Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

The study of the bishop's palace had the sumptuous feel of a Victorian gentleman's club: burnished leather high-backed chairs, books, dark wood panelling, Persian carpet, stone fireplace. It was a world away from the cold quarters the brethren endured. For many years it had been the cathedral school, but it had recently been reclaimed as a haven for the bishop from the privations experienced throughout the compound.

Mallory had spent a good half-hour convincing the ancillary staff to allow him a few minutes with Julian, whom he then had to convince to allow him in to see Cornelius. Julian looked tired and distracted, but he was receptive to anything that might get them out of their current predicament. He had told Mallory to wait and he would be granted an audience once Cornelius was strong enough. That had been three hours ago.

The opening of the door suggested that the time had finally come, but it was only Blaine. Mallory instantly fell on the defensive. Blaine was sphinxlike, didn't even acknowledge Mallory, but the moment the ancillary left, his inscrutability vanished. 'What do you think you're doing?' His voice was like stone. Mallory began to reply, but Blaine talked over him. 'There's a chain of command here. You don't go bothering your betters with your half-baked ideas' The word was a sneer. 'You come to me, and then I can tell you how much bollocks it is. Don't waste your time thinking — that's not what you're here for.' Implicit threat filled every action. 'Your trouble, Mallory, is you think you're better than anyone here. You're not. Nobody cares what you think.' Blaine took a step forwards, and Mallory had a sudden image of a Belfast backstreet, broken bottles and last orders.

The door opened and Julian breezed in, a little fresher, even managing a smile. 'The bishop is ready for you now,' he said.

Julian led them up imposing stone stairs to Cornelius's bedroom. The heavy drapes were drawn and it was oppressively warm despite the time of year: a fire blazed in the grate and candles flickered everywhere. The aroma of burning logs barely covered the atmosphere of sickness.

Cornelius was propped up in a large four-poster bed, his frame unbearably thin and fragile against the piles of cushions and brocade bedspread. He forced a weak smile in greeting and shakily beckoned for Mallory to come closer.

Only then did Mallory realise they were not alone. Stefan stood to one side, smiling insincerely, hands clasped in front of him in an attempt to appear penitent. 'I took the liberty of inviting your commander-in-chief here,' he said to Mallory. 'I thought it only right you receive due recognition for your actions.'

Every time Mallory saw Stefan, he liked him less, but at that moment he felt there was something unduly sinister about the chancellor. Mallory looked to Julian who shifted uneasily. 'I felt any suggestions should be heard by the Chapter of Canons,' Julian said. 'Stefan felt that would take too long to arrange, and that we here could easily assay its worth and decide if it should be taken forwards.'

'Tell us what you think, my son,' Cornelius said so weakly that Mallory could barely hear him.

'A tunnel-'

'Is that it? We've already thrown that idea out,' Blaine said contemptuously. 'We haven't got the time or the facilities to dig a tunnel the length we would need to get to safety. If we go short, those things will be waiting to pick us off when we come up. And you try coming up under concrete and Tarmac when you haven't got power tools. If we go west we hit the river. We could never get under that.'

Mallory allowed him to say his piece and then continued as if he hadn't spoken. 'A tunnel under the wall into the camp to the north-west. It would be easy to dig. We wouldn't have to go under any water.'

'Haven't you been listening-' Blaine began, but Stefan silenced him with a raised hand.

'Why that particular spot?' he said curiously.

'Because it's protected.'

This intrigued Stefan greatly. 'Protected? In what way?'

'In the same way that the cathedral and its grounds are protected.'

'The cathedral is protected because of the Glory of God,' Stefan said.

Mallory sensed the traps lining up before him. His position was already weak; he couldn't risk offending anyone. And the way Blaine had acted earlier, he felt there was more than his reputation at stake. 'It seems, from what I've heard-'

'Where?' Stefan interrupted.

'Here and there.' Mallory fixed his gaze on Stefan's and refused to break it. 'That the strength of our belief… our faith… has… empowered the land so those things can't come on it. It's the same in the camp.' 'They have accepted the Lord into their lives?' Stefan plainly knew otherwise.

'They have very strong beliefs.'

'They are Christians?' Stefan's gaze didn't waver.

'No. They're a mixed bunch.' He paused, but it was obvious Stefan wasn't going to let him get away with skirting over the issue. 'Some nature- lovers. Probably… Odinists. Wiccans. Druids, maybe-'

'Pagans?' Stefan raised his eyes to look at the ceiling. 'What you are saying sounds very much like blasphemy.'

'Oh, for God's sake!' Julian snapped. 'Does it matter who they are? If it provides us with a way out of this mess we're in, then we should go for it.'

'I think the chancellor doesn't believe in equality of worship,' Mallory noted, with a little more acid than he'd intended.

'We are at war, Mr Mallory,' Stefan replied, 'for the very future of Christianity itself. We cannot afford insipid liberalism. Woolly ideas that appeared to work when times were good do not hold now.'

'You believe the future of Christianity should starve rather than allow contact with the corrupt?' Mallory said.

'Of course not.' Stefan moved his hands behind his back. 'You are sure this camp is protected?'

'Yes.'

'You have been there yourself?'

'I have.'

Stefan nodded thoughtfully; Mallory felt there was a wealth of unspoken comment in that simple movement. Stefan turned to Cornelius, bowing his head deferentially. 'I feel this is a matter we should discuss in private, your Grace,' he said. His body language suggested Mallory had not only been forgotten, he had already been dismissed.

'We can't test what he says,' Julian said. 'We should just do it. What other options do we have? We need to start digging immediately.'

Stefan smiled coldly. 'In private,' he repeated.

Blaine caught Mallory's eye and nodded sharply towards the exit. As Mallory left, the door closed firmly behind him.

The light was already starting to fade as Mallory made his way across the lawned area of peaceful walks and sheltering trees now enclosed by the transformed cathedral buildings. The air was cool and damp and fragrant with nature, and the garden would undoubtedly have felt tranquil if not for Mallory's growing awareness of troubling events developing just beyond his perception.

He found Daniels sitting on a bench with a young man who appeared to be hanging on Daniels' every word. The brother was in his late teens, with an open, good-looking face and long brown hair that framed it in such a way that he appeared almost angelic. Daniels was telling some tale in a voluble, entertaining way, and they were both engrossed, as much with each other as with the story. From their body language, half-turned towards each other, Daniels' arm stretching out along the back of the bench, it was clear there was an attraction between them.

Daniels spotted Mallory and called him over with a wave. 'Mallory, meet Lewis. He has this misguided belief that our leaders know what they're doing.' Lewis smiled bashfully.

'Don't spoil him with your cynicism, Daniels.' Mallory slumped on to the bench next to them.

'They established the knights,' Lewis said shyly. 'That was a stroke of genius. All the brothers know you're going to be our saviours.'