by LeMay, Jim
“A big tent, huh?” said a voice beside him. He wheeled abruptly, surprised.
It was she. Alicia. Looking at him with lowered eyes through her lashes, smiling rather impudently.
“Can’t you talk?” she said. “I’ve never heard you say a thing.”
He realized he wasn’t breathing. “Uh, uh, sure,” he said.
“Good. I wasn’t sure. Well ...?”
“Well, uh, what?”
“Isn’t it a big tent? Or are you used to seeing tents that big all the time?”
“N-No. I mean, yes, it’s big and no, I’ve never seen one that big. What’s it for?”
“It’s for the revival. Reverend Gates always has a revival the second week of market.”
“What’s a revival?”
She looked at him as if he were from a different world. “You sure don’t know much, do you? Everybody knows what a revival is.”
“Well I don’t.” He was beginning to feel rather annoyed. “And I don’t know what a ‘reverend’ is, though I s’pose it’s some kinda preacher. And I don’t care if you tell me what it is or not.”
She laughed. “Don’t get so serious. How ‘d you know what a preacher was but not a revival?”
“We used to have a preacher come through town once in awhile till Maude quit giving him food. There got to be so few of us she said we couldn’t spare food for those who didn’t help raise it. But he didn’t try to revive nobody.”
She laughed again, louder and longer. His annoyance increased. “He doesn’t try to revive anybody,” she said between peals of laughter.
“Then it’s a stupid word,” said John. He turned angrily away from her to observe the people raising the tent.
She was quiet for awhile. He was beginning to think she had gone, as silently as she had arrived, when she said, “You know, I never thought of that. I mean, it is a dumb word at that, ‘revive’, when he doesn’t revive anybody.”
When he looked around again, she was studying him from under lowered lashes once more, her full lips formed into a slight smile that was no longer petulant. He again forgot to breathe.
When he remembered to, he said, “Why haven’t you been to the market before?”
She whispered conspiratorially, “Mother doesn’t like me to come out here alone. She’s busy doing bookkeeping today. When she does that, she doesn’t pay attention to where I am so I sneaked away.”
“What about your dad?”
“I don’t have a dad. Oh, you mean Ronald?” Her lip curled. “He’s not my father. My father’s dead. He’s that little brat Jaclyn’s dad.” John vaguely remembered the dark little girl with the mayor’s entourage. “Let’s watch them put up the tent,” she said, plopping down on the edge of the hill and patting the grassy spot beside her. He obediently sat down.
They watched for a while in silence. Then she said, “How old are you? I’m fourteen.”
“I’m almost thirteen.” Well, he would be next August.
“You’re still a kid. What’s your name? Mine’s Alicia.”
“John Moore,” and to deflect attention from the subject of age he asked, “What do they do at a revival?”
She shook her head. “You sure don’t know much. They sing a lot, and Reverend Gates preaches. And so does his new young aco, aco-something, Brother Gephardt.”
“Who’s he? Why isn’t he a reverend too?” She sighed impatiently. “You can only have one reverend at a time. Everybody knows that. Brother Gephardt’s too young anyhow. He’s real cute though.”
John felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy. He turned the subject away from Brother Gephardt and reverends and revivals to questions about the town and its people. They talked on in a desultory fashion until the sun approached its zenith. When Alicia noticed that, she jumped to her feet and said, “Walk me home, John.” But when John stood up, a little rankled at allowing himself to be bossed by this rather insolent girl, she had changed her mind. “No, you better not.”
“Why not!” John was really irritated now and confused by her contradictory commands.
“Because Mother not only doesn’t want me here at the market, but she’d be really pissed if she saw me with you. I’m not to associate with any gang folk.”
“Well there’s nothing holding you here. Certainly not me.” He turned around and sat back down on the edge of the hill, pretending to return his attention to the raising of the tent. He was aware of her standing there for awhile and then turning to walk away.
And then she was back. “John?” He turned around, trying to glare. “John, if you come back tonight and sit right here ... maybe I can come see you. I’ll be in the tent with Sissy. She works for Mother, and Mother has her walk me to the revival to keep an eye on me. I’ll tell Sissy I’m going to sit on the hill with a girl friend. She lets me do whatever I want.”
He turned back to watch the erection of the tent.
“Well, will you come or not?” A little impatiently.
“I might,” he mumbled. “If I’m not too busy.”
She turned and stomped away. He wouldn’t let himself watch her go just in case she caught him looking. He wasn’t about to come tonight. He refused to be ordered about by this arrogant girl.
* * * *
After supper he went outside to sit on the porch, only to escape the heat of the dining room, he told himself. He had no intention of attending the revival. The dining room was indeed overly warm from the kitchen next to it, and the twilight air outside indeed bore a crisp cool tang, a precursor of autumn. He sat at the corner of the porch closest to the river. The tent was directly across the river from Bernie’s and far below in the stubbled fields. Unfortunately the tent’s entrance was on the opposite side from him so he couldn’t see into it or see the people entering it, though he saw them descending the hill in little groups from Coleridge Gardens and from the farmers’ camp to the south to disappear behind the tent. And he saw the lively playful dance of light flickering against the hill on the other side of the tent, probably from pitch-soaked torches on the tent’s far side.
He finally stood, walked up to the bridge, crossed it, and went east along Bridge Road, just far enough to see the tent’s entrance, the torches that illuminated it, and the people streaming inside. He had come to Bridge Road merely for a better view of the tent. It was natural for him to be curious; after all, he had never even heard of a revival, let alone seen one. He wasn’t about to go any closer, though. He certainly wasn’t going to the spot Alicia suggested they meet. He could see well enough from here.
Because of the partially overcast sky, the night was rather dark after the sun went down except for the island of light surrounding the tent. The tent itself glowed in a shifting dance of light and the shadows cast by the people within. The tent must be full now because people were settling themselves on the lower slopes of the bank outside. The trickle of crowds thinned and then stopped.
Music from some kind of instrument emanated from the tent. John had never heard such music before. He could tell that if it hadn’t been rather muffled by the tent walls, each note would have sounded clearly and distinctly, joining the others to flow as perfectly as the purest stream rippling over magic cobbles. This must be the ‘piano’ Matt had talked about. He pretended that the shadows of people cast against the tent walls by the leaping torch flames swayed in time to the music as if in some mad dance.
The music subsided, and a man began to speak in a shrill, unpleasant voice. John couldn’t understand him and felt that he really should get close enough to make out his words. He had heard preachers before, at least a couple who had infrequently passed through their town, but never one speaking before this many people. Then the preacher was quiet. The piano (if that’s what it was) started again, and people began to sing along with it. The piano and the singers stopped, and the preacher spoke again. This pattern was repeated: more singing followed by more words from the preacher.
Then someone with a younger stronger voice spoke, Brother what’
s-his-name, maybe? Gephardt? John still could understand only a few words here and there, but the new voice was stronger and less irritating. Wanting to understand what was being said, he walked down the road and then south along the top of the slope. People sat along the base of the slope, but he was glad to see no one sitting at the top. When he reached a point where he could understand most of the preacher’s words, he sat down. He just happened to sit, he noticed, where he’d been with Alicia earlier in the day. It didn’t matter though; he knew she had no intention of really joining him.
The preacher with the unpleasant voice was talking about people with strange names. John thought some of the other preachers from his past had mentioned some of these names and that they were probably from the Bible. What he was saying didn’t make very much sense, but John listened in a kind of fascinated revulsion. Because the man’s voice was high-pitched and not very strong, when he tried to shout the sound came out as a squeak.
He was listening to the man’s voice so raptly that the two figures angling up the hill had almost reached him before he noticed them. When he did, he recognized the taller one as Alicia immediately but it took him a moment to remember the smaller one as her half sister, though her name escaped him for the moment.
“What took you so long?” Alicia demanded. As though he was obligated to come and was at fault for keeping her waiting!
“I only came to this spot to hear better,” he said. “Not because I wanted to see you.”
The smaller girl stared at him though he couldn’t read her expression in the dark.
“Sorry about the gnome,” said Alicia, indicating the smaller girl. “She said she’d tell Mother if I didn’t bring her.”
“I’m not a gnome. I’m Jaclyn.”
“Gnome, Jaclyn. It’s all the same.” Alicia sat down beside John.
“I’m gonna tell Mom anyhow,” said Jaclyn. She sat down on John’s other side. “Is your name John?”
“Yes. John Moore.”
“If you tell her, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” said Alicia. Then, “Oh, listen! The Reverend Gates is going to let Brother Gephardt speak!”
The younger voice he had heard before began to speak in a clear powerful voice. John still didn’t understand much of what the younger man was talking about, but the timber of Gephardt’s voice impressed him. Finally, the younger man began calling people to come forward and give themselves to Christ. Alicia watched the tent raptly. Jaclyn leaned against John’s arm looking up at him.
“I’m ’leven,” Jaclyn told John.
“You are not,” said Alicia, obviously annoyed at being distracted. “You’re only nine.”
“Well, I’m almost ’leven.”
My first revival, thought John, and I don’t know what the preacher’s talking about and I’m stranded between two squabbling sisters.
He asked Alicia, “Why does your mom make this Sissy bring you to the revival?”
“She’s afraid I might run into the wrong sort.”
“Like me. ‘Gang folk.’”
Alicia looked at him from under those lashes and smiled mischievously. “Exactly.”
“Why doesn’t your mom bring you instead of sending you with Sissy?”
“She’s way, way too busy. There’s a lot of responsibility in running a whole town. Even you oughta know that.”
Chaos had broken out in the tent. Everything was going on at once: The piano was playing, people were singing and shouting, and both preachers were speaking, sometimes at once.
“Oh, that’s the final hymn,” said Alicia. “We gotta go, gnome.”
“’Bye, John,” said Jaclyn. “See you tomorrow night.”
“You mean this isn’t all of the revival?”
Alicia was leading Jaclyn away by the hand. She stopped and turned to face him. “You can’t have a revival in one night! It goes on through Friday night. We’ll be here every night. See you tomorrow night?”
“If I’m not too busy.” He got up and started back to Bernie’s along the edge of the slope. He wasn’t about to come back the following night just because she had demanded it.
But John was there the next night and so were Alicia and Jaclyn. Thursday night was much like Wednesday. The Reverend Gates did most of the preaching in his squeaky voice and Brother Gephardt was allowed a few moments to speak. It began to rain part way through, though. Alicia led her sister back into the tent, and John went back to Bernie’s.
It rained sporadically Friday but cleared up by evening. John went back to the same spot on the bluff and sat with the two sisters.
Friday night’s revival service was different. Brother Gephardt was allowed to preach the sermon. John assumed that it would be as incomprehensible as those of Reverend Gates on the previous two nights, though the younger preacher’s resonant voice caught his attention at once.
“Brothers and Sisters in Christ,” he began, “tonight let us turn to the Book of Revelation of St. John the Divine.” Silence fell over the assembly immediately. His mellifluous voice must have had the same effect on them as it did John. “In Revelation 1:1 we are told that this book is, ‘The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to shew unto his servants things which must shortly come to pass; and he sent and signified it to his angel unto his servant John.’”
He paused to let the words sink in, then continued, “Brothers and Sisters, this is the Book of the Last Days. It says, ‘... things which must shortly come to pass ...’ and now – and now! – we see that these things have come to pass. And those who mocked these words, Brothers and Sisters, and those who defiled His house and His name fall down sore afraid, for they believed not in His Holy Word. But now that the Last Days are at hand, the unbelievers can no longer deny the evidence of their senses. We who are united in Christ fear not the Last Days. We, instead, rise up in rejoicing! We rejoice in our brothers and sisters who have already departed to join the Heavenly Host, and with great joy we prepare to join them.”
There were scattered hallelujahs! and amens! Throughout the crowd. Then Brother Gephardt began to outline the long vision of the Revelation, starting with God’s command to this St. John the Divine to send messages to seven churches. There followed allusions to a lot of mystical sounding stuff, mostly involving the number seven: There were seven golden candlesticks and seven stars. God was in a glorious heavenly court with a book sealed with seven seals. John’s attention began to drift.
Suddenly a creature appeared and took the book out of God’s hand. It was a rather unusual one – a lamb ... one that had been slain! Be that as it may, the unlikely newcomer began to break the seals of the book and things got a little more interesting. The breaking of each of the first four seals summoned a horse and rider.
“Revelation 6:1 through 6:8,” quoted Brother Gephardt portentously. And he read descriptions of the four terrible horses and riders that appeared. The first was a white horse whose rider carried a bow and was given a crown and who “went forth conquering.” The second horse was red and he who rode him was given a great sword and power was given to him to “take peace from the earth.” Then came a black horse whose rider held a balance that seemed to measure grain.
“‘And when he had opened the fourth seal ... ,’” intoned Brother Gephardt, “‘behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him....’”
Brother Gephardt sounded as though he was reading from a book. John imagined he could see a large Bible open before him with the preacher leaning out fiercely over his congregation. His voice had risen dramatically. He paused, then continued in a quiet portentous voice. “These were the four tribulations the Lord set upon us to try our faith during the Last Days, the Four Horsemen of War, Revolution, Famine, and Pestilence.
“The rider of the white horse was Techne who made War against the Faithful. He carried the bow and wore the crown and went forth to conquer. The three letters in the word ‘bow’, B-O-W, describes his weapons: Books of science to challenge Faith b
y blaspheming the Holy Word, techne Officialdom to silence the protests of pious folk, and Worldly Goods to distract the pious from their faith.
“And the rider of the red horse was Revolution. He brought the bloody insurrections by the evil forces against the Faithful. He led the infidels of Islam, the Jewish murderers of Christ, the heathens of Gaia, the idolaters of Asian lands, and worst of all, the soulless Atheists. All of these are abominations before the Lord, and all were beloved of the Technics.
“And he that sat upon the black horse holding a balance was Famine, the Famine suffered by the Faithful as the Technics measured out all of earth’s bounty for their own consumption. Not just our food, Brothers and Sisters, but healing and education and dwelling places. The Technics took it all.
“Yet many of the Faithful disdained these warnings. When Techne came riding on his white horse, they turned their backs from faith to grasp his false baubles. When the red horse bore the Infidel down upon them, they accepted his evil occupation of our lands. The black horse came, but they starved rather than wrest their sustenance back from its thieves, the Lords of Techne.
“Then came the fourth horseman: ‘... behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death....’”
“And what a Death it was, Brothers and Sisters!” His voice rang out clarion-clear. “The unbelievers were taken unaware, shaken to their shallow souls with terror. They didn’t understand. They were so bewildered by the false preachings of techne – ” (he spat the word out in disgust) “ – and science – ” (with a sneer) “ – who called the causes, ‘natural’! The Lords of Techne said there was a ‘scientific’ explanation. In their arrogance they even gave the plague a ‘scientific’ name based on that of an idolater from China.
“But we know the true explanation don’t we, Brothers and Sisters?” More hallelujahs and amens from the congregation. John heard a sound which must have been the preacher slapping the open page of his Bible. “The Lord our God reveals it to us right here! He tells us that the fourth horseman is Death, a Death that the Righteous need not fear, our Heavenly Father’s way of separating the wheat from the chaff. The Righteous that died during the fourth horseman’s advent on earth have already joined our Heavenly Father, and those of us who remain must eagerly prepare for our own Journey.