go for a continuity candidate, somebody with the weight of Cornelius.'

Mallory tried to explain that, as in all shifts of power, it would simply go to whoever wanted it badly enough. Daniels had countered that Stefan had professed he didn't want it at all — he was happy with his lot. Mallory praised him for a life untainted with cynicism — or reality. They agreed to differ.

The Church elders sat impassively in the quire, though Mallory thought he saw a hardness in some of their features that suggested which way the wind had blown.

It was Julian, the man who should have been Cornelius's anointed successor but who was probably too young and too pleasant, who made the announcement. 'The Chapter of Canons has deliberated long and hard over the last twenty-four hours. The choice of who should become our new bishop was never going to be easy.' His voice was strong, filling the vast structure. 'We took advice from some of the most learned and wisest members of our Church before reaching our decision. We considered the merits of many before coming to our conclusion. In the end, it was a harder decision than anyone dreamed, but it must be one that you all accept, for anything less than a united front could be the end of us.'

Mallory thought it interesting that he made this point so early in his speech.

Julian took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze fixed on the sunlight breaking through the stained-glass windows. 'There are some amongst you who probably feel we are rushing towards this with unseemly haste. Indeed, that was my own opinion. However, the case has been made that we are in a time of crisis… if not war… and that to leave the Church leaderless at this time would be an abdication of responsibility with potentially lethal results. This is a time when we must all pull together, for our own survival and for the survival of the Church. The case, too, was made that the strongest leadership will be necessary. Thoughtful debate and a desire to consider all sides is a peacetime luxury. I accept now that we need a clear vision, a brave heart and a strong stomach. An ability to call, perhaps, for sacrifices from us all. And who knows the importance of sacrifice better than we? Our Lord Jesus Christ died to redeem all mankind. Against that, the sacrifices demanded of us must seem petty. And so we shall stand firm, and do what is asked of us.'

He appeared at that moment to be talking to himself. He caught himself after a long pause and fixed his attention back on the rapt audience. 'The new bishop is well known to you, and I'm sure you're perfectiy aware of the qualities we saw in him.' He took a step to one side and made an awkward gesture that had more of the theatrical about it than any honest emotion. 'Our new bishop is Stefan.'

A ripple ran through the crowd, though whether it was appreciative or not was hard to tell. Mallory tried to catch Daniels' eye, but his friend pointedly avoided him.

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.

Вы читаете The Devil in green
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