Yet while the bishop and the Church administration pored over ancient documents in the library, or discussed the signs and portents for any insight - sightings of the risen dead reported around the cathedral compound being one of the most prominent - many of the brethren were driven to frantic prayer. They felt cripplingly weak beside the strength they had seen exhibited, unprepared, fragmented, the rump of a once- mighty religion, and after the tribulations they had already suffered, they did not know if they had any resistance left. They reassured each other that their faith was strong, but the cold wind was in danger of winnowing the small flame of their fear into a blaze.
In the claustrophobic confines of the compound, grim and conflicting rumours circulated endlessly: the Dark Forces of the Prince of Lies were moving to wipe the Church from the land; it was the sign of the Second Coming; the apocalypse was at hand.
Expectations were high of another assault on the cathedral, and with each day that passed peacefully the tension increased. The Chapter of Canons authorised the reinforcement of the already sturdy walls from a supply of sheet metal, then trebled the number of guards and increased the frequency of patrols along the walkways around the battlements.
At the same time, the already rigorous routine of the knights was stepped up into a relentless round of weapons training, physical exertion and tedious study that stretched from first light to compline. The only positive aspect for Mallory was that it kept him away from the hours of prayer and chanting that dominated every aspect of life for the brethren.
His trip into the city with Miller had given him a taste of what he was missing in the cathedral, but there was little chance of repeating the excursion. Though they had got back into the complex with ease, losing themselves among the team of workers repairing the badly damaged gates, the clampdown meant it would be too risky in the future. Suddenly Mallory felt like a prisoner.
‘Do you think it was the Blues who attacked Melanie?’ Miller whispered to Mallory as they watched the elite squad moving through their practice with machine-like efficiency. ‘They scare me.’
Mallory leaned on his sword, a well-worn Reformation model. ‘Don’t waste your time thinking about it, Miller. We’re never going to find out, and even if we did we wouldn’t be able to do anything.’
‘That’s not right, Mallory. We can’t just ignore something so wrong.’
‘Miller, sooner or later you’re going to realise that the world is filled with injustice. It’s situation normal. You might as well get wound up about stopping the rain.’
‘You two! What do you think you’re doing?’ They turned wearily at Hipgrave’s clipped tones. The captain had been bawling out one of the novice knights for clumsy swordplay, even though he was barely out of his teens and had been suffering from malnutrition when he wandered into the cathedral an hour after Mallory and Miller. He was still painfully thin and weak thanks to the meagre diet offered in the refectory.
‘Just taking a break,’ Mallory said.
Hipgrave stormed over and yelled into Mallory’s face. ‘There’s no break on the battlefield! Get fighting!’
Mallory didn’t flinch. ‘You’ve seen Full Metal Jacket, haven’t you?’
Hipgrave had clearly not encountered insubordination in his brief time as a captain. For a couple of seconds, he stared so blankly that Mallory could almost see the thoughts moving across his face. Finally, everything came together with the realisation of what Mallory had said, that the other Knights were watching, that he hadn’t responded quickly enough or cleverly enough or with enough discipline. Unable to cope, he backed away and took his embarrassed irritation out on the knight he had just been berating. Yet his flushed cheeks revealed his awareness that his position had been undermined. Mallory expected a response sooner or later, probably when he didn’t expect it; more, he didn’t care.
‘That bastard’s the worst kind of bully.’ Gardener adjusted the bandages he had wrapped around his hands to help him grip the sword better. For someone in his fifties, he was leaner and fitter than many half his age. Mallory noted when it came to training that the Geordie had an attention to detail - like the bandages - that made him an effective force. ‘He won’t do it to your face ‘cause he’s too weak. He needs taking down a peg,’ he added.
‘If we were in ‘Nam we could frag him,’ Mallory said wryly. ‘Full Metal Racket.’
Hipgrave gave the order to fight and Mallory and Gardener stepped into the sequences of feints and strikes they had been learning. Beside them, Daniels lined up against Miller. There were twenty-seven of them in the novice group, a mixture of skills, ages and social backgrounds. Most of the ones Mallory had encountered were decent enough, though they were all weak and pathetic according to Hipgrave.
‘You know he’s got a small penis?’ Daniels said. His hardly strong blow brought Miller to his knees.
‘How do you know?’ Gardener grunted. ‘He always goes in a cubicle if there’s anyone at the urinal. Never trust a man who does that - he’s got something to hide.’
‘Aren’t you Mr Boa Constrictor-in-the-pants,’ Daniels gibed. ‘No, he’s trying too hard. Over-compensating.’
‘If that’s the case he probably needs a pair of tweezers to find it.’ Mallory grunted as Gardener came in with three blows in quick succession.
‘I love this locker-room talk,’ Daniels said. He evaded Miller’s strike lithely and made a mock blow that would have taken off his partner’s head.
‘It’s like being in Loaded magazine around here,’ Miller said. ‘I bet the original Knights Templar weren’t like this.’
‘ ‘Course they were,’ Mallory said. ‘They had their candid charcoal sketches of Big Mary of Damascus, a goat’s-skin full of mead after work and then bared their arses to the passing camels before stumbling back home.’
‘You do realise we’re God’s Troopers,’ Daniels said sniffily. ‘We have forsaken all pleasures of the flesh. We get by on fresh air, a prayer and a turnip.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ Gardener said. ‘If God wanted us to be eunuchs he wouldn’t have given us … bollocks.’
‘You’ve obviously not been listening to some in your constituency, Gardener,’ Daniels said dryly. ‘Don’t forget they’re the no-sex-before- marriage and lose-a-hand-for-masturbation crowd.’
‘You’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face when the Rapture leaves you here to get buggered by the army of the Antichrist.’ Gardener twisted, side-stepped and knocked Mallory’s sword from his hand. ‘ ‘Course, you’d probably like that, you perverse bastard.’
Mallory noticed Hipgrave hounding the young knight again, this time quietly but with obvious venom. The knight’s eyes were wet. ‘Come on,’ Mallory said to Gardener, ‘let’s have some fun.’
He quickly whispered his idea. Gardener broke his usual dour expression with a grin, then rapidly and silently positioned himself behind Hipgrave, pretending to tie his boot.
‘Hey! Hipgrave!’ Mallory called.
Hipgrave turned suddenly at the insistence in Mallory’s voice. Gardener was squatting so close to his legs that Hipgrave bumped against him, lost his balance and tumbled to the ground in an ungainly tangle of arms and legs.
‘There we go,’ Mallory said, ‘a dignity-free zone.’
They expected some punishment, but after a brief outburst of cursing, Hipgrave stomped off to leave them alone with their training. Later, Mallory saw him in deep conversation with Blaine. As usual, the commander’s face gave nothing away. His eyes moved in Mallory’s direction only once, and then briefly, but they were cold and hard enough to inspire the briefest glimmer of regret.
Lunch was a small block of salty cheese and a lump of hard bread. Mallory and Miller found a table in the sun spilling through the windows that ran along one wall. The refectory had only just opened and they were the first diners, but it wouldn’t be long before the tables were crammed; food was a high priority for everyone.
‘So why haven’t you been out to see Sophie?’
Miller asked brightly. ‘I’d have thought you’d have sneaked over the walls a few times by now. Don’t tell me you’ve lost interest. How fickle would that be?’
‘Just biding my time.’
‘She was really nice … for a witch.’ His smile faded as he plucked the remaining crumbs from his plate.
‘What’s the matter? Afraid she’ll turn you into a toad?’
‘It’s not that.’ He looked around uneasily. ‘You were right, the people around here wouldn’t be very happy if they knew we’d been hanging out with witches. The Church has always had a strong line against them. Suffer not a witch to live, that’s what it says. But she seemed all right. I should feel bad about liking her because of what she believes in … like, she’s the enemy … but I don’t.’
‘Christianity was made for you, Miller. You just love beating yourself up about all these little rules and regulations. Look, you know in your heart what’s right. Don’t let anyone try to tell you that you should or shouldn’t like someone else.’
Miller winced. ‘That sounds like blasphemy.’
‘Yeah, and according to some here, free will is blasphemy, even though it’s the gift we were supposedly given. Look, it’s simple … the Church hates witches because it nicked all their sacred places and all their worshippers, and it’s afraid they’re going to ask for them back.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on, Miller - if you’re going to invest your life in this religion, you at least ought to know its history. When the Church first came here, it got its feet under the table by subterfuge. It built its places of worship on the sites that the people were already using, the old pagan places, the springs, the hilltops, whatever, in the belief that they’d just carry on coming. And all the Christian feast days were arranged on old pagan celebrations for the same reason. You don’t think Christ was really born around the winter solstice, do you? At the point of rebirth and renewal in the old calendar - what an amazing coincidence. And isn’t it strange that Easter—’
Miller smiled.
‘What?’
‘You’re only telling me all this so I don’t ask you any more questions about Sophie.’
Mallory pushed his plate away and stretched. ‘If you don’t want to learn from my great wisdom, that’s up to you.’
‘If you really like her, Mallory, you should go for it. You only get one real chance for love. You can’t let it slip away.’ Miller examined his empty plate dismally.
‘Thanks for your advice, Miller. I always like to turn to experts for guidance.’ Mallory’s attention was caught by James and the bishop’s right- hand man, Julian. They came in separately, then both moved to the same secluded table without acknowledging each other. As they broke their bread they began a muttered conversation, heads bowed slightly so that no one could overhear them.
‘I wish it hadn’t happened with Sue,’ Miller mused to himself. ‘I wish she was here with me now.’ He chewed his lip, close to tears. ‘Mallory, I’ve got something to tell—’
‘What do you think that’s all about?’ Mallory indicated James and Julian.
Miller shrugged. ‘They’re having lunch.’
‘They’re plotting. When we first came and James showed us around, Julian said something to him about somebody making their move … about dogs gathering.’
Miller displayed a complete lack of interest, but Mallory was intrigued. Something was going on, and he wanted to know what it was.
‘Why does Evil exist?’ Peter began. ‘The Epicurean Paradox underlines the belief of many that the existence of Evil is incompatible with the existence of God. It goes like this: one, God is all-powerful; two, God is perfectly Good; three, Evil exists; four, if God exists, then there would be no Evil; five, there is Evil; six, therefore God does not exist.’
Peter had been a deacon at the Catholic cathedral in Brentwood in Essex. From the sag of his skin, he had obviously been overweight at one time, but the hard life of the compound had taken some pounds off him. He had side-parted grey hair that, taken with his pallor, gave him a washed-out appearance, but it was the sadness in his features that characterised him; they reflected his belief that the world was a miserable place to be endured.
Peter’s labour within the cathedral was to teach not only the scripture to the knights’ new recruits, but also to explain the philosophy of the Christian Church. It was a task he relished, his demeanour even more gloriously lugubrious as he underlined the simple message that no one should expect any rewards in this world.
But whatever pleasures he got out of his office were wiped away whenever he saw Mallory slumped at one of the tables at the back. Most of the knights endured his lectures, nodding in the right places while they kept one eye on the angle of the sun. Mallory, though, asked questions. It wasn’t as if he was eager for understanding of the Word of God. It was simply that he wanted to trip Peter up, to hamstring him with logic or garrotte him with a sharp line of philosophy. It was plain bloody-mindedness, Peter knew, and a childish desire to challenge authority that went against the entire teachings of the Church. Peter had endured it for many days - the constant questions about the historical truth of Jesus, the academic view that James was the true leader but politics had turned Jesus into the Messiah, the tortuous debates on the flawed and conflicting logic of the Bible, the pointed questioning about the atrocities the Church had been linked with, from the Inquisition to the collaboration with the Nazis - but his patience was not endless. Mallory was undoubtedly an educated man, but weren’t they the worst kind? Oh, for the simple man who accepted die Message with the wide-eyed wonder of a child.
He noticed the expression Mallory always wore just before he launched into an argument, and quickly continued. ‘However, Saint Augustine presented the Free-Will Defence: God created man with free will, thereby having the ability to do Good or Evil. Therefore, there is no assurance that man will not choose to do Evil. If God controlled the amount of Evil, or liberty, it would remove the gift of free will He had given to man. Quite simply, the existence of free will without Evil is an illogical impossibility. But even though man has the capacity to commit Evil, he can also perform acts of great goodness.’
‘I disagree.’ Mallory’s challenging grin set Peter’s teeth on edge.
‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘Mackie said the choice between perfect beings who always do Good, or free men who can do Good or Evil is a false dilemma, didn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ Peter sighed.
‘And he also said there was an “obvious better possibility” in which God could have created beings who always act freely, yet also have a predetermination to do Good. But he didn’t, did he? So God doesn’t exist.’
‘Not at all. Swinburne proposed a different approach: that there are advantages in the existence of Evil in the world. It gives men the opportunity to perform acts that show humanity at its best. Evil spurs mankind into action. Without Evil, we would live in a world where men could not show sympathy, compassion, forgiveness or self-sacrifice.’
‘But—’
‘Also, consider Hicks’ “soul-making” explanation,’ Peter continued hastily. ‘He said that man, who is made in the image of God but not in the likeness of God, is an incomplete being who must strive towards the perfect likeness of God. Qualities such as courage and love would not make sense in a world without Evil, because the world would be nothing more than a nursery paradise for children. Hicks’ explanation is that Evil is necessary in order to build character and develop man into the likeness of God.’
‘That’s a good argument. Why didn’t Hitler use that in his defence? He was just doing God’s work to get us all on track for—’
‘You are not distracting me from my lesson today, Mallory.’ Peter maintained a pleasant facade but attempted to give steel to his words.
‘So Hicks’ argument is that this whole world is just one big classroom with a culture of disciplinarianism.’
‘Mallory
Mallory
slid back cockily in his chair, settling in for a bout of tutor- baiting. ‘It’s not a distraction to ask questions,’ he said.
‘There is no need for questions. There is only a need for you to listen and heed.’
‘But surely a strong religion encourages debate. By answering the questions of doubters it will reveal its consistency and power and that can only lead more people into its open arms.’ Mallory nodded with faux-seriousness and it was that plain mockery that gave Peter the shocking urge to run down the room and clip the grinning jackanapes around the ear. He wasn’t prone to violence, ever, but Mallory brought out the worst in him.
‘There is a time and a place. Perhaps you can encourage your brother knights to enter into these discussions in the free time you have on your hands.’ Peter smiled, knowing they had no free time at all. It wasn’t very Christian to enjoy that barb, but he took the pleasure nonetheless.
Mallory also encouraged disruption in the others, and that was dangerous in a place that could exist only through discipline. Oddly, Miller, who followed him around like a dog, remained studious and intense, but Daniels and Gardener and some of the others who normally paid attention became distracted and lighter in mood.
Peter worked his way through the first part of the lesson, but instead of easing off, Mallory’s baiting became progressively worse; something was eating away at him. As Peter weighed whether to continue, the decision was made for him. The door at the back swung open just enough for him to see Blaine, who must have been listening for a while. He signalled his intention to Peter before slipping away quietly.
Mallory moved through the corridors of the former museum with irritation. Sent to the headmaster’s office. It was demeaning, and only added to his growing feeling that perhaps he should skip the cathedral and the knights; it hadn’t turned out like he’d expected at all.
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