'The more important books are less well known,' James continued. 'Within, there are sacred texts the outside world has never been allowed to see since the cathedral was established. Indeed, part of its reason for existing was as guardian and protector of old truths — or lies, depending on your point of view.'
'Surely the great Church wasn't afraid of a few words on paper?' Mallory said. 'Or was it that these things were too dangerous for the common man to find out?'
James laughed quietly. 'I'm just a lowly member here. But I've heard it said that the potency arises not from any individual volume, each of which presents one particular view, but in the totality. Each is a fragment that together reveal a large secret.'
Miller appeared troubled at this. 'Religious secrets?' he asked anxiously.
'Not wholly,' James replied. 'The library also contains a collection of the earliest scientific, mathematical and medical books, including William Harvey's De Motu Cordis, which identified the circulation of the blood for the first time. They were bequeathed by Seth Ward, who became bishop in 1667. But before that he'd been Professor of Astronomy at Oxford and a founding member of the Royal Society.'
'I thought scientists and the religious were always at each other's throats,' Mallory said.
'Apparently not in the old days.' James' smile was enigmatic.
At the top of the stairs they were confronted by two men installing large locks in the door that led to the library; through the opening they could see the stacks of ancient books and smell the warm atmosphere of dusty paper. The workers were being overseen by a man in his late fifties, overweight beneath his black robes, with a balding pate and a goatee beard. His eyes were dark and piercing and instantly fell on the new faces.
'Good morning, Stefan,' James said brightly. 'What have we here?'
'The library is now off limits, on the orders of the bishop.' Stefan tried to return James' smile, but it was an awkward attempt that looked out of place on his face. The shadows under his eyes suggested a saturnine nature, and he quickly returned to a gloomy countenance.
'Oh?' James said, puzzled. 'I can't understand that. The library is a vital resource for everyone here.'
'Nevertheless, the decision has been made. Requests for specific books can be presented to the librarian who will put them to the new library committee for consideration.'
'That sounds like an unwieldy process. How often does the committee meet?'
'We haven't yet reached agreement on all the details, but as chairman of the committee I will certainly do my best to expedite matters.'
James nodded and smiled, but as he moved Mallory and Miller on, he was plainly uncomfortable with what he had heard.
'Looks as if your back-to-basics approach is gathering speed.' Mallory couldn't resist prodding. 'What next — services in Latin?'
'I think I'll raise this with the bishop myself,' James said. 'Those books are so important in these days when knowledge is at a premium. The people here need-' He waved a hand to dismiss his thoughts, though they obviously lay heavily on him.
'Stefan's another big-shot?' Mallory said.
'He's the chancellor. He looks after the education of everyone here. Like all the Principal Persons, he was instrumental in bringing the Church to Salisbury.'
As they exited the cathedral, it was as if some tremendous gravity was reluctantly releasing them. Outside, there was an ethereal quality to the bright morning sunlight. James took them into the sprawling mass of houses, now fully alive with men of all ages cutting wood, feeding cattle and chickens and cleaning out pigsties. 'This is where we house all those who have come to us since we established our new base,' James noted. 'As you can see, we've just about reached the limits of occupation. Quite what we're going to do from here is open to debate, though we are loathe to allow our own to live beyond the walls for fear of victimisation.'
'Is there much of that?' Miller asked apprehensively.
'Not a great deal, though there have been several severe incidents. There are some that see us as a threat, others who feel our time is done. In the light of all that has happened, it appears everyone has their own peculiar belief system to try to make sense of the upheaval. I think they feel let down by the Church because we did not explain the events, or care for them in their hour of need, or simply because they feel what we offer has no relevance to the difficult times we all live in. What need a hidden, mysterious God when solid, physical gods have walked amongst us? Obviously the answers to that question are easy for us to voice, but who has the time or inclination for theological argument? The only way we can win them back is by playing a long game, by letting the Word filter out organically. And that is where the knights come into the equation.'
Finally, James took them to an area at the rear of the former Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum where the knights were sequestered. Several men were learning the art of sword-fighting, while others attacked scarecrows with halberds. All faces were intense and deeply introspective, the movements fluid and powerful. Distinctive uniforms marked them out: black shirts bearing the Templar cross in red against a white square on the breast and right shoulder, hard-wearing black trousers, heavy-duty boots and black belts.
There was another cadre of knights removed from the core group who duelled with each other with a frightening ferocity, at times lithe, then vicious, their speed and dazzling turns and dives revealing skills that set them apart. Their uniforms were also slightly different, with a blue stripe gleaming on the left shoulder.
The commander stood off to one side, watching the activity, his authority apparent in his rigid bearing. Up close, Blaine had a face that registered such little emotion that at times he resembled a wax dummy. He was in his mid-forties, his black hair badly dyed. Hard muscles filled out a uniform carrying the red Templar cross more prominently on the front. His heavy brows cast a shadow around his eyes so that he appeared on the verge of sickness, yet there was a street-hardness about him that gave a commanding presence.
He remained impassive when James introduced him as Blaine. 'It won't be a free ride here,' he said, with a Belfast accent. 'We had a couple in who thought they'd get fed and watered without having to give anything back. They didn't last the week.'
'We'll do what's expected of us,' Mallory said.
'You see that you do… if you want to stay here. You're getting a shot at something people would give their right arm for. There's not much of value out there anymore. But in the next few years you'll see that being a knight will be a mark of respect. The country will come to love you. But you have to earn it.'
'What do we need to do?' Miller asked. The knights had adopted a routine akin to tai chi, with measured, graceful movements, the weapons whipping rapidly around their bodies a hair's-breadth from causing them harm. Their movements looked easy yet unbelievably difficult at the same time. 'How long did it take them to learn that?' Miller continued, agog.
Blaine's gaze flickered lazily towards James. 'You're sure you want to give them a shot?'
'I always go on first impressions. Besides, if we are here for anything, it is to offer hope, to take in those who come to us… for whatever reason… and give them a chance.'
Blaine grunted in a way that implied his complete disagreement with everything James had said, yet without seeming the slightest bit disrespectful. He turned back to Miller. 'You'll get full training. It'll be hard, and fast. We need men out there quickly. I warn you, a lot aren't up to it. We need to get you to the peak of physical fitness. You have to learn how to use weapons you've probably only seen in museums. You've got to learn skills — medicine, astronomy, herbalism, cookery-'
'And don't forget the spiritual guidance,' James said, with a smile.
'And you'll need to know the Good Book back to front,' Blaine continued without missing a beat. 'The poor…' He fumbled for an acceptable word.'… people out there will be looking to you for guidance. They don't want you telling them that Thou Shalt Not Pick Your Nose is one of the Ten Commandments.'
'Don't worry,' Mallory said. 'We'll make sure they don't covet any oxen.'
Blaine laid his gaze heavily on Mallory; it said, I've already got you marked as a troublemaker, and you'll have it knocked out of you in a day.
Mallory didn't flinch.
James was winningly courteous as he took his leave. 'These are desperate times, but also momentous,' he said. 'I feel that the Chinese were correct when they said there are no crises, only opportunities. This is an opportunity to re-energise Christianity and to bring it into the lives of the people once again.' After Blaine, his gentleness was even more pronounced.
Blaine summoned his second-in-command to lead them to their quarters. Hipgrave had barely broken into his
