“What?”
“This was a woman,” said Julien. “Look at the hip-bones. We have to go on, John. We can’t do anything for her.”
“I know. We have work to do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
Julien surprised me by clapping me on the shoulder approvingly. “You have a good heart, John. I don’t care what anyone says.”
I made myself smile. “It’s usually you saying it, in one of your editorials.”
“You sell papers, John, I’ve never denied it.”
“Then how come I never see any royalties?”
I didn’t actually feel better but managed to fake it for Julien. We moved on. Heading for Green Henge. Where somebody had better be waiting with some bloody good answers.
We passed more bodies along the way. Always dried-out pitiful things, mummified, hanging half-in and half-out of the hedge walls. It didn’t look like a good way to die. The faces were always the worst part, teeth showing clearly in wide-stretched mouths. As though they’d all died screaming. A cold, dangerous anger burned within me. We don’t do sacrifices. We’re not that kind of Druid. I wasn’t sure I believed that any more. If I ever had. I might not be able to help these people, but I could still avenge them. I caught Julien looking at me worriedly and realised I was scowling fiercely, my hands still clenched into fists. I made myself relax, a little.
“Is there any chance these bodies are fakes?” I said roughly. “Maybe . . . seeded through the maze; atmosphere for the tourists?”
“No,” said Julien. “I would have heard. I think these people died trying to get to the centre of the maze. Or trying to get out of it.”
“Because they weren’t in the right spiritual frame of mind?” I said. My voice sounded ugly, even to me.
“Perhaps. There is something at work in this maze, John. I can feel it. And not only whatever it is that’s still following us.” He stopped abruptly, so I had to stop with him. “I keep hearing noises, footsteps, and what might be breathing, but I haven’t even caught a glimpse . . . And after all these years of living in the Nightside, I am really hard to sneak up on.”
“Same here,” I said. “It keeps moving in on us, then falling back. As though . . .”
“As though it wants to get to us, but it can’t!” said Julien. “As though something is preventing it, holding it back!”
“Any idea what?” I said. “I’d really like to know. I’d feel ever so much more comfortable.”
Julien shook his head. “How far are we, from Green Henge?”
“Almost there,” I said.
“Is your gift telling you that? Is it telling you anything else about the maze?”
I frowned, despite myself. “There’s a power here, inside the maze. Nowhere near the same level as Green Henge, but still . . . definitely a power. Set here long ago, for a purpose . . . To weed out the unworthy; isn’t that what Sister Dorethea said? But whatever it is, it feels vague to me, uncertain. I can’t seem to get a handle on it.”
“Wonderful,” said Julian. “Marvellous. Terrific. I really must make a mental note to load myself down with any number of powerful weapons and devices the next time I agree to accompany you on a case.”
“You came looking for me, remember?” I said.
“So I did. I must be getting old.”
We pressed on, and only half a dozen turnings later we were suddenly out of the hedgerow maze, or more properly, into the great opening at its centre. A huge open space, bigger even than the size of the maze had suggested. Someone was playing tricks with Space again. But what really took my breath away was the Standing Stones. Not one Circle, but many. Dozens and dozens of rows, of circles of menhirs, spreading out for as far as the eye could see. Great slabs of ancient Stone, twenty or thirty feet high, hundreds of prehistoric menhirs, and all of them covered in a thick layer of living greenery. Not the spiky grey-green vegetation of the hedge walls; this greenery was a brilliant emerald, bursting with life and health, radiating the wild verdant energy of Green Henge.
Julien and I stood close together, feeling very small in the face of such a huge thing. A presence, as well as a power.
“No wonder the Sisters call it a Garden,” I said finally. “But why did they allow the Stones to become so overgrown? Or was it always like this, from the beginning?”
“Not that I ever heard,” said Julien. “Is it a Druid thing?”
“Not that I ever heard,” I said.
“This . . . wasn’t simply allowed to happen,” Julien said slowly. “This is why the Stones allowed themselves to be transported here. To become . . . Green Henge.”
I looked back the way we’d come. The shadowy hedgerows were still and silent; and if anything in there was still watching us, it kept itself to itself. I shrugged quickly and strode forward into the Circles of Standing Stones. Julien moved along with me, staring openly about him like a tourist. I had more pride though the sheer presence of the Stones beat on the still air like a silent endless heartbeat, demanding respect. I gave each Stone plenty of room as I passed, looking carefully straight ahead. The full moon seemed to fill half the sky overhead, shining directly down on the Stones, bathing them in a shimmering blue-white glare. A light so intense, I could feel it tingling on my bare face and hands.
We seemed to walk for ages, through one Circle of Stones to another, but eventually we reached the centre, and stopped. A single long Stone lay on its side, on the ground, in the exact centre of all the Circles. No greenery touched it, its dull grey surface pitted and pock-marked. Half-buried in the dark earth by its own weight. My first thought was Sacrificial Stone, but there were none of the dark blood-stains on it that I’d seen on the outer wall. Julien smiled broadly, his face full of a simple awe.
“Can you feel that, John?”
Of course I could. There was the maze, and there was Green Henge, and then . . . there was something else. Something equally as powerful, perhaps even more so, but very young, as opposed to the ancient presence around us. Suddenly the glowing moonlight was gone, blasted aside by a burst of brilliant sunshine, as the Sun King came striding out of the Stones to join us. The whole of Green Henge was bathed in golden sunlight, rich and glorious, perhaps for the first time in centuries. The greenery surrounding the Standing Stones seemed to writhe and twist in ecstasy, expanding under the pressure of the sun’s warmth. A great choir of voices rang out, filling the evening air, surrounding the Sun King as he walked towards us, an angelic choir singing Hallelujahs. And the Sun King came to a halt, to stand before Julien and me, his presence beating on the air like an endless roll of thunder . . . prophesying the storm to come.
“Too loud, man!” said Julien. “Turn it down! I can hardly hear myself think!”
At once, the angelic chorus shut off, and the slow silence of the evening returned to Green Henge.
“Hello, Julien,” said the Sun King in a warm, pleasant voice. “It’s been a while. Miss me?”
“You know I did,” said Julien. “What’s with the new music? When did you go religious? What happened to the rock and roll?”
“That was then, this is now,” said the Sun King. He smiled easily on Julien, and on me; and even I was impressed by the sheer grace and spirituality blazing off this man. Whatever else he was, whatever else he might have become during his long absence, I had no doubt at all that the Sun King was the real deal.
He was dressed in his Coat of Vivid Colours, a long, linen coat blazing with psychedelic colours and patterns. It reminded me irresistibly of the interior of the Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille. Underneath that he wore only a pair of faded blue jeans. His chest was bare, and so were his feet. He had a great mane of jet-black hair, falling half-way down his back, and a broad, square face with a prominent nose and a wide, smiling mouth. He wore tinted John Lennon granny glasses, pushed well down on his nose so he could peer over them with gleaming dark eyes. He opened his arms suddenly to Julien, and the two men stepped forward and embraced each other fiercely, with much back-slapping and loud, happy cries. I stayed back, feeling a bit left out. This was two legends meeting, after too long apart. I felt like a footnote. The two old friends rocked back and forth together, saying each other’s name over and over, and finally they stepped back, looked each other over at arm’s length, and gazed into each other’s face.