The Devil in Green (13 page)

BOOK: The Devil in Green

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'Don't bother asking questions, Mallory. You'll soon find that no one
tells you anything here.'

The refectory was a long, narrow barn with a high roof and open beams
permeated by the smell of new wood. They picked up trays and cutlery
before passing by tables at one end where the kitchen staff loaded up
plastic plates with a stew of carrots, potatoes, parsnips and oatmeal, bread
and a small lump of cheese.

'No meat?' Mallory protested.

'Once a week,' Daniels said, 'They're keeping a tight rein on supplies.
Just in case.'

'In case of what?'

Daniels shrugged.

They sat together at the end of a long trestle table reserved for the
knights, away to one side. On the other tables, about a hundred and fifty
people packed into the first sitting, their freedom from the day's chores
making their conversation animated. Gardener joined them soon after,
taking a seat opposite Mallory with a gruff silence.

'What did you do in the old days, Gardener?' Miller asked chirpily.

'Binman.' Gardener stuffed an enormous mound of vegetables into his
mouth. 'And I tell you,' he mumbled, 'this is better than having your hands
covered in maggots and shit every morning.'

'I don't want to hear about your sex life, Gardener,' Daniels said.

'I hear the Blues headed off hell for leather at noon,' Gardener
continued. 'Don't know what got them all fired up, but Blaine had a face
that could curdle cream. And Hipgrave was pissed off because Blaine
didn't send him out as leader. Again.'

'He is
so
desperate,' Daniels said.

'You know what he did this morning—' Gardener cut off his sour
comment when he spotted Hipgrave heading across the room with his
tray. The captain had lost his sneer and appeared uncomfortable in the
crowd. He hesitated briefly when he noticed Gardener and the others
watching him and then veered off his path to another table so he wouldn't
have to sit near them.

'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.