The Devil in Green (88 page)

There was nothing so good for diverting peoples' attention from dissent as the contemplation of their own inner lives. Their security on earth and their chances of eternal reward - or eternal damnation - lay in the balance. How clever Stefan was.

'I wonder if the relic can actually do that, or if this is another of Stefan's little manipulations?' Mallory mused.

Miller appeared to have no views on the matter - he simply continued to watch the activity of the diggers - but Mallory guessed there would be very few others taking the news so calmly.

The digging continued at a frantic pace under the relentless insistence of Blaine and the Blues. No rest was allowed and when anyone flagged they were instantly replaced. Errors were pointed out harshly, so that work proceeded both quickly and with the utmost care. With the judicious use of the timber and masonry, they managed to avoid any further tunnel collapses, but the removal of the shale and gravel covering most of that area was backbreaking work. Even so, it appeared they would be through before the day was done.

However, the cancellation of lunch after the abandonment of breakfast caused a rising tide of concern, and when the evening mealtime approached with no sign of activity in the refectory, panic began to surface. Whatever denials were issued, everyone knew that the only explanation could be that supplies had finally been exhausted.

A large crowd gathered at the bishop's palace as night fell. There was anger, and fear, and raised voices. Stefan came out, and for the first time Mallory saw a hint of anxiety that events were running out of his control, that his hard-fought position was slipping away from him. But he controlled himself, as he always did, and told them there would be fresh supplies that very evening. The tunnel would be completed and food would be brought through from the adjoining camp; and it wouldn't be a thin diet of vegetables. It would be a time of celebration after all their hardship. They had his word on that.

That made the bishop a hostage to fortune at a time when he had so much to lose, but Mallory knew Stefan would never allow himself to fail. He was a consummate politician who would have succeeded whether his chosen sphere had been business, Parliament or anywhere else where hard, driven people could rise to the top.

Mallory saw it reflected in Stefan's expression as he turned to go: the bishop knew that, while his words had eased the minds of some of the protestors, there were others present who had set their hearts against him. That expression said so many things to Mallory, but most of all it showed a frightening determination that transcended basic human boundaries. Mallory was worried by what he saw there.

For that reason, he feared the worst when he was summoned to the bishop's palace as twilight fell. The lack of food had left his stomach aching as if he'd eaten sour apples, and the raw cold was eating its way into his bones. The snow had started falling again in the late afternoon, slowly bringing a pristine covering to the churned-up slush where the mob had waited outside the official residence.

Stefan's personal assistant, a man in his late fifties with a troubling smile and an oily nature, showed Mallory into the drawing room where a fire blazed. The warmth was such a relief that Mallory's heart leaped. He was instantly struck by the glitter of Christmas decorations: tinsel and streamers were strung across the wall and ceilings, and several small candles illuminated a well-worn Nativity scene laid out on the antique sideboard. It was so incongruous in the bitter air of hardship that hung over the entire cathedral compound that he wondered if Stefan had gone crazy from the stress.

Stefan sat in a high-backed leather armchair next to the fire, his face placid but his eyes alive with a disturbing passion. 'We must never forget our Lord's birth,' he said quietly, noticing the direction of Mallory's gaze, 'even amid all this pain and suffering.
Especially
because of it.'

Amid everything, Mallory hadn't once considered that Christmas was approaching.

Stefan appeared to read his thoughts. 'Compared with everything else that has been happening, Christmas might not seem important. But it is, it is. It is the reason why we must overcome, why even in the darkest hours there is always hope. It is a shining symbol that allows us to put into perspective all the passing misery of this dark world.'

Mallory watched Stefan cautiously, trying to see if this was the start of some manipulation. If it was, the bishop had hidden it well.

'I don't truly know you, Mr Mallory, but I know many like you,' he continued. 'You have an individual nature. You do not suffer fools gladly, and you have a strong disregard for authority. Unlike Mr Blaine, I do not believe that marks you out as a troublemaker. I am not so unconfident in my abilities that I feel the need to control everybody. Indeed, it is often healthy in any environment to have voices prepared to point out that the king has no clothes. Of course, that kind of commentary can only be allowed to go so far. It must never undermine the cohesiveness of any community.'

Mallory listened patiently; he still couldn't tell if he was about to be punished or praised.

'I know what you think about me, Mr Mallory.' Stefan stared into the fire. 'You think me a carpetbagger, someone who has seen a source of power and who has moved in to take it. It is an easy accusation to level. I have no history of good works in the Church. I only came to God as a reaction to the Fall, though I would point out the very many others who fled Him at the same time. But you are wrong, you know. It is because I believe so passionately that I am not going to allow my religion to dribble away. I am prepared to have people hate me, if necessary, but I will not deviate from the path, however hard it may be, to save my God, as He attempted to save us all. These times demand hard choices, Mr Mallory. And while instincts may call on us to be liberal or gentle, if the result of that is the destruction of Christianity, then some of us must be prepared to make the unpleasant choices so that others do not have to. These times demand that we take a stand, Mr Mallory - on one side or the other. God or the Devil. There are no grey areas, for even the most basic choices lead along those two roads.

'I could tell you about my personal tragedies, my epiphany, the things that shaped me, but they aren't important. If the sacrifice I have to make is that I may not be seen as a good man, but I do good works, then so be it. Only God can be my judge. And I am not alone in that belief. Mr Blaine feels the same way, as do several others here. In private, I know Mr Blaine to be a good man, crushed by sadness at the loss of his family, yet who still keeps a warm, hopeful heart, who cares deeply for his men like a father for his own children, but who must at times use the rod. Every injury, every death amongst the knights he feels personally. But he would never allow you to see that side of him, for he has a job to
do ...
the gravest job of all. We need villains in life, Mr Mallory, and if that is what is required of me, whatever the personal cost it is a cross I will bear for the sake of the Glory of God.'

Mallory was uneasy at this surprising declaration. He believed he had an unimpeachable radar for lies and manipulation, but Stefan rang clean of cynicism; the bishop truly felt he was striving to do
good works.
It jarred with the unpleasant picture of Stefan that Mallory had created. The thought that both the bishop and Blaine might be decent, if misguided, people made life more complex, and more troubling.

His confusion must have played on his face, for Stefan smiled. 'You are probably wondering why I called you here. It is a simple request in the spirit of everything that I have just told you. Later this evening, the tunnel will be completed and we will be able to surface in the camp of the pagans. Because of an unfortunate event that happened a while back - carried out by some members of the Blue team who have been severely punished - I fear there will not be a great deal of goodwill waiting for us. Quite understandable - my heart goes out to them. But we cannot afford to take the time to indulge in extensive negotiations to win them over. We stand to lose everything. There will soon be death here . . . many deaths . . . but it is for the very fabric of our community that I fear. Though we keep God in our hearts, many here will not be able to take much more suffering. So, time is of the essence.' He paused, pressed his fingertips together and stared into the space between them. 'It has come to my attention that you have a good relationship with the pagans.'

Mallory wondered who'd been talking out of class, though he was increasingly starting to have his suspicions. 'They know me.'

'What I ask is that you lead the initial delegation through the tunnel, that you plead our case. Perhaps your word carries weight with them. Perhaps you can convince them that our hearts are good, though we believe in different things - that we have commonality in our compassion for fellow human beings. I fear that because of the gulf between our two camps they may meet us with force . . . attempt to repel us as invaders when we come open-handed. Your involvement may prevent any strife.'

Mallory locked eyes with Stefan. Was there some underlying motive, some secret plan at work? If so, he couldn't see it.

'I'll do what I can,' he said. 'Though I don't think you'll find as much opposition as you anticipate.'

'Really? You've had contact with them recently?'

'No. Just an instinct.'

Stefan nodded thoughtfully. 'Then we can count on you. That is good. With God, together, we shall overcome.'

A gale was blowing up a blizzard as they prepared to complete the final section of the tunnel, the flurrying snow shimmering like fireflies in the light of the many lanterns. Mallory stamped his feet to keep out the cold; even through his thick boots and socks he could feel it gnawing at his toes.

There was a heady sense of anticipation amongst the diggers. Indeed, even though it was midnight, many brothers had ventured out into the frozen night to see their escape route finally made real. Stefan had ordered the knights to keep them back behind makeshift barriers; he didn't want anything hindering the work, or the delicate task of the first meeting with the pagans.

Stefan and Blaine approached him together as the last preparations were being made. 'We don't want any mix-up when we go through,' Blaine said gruffly, by way of greeting. 'If they're waiting for us with weapons—'

'They're a peace-loving bunch of old hippies,' Mallory said.

'Try telling that to the lads who were on the receiving end of some of their stones and sticks a few months back.'

'Now, now, Mr Blaine,' Stefan interjected. 'We're approaching this in an atmosphere where bygones are bygones and we can all develop a new relationship. Let's start as we mean to carry on.'

Blaine grunted noncommittally. 'Just make sure they're not going to attack us the moment we pop up,' he said directly to Mallory.

'At least so we have a chance to speak,' Stefan said. 'I cannot stress how much rests on the success of this. It will be the defining moment of this community, of the future of our religion.'

'I'll do my part.' Despite Stefan's urgings, the only thing on Mallory's mind was that he would soon be seeing Sophie again. He had spent much of the afternoon considering his options. Although he wanted to bolt with her the moment they were through, she had made it plain she wouldn't abandon the people who relied on her, but he could abscond and creep back to her at a later date. Or should he return with the knights and sneak back through the tunnel when there was no one else around? With much of the pressure eased by the tunnel and a new supply of food through the travellers' camp, he supposed the atmosphere would become a little lighter in the cathedral, allowing him to choose a time that suited
him ... if he
could bear to spend another night there. The thought of freedom made his heart start to pound.