Sarwat Chadda: Devil’s Kiss

‘No, you’re not,’ answered Arthur. He raised his arms up as Elaine checked his bandages. He looked ghost-pale and gaunt, but he was Master and would lead the Templars. He beckoned Pelleas over, who had a heavy steel mail hauberk slung over his shoulder. Arthur wrapped a padded silk tunic round his chest, knotting short red bows under his left side.

‘Gwaine will take Bors and lead the feint. I’ll take the others and spearhead.’ Pelleas lifted the hauberk over Arthur’s head like a jumper. Leather cords ran down from the nape to the mid-shoulder blades. Pelleas knotted them while Arthur loosened the neck-opening.

Gwaine. She couldn’t believe it.

‘You’ll give that to Gwaine?’

‘He’s Seneschal. Why shouldn’t I?’

Billi leaned closer and whispered. ‘Dad, after what he did? He betrayed you.’

Arthur’s eyes met Pelleas’s as he bound his Master’s waist with a broad leather sword belt. ‘The Seneschal has my full trust.’ But the words didn’t reflect the icy, sullen stare that crossed the armoury to where Gwaine sat, fixing the bindings to his battle axe. It wasn’t over between him and Gwaine, but it would wait.

Arthur rolled his shoulders and settled into his armour. ‘How do I look?’

The thousands of polished mail links glittered in the low light. It was short, ending just below the hips, infantry style. The cuffs and neck opening were lined with leather and Arthur wore a pair of black combat trousers and shin-high stout hiking boots. He took a heavy sword with a plain cross-guard and iron walnut pommel. The meaty blade wasn’t long and it looked more like a machete than the elegant blade of a knight, but Billi knew it wouldn’t blunt easily, could deliver awful wounds and was her dad through and through. Sharp and brutal. He slipped it into a scabbard on his left hip. On the right was a pair of narrow-bladed fifteenth century Milanese stiletto knives.

‘Dressed to kill,’ Billi croaked.

Billi glanced around the armoury. Elaine wandered around the dimly lit catacomb, mouth open. She stared at the collections of bones in the alcoves, the weapons and armour. She tested the weight of a sword, and her face swelled red with the effort.

All Templars could fight with any style of weapon, but each had a favourite. Gwaine with his axe, a modified fireman’s tool, steel-hafted and just as useful for smashing as chopping. Gareth strummed the tight bowstring of his composite bow like a lyre, then ran his palm softly over the black eagle fletching of his arrows. Bors: a pair of short swords strapped across his back. Father Balin sat under a table lamp, carefully scrubbing off any dust or grit from the flanges of his mace with a toothbrush. Finally Pelleas, the classic duellist: rapier and main gauche. He stood in the centre of the armoury floor, eyes closed, slowly reaching down to his toes, stretching his back. His thin black leather gloves were tucked into his belt.

The Templars were ready for battle.

‘What about me?’ Billi said. It was a thought spoken out loud. She hadn’t meant anyone to hear it, but Arthur had. He put his weapon down and walked over. He sighed and crouched down next to her. ‘Listen, Billi. You’re to stay here, with Elaine.’

‘You’re taking Father Balin and not me? He can barely lift that mace.’

Arthur looked over at the old priest. She knew she was right; he was knocking on seventy, and he hadn’t been much of a warrior to begin with. She could see her dad didn’t like it either.

‘Balin’s made his choice.’

‘But how are you going to beat the Watchers?’

‘They’ve just arrived, so won’t be at full strength. We’ll strike hard and fast. Maximum damage in minimum time.’

‘What about Michael?’

Arthur’s hand tightened round his sword hilt. ‘I’ve beaten him once already.’

‘But, Dad, that was then. Now he’s drawn down all his angelic powers. He can’t be beaten.’

Arthur turned to her and hissed through gritted teeth. ‘So we don’t even try?’ He leaned on the table, his head bowed. ‘What else can we do but fight?’

‘Even when it’s hopeless?’

‘Especially when it’s hopeless.’

‘Why, Dad?’

Then he smiled. The sudden warmth took Billi by surprise. ‘Deus vult.’ He took hold of her hand. His palm was coarse and hard from years of handling heavy weapons; thick callouses lined his thumb and fingers. Billi had a few like that too. ‘Billi, I’ve ruined enough of both our lives believing in Kay’s prediction. All those years I’ve not been able to tell you how I felt, just to make you strong. You can’t imagine the fear I’ve lived with.’ He kissed her forehead. His lips rested against it and Billi felt tears drop, slowly trickle, down off his cheeks and on to hers. ‘You’re my life, Billi. I can’t live without you.’

He stood back and looked at her. Not like a Master would his knight, but as a father would his daughter. Arthur’s eyes gleamed.

‘Billi, I’m so proud of you. I always have been.’

Gwaine stood discreetly nearby, Arthur’s leather jacket over his arm. ‘We’re ready, Art.’

Arthur wiped his eyes. He took the jacket from Gwaine and pulled it on. Billi stood up as the other knights gathered by the door.

‘Where to, sir?’ asked Bors.

Arthur looked towards Billi, his eyebrows raised.

Where else would he be? Michael had as good as told her.

I will watch the world reborn. From up on high.

‘ Elysium Heights.’

Elaine brought Billi a bowl of soup. Steam rose out of the tin pot and she sprinkled some coriander over it before handing it to her.

‘I’m sorry about Kay,’ said the old woman, taking the seat beside Billi. She put her bony fingers on Billi’s hand and she felt the old woman’s sadness as they trembled with suppressed emotion. Elaine had loved Kay too.

Billi closed her eyes. The hot soup was making them water and she didn’t want Elaine to think she was crying.

Kay.

He’d only just come back and now he was gone. There was a black hole deep in her and Billi stood at the edge of it. She was frightened to look down in case it took her forever, but that hole was made the moment Kay had left. She loved him. She’d spent a year alone and now that would be forever. She looked up at Elaine who just nodded.

‘He was a valiant knight,’ she said.

They found some camp beds and old blankets so Billi and Elaine set them up in the corner of the armoury. Elaine shifted uneasily under her covers.

‘Don’t like sleeping with the dead,’ she said, jutting her chin out at the pile of bones sitting nearby.

‘I doubt even your snoring will wake them.’

Billi wrapped the blankets around her and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long, but Elaine’s snorting snore soon filled the darkness. It rebounded off the close walls until it seemed to be coming from all directions. Despite her exhaustion, Billi couldn’t sleep. Sharp knives prodded between her bones and one moment her body shivered, and the next it was dripping with sweat. No matter how much she drank, she was constantly thirsty. And the buzzing…

The noise of the flies echoed in the dark chamber. She couldn’t see them any more, but she cringed at the idea that they were crawling over her. Billi lifted her blanket over her, pulling it tight. Maybe they couldn’t get her down here. She turned this way and that, until eventually she sank into sleep.

Kay.

Images rolled in her dreams, the flames bursting from the apartment, Michael crushed under the sofa and Kay. The way he’d smiled at the world.

Kay.

She missed him. Missed him more than she’d thought she would. That hole grew inside her.

I’m here, Billi.

They’d kissed. She’d never kissed anyone before.