"Smith, Guy N - Sabat 04 - The Druid Connection" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

'I'm not altogether sure, but whatever it is it goes back to seventeen forty-two when a certain Bishop Avenson was also roasted in the churchyard,' Sabat smiled. 'I've got one or two ideas, though. I've discovered that a similar churchyard incineration took place in eighteen eighty-four. One Doctor William Price cremated his five-year-old son who was called lesu Grist and nine years later this man himself was also cremated in a similar fashion by colleagues unknown.'

'Jesus Christ!'

'Or Iesu Grist,' Sabat grinned. 'Cremation isn't such a recent phenomenon as the average person is inclined to think. As a means of disposing of the dead it goes back a long way. The Romanies always burned their dead. As did the druidsV

'The druids! That's going a bit far back.'

'I'm just making a point. This man Price was involved in druidism. A slender link but you can't afford to overlook anything remotely connected with death by fire. Now tell me, Kent, have you got any ideas?'

'Nothing concrete,' the journalist shrugged. 'I only got here this afternoon but in the pub where I'm staying word has obviously got round that the Church has called in Sabat and you'd better be warned, there isn't exactly a welcoming committee out to greet you! You remember that case you were on a short time back when that cult was exhuming bodies and a guy called the Reverend Spode disappeared and has never been heard of since?'*

'I did hear the gentleman in question had vanished into thin air,' Sabat smiled faintly, 'but I can't for the life of me think where he could have gone.'

'That's as it may be,' Kent didn't pursue the question, knowing only too well that if Sabat had made up his mind to keep it to himself then that was where it would stay. These villagers are a superstitious lot, as they mostly are in remote country places, and they're saying that as you spirited away this fellow Spode then like as not you're responsible for what happened to the curate and the vicar; in which case, who's going up in smoke next?'

'So I don't have the co-operation of the locals, to say the least,' Sabat murmured. 'And if these people have had advance warning of my coming then the glad tidings can only have come from one source - Bishop Boyce!'

There's more going on here than just cremation and madness,' Kent lowered his voice.

Sabat raised an eyebrow, waited for the other to continue.

'I listened in to all this gossip in the White Horse,' the journalist continued. 'Now these folks have really got their wind up because apparently the land adjoining the cemetery was willed to St Monica's Church in Trust, but by some means the Church and the trustees have managed to extricate themselves from the conditions and purpose of the Trust. Not only that, they've sold this piece of land for a housing site!'

'Jesus wept, what a dirty stinking trick. I've come across a few crooked churchmen in my time but this one takes the prize.'

'Precisely. Now the land in question was Green Belt anyway, so somewhere along the line somebody's been pulling a few fast ones. According to what I heard in the pub these villagers are appealing against the planning permission but they don't hold out much hope. I'd like to unearth the facts, I can tell you.'

'A village of iniquity,' Sabat sighed, and proceeded to tell Kent what had happened to him recently, a totally uninhibited version of the facts leading up to Kent's arrival, that wild sexual psychic attack.

'So what's the next move?' Kent drained the last of his whisky and set the glass down on the sideboard.

'First I have to find out exactly what kind of evil spirit is operating within the church and its grounds,' Sabat's features were grim. 'And there's only one way I'm going to do that: by spending a night in there.'

'I'll come with you,' Kent spoke unhesitatingly.

'No,' Sabat snapped. This is one place I must go alone, for in this realm of evil, Kent, only I can stand a chance of survival. I do not know their strength and my own powers may not be enough. But it is a chance I must take. Nevertheless I am sure there are other ways in which you can help. In the meantime, however, we must pass this night unharmed and now that you are here I suggest you stay rather than return to your room at the pub. I shall rig up the necessary defences to give us both protection in the event of another psychic attack such as I underwent earlier.'

'I know your reputation too well to argue,' Kent stood up. 'Just tell me what I have to do and . . . '

The piercing noise came at them out of the night. A wail that escalated, reached its peak and hung reverberating in the still atmosphere. Even before the echoes had a chance to die away, it began again.

A scream of sheer mortal terror that came from the direction of St Monica's churchyard!