back."
The Reverend felt chagrined, and he did not argue.
The donkeys had already been prepared for the outing, and the Reverend marveled at the efficiency and cleverness of his servants. In so many instances, they were more informed and wiser than he. Out on the front porch, the Reverend asked for Ahcho's assistance in placing the animal hide upon his shoulders.
"Perhaps Reverend does not need this fur any longer?" Ahcho asked. "The sun is out, and today appears to be a milder day. Your overcoat should be enough."
"You must know that I don't wear it for protection against the elements. I use it to help us achieve our goals."
The Reverend shimmied under the tattered old fur without the older man's help.
Ahcho crossed his arms over his chest and said, "The Reverend recalls his many sermons about the ineffectualness and misguided belief in superstition?"
"I do, indeed, Ahcho. You are a fine parishioner, good through and through." Then he leaned in even closer and added, "But this hide and my new weapon may help, too." He placed a hand on the hilt of a small dagger. He had been given it by the peasants in the hamlet who had also bestowed upon him the ceramic vessel.
Ahcho nodded, although the Reverend knew he would have liked to protest. The man was not a fighter, and while the Reverend had never thought of himself as a fighter, either, he needed to be prepared for all manner of treachery these days.
The two men rode out from the compound. As the Reverend looked over his shoulder, he saw Reverend Charles Martin and Reverend John Jacobs retreating back into their homes. He thought he should stop to speak to his colleagues, for it had been some time since he had last done so, but he did not want to distract himself from the important task at hand. His wife was in great need.
"How is everyone holding up?" the Reverend asked Ahcho as they passed through the open compound gates and turned onto the road that led toward the small town.
"What do you mean?" Ahcho asked.
"Are the other families of the mission faring decently? I'm afraid I've lost track of them."
"You have been gone most of the time."
"And they resent me for it?" the Reverend asked.
Ahcho did not answer, which the Reverend took to be an affirmative.
"I will make an effort when we return with the food. Perhaps we can procure enough for the others."
"We shall see, sir," Ahcho said.
"But they are all right?" the Reverend pressed.
Ahcho's eyes betrayed very little, but the Reverend thought he sensed some sort of judgment coming from his servant. Then Ahcho spoke with an evenhandedness that the Reverend admired.
"The Jenkins family lost their oldest girl," he said. "She was too hungry and ate a persimmon from the market without washing it first. She was old enough to know better, so no one understands why it happened. The illness took her in two days' time."
"Dear Lord," the Reverend muttered. "I remember her. Miranda was her name. A lovely girl, almost a woman."
"But a child still, or else she would have known better. Unless she wanted it to happen thusly?" Ahcho asked tentatively. "The servants have been discussing the possibility."
The Reverend tried not to show his alarm at such a supposition. It could not be. "I think that's most unlikely," he answered, although truly he could not say.
Only a cruel God would do such a thing, unless, he sighed, there was no God at all keeping watch over them. The two rode on in silence.
They passed through the market, where the stalls stood derelict and empty. A gathering of old hags and beggars sat on their haunches in the shade by the side of the road. When they saw the Reverend, they did not rise to their feet or even lift their open palms in hopes of a coin or two.
"Isn't this market day?" the Reverend asked. "Where are all the farmers?"
"They stay on their farms to protect them now. Bands of robbers sweep through the countryside and burn them down. Very dangerous."
"But have they no crops at all? Not even a kitchen garden to feed their families?"
Ahcho turned to the Reverend. The older man appeared baffled and apparently speechless.
"What is it, Ahcho?" the Reverend asked.
Ahcho shook his head with uncharacteristic dismay. "I cannot imag ine how the great Reverend has not noticed the plight of the people on his trips?"
"Why, of course I have noticed them. I have a keen affinity for these peasant