Mallory said to Daniels, 'when we met Blaine earlier, there was another group of knights in training, away from the main lot. They had a blue flash on their left shoulders.'
'The Blues? They're the elite. I think they used to be squaddies stationed at one of the army camps out on Salisbury Plain - it would take me years to get to their level of training. Blaine keeps them apart from the rest of us, but that's OK by me - you can see it in their eyes.' He waved a pointing finger in front of Mallory's face. 'Army eyes. You know what I mean?' Mallory did. 'Anyway, they're involved in some on-going mission. They go off for days at a time. Come back exhausted and filthy.' 'Oh?'
'Don't bother asking questions, Mallory. You'll soon find that no one tells you anything here.'
The refectory was a long, narrow barn with a high roof and open beams permeated by the smell of new wood. They picked up trays and cutlery before passing by tables at one end where the kitchen staff loaded up plastic plates with a stew of carrots, potatoes, parsnips and oatmeal, bread and a small lump of cheese.
'No meat?' Mallory protested.
'Once a week,' Daniels said, 'They're keeping a tight rein on supplies. Just in case.'
'In case of what?'
Daniels shrugged.
They sat together at the end of a long trestle table reserved for the knights, away to one side. On the other tables, about a hundred and fifty people packed into the first sitting, their freedom from the day's chores making their conversation animated. Gardener joined them soon after, taking a seat opposite Mallory with a gruff silence.
'What did you do in the old days, Gardener?' Miller asked chirpily.
'Binman.' Gardener stuffed an enormous mound of vegetables into his mouth. 'And I tell you,' he mumbled, 'this is better than having your hands covered in maggots and shit every morning.'
'I don't want to hear about your sex life, Gardener,' Daniels said.
'I hear the Blues headed off hell for leather at noon,' Gardener continued. 'Don't know what got them all fired up, but Blaine had a face that could curdle cream. And Hipgrave was pissed off because Blaine didn't send him out as leader. Again.'
'He is so desperate,' Daniels said.
'You know what he did this morning—' Gardener cut off his sour comment when he spotted Hipgrave heading across the room with his tray. The captain had lost his sneer and appeared uncomfortable in the crowd. He hesitated briefly when he noticed Gardener and the others watching him and then veered off his path to another table so he wouldn't have to sit near them.
'Thanks for small bloody mercies,' Gardener muttered.
Mallory spotted a table on the far side of the room where all the diners sat in complete silence, intermittently praying and eating. He pointed it out to Daniels.
'Headbangers,' Daniels said, chewing slowly on a piece of potato. 'The price we pay for bringing all of the Lord's flock under one roof.'
'Leave them alone.' Gardener continued to tuck into his dinner with gusto.
'You would say that - you're one of them.' Daniels turned to Mallory. 'They're Born-Agains, or evangelicals or whatever it is they call themselves. They have a hardline view of the Lord's Word—'
'They stick to the text of the Gospel,' Gardener said, 'unlike some of the weak-willed people in here.'
'There are so many branches of the Church in here . . . sects - cults, even . . .' Daniels shook his head. 'Some of them, they're like a different religion. I don't know where they're coming from at all.'
'You don't have a monopoly on God's Word,' Gardener noted. 'It's open to different interpretations.'
Mallory stabbed a chunk of parsnip with his knife, then thought twice about eating it. He noticed Miller looking dreamily around the refectory. 'You're going to say this is like Disneyland for you, aren't you?' he said.
Miller grinned at how easily Mallory had read his thoughts. 'Well, it is a wonderful place. All these people ... all this hope . . . and faith . . . under one roof. It's what I
'The Blues? They're the elite. I think they used to be squaddies stationed at one of the army camps out on Salisbury Plain - it would take me years to get to their level of training. Blaine keeps them apart from the rest of us, but that's OK by me - you can see it in their eyes.' He waved a pointing finger in front of Mallory's face. 'Army eyes. You know what I mean?' Mallory did. 'Anyway, they're involved in some on-going mission. They go off for days at a time. Come back exhausted and filthy.' 'Oh?'
'Don't bother asking questions, Mallory. You'll soon find that no one tells you anything here.'
The refectory was a long, narrow barn with a high roof and open beams permeated by the smell of new wood. They picked up trays and cutlery before passing by tables at one end where the kitchen staff loaded up plastic plates with a stew of carrots, potatoes, parsnips and oatmeal, bread and a small lump of cheese.
'No meat?' Mallory protested.
'Once a week,' Daniels said, 'They're keeping a tight rein on supplies. Just in case.'
'In case of what?'
Daniels shrugged.
They sat together at the end of a long trestle table reserved for the knights, away to one side. On the other tables, about a hundred and fifty people packed into the first sitting, their freedom from the day's chores making their conversation animated. Gardener joined them soon after, taking a seat opposite Mallory with a gruff silence.
'What did you do in the old days, Gardener?' Miller asked chirpily.
'Binman.' Gardener stuffed an enormous mound of vegetables into his mouth. 'And I tell you,' he mumbled, 'this is better than having your hands covered in maggots and shit every morning.'
'I don't want to hear about your sex life, Gardener,' Daniels said.
'I hear the Blues headed off hell for leather at noon,' Gardener continued. 'Don't know what got them all fired up, but Blaine had a face that could curdle cream. And Hipgrave was pissed off because Blaine didn't send him out as leader. Again.'
'He is so desperate,' Daniels said.
'You know what he did this morning—' Gardener cut off his sour comment when he spotted Hipgrave heading across the room with his tray. The captain had lost his sneer and appeared uncomfortable in the crowd. He hesitated briefly when he noticed Gardener and the others watching him and then veered off his path to another table so he wouldn't have to sit near them.
'Thanks for small bloody mercies,' Gardener muttered.
Mallory spotted a table on the far side of the room where all the diners sat in complete silence, intermittently praying and eating. He pointed it out to Daniels.
'Headbangers,' Daniels said, chewing slowly on a piece of potato. 'The price we pay for bringing all of the Lord's flock under one roof.'
'Leave them alone.' Gardener continued to tuck into his dinner with gusto.
'You would say that - you're one of them.' Daniels turned to Mallory. 'They're Born-Agains, or evangelicals or whatever it is they call themselves. They have a hardline view of the Lord's Word—'
'They stick to the text of the Gospel,' Gardener said, 'unlike some of the weak-willed people in here.'
'There are so many branches of the Church in here . . . sects - cults, even . . .' Daniels shook his head. 'Some of them, they're like a different religion. I don't know where they're coming from at all.'
'You don't have a monopoly on God's Word,' Gardener noted. 'It's open to different interpretations.'
Mallory stabbed a chunk of parsnip with his knife, then thought twice about eating it. He noticed Miller looking dreamily around the refectory. 'You're going to say this is like Disneyland for you, aren't you?' he said.
Miller grinned at how easily Mallory had read his thoughts. 'Well, it is a wonderful place. All these people ... all this hope . . . and faith . . . under one roof. It's what I
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