Paul Lawrence - The Sweet Smell of Decay

‘Thus hath the Lord God shewed unto me. I am a herdsman, a gatherer of sycamore fruit.’ His eyes were bright again and alert. Suddenly he slashed again, this time at the rope that tied me to the pew. ‘The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the gospel. It will be hastier and easier if thee sit back and push out thy ribs as far as they will go. I will slip the blade between thy ribs and into thy heart. Thee will be dead quickly. If thee sit in a ball with thy shoulders tight then I will have to stab you in the gut and you will bleed slowly.’

I looked into those blue eyes and foresaw my death. I pulled a face and did not sit back and push out my ribs. This was his act, not mine. He shook his head sadly. ‘The spirit of truth dwelleth in you, and shall be with you.’

As I looked steadily into his eyes my moment of weakness passed. Leaning back I pulled on the cords that he had chopped. They stretched and strained, the threads on the edge of the ropes breaking away, leaving only two or three inner strands binding me to the pew. Keeling cut at them contemptuously. Sitting back I puffed out my chest. He smiled gently, with cruel eyes, then tossed his long-bladed dagger from hand to hand so it flashed in the dark gloom. I watched his hands without moving my head. He stopped, feinted, then lunged forward, the blade aimed straight at my heart, but I had been waiting for the blow, sitting with my weight on my left thigh. As his arm snaked forward I pushed to my right and twisted inwards. Drawing back my arms, hands still tangled together, I pushed myself forward and punched Keeling hard in the mouth with both fists so that he fell over the back of the pew. He stood up quickly, blood pouring from his lower lip, then stared at me in incredulous fury. Reaching for his knife, he dropped to the floor. Snapping my wrists apart I fell to my right and pushed myself scrabbling towards the right end of the pew. My blood was hot and saucy and I bounced off posts and benches without feeling the impact. I ran to the back of the church, towards the font, rushed to the door and pulled on the handle, but it was locked. Turning, my field of vision was filled with the figure of Keeling charging at me with knife drawn back ready to strike. I leant back against the door and kicked out hard and high, catching him in the stomach so he doubled up wheezing. This time he didn’t drop the knife. I charged into him sideways, knocked him out of the way and pushed past, then ran down the aisle towards the pulpit, the pulpit that stood over the spot where Anne Giles had died.

‘They being ignorant of God’s righteousness have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God!’ Keeling roared furiously from the back of the church, his voice ringing out clearly like a bell, filling every corner of the old building, bouncing from its walls and ringing in my ears.

Kneeling down I slipped off my shoes. I slid them behind the pulpit then ran silently off to the left, heading for the shadows of the speaking pew. Keeling’s long, heavy stride echoed down the central aisle from font to pulpit. I ran on my toes towards the back of the church again, stooping down, hoping that he wouldn’t see me in the murky grey light.

‘Be not curious how the ungodly shall be punished, but ask how the righteous shall be saved, whose world it is, and for whom the world is created,’ Keeling shouted again from the pulpit. I watched him from above the side of a pew, a few feet inside the western wall of the church standing motionless, legs a few inches apart with his back to the pulpit. His head moved very slowly from left to right as he scanned the interior of the silent church. A soft virgin light floated down from the heights of the tall windows set into the eastern wall, reaching down to about chest height before choking in the black darkness that engulfed the floor. I found myself staring not at Keeling, but beyond. Behind him, ten or twelve paces behind him, was another door, the door to the vestry — where all this started. Thinking for a minute, I then dropped to my hands and knees. There was a door out into the street from the vestry. Crawling quickly back towards the font, my hand landed on something hard and rod-shaped. My cane. I stood up straight in the font’s shadow and projected my voice with all the confidence I could muster.

‘The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.’ Immediately I dropped back down to my hands and knees and scurried back the way I’d come, with the cane tucked into my shirt.

‘Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it was written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord,’ he roared again, his giant steps cracking the air as he strode back again to the main door.

Crawling and slithering as fast as I could down the side of the church across the stone floor, I kept my head down, determined to make as much time as possible to try the vestry door and get away again in case it was locked.

‘Lytle.’ Keeling’s voice was lower this time, smooth as silk, polished like a precious stone. ‘I have changed my mind, Lytle. I must inflict great pain on thee before I kill thee. I must make thee wriggle and squirm like a fish on a stick, like a cock with its eyes pecked out. So that thee may repent! Thou hath forsaken justice, neglected the opportunity of a noble trial. Now justice must show thee the error of thy ways. Ye must repent!’

I reached the vestry door, grasped the handle and slowly turned it. I pushed. To my delight the door opened, silently. Easing it open eighteen inches, I slowly got to my feet then squeezed through the gap, at the same time peering back into the darkness. Keeling was quiet now; there were no steps, no breathing, no shadow. I slipped into the vestry. The door that led out was bigger with a heavy lock. Running across the room I seized the handle with both hands. Locked! I cursed, a silent scream of anguish and rage. Closing my eyes, I let the anger wash over me like a wave before turning slowly back to the vestry. The same wooden crucifix on the wall, table and chairs. I turned to the door that led back into the church, suddenly sure that Keeling was behind it. I stepped backwards behind the table. The vestry door slowly opened. Taking the cane out of my shirt I held it before me with both hands.

‘Judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness, and according to mine integrity that is in me,’ Keeling said quietly as he entered. His eyes were narrowed, the sparkle of the luminous blue now subdued beneath a layer of thick sea-green ice. Drawing his hands up in front of him he steepled his fingers. ‘Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I judge between cattle and cattle, between the rams and the goats. I, even I, will judge between the fat cattle and between the lean cattle.’ Reaching into the deep folds of his voluminous black coat he pulled the knife out again, then kicked at the table with a heavy black boot.

Standing up straight I swung the cane about my head, catching Keeling a heavy blow to the side of the head as he walked forward. He staggered, his left hand clutching for support. He caught the back of a chair and fell forward onto it. The chair gave way and he fell onto both knees and I swung the stick again and hit him square across the back of his head, so hard that the stick broke. I stood panting, holding the top half of the stick in my right hand. Crouching, I heaved his body round. His eyes were half closed and his breathing was irregular. I pulled the folds of his coat apart, and started rifling through the pockets for a key. Both inner breast pockets were empty. Both side pockets were empty. I ran my hands up and down his body looking for more pockets, but couldn’t find any. Cursing, I turned to the main door. Just in time I turned back as Keeling lunged. Screaming in shock, I scrabbled backwards, kicking myself away from him. He stood, pushing himself up with his left hand, holding the knife steady with his right. The left side of his face was purple and swollen and he bared his teeth.