The Devil in Green (10 page)

'Is that why you made your base here?' Mallory asked. 'What was wrong
with Winchester? Or Glastonbury?'

James thought deeply before replying. 'Those places were certainly
considered, as were several others. In the end, the decision was made to
come to Salisbury for one very important reason.'

Mallory read his face. 'But you're not going to tell us what it is.'

James grew serious. 'We like to keep a few secrets.' He winced as if he'd
said too much, and Mallory was intrigued to see him change direction,
leading them now up a winding stone stairway rising from the south transept.

'We have an excellent library here,' James said rather awkwardly, as if continuing the previous conversation. 'Its most famous item is a copy of the Magna Carta, but it has long been praised by academics for its ancient manuscripts, including a page of the Old Testament in Latin from the eighth century and two Gallican psalters from the tenth century.'

'I'll have to book those out on a quiet night,' Mallory said.

'The more important books are less well known,' James continued. 'Within, there are sacred texts the outside world has never been allowed to see since the cathedral was established. Indeed, part of its reason for existing was as guardian and protector of old truths - or lies, depending on your point of view.'

'Surely the great Church wasn't afraid of a few words on paper?' Mallory said. 'Or was it that these things were too dangerous for the common man to find out?'

James laughed quietly. 'I'm just a lowly member here. But I've heard it said that the potency arises not from any individual volume, each of which presents one particular view, but in the totality. Each is a fragment that together reveal a large secret.'

Miller appeared troubled at this. 'Religious secrets?' he asked anxiously.

'Not wholly,' James replied. 'The library also contains a collection of the earliest scientific, mathematical and medical books, including William Harvey's
De Motu Cordis,
which identified the circulation of the blood for the first time. They were bequeathed by Seth Ward, who became bishop in
1667.
But before that he'd been Professor of Astronomy at Oxford and a founding member of the Royal Society.'

'I thought scientists and the religious were always at each other's throats,' Mallory said.

'Apparently not in the old days.' James' smile was enigmatic.

At the top of the stairs they were confronted by two men installing large locks in the door that led to the library; through the opening they could see the stacks of ancient books and smell the warm atmosphere of dusty paper. The workers were being overseen by a man in his late fifties, overweight beneath his black robes, with a balding pate and a goatee beard. His eyes were dark and piercing and instantly fell on the new faces.

'Good morning, Stefan,' James said brightly. 'What have we here?'

'The library is now off limits, on the orders of the bishop.' Stefan tried to return James' smile, but it was an awkward attempt that looked out of place on his face. The shadows under his eyes suggested a saturnine nature, and he quickly returned to a gloomy countenance.

'Oh?' James said, puzzled. 'I can't understand that. The library is a vital
resource for everyone here.'

'Nevertheless, the decision has been made. Requests for specific books
can be presented to the librarian who will put them to the new library
committee for consideration.'

'That sounds like an unwieldy process. How often does the committee
meet?'

'We haven't yet reached agreement on all the details, but as chairman of
the committee I will certainly do my best to expedite matters.'

James nodded and smiled, but as he moved Mallory and Miller on, he
was plainly uncomfortable with what he had heard.

'Looks as if your back-to-basics approach is gathering speed.' Mallory
couldn't resist prodding. 'What next
-
services in Latin?'

'I think I'll raise this with the bishop myself,' James said. 'Those books
are so important in these days when knowledge is at a premium. The
people here need—' He waved a hand to dismiss his thoughts, though they
obviously lay heavily on him.

'Stefan's another big-shot?' Mallory said.

'He's the chancellor. He looks after the education of everyone here. Like
all the Principal Persons, he was instrumental in bringing the Church to
Salisbury.'

As they exited the cathedral, it was as if some tremendous gravity was
reluctantly releasing them. Outside, there was an ethereal quality to the
bright morning sunlight. James took them into the sprawling mass of
houses, now fully alive with men of all ages cutting wood, feeding cattle
and chickens and cleaning out pigsties. 'This is where we house all those
who have come to us since we established our new base,' James noted. 'As
you can see, we've just about reached the limits of occupation. Quite what
we're going to do from here is open to debate, though we are loathe to
allow our own to live beyond the walls for fear of victimisation.'

'Is there much of that?' Miller asked apprehensively.

'Not a great deal, though there have been several severe incidents.
There are some that see us as a threat, others who feel our time is done. In
the light of all that has happened, it appears everyone has their own
peculiar belief system to try to make sense of the upheaval. I think they feel
let down by the Church because we did not explain the events, or care for
them in their hour of need, or simply because they feel what we offer has
no relevance to the difficult times we all live in. What need a hidden,
mysterious God when solid, physical gods have walked amongst us?
Obviously the answers to that question are easy for us to voice, but who
has the time or inclination for theological argument? The only way we can
win them back is by playing a long game, by letting the Word filter out
organically. And that is where the knights come into the equation.'

Finally, James took them to an area at the rear of the former Salisbury and
South Wiltshire Museum where the knights were sequestered. Several
men were learning the art of sword-fighting, while others attacked scarecrows with halberds. All faces were intense and deeply introspective, the
movements fluid and powerful. Distinctive uniforms marked them out:
black shirts bearing the Templar cross in red against a white square on the
breast and right shoulder, hard-wearing black trousers, heavy-duty boots
and black belts.

There was another cadre of knights removed from the core group who
duelled with each other with a frightening ferocity, at times lithe, then
vicious, their speed and dazzling turns and dives revealing skills that set
them apart. Their uniforms were also slightly different, with a blue stripe
gleaming on the left shoulder.

The commander stood off to one side, watching the activity, his
authority apparent in his rigid bearing. Up close, Blaine had a face that
registered such little emotion that at times he resembled a wax dummy. He
was in his mid-forties, his black hair badly dyed. Hard muscles filled out a
uniform carrying the red Templar cross more prominently on the front.
His heavy brows cast a shadow around his eyes so that he appeared on the
verge of sickness, yet there was a street-hardness about him that gave a
commanding presence.

He remained impassive when James introduced him as Blaine. 'It won't
be a free ride here,' he said, with a Belfast accent. 'We had a couple in who
thought they'd get fed and watered without having to give anything back.
They didn't last the week.'

'We'll do what's expected of us,' Mallory said.

'You see that you
do ...
if you want to stay here. You're getting a shot
at something people would give their right arm for. There's not much of
value out there anymore. But in the next few years you'll see that being a
knight will be a mark of respect. The country will come to love you. But
you have to earn it.'