moment, then insisted it be opened. The guards were reluctant, but they eventually agreed to open the gates a crack so that whoever was outside could slip inside.
The visitor wore the black vest of a cleric and was shivering from the cold. He appeared so weak that he could barely stand, and his eyes had the glaze of the bone-weary or drugged.
Concerned, James grabbed the cleric's arm to lead him closer to a brazier that the guards used to warm themselves. The visitor's gait was slow and laboured, and even in the firelight his eyes didn't lose their dead expression. Intrigued, Mallory slipped as close as he could without being seen.
'-you sure?' James was asking.
'Near Stonehenge.' The cleric sounded as if he was talking through depths of water.
James motioned to two of the guards to support the cleric, and then the four of them disappeared in the direction of the cathedral.
The summoning came at around eleven p.m. when Hipgrave appeared at the door, as bright and smart as if it were the middle of the day. 'The operations room. Now,' he barked. He disappeared swiftly, expecting mockery.
The operations room was a grand name for a room that contained only a wall map of the local area, a pile of useless phone directories and a few chairs and a table. Blaine and Hipgrave were talking intensely near the window when the others entered. Hipgrave motioned for the new arrivals to take seats.
Blaine took up position near the map and surveyed them all carefully. 'I hope you're ready for your first mission,' he said in a manner that suggested he didn't think they were ready at all.
Mallory watched Blaine's face carefully, controlling the flame of his anger.
'Earlier this evening we received a visitor, a vicar from a parish in Norfolk,' Blaine continued. 'He'd been travelling to join us here with a companion, another vicar from an adjoining parish. With the way things are, it was remarkable they got more than ten miles from home. As it was, they reached Salisbury Plain. Nearly made it.' He shook his head grimly.
'What happened?' Miller asked.
'Can't get much sense out of the one who turned up here. Shock, I suppose. Something attacked them on Salisbury Plain, not far from Stonehenge.' He pointed to the map. 'Here. He ran for his life, and I don't blame him. The other poor bastard scrambled as well — his name's Eric Gregory. Our man thinks he saw his friend get away, but he didn't hang around to find out what happened, understandably.'
'You want us to bring the other one back.' Daniels scanned the vast area of empty space on the map that signified Salisbury Plain. They were all thinking the same thing: it wasn't the fact that they'd be looking for a needle in a haystack, it was the prospect of what might be lying in wait out there in that liminal zone free of human life.
Back in the barracks, they lay on their bunks staring up into the dark. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, but there was also a positive feeling that at last they were being given the chance to do something good. Only Mallory lacked any enthusiasm.
'Do you think we're up to it?' Miller asked.
'It doesn't take much to be up to a suicide mission,' Mallory said.
'You're a bundle of laughs, Mallory,' Gardener growled.
The joke had been too close to the truth. They all fell silent then, dwelling on thoughts too powerful to voice. Sleep did not come easily.
They were woken before dawn by Hipgrave, who would be leading the expedition. None of them were wholly pleased at that, particularly Mallory who had already marked the captain as someone operating well beyond his capabilities, who knew it and whose desperation to be equal to the post only caused further problems.
The morning was bitterly cold with a sharp wind sweeping down into the compound from the Plain. Frost glistened on the rooftops of the huts and turned the cathedral building into silver and gold from the conflicting illumination of moonlight and torch. They stamped their feet and clapped their hands while Gardener furtively smoked a roll-up from some mysterious stash of tobacco that never seemed to diminish.
Eventually, they were led into the quartermaster's store where they were kitted out with thick hooded black cloaks woven by the brethren themselves, backpacks containing basic supplies (the rest of their needs were expected to be scavenged for on the way, as they had been taught in their survival classes) and, most importantly, a sword. These had all been retrieved from the museum's store and from a vast armoury at the Museum of the Duke of Edinburgh's Royal Berkshire and Wiltshire Regiment, which also lay within the compound.
The swords had all seen use in past conflicts, but the craftsmanship was expert, the balance perfect, the steel flawless. 'Recognise this honour,' Hipgrave said as he handed them out. 'As knights, these will stay with you till you die. Your sword will be as vital to you as your right arm. Treat it that way. Look after it, sleep with it, lavish it with love and it'll look after you.'
'I prefer my bed partners a little less skinny and a little less sharp,' Mallory said. 'Though there was this model once…'
Hipgrave fixed him with a cold eye. While the others fastened their scabbards across their backs for easy use while riding, he dragged Mallory over to one side. 'I'll be watching you,' he said, 'especially now you're armed. One wrong move…'
'And what? You'll stab me in the back in front of all the others?'
Hipgrave couldn't control an unsure flickering of his eyes. Mallory laughed and joined the rest.
The horses were brought out from the stables at the back of the museum, all well fed and watered and ready for what could turn out to be a long journey. Three of them had two-man tents strapped to their backs.
After they had mounted, Hipgrave held up his hand for silence before saying a short prayer. He called for strength and courage in the face of the unknown, and for a safe return. Even Mallory found he couldn't argue with that.
They'd been locked behind the gates for so long that they would have felt uneasy even if they didn't have to venture into one of die most dangerous parts of the country. Blaine waited at the gates as they rode out, his hands behind his back, his face emotionless. He didn't wish them luck. Mallory had the feeling he didn't really care if they came back or not.
Chapter Five
'Even if you travel everywhere you will not find the limits of the soul, so great is its nature.'
Darkness lay across the city like the breathing of a sleeping child. Their horses' measured hoofbeats clattered with a lonely beat on the flagstones as they made their way down the High Street. Away to their left, the lanterns of the travellers' camp spoke of comfort and friendship, food, drink and music: life. Mallory peered through gaps in the buildings to the tents in the hope that he might see someone awake. Miller caught him looking and flashed a knowing smile.
They watched the dark windows carefully, eyed every shadowy doorway and alley. The Devil was afoot, and now they were in his territory.
'It's better like this,' Gardener said. He already had his hood pulled over his head so all that was visible was the red glow of his roll-up.
'It's freezing, it's night-time and we're heading for the next thing to hell,' Daniels said gloomily. 'I don't think better is the right word.'
'I didn't mean that.' Gardener's smoke mingled with the cloud of his breath. 'I mean this.' He gestured to the wider city. 'No cars. No pollution. No bloody politicians or McDonalds or multi-bloody-national companies only interested in cash. Just peace, nature. Like God intended.'
