The escort waited below with the disappointed Alice, while I followed Mam and the Spook up the stone steps. There was no rail and a sheer drop threatened to the side. At last we came to an iron door set in the rock. A monk opened it wide and admitted us to further flights of steep steps. Finally we reached the summit and saw a large dome ahead of us.
'That's the katholicon,' Mam said with a smile.
I knew the word, which meant a church or main chapel. 'Is that where we're going?'
'No, we're going to visit the Father Superior in his private quarters.'
We were led towards a small building and then into a spartan cell, where a monk with a gaunt grey face and a head shaven even closer than Bill Arkwright's squatted on the stone floor. His eyes were closed and he hardly seemed to be breathing. I looked at the bare stone walls and the straw in the corner that served as a bed – not the accommodation I'd expected for the important priest who ruled the monastery.
The door closed behind us but the Father Superior made no attempt to acknowledge us or move. Mam put a finger to her lips to indicate that we should be silent. Then I noticed the monk's lips moving slightly and realized that he was saying his prayers.
When he finally opened his eyes and regarded us each in turn, I saw that they were the colour of the bluebells that brighten the County woodlands in spring. He gestured that we should join him on the floor so we sat down facing him.
'This is my friend, Mr Gregory, an enemy of the dark,' Mam said, nodding towards the Spook.
The monk gave him a faint smile. Then his eyes locked upon mine. 'Is this your son?' he asked. He spoke in Greek – in a dialect I found easy to understand.
'Yes, Father,' Mam replied in the same language, 'this is my youngest and seventh son, Thomas.'
'Have you a plan to enter the Ord?' asked the monk, turning to Mam again.
'If you could use your influence to persuade them to stand aside, some of my party could take the place of Kalambaka's delegation.'
The monk frowned. 'To what purpose?' he demanded. 'What would you hope to achieve by taking such a risk?'
'A few of the Ordeen's servants are already awake when the Ord first appears – just the ones who receive the delegation. We will distract them, and while they are diverted, a larger attack will be mounted. We are hoping to reach the Ordeen and destroy her before she is fully awake . . .'
'Will you take part in the sacrificial blood ritual? Would you go that far?'
'There is more than one way to breach a citadel's defences. I will employ the same device used by the ancients – a wooden horse,' Mam added mysteriously.
I hadn't a clue what she meant, but the monk's eyes suddenly lit up in understanding; then he fixed his gaze upon me once more.
'Does the boy know what is required of him?' he asked.
Mam shook her head. 'I will tell him when the time is right. But he's a loyal and obedient son and will do what is necessary.'
At those words my heart sank. I remembered what the Fiend had told me. Had he been telling the truth? The Father Superior had used the term 'sacrificial blood ritual'. Was I to be sacrificed in order to gain victory?
The Spook now spoke for the first time. 'It seems to me that there's a great deal we haven't yet been told – no doubt we'll be finding out the worst soon enough,' he said, giving Mam a withering glance. 'But what can you tell me, Father? Have there been signs yet to indicate precisely when the Ord will pass through the portal?'
The Father Superior shook his head. 'No, but it will be soon – days rather than weeks, we believe.'
'We've little time to prepare,' Mam said, rising to her feet. 'We must take our leave of you. So I must ask you once again, Father – will you ask the delegation to stand aside so that we may replace them?'
The Father Superior nodded. 'I will do as you ask – no doubt they'll be happy to be relieved of a duty that for most is a death sentence. But before you go, I would like you to hear us pray,' he said. 'The boy particularly. I sense that he has little idea of our power.'
So we followed the Father Superior from his bare cell towards the magnificent dome of the katholicon. I was a little irritated by his comment. How did he know what I thought? I'd never really believed that prayers could achieve anything but I'd always added my 'Amen' when Dad had said grace before our family supper. I respected those who had faith and prayed, just as my dad had taught me. There were many ways to reach the light.
The church was splendid, with its ornate marble and beautiful mosaics. About a hundred monks were standing facing the altar with steepled hands as if already at prayer, though they hadn't yet begun. Suddenly they began to sing. Their prayer was a hymn. And what a hymn!
I'd heard the choirboys sing in Priestown Cathedral, but in comparison to this it had been little more than a tavern sing-song. The voices of the monks rose up into the dome in perfect accord, to swoop and soar there like angels. You could sense the incredible strength of all those voices singing in harmony. A powerful sound with a single purpose.
Had those prayers really had the power to keep the Ordeen at bay? Apparently so. But the power of the dark had grown, and this time the bloodthirsty goddess would not be confined to the plain. Unless we could destroy her first, she would attack the County. But the odds against our success were very high.
We took our leave of the Father Superior and left the katholicon, the hymns of the monks receding behind us. It was then that I caught a glimpse of the Spook's face. It was twisted with anger as it had been when he'd left me at the farmhouse and rushed back to Chipenden. I sensed that he was getting ready to speak his mind; and that Mam would receive the full force of its withering blast.
Chapter 14
PORTENTS
'The blood ritual . . . what does it involve?' demanded the Spook, staring hard at Mam.
We were in her tent, seated on the ground in a circle. Alice was on my left, the Spook to my right. Also present were Bill Arkwright and Grimalkin. The Spook had given Mam a piece of his mind as soon as we returned to camp. Politely but firmly he'd demanded to know exactly what we were all facing, especially the delegation; he'd even accused Mam of holding back important information that we badly needed.
This meeting was the result of those hot words. Mam was grim and unsmiling. I sensed there were things she didn't want to say – certainly not to this gathering. I think she would have preferred to speak to me alone.