The Devil in green da-1

by Marc Chadbourn

  He felt physically weak, but after the initial shock and despair wore off, his emotional equilibrium had returned and his thoughts grew colder, his anger harder. The guards refused to answer any of his questions — Blaine and Stefan had clearly decided not to have anyone who knew him overseeing his imprisonment — so in the end he took to mocking and abuse. It was childish, but it made him feel better and countered some of the impotence he felt.

  They came for him in the afternoon of the third day. The guards dragged him out, blinking, into the snow-white world, still glittering in the fading sunlight. His hanging position had begun to disable him even after such a short time, so that he found it difficult to walk. Little nuggets of constant pain glowed throughout his frame.

  As soon as he saw the faces of the brothers he passed he realised something was wrong. Instead of the jubilation he had expected at newfound freedom and food, he saw only grey misery etched into the features, weighing on the bowed shoulders, even worse than before. He looked around for clues, but the gaping black mouth of the tunnel was still there in the white, and the walls still stood firmly.

  The guards prodded him towards the imposing Queen-Anne facade of Mompesson House, not far from the north gate. Outside the grand building, a makeshift stage had been built out of stacked tables. A small crowd gathered before it, not all the brothers by a long way; many drifted away at the fringes, plainly disinterested in what was happening.

  Mallory was forced to stand at the back of the stage alongside another heavily guarded figure. It was shrouded in robes and hooded so that it was impossible to see any sign of its form, but when it tilted its head towards Mallory, he realised from the body language that it was Sophie. Her appearance reminded him of the burka-clad women in fundamentalist Muslim countries, their shape obscured so as not to inflame the passions of the men; the woman as devil, agent of temptation.

  Miller, Daniels and Gardener waited to one side of the crowd with a group of other knights. Mallory entertained a brief fantasy that they would respond to the clear injustice and rush forwards to his aid, knowing in his heart it would never happen.

  They shuffled around in the cold for another five minutes until Stefan and Blaine emerged from Mompesson House. They both attempted to maintain an air of confidence and control, but the fact that Mallory could see that it was an act told him how uneasy they were. What had happened to shake them so? They'd achieved everything they'd planned.

  Without glancing at Mallory or Sophie, Stefan climbed on to the stage and addressed the crowd. 'Our Church has been under attack,' he began. 'Not only from the forces of the Devil, which we know all too well, but from more subtle attacks within our community — subtle attacks which can often prove more dangerous. Those who deviate from the path our Lord has shown us can destroy everything we hold dear by a thousand little knocks, continually chipping away at the edifice of our religion. And when that structure falls, it cannot be erected again. So we must strike now, to root out the weeds choking the vine. We must remain pure and remove from our midst those who attempt to corrupt that purity with sly words or thoughts, or with open opposition. The Adversary waits beyond the gate — many have seen his evil form looming up over the city. He feels his time is near. By purifying the light within us all, here, we can keep the darkness at bay for ever.'

  Stefan kept his gaze fixed on the crowd, but made a slight motion with one hand at his side. Mallory was shoved forwards on to the stage, with Sophie beside him.

  'Here now, a sight to make a good Christian weep,' Stefan continued. 'One of our own who has turned his back on God to embrace the Devil and all the Devil's works.'

  Mallory thought to speak out until he felt the guard's dagger pricking his back.

  'And at his side, the woman who tempted him from the path of righteousness, hidden from our eyes so she cannot work her spell on us. A witch. Yes, the Devil's own. She makes no secret of her use of Dark Powers to bring corruption and sickness and death to us all-'

  Mallory heard Sophie protest, but the hood muffled her voice so that the crowd couldn't hear her. The guard at her back twisted her wrist until she cried out.

  'In our current situation, charges of sedition could be levelled at them. Their actions, whether directed against us or not, could weaken us or bring us to our knees,' Stefan said. 'In wartime, certain liberties must necessarily be put to one side for the sake of the greater good. However, it is still our intention to give these two a fair trial in a Church court. They will be able to present their defence, or plead for God's mercy. Justice will be seen to be done.'

  Stefan paused as if he expected some kind of applause or encouragement, but he was only met by a weary acceptance.

  Mallory suddenly saw through it all. They were planning a show trial, another of Stefan's little manipulations to divert attention from the hardship everyone was feeling; in the end, in whatever establishment, discipline and fear were the only way to maintain power. But how long would Stefan be able to carry on distracting and obfuscating before his attempts became so transparent that they lost their potency? Mallory wondered.

  'We must be pure. We must be devout. It is the only way we can bring God back into our lives.' Passion filled Stefan's voice. 'The slightest weakness brings the Devil to our door. This one…' He pointed to Mallory. '… is not the only traitor in our midst. There are others. Though I implored you to be true to the path, it has come to my attention that there are still practising sodomites here.'

  Mallory flinched. Suddenly he could see what was coming next: Stefan wasn't relenting at all.

  'I call now on the true and righteous amongst you to speak out. If you know of any sodomite, identify them. It is our only hope. We can show no mercy to them, for the Bible tells us it is a sin against nature.'

  A witch-hunt, Mallory thought. More fear, more divisions, all to throw the brothers off-balance so they wouldn't challenge his tenuous position.

  The Blues began to move through the crowd. Mallory thought it was all for show — more fear-creation — until a gruff Geordie accent called out, 'Here!'

  Gardener had his hand on Daniels' shoulder. Daniels bore an expression of such incomprehension it was almost comical. But when he turned and looked deep into Gardener's face, he understood. The blow was so severe that Daniels looked as if his heart was breaking.

  Gardener wouldn't meet Daniels' eye, which was filled with a desperate hurt. The Geordie's gaze remained fixed on Stefan, his hand steady on Daniels' shoulder, but Mallory thought he saw something in his expression, a fugitive shadow, that suggested his betrayal had come at a price.

  The Blues seized Daniels roughly, his status as a knight now valueless. As he was dragged away, the scenario was made worse by his abject silence: no protestations, just the awful realisation that life was proving to be as painful as he had feared it would be in his darkest moments.

  Never in his wildest imaginings would Mallory have thought Gardener capable of such an act of betrayal. His friendship with Daniels, despite their many differences, had seemed deep and warm. To Mallory, it had been one of the few beacons in his long, dark months at the cathedral. But in the end it came down to the one thing Mallory already knew: blind adherence to a religion meant any act, however despicable, could be justified. Gardener's internal battle between common sense and the pressures exerted on him by his hardline beliefs had finally been resolved.

  Mallory wasn't the only one deeply affected by what had happened. He saw Miller turn to Gardener with an expression of dismay that became disgust when Gardener wouldn't meet his eye either. To see that in Miller, who never showed any sign that he experienced negative emotions, was particularly striking. Miller edged away from Gardener into the crowd. Some others moved away, too, until Gardener appeared to be standing alone.

  But any point that might have been made was wiped away by a burst of spontaneous applause from the fundamentalists and evangelicals in the crowd. Gardener gave a faint, relieved smile.

  'And by this we begin the journey ba
ck to God!' Stefan proclaimed before striding from the stage. His departure was a signal for Mallory and Sophie to be led away by the Blues, who appeared to be the only knights trusted to carry out the serious jobs. Those who had cheered Gardener now voiced boos and cat-calls.

  Away from the crowd, Mallory called out to Sophie, asking if she was all right. His guard hit him so hard at the back of the neck, he was knocked to his knees.

  'I'm OK. Don't worry about me,' she shouted, before her own guard struck out. She took the blow and continued walking, forcing her head high beneath the hood.

  Mallory's anger grew harder still. Stefan, he was convinced, had gone insane; the Caretaker had said that whatever potency was in the cathedral would unbalance men's minds. He wouldn't be surprised if Stefan was planning some kind of Dark Age punishment for them, possibly even an execution: a burning or a hanging for the witch and her accomplice. He felt scared for Sophie, not himself; but he resolved to give Stefan no satisfaction whatsoever.

  That night in the cells was colder than any other since Mallory had arrived in Salisbury, and at one point he was convinced he was freezing to death. When the guard brought breakfast it was more meagre than ever, but it was warm, and when his chains were loosed to allow him to eat, he hugged the bowl to him until he had leached every last bit of heat from it.

  Some time around mid-morning, the door was thrown open unexpectedly and Miller skulked in, checking over his shoulder. Mallory's first response was suspicion — was this the thing from Bratton Camp come to slaughter him while he hung? — but after a while, his weakened state meant he didn't have the energy to worry about anything beyond his capacity to control.

  'I didn't know I had visiting privileges,' he said weakly.

  'You don't. They won't allow anyone near you.' Mallory was surprised to see tears in Miller's eyes. 'The guards were all called away — I don't think they could spare them any more. And they don't bother locking the door.'

  Mallory rattled the chains. 'It's not as if I'm going to do some kind of Houdini trick with these.'

  'Are you all right, Mallory?' Miller said gently. He wrung his hands together impotently.

  'I've been better.'

  'For what it's worth, none of the knights think you deserve this.'

  'Thanks. That thought will keep me warm tonight.' Mallory couldn't help the sarcasm and felt bad when he saw how it had stung Miller. 'How's Daniels?'

  Miller's eyes fell. 'No one's seen him since they took him away. I can't believe Gardener would-' He caught himself. 'I suppose we all have moments when we lose the path. We shouldn't judge.'

  'Why not?' Mallory said harshly.

  Miller's bottied emotions finally broke the restraining barrier. 'I can't believe this is happening,' he said tearfully. 'We're barely a year and a half away from society falling apart. How could it go so bad so quickly? All the things we took for granted… it's as if they happened generations ago.'

  'It just goes to show we're all beasts at heart, doesn't it? Let us out of the cage and we quickly revert to type.'

  'That's awful.'

  'Desperate men lead desperate lives. And self-preservation wins out over anything.'

  'I don't believe that.' There was a long pause while Miller dried his eyes. 'I can't believe it. That makes a mockery of everything God stands for.'

  'There you go.'

  'You're reading it too simply, Mallory,' he said, with the kind of desperation of someone whose life depended on being proven right. 'It's got to be more complex than that. Maybe we can't see the cause and effect. The whole reason we're here argues against that outlook.'

  'Here on this earth, or here in this… prison?'

  Miller didn't answer. 'I don't want to be disloyal to Stefan-' he began calmly.

  'Why not? Because he's got a tide? The pointy hat doesn't make him better than you, Miller. If there's one thing I would give to this world everyone's trying so half-heartedly to remake, it would be the end of all leaders.' He let his chin drop to his chest; his outburst had exhausted him.

  'Perhaps you're right.' Miller's voice sounded tiny in the echoing cell 'I believe in what Christ stood for. It's just so right… loving one another… love as this great power… sacrifice… redemption. I believe there's hope for all of us, I really do.'

  Mallory softened at his words. 'People get in the way, Miller,' he said gently. 'Keep your God in your own heart.'

  'But what can I do?' His constant hand-wringing showed his struggle with deep emotions that threatened to unbalance him. 'I don't like what Stefan's doing… a lot of people don't. But he's the bishop…'His voice trailed away, laced with desperation.

  'If you believe in something, stand up for it. Don't let Stefan drag this whole thing down his own mad route.' He added, 'But don't get yourself hurt, Miller. Look after yourself. It won't do any good if you're sitting in the cell next to mine.'

  Miller stared at him for a long moment, deciphering his words, and then smiled. 'I'll be careful, Mallory.'

  'Before we all start getting too girly in our emotions, tell me what's happened out there. Something's gone wrong, or Stefan wouldn't feel the need to crank up the repression.'

  'Oh, it was bad, Mallory. First the travellers refused to help-'

  'Hardly surprising after Stefan had some of them slaughtered. What was he thinking? Well, I know what he was thinking — that God was on his side and he could do whatever he wanted.'

  'They all scattered into the city. And then the camp lost its protection. We managed to bring in most of the supplies they'd got stored there — and there wasn't that much — but Blaine was overseeing the setting up of an auxiliary camp so that they could secure another route out, when something attacked. It was like a… a griffin… or something, they said. Part bird, part something else. It killed five knights and three brothers before the rest of them managed to get back through the tunnel.'

  Mallory laughed. 'Stupid bastards. They lost everything through their own arrogance. The land around here gets its power from belief. If the travellers aren't there to worship — if their belief has been shattered — it ends up like any old patch of turf and mud. Stefan snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.'

  'Yes, I know, he deserved it all.' Miller gnawed on a knuckle anxiously. 'But what about the rest of us, Mallory? Everyone reckons the travellers' food must have just about gone. We're back to square one, starving and with no way out. What are we going to do?' Something dark squirmed inside Miller; Mallory could see the shadow it cast but not what it was. 'Do you think Stefan can really use the relic like he said?' Miller continued obliquely. 'To dig into people's minds? I can't understand how that can work. I mean, relics… even if they've got God's power in them…'

  He was interrupted by the distant sound of a door opening. Miller hurried to the door before turning. 'I'll come back to see you when I can, Mallory. And I'll do everything I can to get you out of here. Try to get some people on our side…'

  Several sets of footsteps were approaching.

  'Go on,' Mallory said. 'Just stay out of trouble.'

  He slipped out. Not long after, a Blue ushered in Stefan and Inquisitor- General Broderick. Stefan looked tired, his face sagging through lack of sleep, but Broderick had the bearing of a predatory insect.

  'Well done, Bishop,' Mallory said sarcastically. 'Your contempt for basic humanity has managed to destroy everything.'

  Stefan visibly flinched. 'Quiet,' he snapped. Then, a little more calmly, 'This isn't over yet. We have right on our side.'

  'You talk about doing good works, Stefan, but you've turned this into the Devil's house. Ends never justify means, especially in religion. If you can't stay true to your beliefs, they're not worth very much.'

  'You never understood us here, Mallory. I doubt you ever had any true feeling for our religion.' Stefan massaged the bridge of his nose, distracted. 'There was no way I could leave you loose in the community — you were an accident waiting to happen. I couldn't have you breaking the morale of others. I
implied as much at our meeting when I requested your services. You've got insurrection in your blood, Mallory. You're a danger to any establishment. An anarchist. I bear you no ill will. In other times I would have simply set you free from this place to go about your unpleasant business elsewhere. As it is, you must stay here, in this cell, until…' He shrugged. '… the worst has blown over.'

  Mallory couldn't tell if he was trying to deceive the others, or if he truly believed there was hope for them. He nodded towards Broderick. 'So, you're going to let your torturer loose on me now?'

  'No, no, there would be no point.' He waved the notion away with his hand. 'Mr Broderick is here for the witch. She has information that may be important to us.'

  Mallory grew cold. 'Don't you touch her.'

  'The Bible says we should have no feelings for her kind. It says in uncompromising terms that they are a danger to everything we hold dear. Spare her no compassion — she chose her path in life.' His eyes gleamed. 'Unless there is another reason for your protection of her. Is fornication another of your sins?'

  'She doesn't know anything.'

  'She knows how to protect her land, and other things, too, I would guess.'

  'She won't tell you anything.'

  Stefan smiled. 'Oh, I think she will.'

  He turned and led the others out. Mallory yelled and screamed until his throat was raw, but all that came back were insipid echoes.

  Through the long hours of the day and the burning pain in his limbs, he listened intently, dreading what would happen when he did hear something. But there was nothing. Either the walls were too thick or Sophie had so far resisted the encouragement of the inquisitor.

  The raw cold eventually turned on its head to become a warm cocoon, lulling him quietly. Though he attempted to fight it, he found himself drifting in and out of a delirious half-sleep where strange ghostly shapes roamed and nothing made any kind of sense. The hallucinatory landscape was suddenly shattered by an electric burst that imprinted Sophie's screaming face on his mind. It was there and gone in an instant, but he couldn't escape the animal-like emotions he saw; he was sure they would haunt him for the rest of his days.