A Dangerous Energy

by John Whitbourn

  ‘I agree; it is your due.’

  ‘Have you magic for my face?’

  ‘I’m afraid not; not a cure, that is; if it pains you … ’

  ‘No, no – might such magic exist somewhere?’

  ‘I very much doubt it, and any illusion I could cast would be only very transitory.’

  ‘This is what the other magicians told me, but from you I have no choice but to believe it; your debt is discharged. Well, Brother, it seems my travels must continue. Here’s to them and to elf-chosen everywhere; us especially.’

  ’Here’s to me and you,’ said Tobias raising his glass.

  After long hours of talking, Tobias left the baron and, as instructed, sought out the Abbot. No need, now, to court such favour since far more exalted patronage was his. Thus Tobias simply conveyed the baron as being a burdened but essentially upright man, and the Abbot had to be content with that. In part he was relieved since his charge seemed to have taken no obvious damage from the regrettable intrusion on his retreat. Perhaps no ground had been lost. Tomorrow their vile and notorious guest would be gone, presumably for ever. The Abbot would remember both men in his bedside prayers when he retired.

  Tobias now felt sufficiently confident to undertake a mild risk so as to satisfy his curiosity. He returned to the guest wing and at the entrance he put a spell of silence upon himself. Entering, he slowly made his way in the dark to the two doors of the rooms occupied by the baron’s party. On top of the silence Tobias cast a sensitivity spell he had been taught at Southwark and then placed his hand, fingers outstretched, and his forehead on one of the doors – no people. He repeated this on the next door – three people.

  Equally silently he left the building and, smiling slightly, moved across the cloisters to his solitary bed.

  At the same time the Abbot finished praying for the souls of Philby and Oakley and snuffed out his bedside candle.

  CHAPTER 18

  In which our hero sets off on a journey.

  ‘ … and what after Rugby, Curate, or should I say “Father” Oakley?’

  ‘Technically it’s still “Curate” ’til the ordination on the 22nd, Abbot,’ said Tobias. ‘After that I can’t say – it rests in the hands of the Archbishop’s staff. Presumably a period of residence in London while they’re making up their minds.’

  ‘And then a master-of-magic post, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh no, not that for many years yet, unless something unforeseen happens.’

  The Abbot leaned back and sipped at his mug of mulled beer. He looked over the rim of his tankard at Tobias sitting in the opposite chair.

  ‘I have written to the Bishop concerning your stay here – have a glance at a copy.’

  He casually tossed a sheaf of paper to Tobias and watched intently as the magician read.

  ‘Thank you very much, Abbot; you praise me more than my deserts.’

  ‘Not at all, Tobias; you’ve given me no cause for concern here so what else, in all fairness, could I report to my friend the Bishop?’

  ‘I have endeavoured to please, Abbot.’

  ‘Quite so, Tobias, that was well noted. Would you care for another mug? It’s a cold day and a long journey you’ve to make.’

  ‘No thank you, Abbot, I drink but little nowadays.’

  ‘Wise my boy, very wise, temperance and moderation in all fields of life is a very great virtue.’

  ‘The practice of magic contains a tendency to asceticism I’ve found, my lord.’

  ‘Really? Then how alike, and yet unalike, it must be to monastic mysticism.’

  ‘Doubtless, Abbot.’

  ‘Doubtless.’

  An acidic silence fell; the Abbot wished to question, to reach an elusive truth but he knew he had lost and his influence was at an end. Tobias merely wished to go as soon as decently possible. In an attempt to signal this he put down his empty tankard.

  ‘Perhaps you’d be so kind as to convey my best wishes to Lady Warrilow when I’ve gone, Abbot.’

  ‘Of course, Curate; now you’ve pointed out our duty we should be only too happy to continue to keep Madame Warrilow in regular communion but I don’t doubt she will miss you.’

  ‘Perhaps, but for the important task in hand one priest is as good as another.’

  ‘There, my son, we must differ. Rise and I will bless you for the journey ahead.’

  Tobias stood and bowed his head, and the Abbot pronounced a brief benediction over his thinning pate.

  And then there was nothing left to delay his departure. Tobias picked up his carpet bag and made his way to the waiting coach in the monastic courtyard.

  There was no one about on the chilly November morn save two novices hurrying across the yard in pursuit of some domestic chore. The Abbot waved a final farewell from the door of his apartment and after that there was no one else to see Tobias’ final leave-taking.

  His time of preparation was finally over. He was by now fully equipped in both training and character for the greater life beyond. His employers had belatedly given this fact recognition and so the last restraining thread was broken and Tobias, the complete and final man, stepped forward to the hired conveyance that was to take him to his reward.

  If the wraiths of history were present in the courtyard that morning he did not notice them. He felt entirely and eternally alone and this was as he would wish it.

  Tobias was dead, he knew; his unregarded body lay somewhere in some London brothel or Rugby gutter. However his invulnerable and clever cadaver walked on, its stride all the more light and sprightly for having shed its cloying burden.

  With Tobias safely ensconced, the coach trundled off along the dead straight road before it.

  BOOK THREE

  AUGUST 1990

  From: ‘AFTER THE AWAKENING; A NEO-CHRISTIAN RECONSIDERATION.’

  Edited by Neo-Cardinal Francis Ludwin

  Avignon Ecclesiastical Consolidated Publishing Co.

  First Published: The Year of Our Lord 2423 AD.

  ‘ … although in most parts the feudal machinery of government still existed. In this respect England was little different from other parts of Europe; increasingly the old way of life grated and jarred with the barely suppressed economic and cultural aspirations of the larger cities.

  Human settlement was restricted to isolated outposts dropped in the vast, ancient forests that had stood largely undisturbed since the end of the last glaciation. In these pockets of civilisation, progress was regarded with deep disapproval and distrust. The social order, the world as it was, was seen as a manifestation of God’s will; therefore any potential agent of change, be it spiritual or temporal, was suspect and actively discouraged.

  Yet, despite these self-imposed restraints, man continued to make progress, albeit slowly. Out of the remnants of the high-classical civilisations of Greece and Rome came fits and starts of advances in philosophy and even science. During the flowering of thought that we now recognise as active in the Fifteenth Century many great figures (mostly, it must be said, churchmen) increased human understanding in huge leaps and bounds before incaution led to heresy and heresy to suppression.

  Therefore, despite the imposed conservatism of the age, it could eventually be said that mankind collectively possessed a large store of knowledge regarding his place in the world. However, every man, from great philosophers to the humblest churls, knew that the sum of the unknown had far more relevance to life as it was lived than any snippets of information held in the cities and universities of Europe. The alarming fact of workable magic, and the dark discoveries to be made thereby, was proof of this if any were needed.

  Small wonder, then, that in the face of all these uncertainties and threats, man gave his allegiance to the one sure thread and feature in this disturbing montage. Inhuman in its monolithic size, invincible, ancient and eternal, the Church Universal offered reassurance and consolation in a stable but dark world. The price for this service was simple; obedience to the one true God and to His representatives on Ea
rth.

  There were, however, the occasional acts of rebellion … ’

  ARCHBISHOP OF LONDON’S LIBRARY ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA 2020 EDITION CRUSADES: this term was originally applied to the great movements of Christian arms against the heathen in the Holy Land which occurred between the 11th and 17th centuries prior to the great and abiding success of the so called ‘Enterprise of Richlieu’ in 1635. [See index for individual expeditions.] In modern parlance however a Crusade has come to mean a course of action, problem or area for concern declared to be a particularly valuable opportunity for the earning of grace. Such a Crusade, may be declared by a Pope, a Church Council speaking ex cathedra or, in certain circumstances, a ‘provisional Crusade’ may be declared by an individual Archbishop where a situation of emergency precludes time for contact with proper higher authorities.

  In essence the defined doctrine on the modern Crusade states that any effort made by one of the faithful to aid the said course of action or solve said problem earns grace and indulgences at a rate equal to that gained in a freely undertaken and sinless pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre. It can readily be appreciated therefore that participation in a modern Crusade is of inestimable value to the soul’s salvation. [See: PILGRIMAGES; ACTS OF FAITH; HOLY LAND; HOLY LAND MILITARY ORDERS OF; See also: ARMIES – SERVICE IN: BOSPHORUS, CRETE, MALTA, NEW MEXICO, THE PAPAL STATES, RHODES.]

  The present doctrine on Crusading was first laid down by the Council of ABERLEMNO in 1848 … which stated that …

  … therefore it comes as no surprise to see that most causes declared to be of Crusade status have been able to call upon the services of myriad volunteers from all over Christendom. It is because of this phenomenon that it is said of the Holy Father: ‘his conquering armies are raised from empty air’. And ‘he topples Empires by proclamations’.

  Anyone who wilfully opposes or hinders a matter of Crusade status is deemed excommunicated.

  By far the most common use of the Crusading phenomenon has been either in the defeat of heresy or in the alleviation of suffering caused by famine or natural disaster.

  One may convey some idea of the power implicit in the Crusading ideal by quoting the example of the great Phillemian heresy current in the 1930s. In this case over 100,000 volunteer troops assisted the King of France’s armed forces in stamping out the dangerous, dualist heresy which had been declared by Pope Constantine 111 as: ‘the secret army of Satan in Europe’ (1939). [See: COMPIEGNE, BATTLE OF.]

  Even in Britain, a nation not known for producing heresiarchs [But see: PELAGIUS], 40,000 volunteers flocked to the joint papal-royal banner to suppress the levellers of the Thames Valley in the summer of 1990 …

  LEVELLERS: a heretical and subversive movement current in England since the closing days of ‘the Great Civil War’ (1642-1649), but at its most widespread and active in the middle-to-late 20th century. The Levellers’ belief was formed during the final years of the great ‘Protestant heresy’ and if this enormity lives on anywhere it is among the underground activists, or ‘pastors’ as they call them, of the Leveller groups. For all its egalitarian dogma, the Leveller heresy was and is sustained and propagated by an intensely secret and tightly knit group of these pastors whose numbers are never very large.

  Their undeniable organisation and high degree of motivation, from time to time, allowed them to take advantage of discontents and grievances among the people and thereby transform their elitist heresy into a popular assault upon proper orthodoxy and the divinely ordained status quo. By far the worst of these attempts was the so-called ‘Thames Valley crusade’ of 1990 [See cross-reference] where Leveller elements cleverly took control of what had started as a minor breakdown of public order (caused by unpopular troop levying for service in the Ukraine). The situation so deteriorated that by the summer of that year much of the Thames Valley was avowedly ‘Leveller’ and several major towns were in their control, including Reading. Two separate detachments of royal troops had been soundly beaten in the open field and the rebels (for such they were) had framed a number of impudent demands regarding desired changes in the Church and State, and the system of taxation.

  Anticipating such a serious turn of events the Archbishops of London and Canterbury had jointly called for a Crusade to restore proper order and religious freedom to the faithful in the area. This was confirmed and ratified by Pope Simon Dismas when the news reached Rome in the early summer, whereupon volunteers from all nations … ’

  CHAPTER 1

  In which our hero is briefly reintroduced whilst about his business.

  ‘Cease fire and advance.’

  Thus saying, Father Tobias Oakley, BA, MA, Ph.D, stepped from his hiding place and edged his way down a steep grassy bank, replacing his fired pistol as he went. Already the musket smoke was dispersing and the bright sunshine shone through it in distinct beams. If he’d cared to look, the town of Reading was clearly visible to the North.

  At the bottom of the bank was a small roadway and adorning this were the bodies, both moving and not, smitten by the still-resounding volley. Five or six of the enemy were still standing but had dropped their ill-assorted weaponry in a show of surrender.

  The two files of musketeers under Oakley’s command had followed him down into the lane. They outnumbered the survivors of the ambush two to one and it seemed as if the action was over as quickly as it had begun. Tobias had his men bind the enemy – those that still lived – and shove them into a sitting position by the edge of the lane.

  ‘Sykes – send two men each up the lane north and south. Make sure we’re not surprised ourselves.’

  His file captain set about this while Tobias took off his broad-brimmed clerical hat and swept his lank hair back. He was hot and thirsty, and eager to push on before he and his men were trapped and exterminated in this rebel territory.

  He squatted down in front of the first man in the line of prisoners and fixed his eye. ‘Was there an officer with you?’

  The man, a shaggy-haired yokel, stared back sullenly and uttered not a word.

  Tobias flicked a finger and a phrase at him, and the man slumped back, dead or dying.

  Father Oakley moved on to the next man in line but saw no difference in his eyes nor the probable response they betokened. He stood up and surveyed the prisoners.

  ‘I don’t think any of them are officers. They’re just farmboys – what do y’think, Sykes?’

  ‘As you say, Father; don’t reckon this bunch was officered.’

  ‘No. OK then: dispatch them and when you’ve done, send the men up to join the picket of two at the South, recall the northern picket and have them finish any wounded and search all the bodies.’

  ‘Sir!’

  Tobias looked briefly around him. None of the dead yokels were likely to be carrying anything worth having and their armaments were largely improvised; – no, nothing here for him. He strode on up the road, stepping over the bodies, and left his soldiers to their work.

  CHAPTER 2

  In which our hero goes to see a prince.

  Once his party had returned to the comparative safety of the main camp, Tobias directed them to that part occupied by the baggage train where they might remain relatively inconspicuous. There for the first time in over forty-eight hours he had the opportunity to get some sleep other than a fitful doze. Sykes was ordered to requisition a small pack-wagon, straw was placed in the bottom of this and on it Tobias slept.

  When at length he arose, it was getting on for dusk. Still lying prone, he took some deep breaths which inadvertently made him aware of his unwashed state. Then when he felt sufficiently aware, if not awake, he sat up and looked around. His musketeers had stayed by the wagon as ordered. Several were still asleep but others had somehow procured some food and were brewing up a stew of sorts. All around them the hectic bustle of the commissariat continued, ignoring their little island of stillness.

  Neither Tobias nor his soldiers were at their best. During their raid into enemy territory they had not h
ad time to pay any attention to appearances, but even before that the tough opposition they had met almost as soon as they lost sight of London had taken a toll in terms of smartness as well as lives. The men’s standard-issue blue Army coats were heavily and variously stained and their original uniformity in headware (broad-brimmed straw hats dyed black) was lost. Even Tobias’ black fustian clothes and heavy buff coat showed signs of dirt and neglect, and across the front of his chest a particularly heavy scythe-blow had opened up a pale-coloured cut in the dark rawhide coat. Each soldier had days’ worth of beard-growth. All in all they looked a rascally crew, not the popular image of men on crusade.

  Tobias noticed Sykes squatting by the cooking fire, a characteristically blank expression on his brutal face, and beckoned him to come over.

  At the same time he delved into his heavy canvas pack which lay beside him and withdrew a spy-glass from it. Opening the little telescope he surveyed his broader environment.

  In the distance he could see the town walls of Reading; lights were already lit within, clearly visible through the rubble-strewn gaps. A few matchstick figures moved on the fortifications.

  In between the camp and the town stretched an expanse of open terrain on which all the trees had been felled, undergrowth fired and any structures pulled down. Trenches, emplacements and other assorted instruments of siege cut and delineated this dead ground. More stick-figures were at large while here and there still figures could be seen lying in the open.

  While he looked Tobias talked to Sykes. ‘What news?’

  ‘Just what you might ’ave expected, sir. The apostates have been pouring into the town all day from the North and little we could do to stop them save pepper ’em with the big guns. Then Lord Pearce got back with the cavalry this afternoon and made such a slaughter of ’em as you never did see – bags of prisoners too, most of ’em barely armed at all, just ploughboys with more heresy than sense.’