Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

Stefan emerged from the wings with an air of studied gravitas. 'Thank you, Julian. I am truly humbled by the trust you have all placed in me, and I pray that I can find the strength to live up to expectations. This is not a position I wished for — I was content to serve in the role God had granted me — and certainly not in these terrible circumstances. But I will not shirk this calling. I will continue to serve God, and you, to the best of the abilities with which He has gifted me.' He continued to move his gaze across the congregation as if he were speaking to each one personally. 'There will be some changes… we need to be stronger if we are to avoid any more tragedies… but this is not the time to talk of them. The Chapter of Canons will convene shortiy to discuss the new rules I have planned and an announcement will be made soon. Now, let us join together in prayer for my predecessor, Cornelius, a devout man who provided many lessons for us all.'

As they bowed their heads, Daniels finally did look over. Mallory was surprised by what he saw in his face: it looked very much like fear.

The ceremony anointing Stefan had been stripped of pomp and ceremony under the circumstances and took less than an hour. Afterwards, Mallory and Gardener went to inspect the digging. Piles of soil lay all around, but the diggers had now hit the expected obstacle of the gravel that provided the solid foundation for the cathedral.

'They need to make it deep and wide enough to bring provisions in,' Gardener mused.

'And when they could have made it just wide enough for one man,' Mallory said.

Gardener eyed him suspiciously. 'You're not thinking of running out on us, are you?'

'With the way things have been going here, I can honestly say I'd rather be anywhere — even London.'

'You're just a soft Southern shit, Mallory,' Gardener deadpanned. 'The first bit of bloody hardship and you fall apart.'

'Well, I wasn't brought up wearing a horsehair shirt in a leaky hovel, you Northern bastard.'

Gardener fixed himself a roll-up.

'Where do you get that supply of tobacco from, anyway?' Mallory asked.

'Don't ask me that, and I won't ask you what you did before you got here.'

Mallory winced; was it that obvious? 'What do you think of the new boss, then?'

'Good choice, I reckon.'

'Yeah? Can't see it myself.'

'He's a tough bloke. That's what we need right now: somebody who can take control.'

'That's what they said in the Weimar Republic.'

Gardener inhaled the smoke deeply. 'Sometimes, Mallory, I think you're from another bloody planet.'

November advanced relentlessly. The nights were always bitter, the days harsher than anyone remembered from previous years. Winter threatened a furious assault.

Stefan quickly but cautiously exerted his control over the rule of the cathedral, though he did it with a smiling, always moderate face. The Inquisition was brought into the structure of authority alongside the knights, 'to root out seditious elements amongst the brothers' so Stefan said, although Mallory saw no sign of treason; most were too broken for that. Yet Stefan made no overt move to change the day-to-day governance of life in the cathedral. Instead, he preferred to make daily pronouncements filled with platitudes about how spirits were high, how the brethren had grown even more devout, how the Lord was with them in the face of adversity.

The hangover from Cornelius's death was strong, affecting the mood deeply so that everyone expected something worse to come. The supplies were also diminishing rapidly, the dishes becoming more imaginative to utilise the sparse range of vegetables remaining in the stores. They'd even started slaughtering the milk-producing cows; the sheep, pigs and chickens were already gone.

The detailed questioning of everyone in the cathedral regarding Cornelius's murder had continued unabated without any noticeable advances. There had been no further outbreaks of violence, but that did little to make anyone feel more secure.

Mallory, Miller, Daniels and Gardener had been kept under such a strict timetable that they had not found any opportunities to search for the killer anywhere beyond the very edges of the shadowy shifting zone. 'We've got to find some way to get in there — it's our responsibility,' Miller urged at every opportunity, until he was shouted down by the other three every time the first few words came from his lips. Eventually, Mallory, as their unelected leader, was convinced that he should talk to Hipgrave, who, though plainly unstable, had the same object in mind and could manipulate the work rotas. Mallory silently resolved to put it off until the last moment.

The tunnel progressed slowly, through several collapses, much to the annoyance of everyone who saw the short distance that had to be traversed; there were simply no engineers in the cathedral, and in such a precarious environment best guesses didn't work. The dismal mood was made worse by the sounds of music and gaiety that floated over the wall from the travellers' camp beyond.

And every night the hordes of hell attacked with a vigour that had not been evident at the onset, as if they sensed that their moment was coming. Their tactics had changed too: instead of a frontal assault, they would sometimes storm St Ann Gate in the east, or Harnham Gate in the south. Occasionally, they would disrupt the metal sheeting or bring cracks to stone that had stood firm for centuries, prompting frenzied repairs. For so long the brethren had felt secure in their fortress. Now fear was rising that it was only a matter of time before the beasts broke through.

*

Blaine summoned the knights on the morning of November the thirteenth. It was a bright day, the first warm one for weeks, and that helped raise spirits a little.

Since Stefan's coronation, the knights' commander had rarely been seen, locking himself away with Hipgrave and Roeser to discuss strategy before debating it with Stefan and Broderick, whose role as leader of the Inquisition had earned him a place at the new bishop's right hand. That morning, Blaine had the bright-eyed look of someone finally ready for vengeance. He strode to the front of the great hall with purpose and a spring in his step. Hipgrave and Roeser took up positions behind him and to either side.

'I'm sure all this waiting around getting beaten on has annoyed you as much as it has me.' He had a gleam in his eye and a faint, cruel smile on his lips. 'Well, you'll be pleased to know that period is now officially over. We're not scared, we're not weak. We're men… men of God… and now we're going to show that we can't be forced to cower, or hide. That we're not going to be overrun. It's time for us to stand up proudly and prove who we are.' He ground his teeth together so hard everyone on the front row heard it. 'Now we strike back.'

Hipgrave and Roeser disappeared to the back of the hall and returned with a long, low crate. They levered off the lid with a dagger, delved into the straw packing and removed two rifles, both of which looked like Second World War issue. Hipgrave handed one to Blaine who checked the loading mechanism and sighting.

'In the basement of the former regimental headquarters of the Royal Gloucestershire, Berkshire and Wiltshire Regiment, now part of the cathedral compound, there is a store of weapons and a limited supply of ammunition,' he said, still admiring the sighting. 'They're not exactly top of the range, but they still pack a pretty big punch.'

'Bastard didn't dish those out when we were riding into the danger zone,' Mallory hissed to Daniels.

'He was saving them for people who mattered,' Daniels replied wryly.

Blaine tossed the rifle back to Hipgrave who deposited it back in the box. 'For too long those devils have attacked us freely. They think we haven't got any teeth. Tonight we're going to show them that we have. Tonight we're going to make them scared of us, by hitting one of the most important, powerful demons out there. Prepare yourself for a tremendous victory. We gather on the rooftop at nineteen hundred hours precisely tomorrow night.'