The Devil in Green (82 page)

He hurried through the snow to the cloisters and climbed the stairs to
the library. It had changed considerably since the first time he had been
there, now straddling the boundary between the old buildings and the new.
On his side, it was just as it always had been, but through the window
he could see it progressing into a vast gothic chamber, its ceiling lost to
shadows, with bizarre stone carvings that appeared to watch over anyone
wandering amongst the racks, lit by sizzling torches and with shelves of
books that must have gone up twenty feet or more.

The door was locked, as he had expected, and he knew there was no
other point of entry. He hoped he was as good a judge of character as he
believed.

He rapped on the glass gently until he saw James approaching. When
James saw who was without, he shook his head and tried to wave Mallory
away, but Mallory persisted, pleading silently. After a moment, James
relented. He slid back several bolts and turned the key before opening the
door a crack.

'Are we keeping the gold chalices in here now?' Mallory said.

'The library is off limits.' James was patently ill at ease with his new
position.

'Yes, you can't let those books fall into the wrong hands. There might be
an awful spontaneous outbreak of knowledge and open-mindedness.'

'What do you want, Mallory?' James said wearily. From the moment he
had given Mallory the first guided tour of the cathedral, James had never
sounded anything less than good-natured.

'A few minutes of your time, that's all.'

'I'm not joking. No one is allowed in the library.'

'No one? What's the point of having a library, then?' Mallory tried to
appear disarming. 'You must be bored out of your mind locked up with
only the silverfish for company.'

James couldn't help a chuckle. He leaned out to look up and down the
corridor, then opened the door quickly to allow Mallory entrance. Once
inside, he drew the bolts and quickly turned the key before hurrying
Mallory out of sight of the window.

As they entered the new section, the temperature dropped a degree or
two and their footsteps took on an eerie echo that susurrated for an
unnatural period. The dark closed in around them, bringing with it the
suffocating smells of leather, dust, candlewax, damp paper and great age.
Mallory couldn't have raised his voice if he'd wanted to.

James led a maze-like path through the stacks to a table bearing a flask, a
Tupperware box containing sandwiches and a hissing lantern.

'Most people have to commit a crime to get this treatment,' Mallory
said. James' expression suggested he felt the same way. 'If I didn't know
better I'd say they preferred you in here instead of out there.'

James' eyes narrowed and his guard came up a little. 'Who would
they
be?'

Mallory dismissed the question with a laugh. 'You know what I'm
talking about, James.'

James pulled a couple of chairs up to the table and poured Mallory a cup
of tea from the flask. Mallory paused when he felt the touch of the plastic
lid on his lip. 'This stuff will be antique soon. You'll be able to haggle for it
down at die market, along with the polystyrene McDonald's boxes and
Perspex shed windows.'

James lightened. 'If I know human nature, we'll be knee-deep in non-
recyclable litter again before too long.' He sat back in his chair and
surveyed Mallory with a strange
smile.
'Now, Mr Mallory, what exactly
are you up to?'

'Can I speak freely?'

James sighed. 'I have obligations to the Church authorities—'

'But you
. .
. we
. . .
surely have a greater obligation to a Higher Power.
To the religion itself, and its teachings. And if the Church authorities are
working in opposition to that
-
not consciously, of course—'

'Are you leaping to judgement, Mr Mallory?'

'All I'm saying is that the only thing we have to answer to is that Higher
Power.'

'God. Why don't you say God?' He could tell Mallory was choosing his
words with caution, but James' attempt to divine his purpose couldn't
penetrate beneath the surface. 'This religion operates within a structure. It
cannot exist without
that structure.
By being part of it, we tacitly accept
that structure—'

'And what if that structure's wrong?' Mallory pressed. 'What if
. . .
God
.
.
.
never intended that structure to come into place? What if that's
all politics?'

'What if, what if.' James waved
a
dismissive hand. 'This is what we
have.'

'This is it, right or wrong?'

James bit the inside of his lip, stared along the racks of books.

'How about if we
just
talk? No harm there.'

James gave a conciliatory smile. 'That would be nice.'

'So let's start with a discussion of comparative theology.' Mallory
sipped on the hot, sweet tea
-
not tea in the true sense, but an infusion of
various herbs and spices.

'You're a strange man, Mallory. Why are you interested in these things?
Most of your compatriots couldn't care less.'

'Religions around the world are all driving towards a comprehension of a
Higher Power. God.' He smiled. 'To an uneducated person, it would seem
that the differences between them are only a matter of mechanics. Different
vehicles to reach the same destination.' James began to disagree, but
Mallory waved him quiet. 'Several religions have things in common, but
there's one thing you can find in Eastern and Western traditions: the power
of the spirit. Something that might seem from one perspective to be a kind
of energy that perhaps could even be quantified one day, from another
point of view looks like magic, affecting things separated by great distance.'

James' eyes narrowed. Mallory felt he was on the right lines. 'The
religion that existed here before Christianity
came
...
a kind of nature
worship, I suppose—'

'You're being disingenuous, Mallory. You know exactly what it is. I'm
asking you to treat me with respect and to speak honestly of what's on your
mind.'

Mallory nodded. 'OK. I'll be straight. That religion, like the Eastern
traditions, believed that spirit-energy existed in the wider
world ...
in the
wider universe . .
.
and in man. It linked the inner and the outer, above
and below. And it believed it ran in channels across the world, along which
were established sacred sites where the power was strongest. The stone
circles, the cairns, the raised hills. Leys, right? You've heard of leys?'
James gave nothing away. 'And along these leys ran—'