me to the ground. Beta stepped forward and removed a sharp-edged stone from his or her robes. As I struggled in vain to pull free, Beta cut my clothes down the front and pulled apart the shreds until I was all but naked.
I ceased struggling as the mob pressed forward. They stared at my pale, white body and murmured to themselves. I could feel my heartpounding. “I am sorry if I have offended your laws,” I began, “but there is no reason …”
“Silence,” said Alpha and spoke to the tall Bikura with the scar on his palm—the one I call Zed. “He is not of the cruciform.”
Zed nodded.
“Let me explain,” I began again, but Alpha silenced me with a backhanded slap that left my lip bleeding and my ears ringing. There had been no more sense of hostility in his action than I would have shown in silencing a comlog by throwing a switch.
“What are we to do with him?” asked Alpha.
“Those who do not follow the cross must die the true death,” said Beta and the crowd shifted forward. Many had sharpened stones in their hands. “Those not of the cruciform must die the true death,” said Beta and her voice held the tone of complacent finality common to oft-repeated formulae and religious litanies.
“I
follow
the cross!” I cried out as the crowd tugged me to my feet. I grabbed at the crucifix that hung around my neck and struggled against the pressure of many arms. Finally I managed to lift the little cross over my head.
Alpha held up his hand and the crowd paused. In the sudden silence I could hear the river three kilometers below in the Cleft. “He does carry a cross,” said Alpha.
Del pressed forward. “But he is not of the cruciform! I saw. It was not as we thought. He is not of the cruciform!” There was murder in his voice.
I cursed myself for being careless and stupid. The future of the Church depended upon my survival and I had thrown both away by beguiling myself into believing that the Bikura were dull, harmless children.
“Those who do not follow the cross must die the true death,” repeated Beta. It was a final sentencing.
Stones were being raised by seventy hands when I shouted, knowing that it was either my last chance or my final condemnation. “I have been down the cliff and worshiped at your altar! I follow the cross!”
Alpha and the mob hesitated. I could see that they were wrestling with this new thought. It was not easy for them.
“I follow the cross and wish to be of the cruciform,” I said as calmly as I could. “I have been to your altar.”
“Those who do not follow the cross must die the true death,” called Gamma.
“But he follows the cross,” said Alpha. “He has prayed in the room.”
“This cannot be,” said Zed. “The Three Score and Ten pray there and he is not of the Three Score and Ten.”
“We knew before this that he is not of the Three Score and Ten,” said Alpha, frowning slightly as he dealt with the concept of past tense.
“He is not of the cruciform,” said Delta-two.
“Those who are not of the cruciform must die the true death,” said Beta.
“He follows the cross,” said Alpha. “Can he not then become of the cruciform?”
An outcry arose. In the general babble and shuffle of forms I pulled against restraining hands but their grips remained firm.
“He is not of the Three Score and Ten and is not of the cruciform,” said Beta, sounding more puzzled than hostile now. “How is it that he should not die the true death? We must take the stones and open his throat so that the blood flows until his heart stops. He is not of the cruciform.”
“He follows the cross,” said Alpha. “Can he not become of the cruciform?”
This time silence followed the question.
“He follows the cross and has prayed at the room of the cruciform,” said Alpha. “He must not die the true death.”
“All die the true death,” said a Bikura whom I did not recognize. My arms were aching from the strain of holding the crucifix above my head.
I ceased struggling as the mob pressed forward. They stared at my pale, white body and murmured to themselves. I could feel my heartpounding. “I am sorry if I have offended your laws,” I began, “but there is no reason …”
“Silence,” said Alpha and spoke to the tall Bikura with the scar on his palm—the one I call Zed. “He is not of the cruciform.”
Zed nodded.
“Let me explain,” I began again, but Alpha silenced me with a backhanded slap that left my lip bleeding and my ears ringing. There had been no more sense of hostility in his action than I would have shown in silencing a comlog by throwing a switch.
“What are we to do with him?” asked Alpha.
“Those who do not follow the cross must die the true death,” said Beta and the crowd shifted forward. Many had sharpened stones in their hands. “Those not of the cruciform must die the true death,” said Beta and her voice held the tone of complacent finality common to oft-repeated formulae and religious litanies.
“I
follow
the cross!” I cried out as the crowd tugged me to my feet. I grabbed at the crucifix that hung around my neck and struggled against the pressure of many arms. Finally I managed to lift the little cross over my head.
Alpha held up his hand and the crowd paused. In the sudden silence I could hear the river three kilometers below in the Cleft. “He does carry a cross,” said Alpha.
Del pressed forward. “But he is not of the cruciform! I saw. It was not as we thought. He is not of the cruciform!” There was murder in his voice.
I cursed myself for being careless and stupid. The future of the Church depended upon my survival and I had thrown both away by beguiling myself into believing that the Bikura were dull, harmless children.
“Those who do not follow the cross must die the true death,” repeated Beta. It was a final sentencing.
Stones were being raised by seventy hands when I shouted, knowing that it was either my last chance or my final condemnation. “I have been down the cliff and worshiped at your altar! I follow the cross!”
Alpha and the mob hesitated. I could see that they were wrestling with this new thought. It was not easy for them.
“I follow the cross and wish to be of the cruciform,” I said as calmly as I could. “I have been to your altar.”
“Those who do not follow the cross must die the true death,” called Gamma.
“But he follows the cross,” said Alpha. “He has prayed in the room.”
“This cannot be,” said Zed. “The Three Score and Ten pray there and he is not of the Three Score and Ten.”
“We knew before this that he is not of the Three Score and Ten,” said Alpha, frowning slightly as he dealt with the concept of past tense.
“He is not of the cruciform,” said Delta-two.
“Those who are not of the cruciform must die the true death,” said Beta.
“He follows the cross,” said Alpha. “Can he not then become of the cruciform?”
An outcry arose. In the general babble and shuffle of forms I pulled against restraining hands but their grips remained firm.
“He is not of the Three Score and Ten and is not of the cruciform,” said Beta, sounding more puzzled than hostile now. “How is it that he should not die the true death? We must take the stones and open his throat so that the blood flows until his heart stops. He is not of the cruciform.”
“He follows the cross,” said Alpha. “Can he not become of the cruciform?”
This time silence followed the question.
“He follows the cross and has prayed at the room of the cruciform,” said Alpha. “He must not die the true death.”
“All die the true death,” said a Bikura whom I did not recognize. My arms were aching from the strain of holding the crucifix above my head.
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