by Dan Davis
That he could get away with the same thing in the heart of England, making slaves and cattle of good Christians, astonished me.
Through the door at the far end of the corridor, they pushed, dragged and beat me down a stairway into a deeper darkness. It went down, under the ground. There were caves everywhere in Sherwood. It was one of the ways outlaws escaped detection and found shelter in the greenwood. The place Little John called Eden was built on limestone and the caves beneath the buildings were either natural or had been hacked out.
The roughly carved spiralling steps led down and down further. The stairs bottomed out into a short corridor carved from the limestone bedrock and they pushed and beat me along it. Little John squeezed his bulk through the cramped space and at the end he threw open a heavy door. I was beaten down again then dragged inside, leaving a trail of blood on the floor behind me.
The final room, our destination, was long, wide, low and carved directly from the limestone bedrock. The space was lit with lamps and candles in alcoves cut into the walls. All around, those walls were carved with shapes of acorns and oak leaves and attempts at rich, leafy woodland canopy. The leaves were arranged so that here and there, the gaps between appeared as pairs of eyes.
The chamber was dominated by a central altar. The top was a solid piece of thick, dark oak, like some kind of giant table top. It sat atop four wide limestone pillars. The wide edges of the altar were carved into the shapes of bones and skulls, arranged in the shapes of writhing bodies. The skulls eyes had their mouths opened as if they were crying out or perhaps preparing to sink their crazed grins into living flesh. The limestone pillars supporting the central oak altar top were carved like bones. Both the wood and the stone were stained with dark red and brown.
Lines were carved into the stone floor, long parallel lines, leading from one side of the room to near the altar, where there was a bowl-shaped pit cut from the floor. They were discoloured with a dark residue.
On the far side of the room beyond the altar was a heavy door with iron bands reinforcing it, of the kind used on a treasury, strong room or dungeon.
And there was a cage. On my side of the room, near the door that I had been dragged in through. A strongly built, black iron cage with wooden pillars at each corner holding it in place. The side of the cage was open.
It had been prepared for me.
They cracked me on the head again and set about stripping me of my armour. They took my hauberk, coif and all my mail, punching me repeatedly to keep me disoriented and weakened. They took my gambeson and all my padding. While I was yet dazed they threw me into the small cage.
“Do you like this?” Little John said. He banged the bars above my head. “We had it made just for you.”
I looked at my cage. The flat iron lengths made a cage about five and a half feet tall and a couple of feet wide and deep. I could only stand with my head bent low, the top of my hunched shoulders touched the top of the cage. My shoulders were almost touching the bars of either side.
Outside, on each long edge, the cage was fixed to the floor and ceiling by sturdy oak pillars.
“I hope that you do like it,” Little John said. “Because you will never leave this cage.” He laughed, phlegm spraying past his black beard.
“When I get out of here I shall smash your face into pulp,” I said. It hurt just to speak.
Little John laughed but his eyes were shining pits. “Here is your prisoner, my lord,” he shouted, sneering.
The massive door at the far end of the room, beyond the central table, crashed open. A massive force had flung it open from the other side.
William.
My brother, my enemy, the man I was sworn to kill. He strode from the room beyond, wiping the corners of his mouth with a rag. His black hair had grown long and he had a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a dark green tunic, a white shirt underneath. He looked in the prime of his life, had not aged a day since I had seen him last, in a cave in Palestine. I had crushed his chest with a blow that sent him crashing across the room and set the place ablaze. William had escaped, from the cave, from the Holy Land and from my life.
And there he was again, standing behind the central altar, tall and straight, broad-shouldered and slim. The master of his domain. While I was filthy, beaten and hunched in a cage.
“Brother,” he said, tossing a rag to one side. “Finally, you are here. I am relieved. You do not know how tiring it has been without you.”
I had been waiting to face William for so long. Yet in my imaginings, it had been me in the position of power and William cringing in chains.
I found that I did not know what to say.
“Come, Richard,” William said. “You must accustom yourself to the feeling of defeat.” His voice had a sonorous, resonant tone that washed over you like a wave. He fixed you with an intense stare when he spoke. His men were all staring at him, transfixed by his every word.
“Just kill me quickly, will you,” I said, wincing. “I do not think I can stand to listen to more of your mad ravings.”
Little John smashed his huge fist into the bars of my cage, rattling the thing. “Mind your own words,” he said. “Show respect. Or it’ll be me smashing your face into to a pulp, tough man.”
“John,” William said, calmly. “There is no need for threats.”
“But he won’t even need his face to give us his—” John started.
“Silence!” William roared.
My ears rang in the silence that followed.
William continued in a softer voice. “Richard, you look quite broken. Please, rest for now. I shall have blood brought to you so you may heal.”
“I would rather you choke on it,” I said, though I wanted it. “I will have no part of your murders.”
“Murders?” William said, as if shocked I could suggest such a thing. “Who ever said anything about murders? The blood is from the living, freely given.”
“Freely given?” I said. “From those slaves out there? Spare me your lies.”
“There are no slaves here in Eden,” William said, spreading his arms wide. “This is Paradise upon Earth, brother.”
“You have killed and murdered across the land,” I said. “Your men have slaughtered and enslaved whole villages. You poisoned the King of England, you mad fool. You have created a Hell upon the Earth. Just as you do everywhere you go.” I took a shuddering breath. The back of my head, where John had cracked it, felt like it was made from porridge.
“I poisoned King John?” William said as if he was genuinely confused. “What on earth can you mean? It was the bloody flux, was it not?”
“You would know,” I said, bitterly. “You, more than any man. The archbishop and you conspired. You poisoned King John or you sent a man to do it. I noticed your poisonous garden outside this place.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling. “Have you ever wondered why so many woodland plants are poisonous?”
“Wondered?” I said, not understanding the question. “God made it so.”
William sighed, like a priest teaching me Latin. “Yes, Richard, but why?”
I was irritated. William had a way of twisting words and minds. Even mine. “You think you can know the mind of God?” I said.
“Of course,” he spoke with sudden passion. “Why else would He create us in His image if not to know His mind? We must take back our rightful place, as lords over mankind.”
“We?” I said.
“You and I are not made as are mortal men,” William said. “God made us immortal, as was Adam in the Garden of Eden.”
I had never paid much attention to the priests. “Adam was not immortal,” I said.
“Of course he was,” William said. “And how was Eve made? From Adam’s body, just as we make more like us from taking from inside of ourselves.”
“We use blood,” I said, astonished by the way he twisted the word of God to match his own mad needs. “Not our ribs.”
“It is a story meant to reveal truth,” William s
aid, lecturing me in that priestly tone. “The sons of Adam lived for hundreds of years. Clearly, you and I are from the same stock. Neither of us has aged a day. Not a day since God brought us back. Since then we have both suffered wounds that would kill even the strongest man. I have gouged chunks of flesh from my own body and watched it grow back together. I have consumed gallons of poison, chewed deadly leaves and walked away.”
I wished I could tear him apart. “Which of those plants did you use to kill your king?”
William threw up his hands. “My king? Mine? I swore no allegiance to that fool. Why should he have remained king when he could not hold on to his kingdom? I could protect England far better than he ever could. And, in fact, I will protect it. I shall be the greatest king that England has ever known. Imagine it, Richard, a strong crown year after year, decade after decade. I will rule for centuries and England will be the greatest land in Christendom. I will make the Pope one of my men. Imagine what I can do with the Saracens.”
I stared at him in disbelief. His eyes seemed to shine with the flicker of the candlelight, boring into me, searching me, and almost pleading with me to see what he was seeing in his future.
“You are mad,” I said. “You will be a king? The King of England? Absurd. You mean to poison so many lords that the crown comes to you, is that it?”
“Hardly necessary. When I have built my army, with your blood, we will simply take the kingdom from the young Henry. Who can resist us?”
“The Marshal,” I said. “Longspear, Ranulf of Chester.”
“Oh, Richard,” William said. “You have so much to learn. The Marshal is old and mortal. His alliances will fall when he does. I have many men in place, helping things along.”
“Men like the Archbishop of York,” I said. “I know you are working together.”
William laughed. “Together? The fat fool has had his uses, though he has been misbehaving. Keeping you away from me, Richard. I think he is fond of you.”
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” I said.
William pursed his lips, looked around the room and pointedly ignored my question. “This is a sacred oak grove, Richard. An ancient place. A holy place.”
“We are underground,” I said, leaning back in my cage. What could I do but listen to his madness? “This is no grove.”
“The roots of the oak are its strength,” he said, indicating the sinewy carvings on the walls. “And in the oak is the strength of our faith.”
“Madness,” I said. “Just madness.” There was blood in my mouth. I spat it out.
“Did you know that the Tree of Knowledge was the oak? Eve’s knowledge was that from death comes life. She knew why the tree bore the fruit. So that it would live again, after death, just as you and I do, Richard. We are the children of Adam. You and I alone. We are the inheritors of God’s first creation.”
“You and I are?” I said. “Is that why you freely murder everyone else?”
William nodded. “Those that take on our blood after losing their own become sons of Adam also.”
“Your man Much the Miller told me. As did Tuck. Before I killed them, as I killed so many of your precious sons of Adam. And when I get out of this cage I will kill everyone else here. Then I will kill you.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
William ran his fingers over the surface of the thick oak top to the central table before him. It was a huge thing, dark and solid as iron, three inches thick. Only God knew where he had got such a thing but it was as thick as a castle gate.
“Here is the altar where we both reap and sow our gift of blood,” he said, his voice resonating and echoing from the walls. “Sin is poured out here at the Altar of Oak and the blood of Adam is given in its place.”
“Come closer,” I said. “Come and open these bars and I will drink yours again. Then you shall reap what evil you have sowed.”
“Oh?” William started as if I had wounded his heart. “And what evil have I sowed?”
I laughed in disbelief. “King John, for one.”
William shrugged. “What is a mortal man compared to us, Richard? We are the inheritors of Adam’s gift. God has renewed His gift, through us. Only, you refuse to recognise the truth. You persist in your attempts to live as a knight and a lord of your pathetic manor. Why is your ambition so small? You could join me and together we could take a kingdom and remake the Garden upon the earth. And yet you never will. So this is how I must use you. In a cage. I will use you. Use your blood. I pray that you never forget that you brought this on yourself.”
I stared at him, feeling tired. Tired and close to defeated. “You may believe that nonsense. Use me? Never. I will not allow it.”
William tilted his head. “You do look weak. You have not been drinking enough blood, have you, Richard. Enough for now. You are tired. So rest, drink as much blood as you can stomach. It is important that you are healed and that you stay strong. I will have it brought to you. See to it, will you, John?”
William turned to leave.
“My lord,” Little John said, taking a hesitant step forward. “I must speak to you privately.”
William turned back. “You may speak in front of my little brother,” William said. “After all, what can he do from in there?”
John nodded his huge skull. “His men followed us through the greenwood.”
A thrill surged through me at his words. Of course, my men would not abandon me. Thank God for Jocelyn.
“So?” William said.
“Well,” John replied. “It is just that they are out there right now, my lord, keeping watch on us.”
“And what exactly do you think they can do to us?” William asked, laughing. “Do you believe them to be a threat?”
“There are a dozen or more. A score, perhaps. Who knows what mischief they could get up to? They could take one of my men on the road. Or they could go and tell the location of Eden.”
“Tell?” William asked, glancing at my cage as if inviting me to join in mocking John’s ignorance. “Who would they tell?”
“Don’t know,” John shrugged, looking down. “The Marshal?”
William sneered. “That old man is not long for this world,” he said. “But I know how much you love to kill, John, dear boy. Go and murder Richard’s men. Kill all you like, drink them up. If you feel like bringing back prisoners then we can always use more soldiers or cattle for our pens.”
John nodded and turned to leave, as did William, in the opposite direction.
I knew Jocelyn and Anselm, Swein and his archers were fine fighters. But they had no hope against men imbued with William’s blood.
My men were as good as dead.
“William, wait,” I shouted, heaving on the bars, ignoring the pain from my bruised limbs. “What is the meaning of all this? Why not just kill me now? Do you mean to torture me? Why am I here?”
William turned back, sighing as though I greatly inconvenienced him.
“Why are you so dense, Richard? How can you be so quick of limb but slow of mind? I am tired,’ William said. “I am so tired of giving up my blood to make more of my faithful men. But your blood is the same as mine. We grew from the same seed and our blood is the stuff of eternal life. Now I finally have you. You were meant to come last year. I sent a bunch of bumbling incompetents right to your door so that would you find your way to me. And then our friend Archbishop Hugh stuck his fat face in between us and sent you far away. He knew I wanted you. He was trying to strong-arm me, can you imagine? I will show him soon enough.”
I stared at him. “I had forgotten that you were always mad. Your words are nonsense. Forget I asked.”
William shook his head. “I have taken one of Hugh’s bastard daughters. His favourite, by all accounts. But you know the woman I mean, do you not, Richard? You came running here for her, just as her father will. It took a long time but praise God, you have returned to me. Now I can extract all the blood I want from you
and use it to build my army. We will pour good, clean blood down your throat by day and by night we shall milk you dry, brother. Rejoice, for from your lifeblood, from your gift, you will make an army the likes of which the world has never known. We will take the North, we will take the boy king and then his kingdom. Now, is that clear enough? Ah, but I get ahead of myself. Please, sit, rest. I will have your food and blood brought in. See to it, won’t you, John?”
William nodded, strode back through his heavy, iron-bound door and slammed it shut behind him.
Before he did so, he called into the dark chamber beyond.
“A thousand apologies. Now, where were we, Lady Marian?”
Chapter Fourteen – Tree of Knowledge
My cage was stronger than I. The bars were flattened iron strips, half an inch thick. They crisscrossed each other so close that they formed squares barely wider than my fist. Where they crossed, they were riveted together.
As soon as I was alone, I gripped every piece of iron in that cage in turn, pushed, heaved, and sweated trying to bend it. I braced my shoulders against one side and pushed at the other with my arms, feet, knees.
The small door was the most obvious weak point. But the cunning smiths had reinforced that section. The hinges were hidden behind plates on the outside of the bars. The door overlapped the bars perfectly and the bolts securing it ran the whole depth and width of the cage where they were locked into the stone floor and the timbers on either side.
Nothing would budge.
All I managed was to tear off a couple of the more important fingernails and leave my shoulders and hands bruised.
I sat. The strips of bars on the bottom fitted into recessed, carved sections in the stone floor.
There were other lines carved into the stone, lines that ran from the cage floor and out into the cave, meeting in a carved depression by the table in the centre.
I wondered what they had been thinking of constructing when those lines hard been carved into the stone. Perhaps, I thought, they had intended a larger cage or one with a triangular point stretching in front but I could not conceive why they would do such a thing.