“But before you go we have decided youmust be initiated, to guarantee your loyalty.”
Beryl forced him put on a long whiterobe. She took him by the hand and led him into the Great Hall, where he sawtwenty people, also wearing robes, standing in a circle. He didn’t know any ofthem and they unnerved him with the way they stared at him, smiling serenely.There were red candles in gold candelabras and a huge crucifix chalked on thestone floor. Bill asked Beryl what was going on but she simply smiled andguided him to the centre of the circle. He was handed a bible and was made tospeak a pledge…
We are God’s holy flaming sword,
that strikes down evil in any form –
be it child or mother or babe in arms.
We are prepared to die to fight evil.
We are prepared to kill to fight evil.
This is God’s will, our Heavenlysalvation.
When it was over a delighted Berylsaid he was now a member of the Apostles, a very solemn society. “You’re one ofus now.”
“But what does it mean?”
“You are now bound by sacred rite tohonour it at all costs. One thing remains, the mark of our order.”
Bill was guided over into the cornerof the Great Hall, where an old woman laid him down on a chesterfield.
“Hold out your arm dearie,” she said.
She had ink and a needle, and gavehim a painful tattoo. It was the strangest and most scary night of Bill’s life.
*
Nextmorning Bill found himself sitting in the back of the family’s black 1930’sRolls Royce, gazing out of the window and watching trees give way to tiny stonehouses as he entered Underwood. The village was so old it still had remnants ofits pagan past – the stone circle at North Down, the tall Celtic cross outsidethe church, and the grotesque gargoyle faces engraved in some of the olderhouses to ward off evil spirits. Bill was glad to be leaving the Manor, butvery apprehensive of where he was being sent and what he was expected to do.
The Rolls drove up Market Street andpassed the Unicorn – the village’s crooked, weather-beaten old pub. Theyentered the village square and drove around the maypole, then came to a halthalfway up a cobbled side street. Bill had managed to convince Beryl to call atArthur's house – his friend was also going off to university and Beryl hadagreed to give him a lift.
Mordred, acting as chauffeur, let Billout and he went up the path and rang the bell at a crumbling three-storey placefestooned with ivy – Arthur’s family lived above the veterinary surgery. Billwaited until Arthur’s mother opened the door – a plumpish woman in a floraldress with a shock of curly hair.
“It’s time Mrs. Small. Is Arthurready?”
“I’m all of a dither, Bill. Hewouldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t find any clean socks. He’s taking an agedressing and hasn’t finished packing. But by God I’m going to miss the littleblighter.”
Mrs. Small let Bill in and they wentthrough a tiled hallway and into a kitchen full of hanging pans and a longwooden table. There were dishes piled in the sink and a steaming brass kettle.Arthur’s gangly older brothers, Davy and Jimmy, were sitting at the tabledevouring bowls of porridge and pouring over a Haynes manual for a NortonCommando motorbike. His younger sister Rosie, wearing a school uniform, wassitting at the other side eating toast.
“How do,” they all said in unison.
“Hello,” said Bill as a couple of dogsbrushed past his leg. He noticed a trio of cats, watching him from one of thechairs.
Arthur appeared as if from nowhere, carryinga battered brown suitcase.
“Now you be good and make sure youtelephone every night,” said Mrs. Small in a maternal voice. She handed Arthura tartan thermos flask and a hefty pack of sandwiches.
They went out into the hall and Arthurpicked up a portable record player and a bag of books. “Don’t fuss mother,” hesaid, pecking her on the cheek.
The boys stepped outside and walkedtowards the Rolls, with Mrs. Small calling after them, reminding them to cleantheir teeth.
“What are you wearing?” said Arthurto Bill. “You need to be rockin’ a hip look if you want to impress thesesophisticated uni chicks. Check out this little number.”
Arthur waved a lower leg to show offthe flapping action on his bell-bottom jeans and opened his denim jacket toreveal a shirt so floral it looked like someone had thrown up on it. There wasa strong whiff of his dad’s highly pungent aftershave.
Arthur considered himself to be thehippest and most progressive lad in Underwood, which wasn’t that difficult whenits entire population of young people consisted of yokel sons and rosy cheekeddaughters of crustily eccentric farmers. Arthur had grown up with them all in asort of hay making, strawberry picking, dancing round the maypole kind ofchildhood. He’d met Bill at the village fête, where he was helping his dad withthe sheep show, and didn’t realise he was the son of the weird woman who livedup at the big house. Nobody knew she even had a son.
“You know I don’t go in for thatmodern look,” replied Bill, glad to be talking to someone he felt he couldrelax with. “Victorian dandy about town, that’s me.”
Bill’s choice of clothes was what hefound in his wardrobe, he had no recollection of ever buying any. He waswearing a brown corduroy smoking jacket with a white shirt and paisley cravat.His thin brown hair was shoulder length and his thick black rimmed glassesseemed far too big for his small freckled face.
Arthur shrugged and grinned, hissoup-stain moustache and wispy mutton chops just about visible in the brightautumnal sunlight.
They got into the back of the Rollsand Mordred closed the door behind them, his lip curling after catching a whiffof Arthur’s aftershave.
As the car glided off Arthur felt veryexcited, but Bill was filled with trepidation.
“I can’t believe I’m actually gettingaway from that horrible place,” said Bill. “But what’s the city going to belike? Miss Spital said I’m brilliant at Latin and mathematics, I just seem toknow that… but all that other stuff you told me about? Everyone watched
