Chapter 20
"Charlie!" Sayid called. The Englishman looked miniscule as he stood two feet away from the towering African, and yet only in frame. Charlie was holding himself now with a self-confidence and a sense of purpose Sayid had not witnessed previously. The soldier's disciple had left him for another master, and Sayid felt strange asking for his service now. "I need your help."
"I'm a bit busy, Sayid," Charlie replied as he bent to grasp a piece of wood. "As you can see."
"I have to cut the table. I cannot do it alone."
Charlie shrugged apologetically and went about his work. "Maybe tomorrow," he said.
Eko glanced at Sayid with that unusual look of his: part threatening firmness, part gentle smile. "Charlie tells me you are building a war table."
"Yes," Sayid answered. "Perhaps you can help me to cut it." He suspected the priest would decline, but he felt compelled to make the suggestion anyway. Eko approached the Iraqi slowly and left Charlie to work on the church. The height difference was uncomfortable for Sayid. He did not care to look up to a standing man, and he had to do it all too often. He sensed Eko had more than usual to say, and so he went and sat on the ground instead, against a tree.
Eko sat across from him. "Do you think it is wise to war against these people?"
"I think it is wise to be ready to war against them." Sayid drew up one leg and rested an arm across his knee. He had known this conversation with the priest must come sooner or later, and he had not been looking forward to it. Days ago, he had told Ana he could recruit Eko, but he had grown increasingly skeptical of the possibility.
"I killed two of them," Eko said. "I beat them to death."
"I know," answered Sayid. "You would make a good soldier, if it came to that kind of hand to hand combat, and it most likely will."
"I regretted my actions."
"I know." At the council meeting, Eko had been asked the subject of his conversation with Gale. He had spoken of his confession, but he had not attempted to explain it to anyone, despite the many uncertain faces. Sayid knew enough of guilt to know how keenly Eko felt it, even if he himself could not comprehend why such an act of necessary, immediate self-defense against such a vicious enemy should breed remorse. "Yet if you had to do it again, would you?"
This question the priest did not answer. Instead, he said, "Jesus told us to love our enemies."
At this Sayid shrugged with his eyebrows, not his shoulders. "Yet he also said, 'I come not to bring peace, but a sword.'"
Eko smiled slightly. Was it an expression of surprise? Condescension? Sayid did not know. "Your Isa bin Maryam is somewhat different from my Christ."
Sayid looked directly at the priest. "He said it in your Gospel."
Eko nodded. "He was speaking metaphorically. He was speaking of families ripped apart by conflicting loyalties."
The priest crossed his legs and drew himself up straight. He looked every inch the warrior, Sayid thought. He looked the role more than Sayid himself did, but would Eko be willing to assume it?
The Iraqi said nothing and waited for the man to continue his slow speech. "There is more than one kind of war," said Eko, "and more than one kind of warrior. Soon the day is coming when this family of survivors will likewise be ripped apart by conflicting loyalties."
"And which side will you choose?"
"Whichever side Christ is on."
Sayid drew his bottom lip beneath his teeth and tried to suppress the scoffing sound that threatened to escape his mouth. Then he asked, "And you are privy to that knowledge?"
"I strive to be," Eko replied. "I can only strive." Eko titled his head and seemed to examine the other man's expression. "I do not suggest you are wrong to build your war table or to make your plans. But I cannot promise you what I will do when the time comes. I will do whatever my conscience dictates."
Sayid stood abruptly. "As will we all."
Eko rose and followed him. "Is it your conscience that guides you now, Sayid, or your desire for revenge?"
Sayid answered as he walked away, "What makes you think it cannot be both?"