Once In a Blue Moon (28 page)

“That’s Brother Jack. Don’t do anything to upset him, and don’t try to take him from the Abbey against his will. We are all men of peace now, but we can remember who we were, if we have to.”

He strode away, with an air of someone doing something he just knows he’s going to regret later. Hawk led the way through the vegetable garden, being very careful to stick to the narrow gravel paths and give the working monks plenty of room. None of them looked up. Hawk paused briefly to stop Chappie from snapping at some roses that were singing quietly, and to stop Fisher from hacking with her sword at a bush that lunged at her. Finally they reached the monk by the far wall. He pushed his last few seeds into the moist earth, settling them into place with gentle hands. The hands were old and wrinkled, with dark liver spots.

“Hello, Jack,” said Hawk. “It’s your mum and dad. I know it’s been a long while, but . . .”

The monk stood up, taking his time. Old joints creaked loudly. He pushed back his hood to reveal a kind and gentle face, heavily wrinkled, with closely cropped grey hair. His smile was warm, and his eyes were mild. Hawk’s heart sank. He didn’t recognise this old man at all. And then the smile widened into a familiar grin, and when the monk spoke Hawk knew the voice at once.

“Hello, Father,” said Jack. “It’s good to see you and Mother again. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? You’re both looking . . . good.”

“You got old,” said Hawk. “And I wasn’t around to see it. I’m so sorry, Jack.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” said Jack. “Forgiveness comes as standard here. For all the wrongs we’ve all done.”

He stepped forward and embraced Hawk, who held his son as firmly as he dared. The old man felt very fragile. When Hawk let go and stepped back, Fisher hugged Jack to her like she’d never let him go. So after a while, he let go first. Jack had always been very intuitive about things like that. Fisher stepped back, and Jack smiled down at Chappie.

“Hello, boy! Good boy! You look even older than me, Chappie! Look at all that white round your muzzle! How are you, dog?”

“Better than you, by the look of things,” said Chappie, butting his head against Jack hard enough to almost knock him backwards, until Jack rubbed his head and pulled at his ears. “Why did you never come to the Academy to see us, pay us a visit?”

“Because it would have raised far too many questions,” said Jack, rubbing the dog’s back hard while the tail wagged madly. “And because I haven’t left the Abbey in twenty years. I belong here.”

“You locked yourself away here because of what you did as the Walking Man?” said Fisher.

“This isn’t a prison, Mother,” said Jack. “I could leave anytime. I just didn’t want to. You know what a poisoned chalice the whole Walking Man thing is. You knew Jericho Lament.”

“He gave it up too,” said Hawk. “To marry Queen Felicity.”

“And I gave it up to come here,” said Jack. “Gave up being the wrath of God in the world of men. Not because I was bad at it, but because I came to enjoy it too much. Punishing the guilty isn’t something you’re supposed to enjoy. No, I gave it all up for peace and quiet, and never regretted it once.”

“So you’ve been happy here?” said Fisher. “That is important to us, Jack.”

“I have been very happy here, Mother,” said Jack, smiling. “But I’ll still leave here with you when you ask me to. That is why you came, isn’t it? I’ve been having dreams, visions . . . about the Demon Prince.”

“We need to talk, Jack,” said Hawk.

•   •   •

B
rother Jack led them out of the gardens, back past the Abbey, and into the main courtyard, where a table had been set out for them. Chairs had been set in place, and platters of fresh fruit, vegetables, and dried mushrooms. And a bottle of the Abbey’s own handmade wine, along with a rather varied collection of glasses. Chappie had a good sniff at everything on offer, politely declined, had a good lap at the bowl of fresh well water set out for him, and then curled up under the table with his head on his paws while the others ate and drank and talked.

“I know,” said Jack, “it’s all a bit basic, isn’t it? But that’s the point at Saint Augustine’s. We don’t want anything here that might tempt us back to the outside world. We’re all in recovery here, from past sins and old horrors.”

A few monks were eating quietly at another table, on the far side of the courtyard. Keeping themselves to themselves. Jack pointed them out, with a subtle nod of his head.

“The one on the left, that’s Brother Alistair. Used to be a moneylender. And a hirer of leg-breakers on occasion. Then he became a tax-gatherer. Now he prays more than all the rest of us put together. The monk next to him is Brother David. Used to be a mercenary soldier. Fought in every war you can think of, on every side you can think of, and never gave a damn about anything as long as the money kept coming. Now he prays for all the souls of every man, woman, and child he killed. Keeping himself busy so he can never fight and kill again.”

“What have you got to repent?” said Fisher almost angrily. “You’re not like them! You were the Walking Man, a force for Good!”

“For my sins, yes,” said Jack. “It’s not what you do, Mother; it’s why you do it.”

“Will someone please explain to me what the Walking Man is?” said Chappie from under the table. “I don’t think I ever got it explained to me properly. Or if it was, I don’t remember. I’m a very old dog. I get tired. My memory isn’t what it used to be. If it ever was.”

“Once in every generation,” said Jack, “a man can swear his life to God, to become more than a man. If that man will swear to serve the Light, all his life, forswearing all other paths, such as love or family or personal need . . . then he can become the Walking Man. The will and the wrath of God, in the world of mortal man. Made stronger and faster, to walk in straight lines to go where he needs to go, to do what needs to be done. Punish the guilty and protect the innocent, and never let anything or anyone get in the way. And as long as that man is true to his oath, nothing and no one can ever harm him. As long as he walks Heaven’s way.

“Sounds like a good deal to me,” said Chappie. “Of course, I’m just a dog. I do understand good and bad, mostly; it’s just that mostly I don’t care. I don’t have to. I’m a dog. Why did you give it up?”

“First, because I started to enjoy killing people who needed killing, and then because I grew tired of killing,” said Jack. “Because it didn’t seem to make any difference. No matter how many guilty people I punished, there were always more innocents who needed saving. No one seemed to learn anything from what I did, except to be scared of me. I took too much enjoyment in seeing bad men suffer and die. I forgot it was God’s will I was doing, not mine. So I gave it all up, because I was no longer worthy. And I came here. Twenty years ago. I like it here. It’s very peaceful. No one to protect, or punish. And now, my mother and my father, you’ve come to take me away from all this. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Hawk. “The monk at the door, Brother Ambrose, said you’ve been having very specific bad dreams? Visions?”

“Yes,” said Jack quite calmly. “About the Darkwood, and war in the Forest Land, and the return of the Demon Prince. They’re not dreams, are they?”

“No,” said Fisher. “He’s back. That bastard Lord of the Darkwood is back.”

“He appeared to your mother and me, inside the Millennium Oak, past all its protection and defences,” said Hawk. “He said your daughter and Gillian’s son were in danger. Said they were going to die, horribly. Unless your mother and I returned to the Forest Land.”

Jack frowned, for the first time. “My daughter? Mercy? I haven’t heard from her in years. What danger could she be in?”

“We’re going back to Forest Castle to find out,” said Fisher. “You want to come along?”

Jack sighed briefly. “Of course. Won’t take me long to get my few things together. The Demon Prince! I can’t believe he’s back, after all these years. I thought you destroyed him . . .”

“So did we,” said Hawk.

“We’ll just have to make a better job of it this time,” said Fisher.

“This time,” said Hawk, “we’ll make sure. Whatever it takes.”

“Maybe I’ll just eat him,” said Chappie. “And you can bathe whatever I crap out in holy water.”

“Can’t take you anywhere,” said Hawk.

“My daughter was working in the Forest Castle, last I heard,” said Jack. “She wrote me a letter, some three years ago. She wasn’t very precise about what she was doing, but she seemed happy enough. She’s not much of a one for writing letters. Gets that from her grandparents.”

Hawk and Fisher avoided looking at each other. Chappie sniggered under the table, and Fisher booted him in the ribs.

•   •   •

H
awk and Fisher and Chappie waited in the courtyard while Jack gathered his few possessions and made his goodbyes to his fellow monks and his apologies to the Abbot. Hawk had asked if there’d be any problems with Jack’s just up and leaving, but Jack only smiled briefly and shook his head. As though he was the adult and Hawk was the child. Everyone at Saint Augustine’s came and left of their own free will, Jack said patiently. That was the point. Hawk nodded stiffly. He still felt it had been a fair question. And so he and Fisher and Chappie waited, more or less patiently, before the closed door in the outer wall. For what seemed like ages and ages.

“If he doesn’t get a move on,” Hawk said finally, and just a bit dangerously, “I am going to start carving some really rude words into that door.”

“I’ll help with the spelling,” said Fisher.

And then they all ducked their heads and retreated rapidly, as the entire wooden door was blasted right off its hinges. The roar of the explosion deafened them for a moment, and the air filled with black smoke. The door went flying past, tumbling end over end, before it finally hit the ground and skidded to a halt some distance away. Hawk and Fisher recovered from the noise and the shock while the door was still settling, and turned to face the ragged gap in the stone wall where the door had been. Hawk held his axe at the ready, and Fisher swept her sword back and forth before her. Chappie stood between them, growling loudly. As the black smoke cleared, a small army of bandits and brigands poured through the gap. They were of a familiar sort: big and brutal, with well-worn clothes, leather armour, and the usual assortment of weapons. They spread quickly across the open courtyard, loud and arrogant, laughing at the ease of their entrance. They had scars and tattoos, and the appearance of men who’d been on the run for some time. They had swords and axes and bows, and looked like they knew how to use them.

But they still came to a sudden halt when they saw Hawk and Fisher and Chappie waiting for them.

Their leader swaggered to the front and bowed mockingly to Hawk and Fisher. He was a familiar sort too: a tall, muscular, dangerous type in his mid-twenties, with a grubby silver breastplate over his flashy clothes and a golden sash arranged neatly across his chest. The kind of man who, when he walked into an inn, you just knew there was going to be trouble. He had at least forty armed men at his back, and Hawk could hear even more taking up positions beyond the entrance hole. The leader smiled cheerfully at Hawk and Fisher.

“Isn’t it an absolutely wonderful morning? Start the day with a bang, that’s what I always say. Do you know who I am?”

“No,” said Hawk.

“Haven’t a clue,” said Fisher.

“Grrr,” said Chappie.

The leader’s smile didn’t slip at all. “I suppose it was too much to hope for, in this back of beyond . . . I am the brigand of the wild woods and the legend of the Forest! I am Gambler Gold!” He gestured at the golden sash across his chest, waiting for recognition to sink in, and then looked rather put out when it didn’t. “Oh, come on; you must have heard of me! They sing songs about me everywhere! The smiling brigand, the dazzling outlaw, the unofficial tax man on the rich and prosperous! Some of this must ring a bell . . .” He glared at his army behind him. “I told you, we have got to get ourselves a minstrel! Get the word out! People don’t respect you unless you’ve got your very own songwriter!” He turned back to Hawk and Fisher. “We are the free men of the Forest, beholden to none, answerable to none. We take from the rich and redistribute the wealth.”

“Thieves,” said Hawk.

“Killers from ambush,” said Fisher.

“Small fry,” said Chappie.

All the bandits’ eyes went immediately to the dog. Chappie’s lips curled back in a savage grin, showing off big, blocky teeth. His great muscles about his shoulders and breastbone bulged. He really was a very big dog. Some of the bandits began to back away.

“Stop that!” Gambler Gold said immediately, without looking round. “Don’t get distracted! It’s just a dog! One of these jokers is probably a ventriloquist. You’ve seen one of those before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” muttered one of the brigands. “He had a dummy. Creepy little thing. Gave me nightmares for months.”

“Shut up!”

“What if it’s possessed?” said a fascinated voice from the back. “Or a demonic familiar?”

“What would a demonic familiar be doing in a monastery, you idiot?” said Gambler Gold. “It’s just a dog!”

“Or a wolf,” said the voice from the back.

“Shut up! Now, everyone follow the plan! Spread out, round up all the monks from the Abbey and the gardens, and bring them here. Anyone gives you any trouble, kill a few to encourage the others. We don’t need them all.”

“Bad luck to kill a monk,” said the voice from the back of the crowd.

“I’ll be bad luck for you if you don’t shut up, Maurice!” said Gambler Gold. “I only took you on because your father begged me to, and I’m starting to understand why. They’re monks, and they’ve got a treasure here they’re keeping to themselves, so that makes them fair game. Why is no one moving? Am I going to have to lose my temper? Is that what you want? You know what happens when I lose my temper!”

“Let me guess,” said Hawk. “You stamp your foot, and spit, and cry for your mother?”

“You should worry about what happens when we lose our temper,” said Fisher. “We’ve met your sort before.”