The Armour of Light

This book is dedicated to the historians. There are many thousands of them all over the world. Some sit in libraries, hunched over ancient manuscripts, trying to understand dead languages in mysterious hieroglyphs. Others kneel on the ground sifting earth on the sites of ruined buildings, seeking fragments from lost civilizations. Yet more read through interminably dull government papers dealing with long-forgotten political crises. They are relentless in their search for the truth.

Without them we would not understand where we come from. And that would make it even more difficult to figure out where we’re going.

It was noon when she got to Brook Field. She knew the time by the quality of the light gleaming weakly through the pearl-grey cloud that sheeted the sky. The field was four flat acres of mud with a quick stream along one side and a low hill at the south end. The day was cold and dry, but it had rained for a week and, as she splashed through the puddles, the sticky sludge tried to pull off her home-made shoes. It was hard going but she was a big, strong woman, and she did not tire easily."