The Devil in Green

by Mark Chadbourn

  Blaine shook his head contemptuously. ‘You’ve had a long night, Mallory - you should have a lie down.’

  ‘Something’s been going on here. The security’s been stepped up—’

  ‘You’ll find out in due course. At least I don’t have to worry about you trying to abscond any more. You’re stuck in here for the duration like the rest of us.’

  Mallory was disturbed by Blaine’s reaction to his questions about the mysterious construction that now swathed the original cathedral building. Nothing made sense. The aches and pains reverberating through his body only contributed to the numbing effect of the transformed cathedral so that he felt as though he was floating through a dream. It took him nearly two hours to find the infirmary. A maze of corridors and rooms now linked the cathedral and Malmesbury House, some of them grand vaulted chambers with mighty columns, pristine as if newly built, others so decrepit they appeared on the verge of falling down. Early morning sunlight streamed through holes in the roof and ivy wound around pillars, while rats scurried amongst the shattered stone debris that littered the floor in some quarters. He found enormous deserted chapels, the stained-glass windows casting red, blue, yellow and green swirls over the altars. He stumbled across the entrance to a subterranean ossuary so packed with bones that they spilled out into the corridor. There were crypts so vast their ends were lost in shadows and halls packed with graven images of men in monk’s habits and bishop’s mitres, knights and lords, none of whom he recognised. Even more confusing, when he backtracked, the layout of the building appeared to be continually changing: corridors suddenly came to dead ends; rooms he had never seen before appeared around bends. And over it all lay a dense atmosphere - of reverence in the areas closer to the light, of unbearably claustrophobic repression in the dark.

  Occasionally, he met a brother moving about his business and it soon became apparent that, like Blaine, none of them thought anything had changed. Only a supernatural force could have transformed the cathedral in such a manner, though how, and to what end, escaped him. Nor did he understand why he was the only one with clear vision. It made him feel even more apart than he had before, strung out and anxious with nothing to tether him to reality.

  Finally, when he had just about consigned himself to being lost in the maze forever, he found himself inside Malmesbury House, an oasis of calm with its sophisticated decor. He couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that there was an intelligence to the newly appeared building that had presented the correct route to him only when it was ready.

  When he entered the infirmary, Warwick was mixing a foul-smelling potion. After he had decanted the brew into a crystal bottle, he eyed Mallory suspiciously.

  ‘Fell down the stairs again, I see,’ he said judgementally. ‘I told you I was not—’

  ‘I had a meeting with the Inquisition.’

  Warwick’s mood became contrite. He motioned for Mallory to lie on the table and began applying some stinging tincture to the cuts and abrasions.

  ‘What’s happened here?’ Mallory said, wincing. He gave it one last try. ‘Who magicked up the new building?’

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Warwick said brusquely. He tenderly checked Mallory’s ribs. ‘No breaks again. Well done,’ he added acidly. ‘God looks after fools.’

  ‘The extension to the cathedral?’ Mallory pressed futilely. ‘All the new rooms?’

  ‘Did you get hit on the head?’

  ‘For God’s sake, it covers nearly the whole compound now.’

  Warwick helped lever him off the table. ‘You’d better go and have a lie down, old chap. I’ll mix you up a sedative.’

  Warwick propelled Mallory towards a room at the back. It had a very high ceiling that gave it a restless air, a mood exacerbated by the lack of windows; torches burned in plates atop tall struts amongst the beds that lined both walls. It was too hot despite the time of year, and had the unpleasant aroma of the sick. Many of the men tossed and turned feverishly, though some lay still, as if dead.

  ‘Mallory!’

  He recognised Daniels’ voice immediately. He was propped up in a bed at the far end, waving. As Mallory approached, he could see stained bandages covering the upper-left quarter of Daniels’ head.

  Mallory sat on the end of the bed, aching too much to stand any longer. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Lost an eye.’ Daniels’ hand half-went to the bandages, then stopped. ‘It caught me a glancing blow, but it felt as if someone had rammed a carving knife into the socket.’ His good eye closed for a second.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘We count our blessings, right? I was lucky to get out of there with my life. We all were. Gardener got me back. He’s a good man.’ He leaned forwards to slap Mallory on the arm with comradely good nature. Mallory winced. ‘But what about you!’ Daniels said. ‘I was convinced you’d shuffled off the mortal coil in your usual iconoclastic, curmudgeonly manner. Should have known you’ve got too much piss and vinegar in you to give up the ghost, Mallory!’

  ‘I had a good go, believe me. I got Miller back, too, you know?’ ‘Really? Thank the Lord. How is he?’

  ‘He was in a bad way. I thought he’d be in here.’

  ‘This is the walking wounded. The slackers. They’ve got another ward for the serious. What about Hipgrave?’

  ‘Dead, I think. At least, he’s not back yet. I found a severed hand. Gardener’s in one piece?’ Daniels nodded. ‘Then it must have been Hipgrave’s. I don’t think he could have lost a hand out there and not bled to death.’

  ‘Shame. He was a detestable little shit who couldn’t lead a drunk to the bar, but, you know …’

  Mallory nodded, although he had to admit to himself that he didn’t feel even that little bit of charity. They sat in silence for a moment, repressed memories of that night suddenly rushing back. Bizarrely, Mallory remembered the smell the most, like a wet dog, though sourer, with a rubbery under-odour.

  ‘What was that thing?’ he asked from his daze.

  There was more silence, and when he looked up, Daniels had tears in his eye. ‘Sometimes I think we’ve got no right to be here, do you know what I mean?’

  ‘I met someone on the way back,’ Mallory began tentatively, not sure how much he should give away. ‘They told me something had noticed us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Some force … I don’t know, exactly. I got the sense it was incredibly powerful … ancient. Evil.’ He stared at the hissing torch as he recalled Rhiannon’s world. ‘That thing we met on Bratton Camp was linked to it in some way.’

  ‘The Adversary,’ Daniels said.

  ‘I don’t think so. The way she spoke, this was something else … something even worse, if that’s possible. It sounded as if she was saying it was on the other side of the universe … it crawled up from the edge of Existence … but it’s moving this way.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with the Adversary?’ There was a dim note of despair in Daniels’ voice.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Who told you all this?’ Daniels asked.

  Before Mallory could answer, they were both hailed in a gruff Geordie accent. Gardener strode towards them, beaming in a manner Mallory had never seen before. ‘Bloody hell, lad, I thought you were—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, we’ve just been through all that.’

  Gardener cuffed him genially on the shoulder and Mallory winced again.

  ‘You landed a few bruises then,’ Daniels said, with what Mallory thought was unnecessary brightness.

  ‘They’re from our friends here. The Inquisition. I gather you haven’t had the pleasure yet.’

  Daniels looked uncomfortable. ‘Sorry, Mallory. I heard about them, but they left us alone. I think they were too surprised we actually made it back … plus my injury …’

  Mallory laughed. ‘You don’t have to make excuses, Daniels. I know they don’t like the cut of my jib. If there’s some shit going around, I’m the one who’s always going t
o get the first helping.’

  ‘Well, as long as you know it, laddie,’ Gardener joked.

  Mallory’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘What I don’t get is what the hell’s happened and why nobody will talk to me about it.’ He eyed them hopefully, urging them to understand his meaning.

  Daniels and Gardener both looked across the beds uneasily to make sure no one was listening. ‘We had the same thing when we got here,’ Daniels whispered. ‘They don’t know, Mallory. They think everything’s normal.’

  ‘They’ve been affected by whatever caused it,’ Gardener said. ‘They all think the place has always been like this. I tell you, I tried to explore the madhouse a few times, but it seems as though it’s bigger than …’ He picked his teeth rather than finish the sentence, so Mallory said it for him.

  ‘Bigger than the land it’s on.’

  Gardener nodded, but didn’t meet Mallory’s eye.

  ‘And the layout keeps changing all the time,’ Mallory continued.

  Once again Daniels looked unaccountably gloomy. ‘I like things to make sense—’

  ‘Then why are you neck-deep in religion?’ Mallory said bad- temperedly.

  ‘—and there’s no sense to this at all. There’s no sense to anything in this world any more. No rules. That’s the one rule - there are no rules. And I hate it! How are you supposed to understand things if it can all change while you’re sleeping?’

  ‘It’s either the Devil’s work, or it’s God’s,’ Gardener said bluntly. ‘It’s up to us to find out which. Personally, I’d plump for the latter. This is hallowed ground. The Devil can’t have any influence here.’

  ‘Do you think you can come up with a more simple explanation?’ Mallory said tardy.

  Daniels lay wearily back on his pillow and closed his good eye. ‘Look, we’ve all got different beliefs here - there’s no point arguing amongst ourselves. If we’re the only ones who can see the truth, we’ve got to stick together until we find out what it means.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘And it’s not as if you can run away, Mallory.’

  ‘Blaine said something along those lines. What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re under siege,’ Gardener said.

  ‘The kind of things we saw out on the Plain have moved into the city,’ Daniels added. ‘Every night they’re roaming around the walls, sometimes during the day as well. Anybody who goes out doesn’t come back.’

  ‘Blaine said I was lucky to get back here.’

  ‘He’s right there, man,’ Gardener noted. ‘I just watched them send out three Blues. They didn’t make it to the end of the street. There was something out there like dirty washing lying in the road. It came up, flapping around, like, and they all fell apart. Just like that. All fell apart. I tell you, it made me sick to see it.’

  ‘But they say the things don’t touch any of the city people at all during the day. Most of the time, folk can just go about their business … though they’re giving the cathedral compound a wide berth,’ Daniels said. ‘At night, it’s a different matter, though. Anything’s fair game then.’

  ‘Something’s going on,’ Mallory said. ‘I don’t believe that cleric we were following across the Plain was real at all. When I saw his face, it looked as if it was … made up or something. I reckon it was a setup from the start, to lead us to Bratton Camp.’

  ‘Why?’ Daniels said. ‘So we’d get attacked by that thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve just got a gut feeling we’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg.’

  Before leaving the infirmary, Gardener and Mallory visited Miller. The younger knight was sleeping peacefully. Warwick had patched him up, but he’d lost a lot of blood and he’d need several days’ recuperation.

  ‘You did a good job bringing him in,’ Gardener said. ‘Couldn’t have been easy, the state he was in.’

  ‘I need somebody to be my conscience,’ Mallory replied. ‘Was it hard getting Daniels back?’

  ‘He was in a bit of a bad way … you know.’ He pointed to his temple. ‘Losing the eye hit him hard. It’d get any of us, wouldn’t it? But he’s a good bloke, Daniels, for a poof. He’s got a good heart. He’d stand by you when times were hard, and that’s all you really need in a mate, isn’t it?’

  Mallory couldn’t disagree. But as he made his way back to his crib, his relief at the four of them surviving was already obscured by his growing worry that unseen events were taking place behind the scenes, with repercussions for all of them.

  *

  Blaine left Mallory alone for the remainder of the day. It gave him time to gain some respite from the dull ache throbbing through his body. He ate a bland lunch of vegetable stew in the refectory and noticed that the portions were all markedly smaller. If they were truly under siege, supplies would have to be conserved. He made no attempt to go to any of the services, relishing his disobedience like a boy skipping school; it was a small victory against the oppressive order, but it made him feel good nonetheless. Instead, he chose to dwell on his growing anger, not only with Blaine, but also with the higher Church authorities that had conspired in making what had been a simple exchange - work for food and board - into a thoroughly unpleasant experience. With enthusiasm, he began to plot ways in which he could get his own back.

  He took supper with Gardener and was surprised to find two weeks had passed since they had set off on their mission, although he had only seemed to spend a few brief hours in the Court of Peaceful Days. It made him feel disoriented.

  One other thing troubled him: the cleric who had wandered into the cathedral that night, setting them on their search for his missing colleague, was now missing himself. Since their last conversation, Gardener had found out that the cleric had spent the night in the infirmary, but in the morning his bed was empty. Common opinion suggested that he had wandered off in a daze, possibly to search for his friend, but the guards at the gate claimed that no one had exited the compound all night. Blaine had punished them anyway. It only confirmed Mallory’s fears that they had been set up from the start, but why would such an elaborate plan have been put in motion just to entice a few knights into the danger zone?

  After supper, Gardener invited Mallory to stand watch over the gates so he could see for himself what was happening. The mid-October night held a brittle cold and was suffused with the smell of wood-smoke from home fires. On the walkway running around the inside of the wall, Mallory felt a strange frisson looking out on to a city without a single electric light burning. Only a few flickering candles glowed like fireflies in the night. Yet the ghostly light cast by the full moon when it broke from the cloud cover was brighter and more affecting than any street lamp.

  Duncan, the captain of the guards, was a middle-aged bearded man with a thick Birmingham accent. He met them deferentially as they walked to a position near the gates. His attitude reminded Mallory of the respect with which the knights were treated throughout the cathedral, but particularly amongst the guards who knew exactly what they had to endure under Blaine’s leadership.

  ‘I could swear it’s colder in winter since the Fall. Do you remember the snow last Christmas?’ Gardener said as they leaned on the top of the wall, looking out across the city. Their breath clouded, and they had their cloaks pulled around them for warmth.

  ‘That’s all we need - a new ice age,’ Mallory replied.

  ‘What time does it start?’ Gardener asked Duncan.

  ‘They’re already out there.’ Duncan indicated several points along the street, in doorways and deep shadows, but Mallory could see nothing. ‘They’re like sentries - there all day and night.’

  Mallory couldn’t understand how he had got past them; had they let him into the cathedral, and if so, why? Gardener sensed what he was thinking. ‘Daniels and me came in too,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask me what’s going on. Anybody else that tries to get in or out gets both barrels.’

  ‘The other things come at various points during the dark hours,’ Duncan continued. ‘They try to break down the
walls … cause a bit of damage, but never manage anything too serious.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ Mallory said. ‘The things we saw out on Salisbury Plain would be in here in no time.’

  ‘They are kept out by the power of the Lord.’ Julian, the bishop’s right- hand man had come up behind them. He’d tied his long black hair into a ponytail, but that only served to emphasise the worry and exhaustion in his features. ‘Or the power of faith, or whatever you want to call it.’

  ‘Magic?’ Mallory suggested mischievously.

  Julian didn’t appear offended. ‘Just words,’ he said dismissively. ‘Different ways of describing the same thing. Whatever you choose, in this new age the power of prayer and ritual has a dramatic and instant effect. Sacred land becomes empowered. Those things can’t set foot within the cathedral compound.’

  Mallory thought for a second. ‘But why are they trying to get into the cathedral?’

  ‘Why, they’re opposed to everything we do,’ Julian replied, as if the answer were obvious.

  ‘That seems to be the common view.’ Mallory made no attempt to hide his plain disregard for this approach.

  Julian appeared momentarily troubled, as if Mallory had given voice to his own doubts, but the precentor brightened when he saw James clambering up the ladder to join them. Mallory had not seen the pleas- ant-natured brother since James’ secretive meeting with Julian in the refectory.

  ‘How goes it?’ James said cheerily. He was red-cheeked and clapping his arms against his sides theatrically.

  ‘Should bloody sell tickets up here,’ Gardener muttered.

  ‘I come up here every night,’ James said, ‘in the hope that they will finally relent. Their patience must wear thin eventually.’

  Mallory disagreed. ‘Believe me, they’re like a dog with a bone. They’re not going to leave until we find some way to break them. I presume we haven’t got a way?’

  ‘Your commander has outlined several strategies,’ Julian began, before dispensing with the PR. ‘Nothing that yet looks like a workable solution. But we’ll find it, in time.’