'Thank the Lord for the knights,' he said sardonically.
Mallory was the first to the refectory, and took a table for them in a quiet
corner. Miller joined him soon after, with Daniels and Gardener arriving
together. Daniels was in unusually high spirits, enjoying some mocking
banter with Gardener who responded with dry wit and an impassive
face. Mallory had overheard Gardener defending Daniels to one of the
fundamentalist brothers who had been objecting to something or other in a
bigoted way. Daniels, too, had been steadfast and loyal in support of
Gardener, especially when Mallory had complained about the events in
the travellers' camp.
'Evening, Cyclops,' Mallory said as Daniels sat down.
Daniels wasn't perturbed in the slightest. 'You're just jealous because
I've got this chick-magnet eyepatch, you bony-arsed white boy.'
'And it's no use to you at all,' Mallory said.
'It's a benefit to all of us, Mallory,' Gardener said, dunking his bread
into his bowl of vegetable soup. 'If I come up on his blindside I get to the
food before he takes his greedy bastard portions.'
'Man-
sized portions,' Daniels corrected. It was a lame joke now that the
kitchen staff had cut the rations to subsistence level.
'I feel guilty about this,' Miller said, looking around. 'It's as if we're
plotting.'
'We're not plotting
against
the authorities,' Gardener said with his
mouth full. 'If anything, we're plotting
for
them. We're the only ones who
can see everything's changed here, so we're the only ones who can decide
if anything needs to be done about it.'
'I'm wondering if Stefan's got something to do with it,' Mallory said.
'Stefan? He's the chancellor,' Miller said naively.
'I don't trust him. He's manipulative. He's got some sort of scheme
going on here - I think he reckons he can take over from Cornelius.'
Mallory could see the whole room from where he was sitting. It was slowly
filling up, but he was mostly paying attention for Blaine or Hipgrave.
'He's certainly a slippery character,' Daniels said, 'but doing something
like this? How could he? How could anybody?'
'Somebody made it happen,' Mallory said. 'I don't think it's a random
manifestation.'
'Look, we don't even know it's a bad thing,' Gardener noted. 'Maybe it
is what I said . . . God's will, a miracle. That's no crazier than all the other
stuff going on. Maybe that's the way of the world now - little miracles
before the Fall, bloody big bastard miracles now.'
'He has a point,' Daniels said. 'There's been no sign that it's anything
bad.'
'Not yet,' Mallory said. He prodded at the unappetising chunks of
indistinguishable vegetables. 'But if you're right, why are the spirits
growing restless?'
Miller told the others about the ghost in the kitchens that morning. 'It's
not a one-off,' he added. 'Down at the workshops they're all talking about
it. Spooks all over the place. Old bishops, canons, scaring the stuffing out
of people. It's getting worse, they say.'
'Like I said, the dead are growing restless.' Mallory looked around the
table. 'In this world we're stuck in, we need to start thinking with a
medieval mindset - not hard in this place. Signs and portents. We've got
unquiet spirits. Something's bothering them.
The graves stood tenantless and
the sheeted dead did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.'
'They know something we don't,' Daniels said.
They all fell quiet for a long moment while they pushed their food
around their bowls. It was Gardener who spoke first. 'We wouldn't have
spooks rising up if we were living in a miracle.' He didn't raise his eyes
from the table.
'Those things that have put us under
siege ...
this . . .' Daniels
motioned to the building around them. '. .
.
you really do think it's
linked?'
'In some way,' Mallory said, 'but I'm betting it's not in as direct a way as
you're saying. Those things can't get on to Church land . . . that's why
they're pinning us down here. So I don't think they could have caused the
cathedral to change.'
Before they could debate the matter further, Julian walked in, looking
brighter than Mallory had seen him in a long time. He marched to the
centre of the now-busy room and climbed on to one of the long tables. 'I
have an announcement,' he said in a voice that barely contained his joy.
'The bishop . .
.
Cornelius ...
has turned the corner. He's on the road to
recovery.'
Mallory recalled how frail the bishop had appeared earlier; it was
implausible that his health could have improved so quickly.
'We should all pray for his swift return to form
. . .
and for the guiding
hand of Saint Cuthbert.' A whisper ran around the room at the mention of
the sacred relic that had invigorated the small community. 'Yes, it's true.
We transported Cornelius to our most holy relic earlier. The response was
phenomenal. Strength flowed into his limbs, his eyes grew bright, his
voice firm and confident. The sickness that had been tainting him for so
long drifted away like mist in the rays of the sun.' Emotion overcame
Julian so that he had to wipe his cheeks with the back of his hand.
'Cornelius is a remarkable man,' he continued, speaking from the heart.
'He held this community together in the earliest days. His vision guided us
when we were at our weakest, when many were thinking of abandoning the
Faith in those black days. Cornelius. All Cornelius. He has led us to this
point where - current difficulties notwithstanding — we are on the verge of
once again leading the Church, and God's Word, out into the world.'
He stared into the rafters thoughtfully before continuing. 'He probably
wouldn't want me to tell you this, but he originally refused to be taken
before the Saint Cuthbert relic. He felt it would be better for our morale if
he fought and overcame the illness himself. He is an unselfish man.' He
shook his head slowly, almost talking to himself now. 'Sadly, that was not
to be. This afternoon he slipped into a coma . .
.
one from which it
appeared he would not recover. The decision was taken then to transport
him to the relic in the hope that he would be freed to continue his mission
with us. And so it was. Praise the Lord.' He wiped his eyes once more,
stepped down and swept out of the refectory.
There was a moment of silence before the room erupted in cheers and
cries of 'Hallelujah!' Only one man failed to join in the celebrations,
Mallory noted: Stefan, who had walked in halfway through Julian's speech.
Though he forced a smile when any of the jovial brothers appeared in his
line of vision, his face was dark.
Blaine had instigated a shift-rota of cathedral patrols for the knights. It was
clearly a propaganda exercise to provide the illusion of security.
That night it was the turn of Mallory and Daniels. They started their
rounds just as the night office was beginning at midnight. The cathedral
was ablaze with candles, the golden glow reaching up the walls until it
was swallowed by the thick shadows engulfing the ceiling far overhead.
They stood at the back, letting the seductive sway of the plainsong move
their emotions like a tidal swell. The combination of light and sound, of
emotion alive with the subtle nuances of voice, had more power than its
component parts.