The waterfront was only a few blocks away with the breeze blowing off the water protecting it from the fire.  Many of the people in the streets were now running in that direction.  Jonathan's group just followed the torrent of bodies.  When they reached the quays they were able to break free.  The mob veered towards the large ship and fought to get up the gangways.  There was a great deal of pushing and screaming going on and several people could be seen falling off the gangplanks to the bricks or water below.  Jonathan and his men headed past this nightmare, to the deserted wharves and the warehouses that lined the port.

     After such commotion they stopped and rested in the shadow of the first of these buildings.  Jonathan asked his guide where to turn next.

     "All these buildings are packed with grain and other supplies, ready to be shipped out" he answered, catching his breath.  "There should be wagons nearby.  There's a stable just up this street."

     They went to one of the smaller warehouses, which was almost hidden behind several larger ones and pushed open its wide, rolling doors.  There was a row of empty wagons lining the central passageway and large bins and shelves on each side loaded with sacks of grain.  Jonathan assigned half of his men to load up all the carts, which numbered ten.  Then he took the other five men including his guide, to get horses.

     Since they had to leave their single lantern with the others, they went in near darkness.  But now a strange glow from the fire lighted the sky.

     One block away from the waterfront they found the stables.  The horses were kicking in their stalls, well aware of the danger.  It took many minutes to calm these beasts enough to lead them one by one to the wagons.  There were people rushing by on the streets and more along the quay, but none of them stopped to notice what Jonathan and his men were doing.  On his last trip to the stables Jonathan let the rest of the animals loose and watched as they galloped away through empty streets.  Then he took the lantern he’d brought and set a new fire to a large pile of straw.

     While the horses were being hitched Jonathan returned and asked his guide to take the most discreet route out of the city.  The fire just kindled was spreading quickly, consuming the wooden structure and skipping to the adjoining warehouses.  Already there were men rushing towards it, probably officials, raising an alarm.  The safest path now would be to follow the waterfront to its western edge then loop around the perimeter of the city to the north, where the others were waiting.  Hopefully the fire just started would be a barrier to any pursuit.

     With a new inferno rising at their backs and the shouts and cries of a distraught people in their ears, they set out calmly along the glimmering waterfront.  Each man led a team of horses and a cart, while the guide led the way.  Jonathan followed behind the last of the train, ready to shoot any pursuers.  But in a few minutes they were away from almost everyone and when they reached the street that led around the edge of the city they found it deserted.

     From a high point along this street Jonathan stopped and looked back over the entire city.  The two raging fires were several miles away, horrible to behold or contemplate.  The fire in the warehouse district had spread fast.  All the structures there were wooden and their contents very combustible.  Now the tanker was obscured from view.  A great wall of smoke and flames lined the harbor.  Jonathan wondered about all the people who had scrambled onto that ship.  The flames were probably licking its sides and it was not about to depart.

     Further away Jonathan could see one wing of the temple burning and what looked like thousands of people in the square.  They were caught between the two fires, as the newest one was racing east like the other and near to catching up to the point where that one began.  There was no hope of stopping either now.  The city would undoubtedly be consumed.

     He couldn’t tear his eyes away from this scene, telling the others to go on.  He’d catch up in a few minutes.  He wanted to see if the people in the square would begin to flee north, away from the approaching flames.

     "These people have no sense about fire" he thought, "for all they worship it.  They flock to the temple for instruction and now it’s burning down.  The Church probably never made any plans for this type of disaster.  None of them know what to do."

     But now a deep pang of guilt struck his heart as he looked into that glowing light which spelled the death of hundreds of souls.  "What a price I lay upon others for my own escape" he thought.  "I'm as bad as the fanatics when the plague was ripe, creating fires like this.  For every innocent I save how many will die?"

     "These people are blameless" he thought on.  "How many of them have I killed?  It’s us old men who muddle up the world and burn it down.  I'm the one that should die."

     In a deep melancholy he stood there motionless and minutes passed by.  His wagon train was now out of sight, a mile ahead and veering to the northeast, where it would reach the knoll and rendezvous with the others.  In a sad melancholy Jonathan began trudging after it, still lost in thought, looking down and in a very dejected mood.  He reached the top of the familiar knoll all alone and took one, last, long look at a city in flames.

     The first, faint rays of dawn were gleaming in the east and Jonathan wearily turned his eyes to his rabble group of outlaws.  But now a different scene than he expected met his gaze and the sight astounded him.

     Instead of the hundred and fifty emaciated victims he’d left prostrate in the shadows of that dark hillside, there were now many thousands of souls, a sea of people, camped in clusters of families with their sacks and bundles stacked beside them.  Paul's father came running up the hill towards Jonathan, breathless and yet still able to speak:  "They came, they all came" he said excitedly "when I told them we were going home.  You see, they were all stationed in the same quarter, all of our townspeople and others came too when they heard the news.  They all want to follow you, to the freedom you spoke of."

     Jonathan stared in mute wonder at this horde of families, spread out across the hillside below him.  It was a scene of patient waiting.  Behind him the city roared in flames.  In the first light of morning a huge billow of smoke was blackening at least a quarter of the sky.  An equal portion of the city was now totally consumed by the fire, just finding its appetite.  The waterfront was totally obscured, and the fire had by now ranged far to the east and further to the west and north.  Only one tiny angle of the temple was still visible, along with a clouded view of the square where throngs of people still clashed in panic.

     Jonathan took another look at this spectacle and then turned away.  "The arch will fall in the next hour" he told himself.  "We’d better be moving on."

     "And what's the difference between me and them?" he thought.  "Is it purely an accident that I burned this city?" he tried to reason.

     Now he gazed on those who were in his charge, waiting to be taken away to safety.

     "Have the wagons loaded up with the sick" he told Paul's father, "and everything else they can carry."

     "This is almost done" he replied.  "We’ll soon be ready to go."

     "Oh grief" Jonathan sighed out loud, turning away.  Then he sent Paul's father down the hill again to help ready the van for the long trek north.  He wanted to be alone.

     "What a pity" he thought, taking one last look behind.  But then another thought crept in.

     "Pity, that's the difference," he realized.  "I feel a pity that they don’t, a grief, a humanity.  I repent my errors and have a conscience working."

     "I’ll teach these people about conscience" he said to himself decisively, "and their past, their stolen past, the laws of civilization, science.  This might redeem me.  No one will have died for nothing."

     He hurried down the hill to supervise the long march.  "Even the loss of one soul on this journey" he thought, "shall go hard against my conscience.  We'll build a better world when we arrive."

     The sun was now beginning to rise in the east.  Except for a few puffy clouds off the coast and the dark billows behind them, the day promised to be a bright one.

     The wagons were ready to go. The men who’d brought them were now resting, leaning against the wheels, while others were arranging the loads at Paul's father's directions.

     Jonathan felt full of vigor all of a sudden, watching these people prepare themselves.

     "We’ve much work here" said Paul's father in good cheer, as Jonathan walked up to him.

     "Yes" said Jonathan, "and a fine day ahead of us. With a little luck, I think we shall make great progress."

THE END

Epilogue to follow.

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