedom of being allowed uninhibited access to the village and fields. Their lives had been coddled under the protective grip of their parents in a world threatened by lunatic gunmen, paedophiles, bullies and growing terrorist activity. The village had much to offer them and they wanted nothing more than to give what they could in gratitude for this wonderful experience and privilege.

The Williams family adopted the faith of the village; it was hard not to, being ingrained in the fabric of everyday village life. Richard and Janice, under the instruction of William and Peter were baptised in the Holy Spirit and then by full immersion baptised into the Church. Great power was present in them both from that day forward and they would become leaders as their education and faith drove their upward journey.

Dan and Jude White were gaining notoriety for their disaffection and had conveniently avoided marriage. Speculation had it that Dan might be pocketing diamonds from the mine and Jude the recipe for the RIO being produced at her workplace. Fortunately the intellectual property she may have gained would do her or anyone else she may try to sell it too no good at all without the raw material that only grew in the district of Kind. After the consultation of leadership Dan and Jude were given an ultimatum to shape up or ship out. After four weeks they had what they came for and elected to ship out on the next plane. As for any stolen diamonds Michael simply mentioned the possibility to the police in the outside world, who awaited Dan's flight with interest. More then two years wages in diamonds were recovered and returned to Ventura after the courts sent the opportunist thief to prison and gave Jude his accomplice one hundred days of community service. The experience shook the village and they were not quite as naive about the ways of the world from then on.

More and more Michael wanted to close the doors on the village but in his heart he knew it was wrong. They had to face the bad with the good and give every request for entry the opportunity for success or failure. William was pleased that two out of three had gone well and that although they would not win them all, in the process they would awaken a few. His friend Peter was a real bonus to him knowing as he did that his reading skills left a lot to be desired. Peter's basic grasp of Hebrew and Greek, which William was never likely to grasp, allowed greater understanding of the original intent of scriptures. They had gained an extraordinary talent in music and technology with the Williams' that put them in good stead for the future. Twice the computer systems had crashed and both times Richard had them up and running in no time at all.

The apparent birth rate had increased. Jones' wife had a child on the way or twins as Sheela suspected. The village had suddenly become pregnant it seemed with expectant mothers everywhere. Possibly it was the elevated expectancy in the hearts of the people or just the water they were now drinking from Mora's taps but whatever the case slightly enlarged mummy's tummies seemed to be the norm rather than the exception.

Gradually more enquiries came in for permanent residency. All but one were accepted under trial, that being a request from a religious group to set up their eastern faith in the district. The faith did not ascribe any value to God and so they had no alternative but to suggest they would not be compatible with Ventura's culture. There were accusations of exclusiveness but Michael felt the inclusion of individuals both professing Christianity and not, was evidence enough that Ventura was treating requests without undue partiality.

One company approached Michael with a joint venture to grow chickens for their commercial processing plant. BigChick proposed building eight separate broiler houses each capable of 50,000 birds each at strategic intervals along the river flats at the northern end of the district where risk of disease was minimal and odours would not affect the village. Following long deliberations the leadership decided it would be a positive move for Ventura and agreed in principle to the investment going ahead. They would need to staff the enterprise and receive royalties for the land use on a per head basis of chicken successfully grown. The lawyers found the company had been embroiled themselves in a legal suit over a similar venture and advised Michael to "let this one slip" for want of a better approach. In hindsight Michael was pleased that it did not go ahead because of the reputation that chicken farms had gained for being smelly and whole batches of livestock dying from accidental overheating and disease.

On a rebound from that venture falling through, leadership began to enquire about other companies likely to be interested in partnering with Ventura in the business of improving their land use. As it was, the land was poorly fertilised and producing only a limited number of cattle and sheep. They envisaged growing their own wheat and corn but they had no expertise and all requirements would have to be imported. The suggestion was made to grow crops such as pumpkins that could be both exported and poorer quality remaining utilised to improve their cattle health. This time they hunted out a manager who had the skills to bring about the improvements necessary and invited George Reimond, a graduate of agricultural university and a number of years in the field, and his family to oversee developments.

The Reimond family were given a house in the centre of the agricultural land and buildings. The present farm workers had been miners appointed to tend stock from time to time as required. Two of these were appointed to work under the instruction of George. Under his guidance they immediately set about fencing off the most fertile land and dug holes to mound with stock manure for pumpkin, squash and cucumber. Cattle were grazed in rotation around the remaining areas followed by sheep and goats over a three to four week period rather than being left, as had been the case, to the whole area at once. The improvement in animal husbandry and stockmanship coupled with rotational grazing and supplementary feed from the crops increased the level of production, without the application of imported fertilisers. In time this would mean the farm could begin to export organically grown cattle, sheep, goats, fleece blends, pumpkin, squash and cucumber to outside markets.

Under George's contract he stood to gain thirty percent of all increase over and above the previous production. Although he could personally profit by this immensely he grew to like the lifestyle and people so much that he waved his rights to the profits and chose instead to raise his children in Ventura. It was so free of bills, taxes and other financial burdens that it was easy to recognise the good life when he had it. He had no financial status, not a cent in his pocket, yet was never short of a need in his life.

All of the way along on his journey Michael had a heart for the orphans, the unwanted and abused. He wanted to do something for them. He had felt their hurts and rejections as a child and he wanted to repay a little of what he had been given. Through his lawyers he made approaches to the state authorities to take in children who had need of placement. Firstly ones and twos arrived then as the people warmed to the children more came to Ventura. The Child and Family agency paid them weekly for each child in their care and before long they had placed twenty-seven children in the village. Not all were suited but out of those seventeen boys and girls found long-term homes with Venturans. The money the state paid for their care was surplus to needs and put into a trust fund for their futures. They were not all easy to care for, or for that matter free of trouble, but they were relatively free of the temptations that the outside world had on offer. They grew into some fine youths as the Ventura model rubbed off on them spending time at the lake, swimming, fishing and hiking the nearby forests. They mingled in home meetings and were educated under Cindy's radical system. They played and grew knowing less and less of the world they had been rejected by and accepted the culture of Ventura. Many children would find acceptance, love and a future in the village and return to the outside world ambassadors of the Ventura model.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Ventura to the World

Michael's struggle with leadership had not ended, in fact it was about to broaden and deepen. A request had arrived from a television crew to come and report on the Ventura miracle. Michael accepted, a little reluctant to allow what was happening to be interpreted possibly in the wrong way. He knew this had happened before but this was one of the most reputable documentary crews around.

The crew arrived by bright red helicopter with "SEVEN NEWS" blazoned across the side of it. Christie Trent, the face of numerous television documentaries, stepped out and accepted Michael's hand of welcome beneath the whirling rotors above. The high pitched whine of the turbine maintained its roar as she asked Michael to join her for an airborne tour of the district. He accepted and climbed on board.

Television cameras rolled on Michael as he pointed out the various features of the district: the village, the RIO distillery, farm buildings, crops, mines and river. Then they lifted over the mountain towards the lake allowing time to pan across the plains of Kind. The lake was picturesque with bright sunshine across the green of its depths. He directed them to a landing by the cabin. Christie directed the cameraman to set-up for a take with both the lake and cabin in view. She stood there and completed an introductory piece de camera.

"I am here at Ventura Lake in the mountains of the district of Kind," she said very professionally. "This is a new development under the watchful eye of John Houston-Tyler president of the World Wide Organisation for the Preservation and Restoration of Natural Wonders. This is just one part of the amazing story of transition that is Ventura. I am here with Michael Ogden, the man behind this miracle of change and development. Michael, what is your perspective on this phenomenon."

"Simply that I found a place caught a long way back in the early 20^th century and we simply set it free and assisted it to enter the 21^st century."

"Surely you are too modest," Christie claimed. "It is because of you that these people are making a name for themselves in leaps and bounds all over the world."

"It is not me," said Michael. "I simply opened the door to their dreams. I had no idea this would happen as it did. No, someone greater than I is responsible for this rapid advance."

"I take it you are referring to Jean Claude Vivaron and his promotion of that eye catching Ventura art."

"Vivaron is playing a major role in this move but no I was thinking of a more divine being than he."

"I see," said Christie. "You are saying that God is behind all this development and notoriety then?"

"I don't know about notoriety," said Michael, "but there are things happening here that certainly defy ordinary human endeavours. We have a strong faith in God's ability to intervene in man's affairs and bring a blessing to those who love and are willing to be guided by Him. Take this cabin for example, even before it was completed we had paying guests waiting to occupy it and we spent nothing on promotion. The cabin was intended to allow the villagers a place of their own to holiday but we have so much enquiry that we have to turn the tourists away so that our own people may share in it."

"Why aren't you building more to meet this demand?"

"We find the people offering to pay us more and more for access to this one. If we had more it would make it less exclusive and perhaps destroy the very popularity that makes this one such a success. We do have a fisherman's facility by the trail end to service the sportsman interested in visiting."

"I hear that you airlifted a steam vessel into the lake."

"Yes. We are very aware of environmental issues and John found this beautiful piece of the art of boat building fully restored. The only way to bring it in was by heavy lift helicopter and it worked well."

The cameraman took footage of the steamer, the fish and game nearby before packing away his gear for the flight back over the mountains. At the village the crew captured on camera the arts and crafts centre and the RIO distillery. They interviewed several of the village folk about their new leadership and how they all felt about the way they were heading. They also spoke to the new comers, the farm manager and interviewed a group of teenage foster children. Finally Christie Trent signed off in the square surrounded by inquisitive villagers and their many cats.

Following the screening of the documentary the Village was inundated with phone calls and e-mails, so much so that someone needed to be appointed fulltime to handle the volumes of enquiries. Amongst this flow of excitement came requests for Michael to discuss with other remote towns and villages the "Ventura model" as Christie Trent kept calling what they had been up too. Michael began accepting some handsome offers "for costs" and began to book flights to fulfil the engagements.

Cindy was dubious, whether or not it was a good thing that Michael would now be away so much. She knew in her heart of hearts though, that this was too big to hold back. She feared what might happen if he got caught up in the lime light and it all went to his head. Tension began to grow within her as she saw him off on the first "mission" as he called it. He was to speak to an audience of about five hundred for the first time in his life.

"Be careful honey," Cindy said hugging him.

"I will. You know I will."

"Have you got your notes?"

"Yes I have them in my satchel but don't worry I have it all in here," he said pointing to his head.

"Be careful Michael," she said. "Please be careful."

"I will honey," This made Michael a little perplexed. Why was she saying to be careful so much? "I'm only going to address a meeting honey. I will be right back in a couple of days."

"Remember where you came from," she said, kissed him goodbye and stepped back from the plane.

The audience, far in excess of five hundred, chattered away waiting for the meeting in the town of Rosebury to come to order. A public meeting had been called to look at ways to avert their shrinking population and spark some new life into their dwindling finances. They had invited Michael to address the meeting after seeing Cindy Trent's documentary on primetime television. The Mayor introduced him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the portly Mayor. "We are pleased to have with us tonight the talk of the airwaves and inspiration of the Ventura model. Please put your hands together for the amazing Mr. Michael Ogden."

Hearty applause ushered Michael as he walked up to the podium. He took his time to sort his notes and allow an air of expectation to develop to its fullest. The delay was lengthened somewhat by a slightly unusual bout of verbal constipation and flushed heat all over him. But finally his thoughts broke through.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please do not take me to be any sort of expert or miracle worker in the field of economic revival. My wife would have me remember my humble beginnings; a fatherless child raised by psychotic mother then fostered out until old enough to run away from the strangle hold of authority. For a time I lived as a street kid helping myself to what I needed to sustain my miserable life, killing and cooking animals and birds just to survive when the pickings were thin. Yes, I stole a chicken here and a sheep there, items of clothing off washing lines, raiding empty holiday homes when I was starving and living under the floorboards of houses on some occasions.

I have spent a great proportion of my life wandering around, not knowing where I was going. I now realise it was an attempt to find myself. But inside of me the blood that flowed happened to have once belonged to a leading family. When I lived in a remote shepherd's hut for several months I took to reading the Bible, not because I wanted to learn about God but because it was all I had to read. I learnt a thing or two about life in those pages. People were going through the very same things I was going through. I could relate to the shepherd boy hiding out in caves and praying to God for help. Believe me it's no romantic journey running from trouble. Out there with that Bible I found there was hope. Before this I believed not a soul in the universe cared about me. I was in despair feeling hopeless and alone. But then, knowing there was this heavenly being on my side who was supplying my every desperate day to day need I began to have some notion that just as those in the Bible had a future set out for them, also there might be one for me. I was born in poverty, raised in obscurity, wandered in dismay and ended up discovering I had silverware."

The audience laughed and with it Michael began to feel a little more comfortable.

"It took me a long time to learn that I could be of value as an individual. It didn't dawn on me overnight but gradually I came to realise that this destiny I had before me would never be realised until I found it. I went looking and ended up stumbling on this lost people. I am not well educated but the people I have ended up leading were considerably less educated. They had little knowledge of reading and writing and no knowledge of the world; this to them made me quite a valuable acquisition. It is relative, as you can appreciate. I would be of little use to the ivory tower boys so caught up in their intellectual and sophisticated world. How this may help you who all ready know what I know, I don't know."

The audience chuckled some more. Michael thought that a little strange to begin with but then realised that he had an off the cuff way of amusing his audience with his ordinary conversation.

"The village I stumbled upon discovered a new word from my lips, Adventure. Prior to that they had no concept of it. Adventure wasn't even in their vocabulary. The leader believed it didn't exist in the district. So with their permission I led a mission out to find a possible heir. I did not realise it then but that was when I begun to lead them. I found the last remaining heir had just passed away. This very generous and well to do man who was loved by everyone turned out to be my father. From his estate I inherited a small fortune and with it came an inheritance to the leadership of the village I found. From that moment on I had a focus and goal.

I immediately went home and married my long time schoolteacher girlfriend and we travelled on horseback to our village. It seemed the right thing to do now that I knew who I was. I set about utilising the finances available to me to bring the technology of the 21^st century to these people. I encouraged the people to live their dreams and removed the repressive system that stood over them, replacing the mediation process that had guided them. I must stress that it was not the leader's fault; he had inherited the repressive legacy from previous Mediators. He knew no other way and might be seen a blind man living in darkness. He was stumbling around waiting for the day when someone would return to bring light into the village. I just happened to be carrying the torch; the really bright light came through the people who dreamed their dreams and envisioned new ideas."

The audience spontaneously clapped at this revelation. Michael wondered why, it seemed to be such an obvious thing.

"What makes a good leader?" Michael read from his notes. "Firstly, I believe it is in the blood. I was born to lead these people. They accepted me so quickly when they found out that I was the descendant of their leading family. There's something in the inheritance, in the genes if you will, that people want to follow. There is something in the knowledge that they recognise to be worth following. You see a leader shouldn't drive people to where he wants them to go, a good leader is going places and the people fall in along side of him on that path. He is a leader because people follow."

Again the audience applauded.

"The next point I have noted is the contrast between leadership styles and people skills. My own experience under an autocratic and domineering leader was enough to never want to go that way myself. Yet it could have been a temptation to push people into my way. I had to resist that and lean instead on an often-ignored marinade I refer too as compassionate wisdom. What I mean by this is that I love my people and want them to love where they are going. Every decision is their decision; I do not arbitrarily make it for them. We as leadership might decide the way we want to go and we mix with the people and talk about it. When we feel the heart of the people are with it then it just happens; there's even energy from them to do it."

Another round of applause began. Michael felt the flow was coming through him rather than from him.

"The next point I have listed in my brief notes is freedom. To know freedom one has to have first felt the cruel grip of captivity. My people knew it well. Their minds had been controlled by the philosophy of the Mediators. They had no access to any published medium except that which they were allowed by the two people who were able to read. Therefore a philosophy unwarranted and outdated ruled over the people. The greatest thing leadership can do for the people is to encourage their ability to ask, seek and knock. If the leadership manages to close these doors, for whatever reason, the people will be hesitant to bring forward their dreams; some of which will be the making of your future."

Once again the audience applauded Michael's words.

"My suggestion, if you are looking for one, is to positively apply this freedom whether you think it applies now or not. Value the input of the unelevated person. One of the dozens of probably unusable ideas will be the one that you will capitalise on. But if the idea is not totally free to come forward it may never see the light of day, let alone have it save you from obscurity."

That drew a mighty round of applause from the audience but Michael could see a frown on the Mayor's face so he set about attacking that resistance.

"The problem our district faced before my time was hardness of the heart. You see the Mediators were the only educated beings in the district. Who could possibly contribute to one such as this? He was, as far as he was concerned, the "all knowing one" yet he actually knew his inadequacies and set about protecting himself in them. He had eaten from the tree of knowledge and presumed that was all there was too it. Our mediator stubbornly held to his convictions and continually struggled with this new way. But God inspires the humble, they dream just as anyone dreams and in that you have your future. The man who stands in the way of dreams inhibits God's blessing for the people."

Again there was applause.

"There will be those who have no dream. There are some who are happy to go along with the flow and that's okay. God makes us all different for the uplifting of all in our society. Do not discount any individual; lift up everyone and you will be caught up in the groundswell God is creating. Let me share with you some examples. Jones is our artistic genius and I recognised that when I first saw his work. We helped him to get established in the marketplace utilising the services of Jean Claude Vivaron. Vivaron didn't give Ventura its name but he sure made the brand well known. On the vehicle of that name all of our production rides. The women folk wanted to upgrade the village medical facilities so they set about gathering walnuts and packaging them in various ways until they made far more then they required for medicines and equipment. A vision from our old seer William started the leaf oil distillery that now heals hundreds of injuries and burns. The cabin built for our people to holiday in at the lake earns more on weekends each month than our mines ever used to. A collapse in the coal mine caused the rescuers to dig out a wall in which we found diamonds; now we dig coal no more. Our land is now producing for export where once it just fed the village. Tourists pay to come to see a people who live in a system without money. The state pays for us to foster children in the village and we produce all they need.

What I am trying to show you is that not unlike a battery we are of no use unless we are plugged in to something. Make the connections between the people and your future. Open pathways to allow things to happen. Take misfortune by the collar and find opportunities in your recession. Take your predicament, however dire it may look, and see it as motivation to strike out on an adventure into whatever you are going to be. Only a blind man does not find light when opportunity knocks and opens the door."

The audience was again enthralled and applauding.

"Above all else acknowledge the goodness of God towards His children. He wants to bless and not curse His people. If you are now under the curse change your ways. You say God is dead and you wonder why no blessings come to your district. Ours is an unusual experience; our people had no monetary system and a close knit co-operative culture born of isolation. You do not have these ingredients but the basic factors of success are available to you and you can alter the rest. Go find your leader of inheritance, the one who has inside the blood of your forefather who brought prosperity to this place. It may be someone seated right here or it may be someone long lost to this town. You need that blood for within it is life, ordained to lead, destined to be followed and compassionate for this people's freedom. Set your people free to dream and be inspired by God. Value them and set out to establish everything for their wellbeing."

Once more there arose hearty applause in agreement.

"There is little more that I can add except to say that soon we will have a child, an heir to the leadership and it is my responsibility along with the village to raise this child in the Ventura Model," said Michael feeling the passion of his words ebb away. "What the future will bring we do not know except to say as the great songwriter wrote "Whispering words of wisdom, let it be, let it be". I want to thank you for listening, you have been an excellent audience. Thank you." Then Michael looked to everyone and said, "Now it is up to you."

This drew a standing ovation that continued on and on. It was nothing more than anyone else might have said but no body had. To say more would ruin it. They had a time of individual discussion over a cup of tea and coffee that persisted for more than an hour. People were really keen to get close to him and ask the questions that had gripped them during Michael's presentation. The Mayor was conspicuously absent but the people drank in Michael's every word. They had never heard such a passionate delivery and in their hearts they knew the truth.

Michael carried the Ventura model far and wide on his mission to share the light to all those who would have the day. It was not the well to do or the intellectuals who embraced it but rather the village people, the small towns and the desperate. It had no relevance to the masses of materialistic inclined but energised those who had been left behind in the march of current economic theory. It was as if the Ventura stream had burst its banks and flooded out into the world with its waters forming pools of adventurers exploring their dreams here and there in its path. Little Michael Ogden had become a big fish in a sea of hope. His thoughts now were on his return home in time for the great event.

Chapter Thirty

Child of Promise

As the news came out that Cindy had been having contractions the village focus shifted. They felt their future could only be secured by the birth of an heir to their leadership. They had been praying for a son of integrity who could be brought up to lead them well in a fast changing world. The women in the village who knew these things predicted a son. A dream had come of a royal crown on the head of a boy. Cindy had no say in the matter; it was just for her to suffer the pain and for Sheela to deliver the child safely. He would belong not so much Michael and Cindy but to the village. Great pressures could have been placed on him by all if it weren't for the wisdom of the old seer.

Cindy was happiest to be with Sheela during this time. The nurse instilled a great deal of confidence in the first time mother, passing on to her vast knowledge of childbirth and her handling of any complications. Cindy had anxiety built on talk she had heard of problems with babies born to women late in life. It frightened her but Sheela had a means of soothing away those worries, matter-of-factly getting on with what had to be done, as though this was not the first but the hundredth baby she had delivered, which in truth it was more likely to be.

The contractions were coming closer. Michael supported her against the wall of the building as they rested on their way to Sheela's clinic. This one was three minutes after the last and the severity of it was increasing. After the tightness eased they continued towards the square where Cindy's friends were excitedly gathered, giving her best wished and offering their prayers. Sheela took her hand as another contraction gripped Cindy in the doorway.

"There's no rush," Sheela said. "Just wait there until it passes."

"Will I leave her with you?" Michael asked.

"If you want too," said Sheela easing Cindy now onto the birthing table. "But you can stay and comfort your wife if you would like."

"Should I?" he said feeling quite out of his depth.

"You should!" said Cindy gripping his hand extremely tightly with the next contraction.

"Hey," he said, "take it easy. I've got some things to do with that hand in the future."

"Could you rub my back?" asked Cindy now almost completely stripped down, her bulging middle seemingly stretched to its limits.

"Where, here?" Michael rubbed an area as she rolled on her side.

"Lower, in the small of my back," she directed. Michael massaged the area and the pain faded while he rubbed through the next contraction.

"I want you to raise your knees Cindy," said Sheela probing to determine how advanced things were. "Michael, could you lift her shoulders with those pillows."

Michael did so as another contraction began. Now they were closer than before at about one minute intervals. The pain in her back was agony but again eased miraculously as Michael placed his hand on the spot. He wasn't allowed to remove it even though it was for him uncomfortable. Cindy was getting quite loud and the squeeze on his other hand almost intolerable. Michael felt his love for her well up seeing her go through this for him. He wiped away a couple of tears that escaped in the moment.

"I love you dear," he said.

"I love you too, ahhh!" Cindy screamed as pain now moved to her groin.

"Let it come freely dear," Sheela advised. "Push only when I say so, not before."

Michael was feeling awkward as if he was of no help at all. There was a gush as the waters broke. This might almost be too much, he thought feeling pressure in his stomach. Am I going to be sick? But things were out of his hands; I need to pray.

"Something is wrong!" he said.

"It's fine Michael," assured Sheela.

"No I feel tight in my stomach," he said painfully. "Check again. Could there be something wrong?"

Sheela checked in beside the baby's head. "The cord is around the babies neck," she said giving it a twist and flick. "Push now, quickly!"

Michael's tight pain eased. Cindy bore down on her baby, pressing forward and arching her back. The grimace on her face intense and focused completely on her baby's advance.

"There's the head," Sheela calmly announced. "Push, push, that's a good girl."

"Oh honey," said Michael in awe, "there's the head."

"Push Cindy," Sheela demanded, quickly unwrapping the umbilical cord from around the infant. "Push hard now. Push. Push. There you are."

Sheela was holding up a wrinkled bundle of arms and legs by the feet and rubbing its back with her free hand. "Come on little one, come on."

The child had hands clenched, there was a wriggle and then a cry.

"It's a boy Cindy," said Michael. "He's alive, he's okay."

"He's got a good set of lungs," said Sheela now laying him over on his mother's breast and dabbing with a cloth to dry him and keep off any chill.

He settled quickly on his mother's chest comforted by the steady heartbeat that had been his ever-present companion inside. He suckled at the nipple half-heartedly; content it seemed just to be amongst the nursery intended just for him. His fine dark hair was medium length around an elongated head. His skin colour now looked less red. His little fingers white as he gripped the breast and breathed steadily. He rested, occasionally going through suckling motions. It seemed he had gone to sleep.

"That was a close call Sheela," said Michael.

"My word," she replied earnestly. "If you hadn't given me the warning it might not have gone so well. How did you know?"

"I could feel tension in my stomach," said Michael. "Then I just knew something was wrong with the baby. I could feel it and sense his life ebbing away. Thank God he came out of it okay."

"I think we had some divine help in this one's arrival," said Sheela.

"Shall we call him Ezra then? suggested Michael. "If I remember rightly the name means something like "Help" and he was instrumental in instituting reforms."

"Ezra Ogden," Cindy said listening to the sound of it.

"What about Ezra George Ogden after his ancestor," suggested Michael.

"Sounds funny," said Cindy. "His initials would be EGO."

"How about Ezra James Ogden after his grandfather then," Michael suggested.

"Yes, I like the sound of that," said Cindy.

"I like it too," said Sheela.

"Then Ezra James he shall be named," announced Michael.

"Go tell the people honey," said Cindy.

"Shall I?"

"Go tell them now."

"Yes," said Sheela. "We have woman's things to do."

"Okay, I will. I will see you a little later on then."

Michael went out into the square where they all ready had heard the sounds of a baby crying. "Everyone, I have good news," said Michael. "We have a son and an heir!"

The villagers were ecstatic and in a roar three cheers went up, "Hip hip hooray, Hip hip hooray, "Hip hip hooray."

"Because we have had amazing help from God in his birth we have named him Ezra," announced Michael. "His name will be Ezra James Ogden. God willing he will be your leader one day. Uplift him in your prayers and he will uplift you when his day arrives."

The old seer came forward and prayed aloud toward the blue sky above.

"May God bless him and keep him. May His face shine upon this child of promise and cause him to be all that he could be in the sight of God, from this day forth and forever more."

"Amen," responded the people in reverent tones.

"Congratulations Michael," said Jones shaking his hand. "This is an important day. We must hope that he grows to be a fine man and inspired leader for this people."

"It is a great day," agreed Michael. "The blood is in his veins and with it the destiny due this people. I fear that he will be a man after my own heart for a time, perhaps an adventurer, but he will come back when the time is right and fulfil his destiny. I only hope and pray that he will not bring something adverse back with him."

"He will grow to be a fine man," said William with prophetic authority, "and in due course he will do good in the sight of God."

"Thank God," said Michael. "It sure helps build confidence that what will be will be and all we need to do is walk along side being who we will be."

Sheela brought the baby out for the people to see. It was right, as they had always done to show off their newly born to the close knit community, every one a child of many parents, of all parents and brother and sister to all children. His eyes were closed, his lips still occasionally going through the sucking motion and his small wrinkled face angelically cute. The people came to look for a moment or two, whispered words to the infant and then made room for others. William took the oil, dipped his fingers and anointed the child's head.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," the old seer said with authority.

Gifts came forward. A woman gave some oil. Michael could smell its sweet Gnarlybark scent. Another brought a soft toy and gave it to him. Then Jones came forward with a finely carved white horse for the boy to play with and cherish. Others had made a soft blue quilt depicting his birthplace, his birthright in the hills and river and streams of Kind. Pieces of clothing also came; finely knitted bonnets and booties, bibs and cotton wraps, underclothes and coveralls. It seemed that everyone wanted to input into the little boy's life and a small mountain of these essentials of babyhood soon grew. Michael felt a sense of profound emotion and it drew an involuntary response from his eyes. Wiping the tears away he quietly thanked each for their contribution.

Cindy gained some moments of sleep not knowing anything of the events outside. Her labour had drained her of every ounce of her strength. The pain had now subsided and there was just the after glow of the event in her mind. She had dreamed of this day for what seemed like a hundred years and now that it had happened it was as if it were still a dream. The years had slipped away in her day to day routine of teaching other people's children, never her own. Michael had flitted through her life in some nonchalant manner as if this weren't ever meant to be. But it was meant to be and it had happened; she now felt at last a whole woman. She looked forward to seeing her baby grow into a toddler, helping him take his first steps and hearing his first words. Then becoming a young lad he would explore the world, with his father teaching him the ways of his home village.

Michael was not thinking of such things; his mind was on his wonderful wife who had gone through so much for him. So much had happened in his life since he first met Simon digging that grave for poor old Capel that day on the road into the village. He quietly retreated into the church where he sat in the front pew alone. There he wept. Michael was not his own man; he belonged to God. The Ventura model was prospering and growing - satellite villages were springing up and networking together. The model was beginning to work elsewhere. He knew it was not for men to have power over another; it was for them to live out their God given dreams that together brought about blessing for all.

Amen.

About the Writer

The writer is married with five children and lives in a small rural town. He enjoys fishing and time spent in the great outdoors. He has a passion for others to know God and come to have faith in Jesus Christ. With his wife they involve themselves in the local church communicating the faith through multimedia events and cross cultural community chaplaincy.

Michael has written various types of work from songs and poetry in his first published book Pieces of the Kingdom and a short story on spirituality called Thomas the Disciple in the early 1990's. During some missions studies in 1999-2000 he wrote a Biblical research project The Enduring Seduction of Babylon and following missions work I Am Dad the experiences of a supervisor in rehabilitation centre in 2001.

All of these titles and more are published on the Internet on the Jonah Project Chapel website http://www.geocities.com/jpchapel

Contact can be made by e-mail via that site or [email protected]