The Bride Wore Black Leather

by Simon R. Green

  “The things you know,” I said, admiringly.

  “Mind full of trivia,” he said, grandly.

  We broke off and looked around sharply as loud cracking and groaning noises filled the alcove, and one whole section of it opened inwards, forming a doorway into darkness. We both leaned in close for a better look, but there was no sign of any Garden beyond; only an impenetrable blackness.

  “Are you sure you couldn’t have found that?” said Julien.

  “What?” I said. “And miss out on your fascinating and enlightening briefing? You know you love to lecture people.”

  “I do, don’t I?” said Julien.

  A Druidic Sister stepped abruptly out of the darkness to stand before us, resplendent in pristine white robes and wearing a crown of plaited mistletoe. She was a tall, powerfully built woman, with a calm, serene face. She projected a natural grace and spirituality, and smiled benevolently on us.

  “I am Sister Dorethea, of the Very Righteous Sisters of the Holy Druids, and I welcome you both to the Garden of Green Henge. Oh bloody hell, it’s John Taylor.”

  She scowled at me balefully while Julien did his best to hide a smile.

  “You must get that a lot, John.”

  “You have no idea,” I said. “Yes, Sister; I am John Taylor, the newly appointed Walker. And this is . . .”

  “Oh, I know who he is,” said Sister Dorethea, losing her scowl to smile at Julien Advent. “The Great Victorian Adventurer is known to all of us here and is always welcome to enter the Garden of Green Henge. But you, Taylor, your reputation precedes you. You only get to come in on sufferance because you’re with him. So watch your manners, don’t go straying from the path, and don’t touch anything.”

  I nodded. I always let people set their own restrictions, if only so I can have the fun of breaking them.

  “Are you real Druids?” I said innocently. “I mean, if the Stones are fake . . .”

  She gave me a full-on look of withering scorn. “The Stones are not fake. They are all real menhirs, transported from the south-west of England, from the small town of Avebury. Apparently because they had so many, it was felt they could spare some. The Circles may be . . . more recent, but the Stones are in every way real, and we venerate them as such. The Garden is a sacred site. So watch yourself, Taylor.”

  “Do you do souvenirs?” I asked.

  She turned away from me with magnificent disdain and introduced herself to Julien Advent, who was, of course, perfectly charming and polite. I never really got the hang of either of those. I took the opportunity to study Sister Dorethea’s face, that being all there was of her that wasn’t covered by voluminous robes. She had the look of a lady of a certain age, where all the children have left home but haven’t got around to providing grandchildren yet. Leaving the lady in question with a big gap in her life that she had to fill with something. Good causes usually suffice, but out-of-the-way religions and beliefs often come a close second. If there isn’t a local swingers’ club. And, of course, the Nightside is no stranger to those with too much time on their hands, and is always happy to provide unusual opportunities. Very Righteous Sisters my arse.

  Didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous, though.

  Julien soon had Sister Dorethea smiling and cooing, and she led him through the darkness at the rear of the alcove. I hurried after them, not wanting to be left behind or left out of anything. I plunged into the dark and almost immediately stumbled to a halt again as the darkness was replaced by the silver-grey of a late evening in the countryside. I also heard the alcove closing itself very firmly behind me. Though whether to keep the scavengers out, or Julien and me in, remained to be seen. I looked cautiously about me. I was standing on a wide-open moor, in the twilight of the evening. Night had only just begun to fall here, though the full moon shone brightly overhead, fully as oversized as it was everywhere else in the Nightside. I glanced behind me, and of course the great wall was gone. Open and empty, the moorland stretched away unbroken for miles.

  We were in a pocket dimension, a small reality enclosed within a greater one, maintained by the magics built into the surrounding wall. There are a great many worlds within worlds, in the Nightside. It’s the only way we can fit everything in. The moor stretched away before me, all the way to a far-off horizon. And I had to wonder why they needed so much space, to hold a Circle of Standing Stones. A cold wind blew, in sudden chilly gusts, wuthering in the quiet twilight. Not all that far-away stood a massive hedgerow maze, maybe half a mile across, with the rows a good ten to twelve feet high. I’d heard of this maze. Green Henge was set right at the heart and centre of the maze, hidden from view by the tall green walls. Only the Very Righteous Sisters knew all the secrets of the maze, and so controlled access to the Stones.

  Sister Dorethea led us forward at a brisk, imperious pace. The ground was covered with scrubby grass and dry moss, which crunched loudly under our feet. As we drew closer, I could make out more Very Righteous Sisters, moving unhurriedly in and out of the various entrances to the maze, quietly going about their business like so many white-clad bees tending their hive. None of them so much as glanced in our direction. I couldn’t help noticing that there were only women present, not a single man to be seen anywhere.

  “I couldn’t help noticing . . .” I said to Sister Dorethea.

  “Yes, yes, I know; we’re all women here, whereas the original Druids famously didn’t allow women to be priests. According to the few records that survive from that time, mostly written down by the Romans, who didn’t approve of the Druids anyway. But that was then, and this is now. Green Henge may have started out as a folly, but years of veneration have made the Standing Stones sacred again, and the Sisterhood is entirely real if not actually entirely authentic. We’ve been in charge here for ages, because no-one else could be bothered with the time and devotion necessary to ensure the upkeep of the Stones, and Green Henge.”

  “So if they want to be wrong, let them,” murmured Julien.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was wondering why there aren’t any men here.”

  “Because they get in the way!” snapped Sister Dorethea. “They are a distraction! We have all given up much to become Sisters to the Stones. We are all of us pure and pristine, and we have every intention of remaining that way.”

  She stuck her nose in the air and headed straight for the maze. So Julien and I quite naturally slowed our pace, to show we weren’t going to be hurried.

  “Shouldn’t a garden have, well, flowers and stuff?” I said. “All I can see is moorland, and not even a trace of heather.”

  “I can hear you!” said Sister Dorethea, not lowering herself to look back. “The moor was designed to be this way. No distractions, remember? It is we, the Sisterhood, who grow here, through our service to the Stones. This is a Garden of Stone, where we beat ourselves against the hard surfaces every day to purify ourselves, that we might flourish and blossom and bloom. Spiritually speaking.”

  “Right,” I said. “You go, Sister. Spiritually speaking. But I still have to ask, What is Green Henge for? Exactly? What does it do?”

  “It weeds out the unworthy,” Sister Dorethea said sternly. “And encourages proper growth. You’ll see. Only the pure of intent can pass through the maze, to reach the Circle of Standing Stones and the glory of Green Henge.”

  “That’s it?” said Julien, after a while.

  “Isn’t that enough?” countered the Sister. “Beware the Ring of Stones and bow down to Green Henge. They are powerful, and significant beyond your mere mortal understanding.”

  I looked at Julien. “This place may have started out as a folly, but it isn’t any more. If enough people believe in a thing, it becomes real. Especially in the Nightside. Green Henge might have been created here to someone’s fashionable scheme, but it’s become the real deal. Still not too clear on the Druid connection, though . . . Do you still practise human sacrifice here, Sister Dorethea?”

  “Of course not!” she said though she did
n’t sound nearly shocked enough for my liking. “We’re not that kind of Druid!”

  I was still considering pressing the matter, as to exactly what kind of Druid she was, when Dorethea finally brought us to the entrance of the hedgerow maze. No sign, no map, nothing but a dark opening. The heavy green hedge walls towered above us, stretching away on every side. The maze was frankly huge, and gave every indication of being big enough to contain half a dozen Henges. The hedge walls were composed of some unfamiliar dark green vegetation, with flat serrated leaves and heavy bone yellow thorns. The passage between the walls was barely wide enough to allow Julien and me to walk through side by side. The only light was shimmering moonlight, grey and blue-white, and there were far too many deep, dark shadows for my liking. I turned to Sister Dorethea, expecting her to lead us in, but she stepped back and waved for Julien and me to go on in, bestowing on us a decidedly knowing smile. I stood my ground.

  “How long is it going to take us to get to the centre, to the Stones? We haven’t got all night.”

  “It takes as long as it takes,” said Sister Dorethea. “The way depends on you.”

  I looked at Julien. “We can’t even be sure he’s in there.”

  “Perhaps,” said Julien. “But I think we’ll learn something interesting in Green Henge, nonetheless.”

  I looked at the entrance to the maze. “You really want to do this?”

  “We have to, John. This is our path to the Sun King.”

  I glared at him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

  “There’s a lot I’m not telling you. But I need you to trust me on this, John.”

  And all I could do was shrug because he was Julien Advent, the Great Victorian Adventurer, and if I couldn’t trust him . . . I couldn’t trust anyone.

  “Only those of the correct spiritual frame of mind can hope to navigate the maze successfully,” said Sister Dorethea. “Only the pure of intent will obtain access to the Stones, and Green Henge.”

  “Yes, well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” I said. “Come on, Julien. Catch you later, Druid.”

  I strode forward into the maze, and Julien was immediately right there at my side. I can’t say I’ve ever felt safer with Julien beside me because he doesn’t do safe; but I’ve always felt more confident. Julien’s a good man to have at your side or your back, because you know you can depend on him to fight to the last drop of his blood; or, more usually, his enemy’s. I suppose that’s why we’ve so rarely partnered up. Not only because he so loudly disapproves of me, and my methods, but because I’ve always felt the junior partner. Julien Advent is the kind of man I always wanted to be and knew I never could be. Because he was a genuine hero, and I’m not. I’m just a man who gets things done.

  We took a left and a right and a left inside the maze, and, immediately, I was hopelessly lost. Hadn’t got a clue where I was, or where I was going, or even where the entrance was. When I looked back, all I could see were hedgerows, exactly like those in front of me. I’ve never been any good at mazes. Or crossword puzzles. I’ve never liked games where you can’t bend the rules when you’re losing. But when I hesitated, Julien immediately took over the lead, making his choices confidently, as though he was following some trail only he could see.

  “I worked my way through any number of mazes, back when Victoria was on the Throne,” Julien said calmly. “They all follow the same basic pattern. I think they were only fashionable so young ladies could get lost in them and cry pitifully to be rescued by brave young men. Not a good place to canoodle, though; you never knew who might come round a corner. But this . . . is not a usual maze.”

  And he stopped dead in his tracks, looking from one way to another, unable to choose.

  “I can . . . feel the centre of the Maze,” he said slowly. “I could point to it. But I can’t seem to go any further. The choices don’t make sense any more. It’s like looking at a map and finding all the symbols have suddenly taken on new and unfamiliar meanings. It’s like something else is required of me, other than logic. A very uncomfortable feeling. How does the maze feel to you, John?”

  I shrugged uncomfortably. I did feel something, but it wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. “It’s only a maze. First rule of the Nightside: when you’re playing a game, and the rules say you’re losing, change the rules.

  “You’re going to cheat, aren’t you?” said Julien resignedly.

  “Of course,” I said. “It’s what I do best.”

  I raised my gift, enough to add strength and power to my Sight, and immediately I could sense the exact location of Green Henge. And, more importantly, how to get to it. I plunged forward, darting through one row to another with complete confidence. Julien had to hurry to keep up with me. It was invigorating, racing through the hedgerows with defiant ease, while Green Henge called to me like a great voice in the night. It wasn’t just a Circle of Stones, it was a place of power, and Destiny. It was a place where things happened, things that mattered. And the moment I realised that, I slammed the brakes on and came to a sudden halt. Julien stopped with me and looked quickly around.

  “What is it? Did you hear something? I thought I heard something . . .”

  “No,” I said. “It’s Green Henge. This was never a folly, Julien. The man who brought the Stones here may have thought so, but the Stones were using him. To transport them to a new place, where they could draw on new energies, to become a greater power than they ever were before. And you knew this, didn’t you?”

  “I suspected it,” said Julien. “How do you know all this, John?”

  I scowled. “Just being in the maze, I can feel things. But you knew before we ever came in here.”

  “I told you Green Henge was an interest of mine. I’ve done research. The Circle of Standing Stones is a meeting place. It draws important and significant people to it, when the time is right. The Sun King will be there, John. Trust me.”

  “I do,” I said. “You know I do, damn you.” I looked slowly about me. “Hold everything. Did you say you heard something?”

  “Yes,” said Julien. “And I’m pretty sure I heard it again.”

  “We’re not alone in here,” I said. “Something else is in the maze with us.”

  “The Sisters?” said Julien, looking around vaguely.

  “No,” I said, looking quickly this way and that but seeing only more hedgerows and shadows. “Whatever’s in here with us, it’s not human.”

  Both our heads snapped round sharply, as a slow rustle of movement ran through the hedge wall on one side of us, then the other. Julien and I moved immediately to stand back-to-back. My hands had already clenched instinctively into fists. We stood, waiting, listening, ready for an attack from any side . . . but it never came. Nothing emerged from any of the hedgerows. The full moon surrounded us with its shimmering blue-white light, and none of the shadows moved. The maze was deathly silent.

  “It’s still out there,” murmured Julien. “I can feel it . . . It’s close. Watching us.”

  “Yes,” I said, quietly. “I think . . . it’s hunting us. But my gift can’t find it, and my Sight can’t detect it.”

  “Can you still find the way to the centre?”

  “Yes. The way’s so clear it’s like a straight path to me.”

  “Then we should press on,” said Julien. “Get to the centre and Green Henge.”

  “You think we’ll be safe there?”

  “Probably not. But that’s where the answers are. That’s where we’ll find the Sun King.”

  “Still not telling me everything, Julien . . .”

  I headed forward into the maze again, taking lefts and rights without even thinking about it. Julien strode along beside me, frowning with deep concentration. Thinking about whatever it was that he wasn’t ready to tell me yet. I made myself stick to a steady pace. Whatever was after us might attack if it thought we were fleeing. I could hear movement in the adjoining rows, soft, padding footsteps, drawing nea
rer, then falling away as I constantly changed direction. And there was a feeling on the air, on the clear, quiet air; of something powerful and very patient, following a ritual as old as Time itself. The maze wasn’t simply a maze. It was a testing ground, a proving ground . . . Only the pure of intent will reach Green Henge . . . I stopped when I saw the first body. It was human once, but that was a long time ago. It hung suspended, half-in and half-out of the hedge wall. So withered and desiccated, every drop of moisture sucked out of it, that I couldn’t even tell whether I was looking at a man or a woman. No clothing, no possessions, nothing to identify the body. One mummified hand thrust out of the dark greenery as though begging for help that never came. The face was a dry mask: no eyes, lips drawn all the way back from the dusty teeth. Thorns from the hedge were thrust deep into the body from all sides, holding it in place.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Julien said quietly.

  “They left him here,” I said slowly. “The Sisters. The Very Righteous Sisters . . . They had to know he was here, but they left his body in the hedge. As punishment, or an example, or a warning . . . Because if he wasn’t worthy, he wasn’t worth bothering about. It isn’t right!”

  “She,” said Julien.

  “What?”

  “This was a woman,” said Julien. “Look at the hip-bones. We have to go on, John. We can’t do anything for her.”

  “I know. We have work to do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

  Julien surprised me by clapping me on the shoulder approvingly. “You have a good heart, John. I don’t care what anyone says.”

  I made myself smile. “It’s usually you saying it, in one of your editorials.”