The Devil in Green Page 5

  When Hipgrave had departed, Mallory chose a bed from the remaining ten and lay on it, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘I wouldn’t get used to that position if I were you,’ Daniels said wryly. He’d resumed polishing his boots with a verve that bordered on obsession.

  ‘They work you hard?’

  ‘We’re twinned with a Soviet Gulag. Their idea of downtime is a face- wash with river water and a turnip to gnaw on.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him. He’s a soft Southern bastard. Drinks wine with his little finger stuck out,’ Gardener called over.

  ‘At least I know what wine is, you beer-swelling Philistine.’

  ‘Aye, you whine all the time.’

  Daniels walked over to Gardener, brandishing his brush. ‘You know, you’d think some of my innate style and breeding would have rubbed off on you after the weeks we’ve been stuck here, but I’m starting to think you’ll remain a troglodyte for ever.’

  ‘You know you’re not supposed to use big words around me. Now bugger off, I’m trying to pray.’

  Despite their fractiousness, it was obvious to Mallory that a deep affection underpinned their relationship, a clear case of opposites attracting. In his voice and body language, Daniels seemed gay, though Gardener, as far as Mallory could tell, was straight - at least, he sported a worn wedding ring - and they obviously came from different backgrounds. But the camaraderie made him think it might not be so bad there after all.

  Mallory and Miller were allowed only half an hour to settle in before another knight was sent to fetch them. He had red hair and freckles and a fastidious manner that irritated Mallory the moment the knight opened his mouth. He had been ordered to give them a wealth of instructions, none of which he was prepared to repeat, so they had no choice but to listen.

  ‘Everything here is based around discipline,’ he said, ‘to focus the mind. Your day will be mapped out for you, and it’s a long day, believe me. This isn’t a place for the lazy.’

  He marched ahead of them with the stiff gait of a well-drilled military man, which made Mallory’s loose-limbed amble seem even more lazy. Miller hopped and skipped to keep up like a pony on a rope.

  ‘The knights, however, have a slightly different timetable from the rest,’ the red-headed man continued. ‘There’s a lot of studying, a lot of training. For most people out there—’ He motioned towards the sprawl of wooden huts visible through the window. ‘—the day begins at six a.m. with prime. That’s a full service in the cathedral, plainsong, the works. The prayer and chant continues through the day, seven days a week. Terce at nine a.m., sext at midday, none in mid-afternoon, vespers at the end of the afternoon and compline at dusk. After that, everyone retires to their rooms for the great silence and the cathedral is locked. At midnight everyone rises for the night office, followed immediately by the lauds of the dead. It lasts about two hours in total, and then you’re off on the cycle again. You will be expected to attend services when you are not involved with your other duties.’

  Mallory glanced at Miller; the younger man was clearly enthralled at the strict routine that left Mallory feeling an uncomfortable mixture of depression and defiance.

  ‘Your routine will be individually tailored, depending on where your strengths and weaknesses lie,’ the knight continued. ‘For the first week or so, it will mainly centre on physical fitness and weapons training.’ He eyed them askance. ‘To see if you have what it takes to meet the exacting standards required of a Knight Templar.’

  Mallory knew enough about the military mindset to understand what that meant: they could look forward to days of gruelling and unnecessary exercises to see if they had the strength of character to continue. And then Blaine - a military man at some level, Mallory guessed - would begin the long task of breaking their spirit so they would obey orders without question.

  ‘After that period, the physical and weapons training will be confined to the early morning, after prime. Then you’ll be studying herbalism for treatment of wounds out in the field. The supply of drugs won’t last long and there’s no infrastructure to manufacture any more. Astronomy is … difficult.’ His jaw set. ‘But you’ll need to navigate by the stars. And then there’s the Bible study and philosophy classes. Those are the main ones.’

  He brought them into a large oak-panelled room on the first floor. On one wall was fixed a plain wooden sign carved with the legend: ‘Let nothing have precedence over divine office’ - The Rule of St Benedict.

  At the other end of the room was a heavily fortified door beside a window that opened on to a small office stacked with boxes. The knight hammered on the windowsill to attract the attention of a man with a scar that turned his left eye into a permanent squint. He was introduced as Wainwright, the knights’ quartermaster.

  ‘Two uniforms?’ he said, mentally measuring Mallory and Miller before disappearing into the bowels of the store. He returned a second later.

  ‘Perfect for a torchlight rally,’ Mallory said, holding the black shirt up for size.

  ‘Uniforms are to be worn at all times,’ the red-haired knight said. ‘And that means all times. Being caught without it means the disciplinary procedure.’

  Mallory considered asking what this entailed, but he knew it would only depress him further.

  The rest of the day was spent in a process that fell somewhere between induction and confession: names, education, abilities, criminal record, past transgressions, hopes, fears. Miller gave them a detailed account of his relationship with his parents and the breakdown of his romance, the catalyst that had propelled him towards Salisbury. Mallory changed his story several times, often during the same strand, before delivering a complex list of dates, times, names and anecdotes that would have taken days of investigation before it was discovered that it made no sense at all.

  ‘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.’