The Devil in Green (44 page)

Two enormous torches blazing on either side of the entrance cast a
shimmering pool of light in front of the gates. Mallory entered it
tentatively, hoping the mud and blood didn't obscure too much of his
uniform. For five minutes, he listened to dim chatter above as the guards
debated whether to allow him entrance.

'Look, you can see I'm a knight,' he protested. He spotted a guard he
recognised. 'You know me.'

'Not good enough,' the commander of the watch replied.

'What do you mean, "Not good enough"?' His temper flared. 'If you
don't let me get my friend inside he might die, and then I'll make you
bastards sorry.'

His anger did little good. He was forced to remain there for another ten
minutes until finally the gates opened a crack. 'Approach carefully,' a
voice warned.

Mallory walked forwards until he could see between the gates. The
entire Blue squad waited on the other side, armed with swords and crossbows, a Second World War-era rifle and shotguns. 'What is wrong with
you?' he shouted.

The gates were flung open and the Blues surged out and around him.
Some ran to the back of the truck. 'He's telling the truth,' one of them
shouted back. 'There's an injured knight here.' They picked up Miller's
stretcher and rushed it into the compound. Mallory was roughly manhandled inside, too, his protestations ignored. The gates slammed shut
immediately behind him, heavy bars drawn across solemnly to seal it.

Mallory looked at these new defences, then at the faces of the Blues.
What he saw there made him wary. 'What's been going on here?' he asked.

No one would talk to him, and after a while he gave up asking questions
and concentrated on the worries rattling through his mind.

From the gate he was led across a cobbled courtyard through a sturdy
oak door with cast-iron fittings into a long stone corridor that hadn't been
there days earlier. He had to tell himself again that he wasn't back in the
Court of Peaceful Days, for there was something about the architecture
that reminded him of that place, although the mood was significantly
different.

Under heavily armed guard, they rushed him across tapestry-hung halls
and up winding staircases to a debriefing room where he was thrust into a
chair with two crossbows trained on him, as if he were not a knight at all,
but a spy ready to betray the entire religion. After half an hour Blaine
entered, looking tired and irritable. Behind him marched Stefan, proud
and resolute. Mallory had had his doubts about the chancellor ever since
he had heard the grim relish in Stefan's voice when he told James that the
library was off limits; his appearance there only confirmed Mallory's
suspicions.

'What's happened to this place?' Mallory blurted.

Stefan eyed him suspiciously before retreating to a corner to watch like a
raptor, his hands clasped behind his back.

'All the new buildings,' Mallory continued. 'Where did they come from?
You couldn't have built them—'

'Where have you been?' The harsh tones of Blaine's Belfast accent were
even more pronounced. His very demeanour threatened violence. 'And
where did you get that sword?'

'I found it,' Mallory said, making light of the weapon. 'We can never
have too many swords, right?'

Mallory explained what had happened at Bratton Camp, but said
nothing of the Court of Peaceful Days. 'I was badly injured, on my last
legs,' he continued. 'I was wandering for days before I summoned the
strength to make it back here.'

Blaine's eyes narrowed. 'I'm surprised you did come back here.'

'Despite what you might think, Blaine, this is the place for me,' Mallory
lied. The tension was palpable and he wasn't going to take any risks
speaking his mind. 'Did the others make it back?' he asked.

'You're the fourth, counting Miller.'

'Who's missing?'

'Hipgrave.' Blaine peered down into Mallory's face. 'Any idea what
happened to him?'

Mallory thought of the severed hand. 'That thing must have got him—'

'Or you could have killed him in the confusion.'

'I'm not going to kill one of our own!' Mallory protested.

Stefan's light cough was a signal for Blaine to step back. 'Events have
overtaken us while you were away,' Stefan said, with a smile so insincere
that Mallory couldn't believe he was even attempting it. 'There are forces
in this world . . . forces of the Adversary . . . ranged against a resurgent
Church. He knows we are once again on the path to be the Guiding Light
of the world, and he is prepared to do anything to destroy us.' He made a
strange hand gesture as he attempted to choose the right words. 'Security
is paramount. We cannot afford for our defences to be breached. We have
to be sure you are still guided by the Glory of God.'

'I'm telling the truth.' Mallory looked from Stefan to Blaine and back,
now even more unsettled.

'We've got people who can tell if you're who you say you are,' Blaine
said coldly.

'Who I say I am?' he echoed incredulously.

'To ensure you have not been corrupted by your encounter with the
dark forces,' Stefan corrected.

Mallory didn't understand their meaning, but the way they were saying
it brought a trickle of cold sweat down his back.

'We held a grand synod,' Stefan continued, 'and took the advice of some
of our Catholic brothers in establishing a new and very limited order of
Inquisitors of Heretical Depravity. It has served Rome well for many
centuries.'

'The Inquisition?' Mallory said in disbelief.

'Oh, don't be put off by Godless propaganda or stories of medieval
excess,' Stefan replied. 'The name "Inquisition" merely comes from the
Latin verb
inquiro
- to inquire into. There is nothing menacing about that at
all. It is simply a way of gaining information through intensive questioning.
By testing the defendant, if you will, through a trial of inquiry.'

Stefan attempted to sound dismissive, but Mallory could tell what kind
of Inquisition the chancellor had in mind, and it wasn't the essentially
benign one that the Catholic Church had maintained throughout the
twentieth century. Stefan's medieval turn of mind was plain for all to see.
'Cornelius agreed to it?'

Stefan bowed his head. 'The bishop is not well. The Lord watches over
him, but his strength is fading fast. He is in no position to be concerned
with the minutiae of the Church's day-to-day running. Our spiritual needs
are all that matter to him.'

'Have Daniels and Gardener been put through this?' The brief silence
gave him his answer.

'This is the proper course of action. We need to be sure there aren't
fifth columnists working against us within the brethren.' Blaine sounded as
if he was trying to convince himself. 'This Church is the only good thing
going in this world. There are a lot of people depending on us. We have to
do what we can . . .' He realised his rambling was giving away his true
thoughts and so he repeated, but with different meaning, 'We have to do
what we can.' Mallory could see he was speaking from the heart: he
believed completely in what he was doing - a soldier chosen to defend the
Faith with any means necessary, however unpleasant.