The Devil in Green (110 page)

'It's dying,' Mallory managed.

The Green Man squatted down next to them. 'It is beyond that. It is life. It is a part of Existence itself.' He looked from Mallory to Sophie and in his vegetative face they saw something powerful and moving. 'Hope, Brother and Sister of Dragons. Hope and life.'

He pressed his face close to the Fabulous Beast, then leaned over and threw the blankets off Miller before carefully laying the creature on the still form's belly. Mallory and Sophie watched in puzzlement. The brilliant blue glow began to pulse, gradually at first but then with increasing speed, growing brighter all the time until they had to shield their eyes. When it reached a peak, the tiny black shape at the heart of the glare appeared to be melting. A few seconds later, Mallory realised that this was not the case: it looked as if it was sinking into Miller's belly. When the last of the dark smudge disappeared, the light winked out and all was as it had been. There was no sign of the Fabulous Beast.

The Green Man had retreated to the nearest copse, and when he spoke his voice was rich and florid; he was smiling warmly. 'We shall meet again when there are five of you. And then, once again, the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons shall stand shoulder to shoulder with the Golden Ones in the name of Existence.' And then he was gone, swallowed up by the vegetation as if he had simply allowed his essence to dissipate amongst it.

Mallory and Sophie were transfixed until the sound of rustling disturbed them. Miller was sitting up, puzzling as to why he had been lying in the snow. His cheeks were full, his skin pink with the flush of contentment.

He looked from one to the other, then said, even more puzzled, 'Why are you crying?'

'If you see things as they are here and now, you have seen everything that has happened from all eternity. All things are interrelated Oneness.'

- Marcus Aurelius

The Christmas bells rang out across Salisbury, lying sedate and gleaming beneath a thick covering of snow. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sun shone brightly. In the cathedral, the brothers gathered to give praise to their saviour. Many were too weak to stand, but after Mallory had arranged for rations to be brought in from the city, they had at least pulled back from the brink.

Compared with the massed ranks that had greeted Mallory and Miller on their arrival, the congregation was small. Some had died; many had simply wandered away, their faith broken. But the biggest departure had been the followers of Stefan, who had gone off to maintain their strict creed elsewhere, away from the corruption of sinners.

The mysterious buildings that had sprawled out from the cathedral were gone; indeed, no one seemed to remember that they had been there, apart from Mallory and Sophie. But there was much marvelling at the mass of vegetation and mature trees that now grew all around the grand old building.

Miller had little remembrance of his suffering during the last few days. He was flushed with a new sense of vitality that manifested as unbounded joy, bringing a smile to everyone who met him. He confessed his crime to anyone who would listen, and professed his desire for salvation; he was forgiven by all.

But the biggest change was only noticed later, just before noon. A ripple of excitement ran out from one of the old wooden shacks where the brothers lived. Mallory was drawn, wheezing in pain from his heavily bandaged ribs, to find Miller slumped in a chair and several brothers gabbling excitedly over a scrawny man who lay weakly on one of the rough beds.

'What's up?' Mallory asked, wondering what stupidity Miller had offended them with now.

'He cured him!' one of the brothers proclaimed, hands raised to the air.

'Get a grip,' Mallory snapped.

'No, really.' The brother motioned to the man in the bed. 'He was one of the last to come here before the gates were sealed. In the last few days, he developed some kind of plague. He was sealed up in here . . .' He lowered his eyes in shame before the excitement gripped him again. 'Miller came in to care for him this morning and—'

'I cured him.' Miller sounded tremendously weak, but he was grinning like an idiot. 'He was covered with the marks of the plague. But when I touched him, this blue light came out of my hands in a flash. It blinded me, I tell you. But when my eyes cleared, he
was . . .'He
nodded to the man on the bed, who looked remarkably healthy, if exhausted. 'Though I couldn't do it again in a hurry, I reckon. I'm knackered.'

'Stop grinning, you'll hurt your jaw, you stupid idiot,' Mallory said before marching out. Alone in the beautiful morning, he thought he might cry again.

In the afternoon, he sought out Daniels who had taken a shack near to the cathedral. Gardener was there, sitting quietly next to the bed in which Daniels slept peacefully. The Geordie looked up, but his face gave nothing away.

'What do you miss about the old days, Mallory?' he asked by way of greeting.

'I miss never being able to hear The Wannadies again. And all the other oldies.'

Gardener mused. 'I used to like The Animals, meself. Local lads, you know.' He glanced at Daniels and seemed happy that his breathing was regular. 'It seemed simpler back then. I mean, the bloody world was a mess, right? But it was simpler. When you did something, you pretty much knew what the repercussions would be. And they were never
that
bad . . . know what I'm saying? Never life or death.'

'Yeah, these are bastard times, Gardener.' Mallory noticed that the Geordie's hands were shaking continually. 'How's he doing?'

'Aye, he's a strong lad . . . for a queer, y'know.' He bit his lip. 'I'll be keeping an eye on him . . . making sure he pulls through.' 'He's got a tough life ahead of him. One eye. No . . .' He nodded in the direction of Daniels' groin.

'I'll be keeping an eye on him.'

There were a million things Mallory could have said - accusations, castigation, blame - but he could see that Gardener had been through them all himself. He settled on, 'You staying here?'

'I think he'll be sticking around. The reasons why he came here haven't changed. He'll be needing some company, I suppose. Some of the blokes around here, they're right miserable bastards. They won't understand him.' A juddering sigh made him catch his breath. 'How about you?'

'Moving on. Pretty much outstayed my welcome, I think.'

'You'll be missed, Mallory.'

'Yeah, but not by you, you Geordie bastard.' He made to go, but had the urge to speak the truth, for once. 'There's hope for you yet, Gardener.'

The gratitude in Gardener's face was so intense it was almost childlike. 'We all want saving, Mallory,' he said. 'All of us.'

At four p.m., Mallory was saddling up the horses he had bought in town with an excessive chunk of the cathedral gold. He'd also acquired some food, a tent, cooking utensils, a blanket, and couldn't think of anything else he needed in the world - apart from Sophie. As he finished up, James wandered into the stables looking ten years older than the last time Mallory had seen him.

'Are you sure you won't stay?' James said, after they'd got the usual perfunctory conversation out of the way. 'There's even more of a need for the Knights Templar now.' He smiled. 'More importantly, there's a need for good men like you.'

'You're such a bullshitter, James. God knows how you got wrapped up in all this religion shit.'

James laughed heartily.

'See, you're not even offended. They'll be drumming you out of the Christian Army.'

'Well?'

Mallory checked the straps of the pack on the horse so that James couldn't see any truth in his eyes. 'No. Despite all your flattery - and believe me, I love to have my ego massaged - I've got places to be.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah, Sophie - the bane of my life, apparently - she's leaving that Celtic Nation bollocks to the rest of her shiftless, lazy clan. She's decided we ought to be searching for the other three Brothers and Sisters of Dragons so all us losers can get together for a party. Or something. She thinks it's important. And if it keeps me off my knees, praying, I'm all for it.'

'You'll make a good Brother of Dragons, Mallory.'

'Shut up, you old fool.' He stifled a laugh. 'You're a sucker for punishment if you're thinking of maldng a go of it here.'

'Someone has to. This religion has a lot going for it, you know: salvation, sacrifice, redemption, universal love.'

'Well, that's an opinion. But if you want to get back on Sunday prime time, you'd better choose your leaders more wisely. And here's a tip: don't forget the one rule.'

'What's that?'

'Be good.'

Mallory mounted the horse and led it and its partner out into the fading light. 'You've got to start believing in something some time, Mallory,' James called after him. But it was delivered in such a way that the irony was evident.

Miller came running up before Mallory had got far out of the stables. 'You weren't going to go before I had time to say goodbye, were you?'

'Apparently not.'

Miller looked up at him with something a little more sublime than hero worship. 'I'll miss you, Mallory.'

Mallory winced; his failures were still too close for him to move beyond them. 'Just be careful they don't lock you up in a box in the cathedral, Miller.'

Miller smiled. 'It's a good job you're going, Mallory - for you. I know all your secret codes
now ...
in everything you say. You can't fool me.'

'Miller, you are so wrong, you've got
wrong
tattooed on your forehead.'

'Just tell me one thing, Mallory.'

'Go on - hit me.'

'What did you do before you came here? I need to
know ...
so I can understand you.'

For an instant, Mallory felt as though night had fallen in his mind. But then it cleared, and he looked around him, at the brothers shuffling towards compline, and the buildings, and the darkening sky where the first stars were appearing. 'You know what, Miller. It doesn't matter.' And he was right.