The Devil in green da-1 Read online

  'They were very nice,' Miller said afterwards, as they picked their way amongst the huts towards the refectory, a large, newly constructed building a stone's throw from the cathedral.

  'When you say nice, do you mean prying, interfering, compulsive control freaks?'

  Miller looked at him, puzzled. 'No. Nice. They were nice. Didn't you think they were nice?'

  'I worry about you, Miller. You're going to be the first person ever to die of unadulterated optimism.'

  Miller sighed. 'I don't know why you came here, Mallory. We're going to be part of something big and good. Something important. All you've done is criticise. You're a cynic.'

  'You say that as if it's a bad thing.'

  'Look, there's Daniels.' Miller nodded towards the knight sauntering ahead of them; he carried himself with confidence, seemingly above the bustle he passed. Mallory noted how many looked at Daniels with respect, if not awe; was it the uniform or the person? 'Come on, let's catch him up,' Miller continued.

  'So how long have you been here, Daniels?' Miller asked as he skipped up beside him.

  'Two months.' He eyed Miller's skittishness wryly. 'It was this or the circus.'

  'That must be when the call first went out. Where were you?'

  Daniels looked bemused at Miller's effervescent questioning. 'Bristol.'

  'I heard some of the cities were tough in the early days,' Mallory said.

  A shadow crossed Daniels' face. 'It was, in some parts, for a while. The riots had died out by the time the call filtered through — no one had the energy left. But there were still some parts of the city you didn't go into, if you know what I mean.' He looked across the huts at the darkening sky.

  Daniels had an impressive charisma that underscored his bearing. Mallory could imagine him in his civilian days, well groomed, wearing expensive, fashionable clothes, maybe in some professional job; maybe a lawyer.

  'How are you finding it?' Miller had such a bright-eyed-puppy manner that Daniels couldn't help but lighten.

  'Hard, but rewarding.' He smiled. 'You'll enjoy it here.'

  'Any missions yet?'

  'No, but it's only a matter of time. They want to be sure before they send anyone out there.'

  'What made you come?' Mallory asked.

  'You don't think I came out of obligation? An overarching desire to give something back to Christianity? To the world?' Daniels eyed Mallory as if he knew exactly what was going through the new arrival's head.

  'Don't mind him,' Miller said. 'He's just an old cynic.'

  'No,' Mallory replied. 'I don't.'

  Daniels shrugged in an unconcerned way. 'My partner was killed in the fighting. We'd been together for a while. It left… a big hole.' He chose his words carefully. 'There was nothing for me in Bristol. I thought there might be something for me here.'

  'I'm sorry,' Miller said. 'Were you planning on getting married?'

  'Gareth was the religious one,' Daniels said directly to Mallory. 'He was the one who went to church every week. I could take it or leave it. But he died with such dignity. Faith right up to the last. That was my moment of epiphany.'

  'That's a good enough reason,' Mallory said.

  With some land of unspoken agreement made amongst them, they set off together for the refectory.

  'You don't seem much of a Christian, Mallory,' Daniels noted wryly.

  'I'm not much of anything.'

  'Yes, he is,' Miller said brightly. 'He just doesn't know it yet.' He proceeded to tell Daniels how Mallory had saved him.

  'Self-preservation,' Mallory said. 'Two were a better defence against those things.'

  'Pants on fire,' Miller gibed.

  They joined the queue filing into the refectory. The aroma of spiced hot food floated out into the cooling twilight, setting their stomachs rumbling. The air was filled with the hubbub of optimistic voices, the sound of people who still couldn't believe they were getting a square meal.

  'Tell me,' Mallory said to Daniels, 'when we met Blaine earlier, there was another group of knights in training, away from the main lot. They had a blue flash on their left shoulders.'

  'The Blues? They're the elite. I think they used to be squaddies stationed at one of the army camps out on Salisbury Plain — it would take me years to get to their level of training. Blaine keeps them apart from the rest of us, but that's OK by me — you can see it in their eyes.' He waved a pointing finger in front of Mallory's face. 'Army eyes. You know what I mean?' Mallory did. 'Anyway, they're involved in some on-going mission. They go off for days at a time. Come back exhausted and filthy.' 'Oh?'

  'Don't bother asking questions, Mallory. You'll soon find that no one tells you anything here.'

  The refectory was a long, narrow barn with a high roof and open beams permeated by the smell of new wood. They picked up trays and cutlery before passing by tables at one end where the kitchen staff loaded up plastic plates with a stew of carrots, potatoes, parsnips and oatmeal, bread and a small lump of cheese.

  'No meat?' Mallory protested.

  'Once a week,' Daniels said, 'They're keeping a tight rein on supplies. Just in case.'

  'In case of what?'

  Daniels shrugged.

  They sat together at the end of a long trestle table reserved for the knights, away to one side. On the other tables, about a hundred and fifty people packed into the first sitting, their freedom from the day's chores making their conversation animated. Gardener joined them soon after, taking a seat opposite Mallory with a gruff silence.

  'What did you do in the old days, Gardener?' Miller asked chirpily.

  'Binman.' Gardener stuffed an enormous mound of vegetables into his mouth. 'And I tell you,' he mumbled, 'this is better than having your hands covered in maggots and shit every morning.'

  'I don't want to hear about your sex life, Gardener,' Daniels said.

  'I hear the Blues headed off hell for leather at noon,' Gardener continued. 'Don't know what got them all fired up, but Blaine had a face that could curdle cream. And Hipgrave was pissed off because Blaine didn't send him out as leader. Again.'

  'He is so desperate,' Daniels said.

  'You know what he did this morning-' Gardener cut off his sour comment when he spotted Hipgrave heading across the room with his tray. The captain had lost his sneer and appeared uncomfortable in the crowd. He hesitated briefly when he noticed Gardener and the others watching him and then veered off his path to another table so he wouldn't have to sit near them.

  'Thanks for small bloody mercies,' Gardener muttered.

  Mallory spotted a table on the far side of the room where all the diners sat in complete silence, intermittently praying and eating. He pointed it out to Daniels.

  'Headbangers,' Daniels said, chewing slowly on a piece of potato. 'The price we pay for bringing all of the Lord's flock under one roof.'

  'Leave them alone.' Gardener continued to tuck into his dinner with gusto.

  'You would say that — you're one of them.' Daniels turned to Mallory. 'They're Born-Agains, or evangelicals or whatever it is they call themselves. They have a hardline view of the Lord's Word-'

  'They stick to the text of the Gospel,' Gardener said, 'unlike some of the weak-willed people in here.'

  'There are so many branches of the Church in here… sects — cults, even…' Daniels shook his head. 'Some of them, they're like a different religion. I don't know where they're coming from at all.'

  'You don't have a monopoly on God's Word,' Gardener noted. 'It's open to different interpretations.'

  Mallory stabbed a chunk of parsnip with his knife, then thought twice about eating it. He noticed Miller looking dreamily around the refectory. 'You're going to say this is like Disneyland for you, aren't you?' he said.

  Miller grinned at how easily Mallory had read his thoughts. 'Well, it is a wonderful place. All these people… all this hope… and faith… under one roof. It's what I wanted to find. I just never really expected I would.' A shadow crossed his face.

 
; 'But?'

  'It's a bit weird, too.' He looked guilty at this observation.

  'You don't know the half of it.' Gardener had so much in his mouth that he spat a lump of mushed vegetables back on to the plate with his words.

  Daniels shook his head wearily. 'I'm asking Blaine to include etiquette in his tiresome list of lessons to be taught.'

  'There's been talk,' Gardener said. 'Some strange stuff happening around here.'

  'Oh, here we go again.' Daniels rolled his eyes. 'Lights in the sky. Mysterious this and strange that. Usually reported by people who've had the Toronto Blessing one time too many.'

  'You're a cynical bastard, Daniels, and no mistaking.' Gardener swallowed his mouthful and stifled a belch. 'See? Etiquette.'

  'Heavenly,' Daniels replied. 'Which finishing school did you go to again?'

  'What strange stuff?' Miller said.

  Gardener leaned across the table conspiratorially. 'Ghosts, for one. And not just one. Some old bishop… Seth Ward, someone said… he was seen crossing the nave. One of the brothers saw a man's face pressed up against the windows in what used to be the old cafeteria… all hideous, like. A cowled figure in the cloisters…'

  'I can't believe you fall for that nonsense!' Daniels said.

  'How different is it from the manifestation of the Holy Spirit?' Gardener waved his fork in Daniels' face.

  Daniels batted it away. 'Very different. It's not real for a start.'

  'And there were lights, floating over the altar,' Gardener continued. 'Beeson heard voices when he was praying in the cathedral… calling to him, saying… worrying things.'

  'What kind of things?' Daniels said.

  'I don't know.'

  'No, because it's a story, and a feeble one at that. They never have any detail. Just someone heard this, or someone saw that.'

  'Don't believe it, then,' Gardener said with a shrug. 'See if I care.' He turned to Miller and Mallory. 'But the smart folk here think it's wise to keep your wits about you, and to stay away from the lonely places at night-'

  'Has anyone been hurt yet?' Daniels asked.

  'No.'

  'Then why are you making out like it's the Amityville Horror? You're such an old woman, Gardener.'

  Gardener smiled tightly at Miller and Mallory. 'You know what it's like out there in the world. And it's the same in here. Nothing's what it seems.'

  Their conversation was disrupted by a commotion near the door. Diners peeled away to allow a small entourage to move slowly into the room. At its centre was the bishop, walking with the aid of a cane and the support of two attendants. Julian and Stefan followed behind. All eyes followed Cornelius's excruciating progress.

  Daniels' brow furrowed. 'He normally eats in the palace.'

  'He looks as if he hasn't got the strength to get across the room,' Mallory said.

  'His legs are a bit shaky, but don't go underestimating him. He's sharp as a pin,' Gardener said.

  'What are the others like?' Mallory's attention was fixed on Stefan.

  Daniels pointed with a carrot impaled on his knife. 'Stefan's a bit of a cold fish. He used to be some businessman up in Manchester before he saw the light, I think. Julian's OK. A bit too quiet for me, thoughtful, you know, but he's got a very liberal view of life. He wasn't involved in the Church before the Fall, but they promoted him out of nowhere because he's brilliant, or so they say. Very learned about philosophy, comparative religion. I don't know if he was an academic, but he's a sharp guy, definitely.'

  Cornelius made his way to a table not too far from the door, which was hastily vacated for him. His attendants lowered him into a chair while Stefan brought over a plate of food that he proffered with a formal bow.

  'This is a show,' Mallory said quietly. 'A little spin-doctoring. To let the common man know the bishop is just an ordinary joe. He's not larging it in the palace. He can eat vegetable mush with the rest of the suckers.'

  'Be respectful,' Miller hissed.

  Mallory began to mop up his gravy with his bread while gently fantasising about pizza.

  'And that is Gibson,' Daniels said, pointing to the last imposing figure in the group. He must have been twenty-five stone, with a comically jolly face that appeared to be permanently on the point of a guffaw. His cheeks were bright red, his hair tight grey curls; large silver-framed spectacles surrounded eyes fixed in a humorous squint.

  'Don't tell me,' Mallory said, 'he's the Canon of the Pies.'

  'The treasurer, actually. Looks after all the ornaments, vestments and gold plate tucked away in the vaults.' Daniels smiled as he ate. 'But he does oversee the kitchens as well.'

  'So we're in their hands.' Mallory didn't attempt to hide his dismissive- ness.

  'Them and their advisors,' Gardener said gruffly. 'There's a whole bunch of arse-kissers following them around, whispering in their ears. Keeping them informed, supposedly, because the top dogs don't have time to spend finding out what the rest of us are thinking. But the arse- kissers are guiding them, really. They're the power behind the throne.'

  Daniels snorted. 'Oh, not that routine again! You're only upset because they're not whispering about you.'

  'It's true. You've got to watch out who you're talking to round here. Everybody's got some sort of thing going on.'

  'Thing?' Daniels shook his head and sighed.

  'Come on, you know it's true,' Gardener said. 'This whole place is split down the middle. The modernisers think we should build on the state the Church had reached just before the change, make it acceptable to modern thinking. The traditionalists want a hardline approach. Everybody's plotting.'

  'Well, as much as I'm enjoying your comedy double-act,' Mallory said, 'I don't think I can stare at these vegetables any more without gnawing on my own arm.'

  'You should eat it up,' Gardener said, cleaning up the last of the gravy on his plate. 'You'll be desperate for it tomorrow when Blaine's got you scrambling over that assault course.'

  'It's not as if you've got anywhere to go,' Daniels said. 'It's compline next, or had you forgotten? You'll soon get used to realising you have no time of your own.'

  Mallory rocked back in his chair. 'You know, this place is just too much fun.'

  Despite Mallory's disgruntlement, the atmosphere in the cathedral was deeply affecting. Outside, dusk had fallen, the darkness licking over a chilly landscape freed from electric lights. Inside, the stone walls basked in an ethereal golden glow from hundreds of candles. Incense and tallow smoke cocooned the worshippers who stood shoulder to shoulder along the nave and the quire. The plainsong rose up, filling the vast vault with a mesmerising, heady sound that reached deep into Mallory, tugging at emotions he barely thought he still had. It was a single voice made by hundreds of people, simple and pure yet powerful on so many levels. Mallory glanced over at Miller to see tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Briefly, Mallory felt a sense of belonging that put all the unpleasantness of his past life into the shade. Perhaps there still was a chance for him: a fresh start, although he'd long ago given up that childlike whimsy of believing that some Higher Power took enough of an interest in the ants that swarmed the earth to give them a second chance. The fleeting hope, that weak thing he thought he'd scoured from his system, was a simple by-product of the perfect confluence of music and moment, he told himself. But still, it tugged at him.

  He was examining the odd thoughts pulled from him by the intensity of faith when his concentration was broken by a figure he could just glimpse on the edge of die congregation, slightly ahead of him and away to the left. His face was obscured by his black cowl pulled far forwards, unusual in itself as everyone else there went bare-headed. But there was no other reason why Mallory's attention should be drawn to him so powerfully that he couldn't look away. The figure was still, his shoulders slightly hunched. He didn't appear to be singing, merely watching or perhaps listening, deep in thought.

  Mallory couldn't understand why the figure made him feel uneasy, or why the tingling tiiat ha
d started in the small of his back was slowly spreading up his spine. Some deeply buried part of him was trying to break out of his subconscious to issue a warning.

  As he watched for some sign that would give him an explanation for his reaction, the figure began to turn towards him, as if he sensed Mallory's eyes upon him. Inexplicably, this filled Mallory with dread. He didn't want to see the face inside that cowl.

  He looked down at his hands, then up towards the altar, and when he did finally glance back, the figure was gone.

  Outside in the night, Mallory tugged Miller away from the uplifted worshippers streaming back to their huts for a few hours' grace before the whole round started again. He found a shadowed spot next to the cathedral walls and said, 'Let's hit the town. We can dump our uniforms and explore. There's got to be some life out there. Maybe we'll find someone who'll take pity on us and buy us a beer.' He knew his bravado was a response to the sobering but stupid fear he had felt in the service.

  'Are you crazy? You heard what they said — being caught without the uniform-'

  'We're not going to get caught.'

  '-is a punishable offence. And we're not supposed to go out of the compound after curfew. I don't even know if we're supposed to go out there at all.'

  'I told you, we're not going to get caught. Who's to know? Don't you want to find out what your new neighbours are like?'

  Miller protested fulsomely, clearly afraid of jeopardising everything he felt he'd gained, but Mallory chipped away at him on the way back to their quarters so that by the time they arrived, Miller reluctantly agreed to the secret foray.

  Daniels and Gardener still hadn't returned, so they quickly changed into their street clothes and slipped out. 'How are we going to get away?' Miller hissed as they flitted from hut to hut.

  'I had a look around earlier. There's a spot not far from the gate where we can slip over the wall. When we come back we can give the guard some bullshit about being on a secret mission or something. He's bound to let us in.' Miller didn't look convinced, but he allowed himself to be swayed by Mallory's confidence.