It moved again, enough to get the rifle butt in and use it as a lever. Thacker hardly dared look at the contents before the lid was off completely, but he caught glimpses of dull metal in familiar shapes below.
The lid teetered and slipped. It fell with a huge concussion, and split in two ragged halves.
They waited for the cloud of disturbed dust to die down, and looked over the rim.
‘In those days,’ quoted Thacker, ‘giants dwelt in the land.’
Inside the sarcophagus was a suit of armour that Goliath might have worn. Bigger than that, even: Thacker could barely lift the sculpted helmet from the tomb.
‘If you thought you could wear that and fight Jack, you’re wrong.’ Adams picked up a spear resting by the suit, and almost toppled backwards.
Thacker put the helmet down on one of the other boxes and inspected it. It had a visor he could move, on which was carved a stylised face◦– noble, straight nose, high and sharp cheeks, a mouth curved like a bow and framed with a curled beard. Yet the space inside was small. His head would be a snug fit.
He reached back down for one of the segmented gauntlets. Again, the outside was huge, a giants’ hand. Inside, he would barely able to wriggle his fingers.
‘Get everything out,’ he said. ‘I think I know what this is.’
Adams sighed, and started emptying the sarcophagus. ‘You have to be joking. This breastplate is as big as a table.’
‘Remember the myths and fables? Where a mere man fights dragons and Cyclops and half-men, half-beasts? The heroes of old? Hector, Achilles, Ajax, Jason? Gilgamesh, even. This isn’t a suit of armour for a giant. This is a suit of armour for a hero.’
‘That bang on your head has sent you crazy.’
‘Help me put it on.’
‘It’s a trap. Everything these monsters ever made was a trap. Like the machine. Just like the machine.’
‘I’m sorry, Adams. I have to see what happens, and I’d rather it was me than you.’
‘No. You’ll turn into something terrible.’ Adams brought up his gun. ‘You can’t do that to me.’
Thacker stood still. ‘Do we have a choice?’
Adams swallowed hard. Eventually, the barrel of his gun wavered, then dipped. ‘All those heroes came to a sticky end. They did things that weren’t right, even though they started out good. They ended up bad.’
‘It just has to hold together long enough for me to take on Jack. That’s all. I’ve no dreams of divinity.’
Adams dropped his rifle. ‘Then I won’t be needing that anymore. When we’ve done you, and if it works as you think, then getting another lid off shouldn’t be a problem at all.’
He started at the feet, kicking off his own army boots and pulling on the heavy footwear from the base of the sarcophagus. They made him look ridiculous, great outsized things like he was off for a fortnight’s skiing. He could barely lift his legs in them.
‘This is all wrong. It’s not going to work.’
‘Shut up and stand still. A few moments of feeling daft won’t hurt.’ Adams offered up a piece of leg armour to Thacker’s shin and it almost fitted itself, tripping catches that locked it onto the top of the boot. ‘See?’
Slowly, British Army khaki gave way to dull Persian bronze. He was encased in metaclass="underline" arms, legs, chest, each segment slipping into place and holding itself fast.
Finally, the helmet, which would add almost another foot to his height.
‘Do you feel any different?’ asked Adams.
‘I feel wretched. We’ve wasted all this time, and Jack’s still moving towards Banbury. He could be there by now.’
Adams stood on tiptoe and let the helmet slide down onto the neck ring. It clicked.
‘How about now?’ he said.
Thacker was scared to move. If he fell over, Adams wouldn’t have the strength to lift him up, and would have to spend the next few hours working out how to get him out again.
He took a tentative step, no more than a shuffle. He jumped like his feet had springs. He hit a wall, and on trying to recover, span and reached out for the edge of the stone sarcophagus. It shattered in his grasping hands.
Adams was cowering in a corner. ‘Stop, Major, stop!’
Thacker gained control of the armour that seemed to amplify and exaggerate every move he made. Carefully, he picked up the sarcophagus lid that it had taken the two of them to painfully lever off, and threw it. It sailed through the air and crashed onto the floor, snapping in two uneven pieces with the force of the impact.
‘That does it,’ he said. His voice was distorted in his ears, shouted out through the mouthpiece of the visor loud enough to make the chamber ring.
Adams got to his feet and approached in awe. ‘Bugger me,’ he said, ‘It does work.’
‘I have to go and fight Jack. Now.’
‘But what about me? We’ll need both of us.’
‘The army will shoot me on sight, and you too, if you’re in this get-up. I need you as you are, to vouch for me.’
‘You said…’
‘I didn’t. You assumed, and I didn’t tell you otherwise. You’ve gone through too much, Adams, you’ve fought your battle and you’ve survived. I’m not asking you to do any more than to get me to Jack.’
‘But I want to!’
‘I know. But I won’t let you, and now, you can’t stop me. I’m going back, and I’m assuming that you don’t want to stay here.’ Thacker reached out and, as gently as he could, lifted Adams up off the ground with one hand. The metal armour creaked softly. With his other hand he picked up the spear and the shield that was as big as the Round Table.
He put Adams on his shoulder, where the man clung like a child, and then he started to run like he had never run before. He passed in two steps through rooms that previously had seemed endless, moving so fast that everything was a blur. Adams’ thin scream trailed out behind them like a wisp of smoke.
Out, out of the cathedral, running like his feet were on fire, up to the hill then a change in direction to head for the tiny circle of tantalising blue sky in the distance.
At some point, Adams managed to draw breath. He hit Thacker on the helmet with the flat of his hand in an attempt to attract his attention. Thacker became aware of the annoyance and slowed to a halt just before the door.
‘What? What is it?’
‘It’s starting already, Major. You’re forgetting who you are. And you’re not like Jack. You can be hurt in this armour. Before you go through, you need a plan: a good plan, mind.’
The hero’s suit of armour seemed to accelerate everything except his mind. Adams was right. He had to think first. He had to assume that he wasn’t indestructible.
‘The Land Rover is still on the machine, and the back of it is still full of grenades. I’ll set fire to the fuel tank, and that should give us enough time to get away. Then on to Jack.’
‘What about the Ankhani?’
‘I don’t know. I should be able to hold them off with these.’ He brandished his weapons.
‘I was thinking more about me. There are a lot of them. One touch, remember.’
Think, Thacker, think. ‘Climb on my back. Hold on. It’s the best I can do.’
‘The old Major would have cared more.’ Adams clambered up and stretched his arms around Thacker’s massive neck. He could just about grip his own wrists, but there was little purchase lower down. The metal was too slick, and his feet slid off.
‘You can’t do it.’ Thacker was impatient, and he caught himself resenting Adams. ‘You’ll have to get further up.’
When Adams was sitting astride the armour’s shoulders and clinging to the stylised crown on top of the carved helmet, he was satisfied.
‘Ready?’
‘Don’t turn your head quickly, Major. I’ll fall.’
Thacker ignored the man’s warning. He shifted the spear to his right hand and put his left forearm through the straps on the shield. The lion design on the face of it saw the light of day for the first time in four thousand years as it led the way back to Henbury Hall.