Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

'Thanks for small bloody mercies,' Gardener muttered.

Mallory spotted a table on the far side of the room where all the diners sat in complete silence, intermittently praying and eating. He pointed it out to Daniels.

'Headbangers,' Daniels said, chewing slowly on a piece of potato. 'The price we pay for bringing all of the Lord's flock under one roof.'

'Leave them alone.' Gardener continued to tuck into his dinner with gusto.

'You would say that — you're one of them.' Daniels turned to Mallory. 'They're Born-Agains, or evangelicals or whatever it is they call themselves. They have a hardline view of the Lord's Word-'

'They stick to the text of the Gospel,' Gardener said, 'unlike some of the weak-willed people in here.'

'There are so many branches of the Church in here… sects — cults, even…' Daniels shook his head. 'Some of them, they're like a different religion. I don't know where they're coming from at all.'

'You don't have a monopoly on God's Word,' Gardener noted. 'It's open to different interpretations.'

Mallory stabbed a chunk of parsnip with his knife, then thought twice about eating it. He noticed Miller looking dreamily around the refectory. 'You're going to say this is like Disneyland for you, aren't you?' he said.

Miller grinned at how easily Mallory had read his thoughts. 'Well, it is a wonderful place. All these people… all this hope… and faith… under one roof. It's what I wanted to find. I just never really expected I would.' A shadow crossed his face.

'But?'

'It's a bit weird, too.' He looked guilty at this observation.

'You don't know the half of it.' Gardener had so much in his mouth that he spat a lump of mushed vegetables back on to the plate with his words.

Daniels shook his head wearily. 'I'm asking Blaine to include etiquette in his tiresome list of lessons to be taught.'

'There's been talk,' Gardener said. 'Some strange stuff happening around here.'

'Oh, here we go again.' Daniels rolled his eyes. 'Lights in the sky. Mysterious this and strange that. Usually reported by people who've had the Toronto Blessing one time too many.'

'You're a cynical bastard, Daniels, and no mistaking.' Gardener swallowed his mouthful and stifled a belch. 'See? Etiquette.'

'Heavenly,' Daniels replied. 'Which finishing school did you go to again?'

'What strange stuff?' Miller said.

Gardener leaned across the table conspiratorially. 'Ghosts, for one. And not just one. Some old bishop… Seth Ward, someone said… he was seen crossing the nave. One of the brothers saw a man's face pressed up against the windows in what used to be the old cafeteria… all hideous, like. A cowled figure in the cloisters…'

'I can't believe you fall for that nonsense!' Daniels said.

'How different is it from the manifestation of the Holy Spirit?' Gardener waved his fork in Daniels' face.

Daniels batted it away. 'Very different. It's not real for a start.'

'And there were lights, floating over the altar,' Gardener continued. 'Beeson heard voices when he was praying in the cathedral… calling to him, saying… worrying things.'

'What kind of things?' Daniels said.

'I don't know.'

'No, because it's a story, and a feeble one at that. They never have any detail. Just someone heard this, or someone saw that.'

'Don't believe it, then,' Gardener said with a shrug. 'See if I care.' He turned to Miller and Mallory. 'But the smart folk here think it's wise to keep your wits about you, and to stay away from the lonely places at night-'

'Has anyone been hurt yet?' Daniels asked.

'No.'

'Then why are you making out like it's the Amityville Horror? You're such an old woman, Gardener.'

Gardener smiled tightly at Miller and Mallory. 'You know what it's like out there in the world. And it's the same in here. Nothing's what it seems.'

Their conversation was disrupted by a commotion near the door. Diners peeled away to allow a small entourage to move slowly into the room. At its centre was the bishop, walking with the aid of a cane and the support of two attendants. Julian and Stefan followed behind. All eyes followed Cornelius's excruciating progress.

Daniels' brow furrowed. 'He normally eats in the palace.'

'He looks as if he hasn't got the strength to get across the room,' Mallory said.

'His legs are a bit shaky, but don't go underestimating him. He's sharp as a pin,' Gardener said.

'What are the others like?' Mallory's attention was fixed on Stefan.

Daniels pointed with a carrot impaled on his knife. 'Stefan's a bit of a cold fish. He used to be some businessman up in Manchester before he saw the light, I think. Julian's OK. A bit too quiet for me, thoughtful, you know, but he's got a very liberal view of life. He wasn't involved in the Church before the Fall, but they promoted him out of nowhere because he's brilliant, or so they say. Very learned about philosophy, comparative religion. I don't know if he was an academic, but he's a sharp guy, definitely.'

Cornelius made his way to a table not too far from the door, which was hastily vacated for him. His attendants lowered him into a chair while Stefan brought over a plate of food that he proffered with a formal bow.

'This is a show,' Mallory said quietly. 'A little spin-doctoring. To let the common man know the bishop is just an ordinary joe. He's not larging it in the palace. He can eat vegetable mush with the rest of the suckers.'

'Be respectful,' Miller hissed.

Mallory began to mop up his gravy with his bread while gently fantasising about pizza.

'And that is Gibson,' Daniels said, pointing to the last imposing figure in the group. He must have been twenty-five stone, with a comically jolly face that appeared to be permanently on the point of a guffaw. His cheeks were bright red, his hair tight grey curls; large silver-framed spectacles surrounded eyes fixed in a humorous squint.

'Don't tell me,' Mallory said, 'he's the Canon of the Pies.'

'The treasurer, actually. Looks after all the ornaments, vestments and gold plate tucked away in the vaults.' Daniels smiled as he ate. 'But he does oversee the kitchens as well.'

'So we're in their hands.' Mallory didn't attempt to hide his dismissive- ness.

'Them and their advisors,' Gardener said gruffly. 'There's a whole bunch of arse-kissers following them around, whispering in their ears. Keeping them informed, supposedly, because the top dogs don't have time to spend finding out what the rest of us are thinking. But the arse- kissers are guiding them, really. They're the power behind the throne.'

Daniels snorted. 'Oh, not that routine again! You're only upset because they're not whispering about you.'

'It's true. You've got to watch out who you're talking to round here. Everybody's got some sort of thing going on.'

'Thing?' Daniels shook his head and sighed.

'Come on, you know it's true,' Gardener said. 'This whole place is split down the middle. The modernisers think we should build on the state the Church had reached just before the change, make it acceptable to modern thinking. The traditionalists want a hardline approach. Everybody's plotting.'

'Well, as much as I'm enjoying your comedy double-act,' Mallory said, 'I don't think I can stare at these vegetables any more without gnawing on my own arm.'

'You should eat it up,' Gardener said, cleaning up the last of the gravy on his plate. 'You'll be desperate for it tomorrow when Blaine's got you scrambling over that assault course.'

'It's not as if you've got anywhere to go,' Daniels said. 'It's compline next, or had you forgotten? You'll soon get used to realising you have no time of your own.'

Mallory rocked back in his chair. 'You know, this place is just too much fun.'

Despite Mallory's disgruntlement, the atmosphere in the cathedral was deeply affecting. Outside, dusk had fallen, the darkness licking over a chilly landscape freed from electric lights. Inside, the stone walls basked in an ethereal golden glow from hundreds of candles. Incense and tallow smoke cocooned the worshippers who stood shoulder to shoulder along the nave and the quire. The plainsong rose up, filling the vast vault with a mesmerising, heady sound that reached deep into Mallory, tugging at emotions he barely thought he still had. It was a single voice made by hundreds of people, simple and pure yet powerful on so many levels. Mallory glanced over at Miller to see tears streaming down his cheeks.