cockney bugger up there. They've done some nice porter, he says.' Black liquid flowed from the tap into a tasting cup. 'That hits the spot,' he said, smacking his lips.
'See?' Mallory said to Daniels. 'It isn't all bad. There are still plenty of little luxuries if you look carefully enough.'
They pulled up some old packing crates into a circle and settled down. Once they began to talk, Miller came alive, the gloom that had descended on him since the bishop's death gradually evaporating. He hung on every word the others said, joining in when he could, nodding his support, smiling so widely Mallory was convinced his face would ache the following day.
Over the course of three hours, they got through several bottles of wine while Gardener had made Herculean inroads into one of the casks. In his merriment, he appeared a different person, his laughter rich and constant, his eyes disappearing in crinkles every time he showed his humour. He would sit on his crate and rock backwards until the others were convinced he would fall off, but he always managed to catch himself with a jolt at the last moment.
They talked about music — Gardener loved the sixties sounds, Miller liked Slipknot and Marilyn Manson, Daniels preferred classical — about football (Daniels professed to know nothing about it), and TV, and radio (with Gardener wondering aloud what would be happening in The Archers right then), about food, and politics. And then, as they would have expected, they turned, in their cups, to their old lives, and the people who had meant much but were no longer with them. It wasn't maudlin in the slightest, just a fond remembrance of happier days, when problems existed without the stark simplicity of life or death.
Gardener spoke at length about his wife and a touring holiday they'd had in Scotland when they had finally reconciled themselves to never having children. 'We were sad, like, but in a way, it was like this big bloody weight was lifted overnight,' he mused. 'We could get on with life again, start enjoying things.'
Daniels discussed with unabashed joy the first trip he had made with his new partner, to the Greek Islands. 'He told me on the second night that he was giving up his flat so he could move near me, if that was what I wanted,' he said, with shining eyes. 'Can you believe that? Even at that stage he was prepared to sacrifice what he had. He knew… we both knew… instantly.'
Miller ventured a little information about his parents and his childhood in Swindon, but when he began to talk about the girlfriend who had abandoned him, he dried up and briefly turned gloomy again. But after a moment's silence, he piped up, unable to contain his emotion. 'I'm so glad I found you all,' he said. 'I've never had friends like you. You saved my life…' He looked to Mallory. '… you've taught me things, you've cheered me up. You've been like family… better than family. This is what life is all about, you know.' The honest swell of emotion brought tears to Miller's eyes and he blinked them away unselfconsciously. 'If it all goes bad from here, it's been worthwhile.'
'Don't talk so pissed-up,' Gardener chided gently, though it was obvious he was touched by Miller's comments.
Mallory was about to join in the teasing of Miller when a movement caught his eye deep in the heart of the shadows at the back of the cellar. He held up a warning hand and the others grew instantly alert. 'Who's there?' he called out.
His voice bounced off the arched ceiling and rustled around the casks. Nothing moved. Slowly, he stood up and drew his sword. The others followed suit, turning to face the back of the room.
As they stood alert, Miller suddenly shuddered. He looked around at the others with wide eyes. 'Did you feel that? Cold… as if someone rubbed against me…'
The hairs on the back of Mallory's neck stood erect; iron filings filled his mouth and the back of his throat. He could feel something… an invisible presence… moving around them.
'It's over there,' Daniels whispered, pointing to another part of the cellar.
'No, there.' Gardener nodded to the opposite side of the room.
'It's all over,' Mallory said.
Now they could see he was right: there was movement on every side just beyond the edge of the shadows. It seemed to Mallory that whatever was there wasn't quite in the world but rather a step removed, as if it were behind a veil trying to find a way through.
'Stand firm,' Gardener said, all trace of drunkenness gone from him.
'It's the ghosts,' Miller said in a hollow voice.
And once he said it, Mallory could see. The shadowy forms had the shape of men in long robes. They moved lethargically, roaming back and forth around the cellar's edge, seemingly oblivious to the knights. Pinpricks of green, the lamps of eyes, glowed with increasing force. They were coming closer.
'Bloody hell, let's get out of here,' Gardener hissed. They dropped their bottles and cups and ran up the steps, slamming the door behind them.
They stumbled out into the biting cold of the night, where they rested against the stone walls, taking deep, calming breaths.
'Bloody hell, that was spooky,' Gardener said.
'Did you feel it?' Daniels adjusted his eye-patch. 'They were coming for us. They wanted to-'
'Punish us,' Mallory completed. They all understood it on some level they couldn't explain.
Miller looked from one to the other, his eyes wide and white in the dark. 'I thought the demons couldn't get in here.'
Despite himself, Mallory gave Miller a reassuring pat on the back. 'Those things out there can't. These were different.'
'How?' Miller said desperately.
A brief flurry of snow stung Mallory's face; the weather was taking a turn for the worse. 'The things in there were wearing-'
'Habits and clerics' robes,' Daniels interrupted. 'They're our own.'
Miller looked even more shocked at this. 'But-'
'Who knows what the hell's going on around here?' Mallory said.
They shivered in silence until the wind died enough for them to hear the clamour of fighting just beyond the walls. The nightly attack was beginning to wind down.
'Let's take a look,' Mallory said.
As they neared the walls, they were surprised to see frantic activity. The guards were desperately setting up sheet metal, hammering in nails to hold it in place.
'What's going on?' Daniels called out.
One of the guards turned, anxiety gnawing at his features. 'Repairs. The wall started to buckle here.' They all knew why he looked so worried: that had never happened before.
'Either they're getting stronger or we're getting weaker,' Mallory said.
The guard turned back to his work, his voice echoing back to them. 'They nearly broke it down,' he said. 'They nearly got in here.'
Chapter Ten
'A fire takes on the aroma of whatever spice is thrown in it.'
The peal of bells at noon should have sounded joyful, yet it had an oddly leaden note to it as if it were heralding a warning instead of a celebration. The entire brotherhood, packed into the cathedral for the announcement, waited with a measure of hope. Mallory had already decided that what was to come was a foregone conclusion, though no one believed him. 'Stefan hasn't got enough experience in the Church,' Daniels said. 'They'll
