Miller turned in a slow circle, dumbfounded. 'This is all that's left?'
'The congregations fragmented. Yes, some became more devout because of the upheaval they witnessed, but many lost their way.' He took a second or two to choose his words, but could find no easy way to say it. 'Including many of our ministers.'
The sun gleamed through the stained-glass windows, but without any electric lights to illuminate the loftier regions there was still an atmosphere of gloom.
'With the lines of communication shattered, the situation rapidly became untenable,' James continued. 'Belief was withering on the vine. The leaders… the remaining leaders… of the various churches held an emergency conference, a crisis meeting, at Winchester.' He had led them to the Trinity Chapel where the window glowed in blues and reds in the morning sun. Slender pillars of marble rose up on either side to support a daringly designed roof of sharply pointed arches. 'It was decided that a period of retrenchment was necessary. The Church would fortress itself if necessary, re-establish its strength before taking the Word back out to the country.'
Mallory examined the images on the windows. The design was called Prisoners of Conscience. 'You really think you can do it?'
'If faith is undiminished, anything can be achieved.' James watched him carefully. 'And why are you here?'
Mallory didn't look at him. 'Food, shelter. Security.'
'Is that what you believe?'
'You are looking for knights?' Miller ventured hopefully.
James turned to him with a pleasant aspect. 'At the same Council of
Winchester, the decision was taken to re-establish the Knights Templar. Do you know of them?'
'A bit,' Miller said uncertainly.
'According to historical sources, most notably the Frankish historian Guillaume de Tyre, the Knights Templar were formed by nine knights under the leadership of Hugues de Payen in 1118,' James began. 'After Jerusalem fell to the Crusaders in 1099, it became a Christian city and the nine, under the name of the Poor Knights of Christ and die Temple of Solomon, vowed to devote themselves to the protection of all pilgrims travelling along the dangerous roads to the Christian shrines. They took quarters next to the temple and from then on became known as the Knights Templar.'
James led them from the Trinity Chapel into the presbytery and then into the quire, the 'church within a church' where the canons' stalls faced each other beneath the shining pipes of the organ.
'Ten years after their establishment, their fame had spread,' James continued. 'No lesser an authority than Saint Bernard, the abbot of Clairvaux, wrote a tract declaring the Templars to be the epitome and apotheosis of Christian values. They were soon officially recognised and incorporated as a religious-military order, Christ's militia, if you will, soldier-mystics, warrior-monks, combining the spirituality of the Church with a fighting ability that struck terror into Christianity's enemies.'
'Until the God-fearing royals of Europe had the Church brand them heretics,' Mallory noted wryly, 'because they had the misfortune to become too successful, right? Too rich and powerful… a challenge to the established order. Had their leader slowly roasted alive in the square of some French city… nice… had the knights hunted down and slaughtered, launched a propaganda assault to completely destroy their reputation.'
'You're obviously an educated man. But don't confuse the Church with the people who claim to administer God's Word,' James cautioned. 'Humans are fallible.'
'Pardon me for pointing it out, but you seem to have had your fair share of the fallible in your history,' Mallory countered, unmoved.
'We are all fallible.' James turned his attention to the high altar at the focal point of the cathedral. 'The decision to re-establish the Knights Templar was taken for practical reasons, and for symbolic ones. The new Knights Templar will protect our missionaries as they move out across the country. It's a dangerous land out there… worldly threats, supernatural threats, spiritual threats…'
'That's a tough job,' Mallory said. 'You'll need tough men.'
'Tough, yes. Not just physically or psychologically, but spiritually. It will be demanding, with little reward in this world.' There was pity in his smile. 'Many who wish to join will not be suitable. You need to understand that. But there will always be a role here for people willing to carry out God's Word.'
'Not many perks, though,' Mallory said.
James laughed. 'Sorry, no company cars! On the plus side, the Council decided not to continue with the strict rules under which the original Templars existed — shaven heads, beards, poverty, chastity and obedience — though we have adopted a distinctive dress for our knights so that everyone will know them when they see them coming.'
Mallory pointed to James' habit. 'You've got your own strict dress code as well.'
'Indeed. It was felt, with the various… strands… of the Church coming together, that a uniformity was necessary to bind everyone here into a single community.' He was choosing his words carefully, Mallory noted.
'You had some friction, then? A little local rivalry?'
'There was a danger of that, yes. So it was decided that we adopt elements of the Rule of Saint Benedict, which was written in the sixth century as a guide to the spiritual and administrative life of a monastery. Although we are not a monastic order — we are a chapter of canons — it was agreed that a certain level of… discipline was necessary.' He didn't appear wholly to agree with this, although he attempted to mask it with a smile. 'But you'll find out all about that later.'
As they turned to leave the quire, they were confronted by two men who had been making their way towards the altar. One of them was very old, possibly in his eighties, Mallory estimated. Hunched over his walking stick, he resembled a crane, both awkward and frail; he didn't appear to have the strength to walk any distance at all. Helping him along was a man in his late twenties with shoulder-length black hair and a long, pointed nose that reminded Mallory of some forest animal.
James knelt and formally kissed the hand of the old man. 'Our bishop,' he said, when he rose.
The old man smiled; his eyes were uncannily bright and sharp. 'Cornelius,' he amended in a rural Scottish accent. 'New arrivals?'
'More recruits for the knights,' James said. 'They're growing fast. It shouldn't be long before we have a full complement.'
'Then our community here owes you our gratitude,' Cornelius said to Mallory and Miller. 'You are our future. Your bravery will not go unrewarded.'
He began his slow progress along the aisle, but his companion held back. With a surreptitious glance at the bishop, he caught James' arm and said, 'The dogs have started to gather.'
James' expression darkened. 'Surely they won't make their move yet.' He, too, glanced after the bishop. 'Surely not yet.'
'They're driven by ideology. Common sense doesn't come into it.' He moved off quickly to catch the bishop's arm.
'Who was that?' Mallory asked.
'Julian. A good man. He's the precentor, responsible for the choir, the music and a few other recently added duties, mainly to do with the services and spiritual life of the cathedral. He's one of the four Principal Persons who oversee the Chapter of Canons, our guiding body.'
James appeared briefly distracted, then, sensing Mallory's interest, shepherded them quickly away before they could ask any more questions.
James took them throughout the main body of the cathedral and its ancillary buildings; it was important, he said, for every new arrival to understand both the facts and the symbolism of their new home. 'This will be our Jerusalem,' he said. 'In England's green and pleasant land.' He detailed the history of the cathedral from its construction between 1220 and 1258 following the decision to move it from its original location at Old Sarum, through to modern times, so that by the end Mallory thought he was going to go insane if he heard another date.