'So why haven't you been out to see Sophie?' Miller asked brightly. 'I'd
have thought you'd have sneaked over the walls a few times by now. Don't
tell me you've lost interest. How fickle would that be?'
'Just biding my time.'
'She was really
nice ...
for a witch.' His smile faded as he plucked the
remaining crumbs from his plate.
'What's the matter? Afraid she'll turn you into a toad?'
'It's not that.' He looked around uneasily. 'You were right, the people
around here wouldn't be very happy if they knew we'd been hanging out
with witches. The Church has always had a strong line against them.
Suffer
not a witch to live,
that's what it says. But she seemed all right. I should feel
bad about liking her because of what she believes in
.
. . like, she's the
enemy
.
.
.
but I don't.'
'Christianity was made for you, Miller. You just love beating yourself
up about all these little rules and regulations. Look, you know in your heart
what's right. Don't let anyone try to tell you that you should or shouldn't
like someone else.'
Miller winced. 'That sounds like blasphemy.'
'Yeah, and according to some here, free will is blasphemy, even though
it's the gift we were supposedly given. Look, it's
simple ...
the Church
hates witches because it nicked all their sacred places and all their
worshippers, and it's afraid they're going to ask for them back.'
'What do you mean?'
'Come on, Miller - if you're going to invest your life in this religion,
you at least ought to know its history. When the Church first came here,
it got its feet under the table by subterfuge. It built its places of worship
on the sites that the people were already using, the old pagan places, the
springs, the hilltops, whatever, in the belief that they'd just carry on
coming. And all the Christian feast days were arranged on old pagan
celebrations for the same reason. You don't think Christ was really born
around the winter solstice, do you? At the point of rebirth and renewal in
the old calendar - what an amazing coincidence. And isn't it strange that
Easter—'
Miller smiled.
'What?'
'You're only telling me all this so I don't ask you any more questions
about Sophie.'
Mallory pushed his plate away and stretched. 'If you don't want to learn
from my great wisdom, that's up to you.'
'If you really like her, Mallory, you should go for it. You only get one
real chance for love. You can't let it slip away.' Miller examined his empty
plate dismally.
'Thanks for your advice, Miller. I always like to turn to experts for
guidance.' Mallory's attention was caught by James and the bishop's right-
hand man, Julian. They came in separately, then both moved to the same
secluded table without acknowledging each other. As they broke their
bread they began a muttered conversation, heads bowed slightly so that no
one could overhear them.
'I wish it hadn't happened with Sue,' Miller mused to himself. 'I wish
she was here with me now.' He chewed his lip, close to tears. 'Mallory, I've
got something to tell—'
'What do you think that's all about?' Mallory indicated James and
Julian.
Miller shrugged. 'They're having lunch.'
'They're plotting. When we first came and James showed us around,
Julian said something to him about somebody making their move . .
.
about dogs gathering.'
Miller displayed a complete lack of interest, but Mallory was intrigued.
Something was going on, and he wanted to know what it was.
'Why does Evil exist?' Peter began. 'The Epicurean Paradox underlines
the belief of many that the existence of Evil is incompatible with the
existence of God. It goes like this: one, God is all-powerful; two, God is
perfectly Good; three, Evil exists; four, if God exists, then there would be
no Evil; five, there is Evil; six, therefore God does not exist.'
Peter had been a deacon at the Catholic cathedral in Brentwood in
Essex. From the sag of his skin, he had obviously been overweight at
one time, but the hard life of the compound had taken some pounds off
him. He had side-parted grey hair that, taken with his pallor, gave him
a washed-out appearance, but it was the sadness in his features that
characterised him; they reflected his belief that the world was a miserable
place to be endured.
Peter's labour within the cathedral was to teach not only the scripture
to the knights' new recruits, but also to explain the philosophy of the
Christian Church. It was a task he relished, his demeanour even more
gloriously lugubrious as he underlined the simple message that no one
should expect any rewards in this world.
But whatever pleasures he got out of his office were wiped away
whenever he saw Mallory slumped at one of the tables at the back. Most
of the knights endured his lectures, nodding in the right places while they
kept one eye on the angle of the sun. Mallory, though, asked questions. It
wasn't as if he was eager for understanding of the Word of God. It was
simply that he wanted to trip Peter up, to hamstring him with logic or
garrotte him with a sharp line of philosophy. It was plain bloody-minded-
ness, Peter knew, and a childish desire to challenge authority that went
against the entire teachings of the Church. Peter had endured it for many
days - the constant questions about the historical truth of Jesus, the
academic view that James was the true leader but politics had turned Jesus
into the Messiah, the tortuous debates on the flawed and conflicting logic
of the Bible, the pointed questioning about the atrocities the Church had
been linked with, from the Inquisition to the collaboration with the Nazis -
but his patience was not endless. Mallory was undoubtedly an educated
man, but weren't they the worst kind? Oh, for the simple man who
accepted die Message with the wide-eyed wonder of a child.
He noticed the expression Mallory always wore just before he launched
into an argument, and quickly continued. 'However, Saint Augustine
presented the Free-Will Defence: God created man with free will, thereby
having the ability to do Good or Evil. Therefore, there is no assurance that
man will not choose to do Evil. If God controlled the amount of Evil, or
liberty, it would remove the gift of free will He had given to man. Quite
simply, the existence of free will without Evil is an illogical impossibility.
But even though man has the capacity to commit Evil, he can also perform
acts of great goodness.'
'I disagree.' Mallory's challenging grin set Peter's teeth on edge.
'Why am I not surprised?'
'Mackie said the choice between perfect beings who always do Good, or
free men who can do Good or Evil is a false dilemma, didn't he?'
'Yes,' Peter sighed.
'And he also said there was an "obvious better possibility" in which God
could have created beings who always act freely, yet also have a
predetermination to do Good. But he didn't, did he? So God doesn't
exist.'