Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 by Frank Augustus Page B

means of threaded grooves—not tied on like those made by the fletcher in Albion. The an-nef may be half animal, but it was obvious that their technology was superior to that of men and giants. That realization gave Jesse much cause for concern. “By the gods,” he said to himself, “and as sure as fog kills, I will kill Anubis for this.”
    Jesse tossed the arrow in the back of the buckboard and headed back down the road. In a few minutes they had ridden past Horse-head Rock, and Jesse noticed that Enoch was staring out at an estate on the hill off to the right. The estate was of the old style, complete with a courtyard and slate roof. “You know whose estate that is?” he asked.
    “My son’s.”
    “Your son lives there?”
    “Yes. It was my estate before my death. But you know the law, ‘No spirit residing in a host shall own property or be permitted to hold any office of government. That is the Law of Atlantis.’” Enoch quoted the law as if reciting a mantra. “Strange, really, the emperor that issued that decree now dwells in a spirit-host and is permitted to live in the palace that he built only as long as he stays in good graces with his idiot son. I wonder what he thinks of that law now?”
    “Enoch, why didn’t you stay on your estate after your death? Why did you come to live with dad?”
    “They wouldn’t have me.”
    Jesse said no more. He didn’t know how to respond to that bit of painful honesty.
    “Jesse, they wouldn’t have me because I was bad father and husband.”
    “I don’t believe that.”
    “Believe it. It’s true. All of my life was consumed with what I could do to satisfy my desires. Then when I died I reaped the penalty of my selfishness. My wives told Nashon to take the dog and leave. Take the dog and leave! That’s what they thought of me! Death can be a real eye-opener, Jesse. Learn your lessons in life. There are no second chances. I was told by one of your brothers that a few days after my death they took my portraits off the wall and burned them. They say that no one ever regrets on his deathbed that he spent too much time with his children and it’s true. Oh the things that I would do differently if I could do them over! But we can’t, now, can we?”
    Jesse didn’t try to reply. He felt sorry for his uncle and friend. He could not imagine a time when Enoch had not been kind. The thought that there was past with another Enoch was difficult for him to grasp.
    As they again rode in silence Enoch suddenly remarked, “I smell…cat.”
    Jesse pulled back on the reins and shouted, “Whoa!” The wagon came to a sudden halt and Jesse fumbled behind the seat for the spear.
    “Do you mean, ‘cat, cat, or big cat’?”
    “Cat, cat…I think.”
    “But you’re not sure?”
    Enoch stuck his nose in the air and sniffed. “Yes, cat cat. I don’t believe that the scent is strong enough for a lion, but I’ve never actually smelled one before.” As he spoke a tabby leaped from the tall grass and onto the stone wall that they were passing. It stretched nonchalantly, ignoring the passengers of the passing wagon.
    “Okay,” said Jesse. “Cat cat it is.”
    “Now,” Enoch replied, “put that spear down before someone gets hurt. Do you actually know how to use the thing?”
    “Nope. Never held one before two weeks ago. But I did pretty well on my first try, don’t you think?”

     
    When the sun was high they stopped for lunch beside the Elmer and let the horse graze and drink from the river. Here the brook was starting to widen to a real stream, and it flowed slower than when they had crossed it at the Albion bridge.
    Jesse gave Enoch some of his dried beef, and made a sandwich for himself using some of the moldy biscuits.
    “Tell me about the war, Enoch,” he said as he sat down to eat.
    “Your tutors taught you about the war.”
    “They taught me that history is written by the victors. Now, give it to me straight. The unabridged, politically incorrect,