In 1230 Parry and another friar, Father Service, were dispatched by the Dominicans on what was expected to be a routine case. As it turned out, it was not. For one thing, Jolie had indicated that there was something special about this one. She had been searching for the mysterious sorcerer who had brought them so much mischief in the past, and his aura seemed to be associated. That was enough for Parry; had he not been assigned, he would have petitioned to accompany the friar who was. If he could locate that sorcerer...
The local magistrate had arraigned a wealthy lord on the charge of heresy, and sought to confiscate his possessions for distribution to interested parties. This sort of thing was becoming more common, but the action could not be completed without the approval of the Church. Therefore it was necessary for a priest or other appropriate figure to examine the case and make the final decision.
Jolie did not like the routine dispossession of accused persons of their assets, and therefore neither did Parry. He lived ascetically himself, owning nothing, his very clothing technically the property of the Church. But she reminded him that property was a necessary thing for those who existed in the material realm, and fairness in its disposition was essential. Too often, folk were deprived on trumped-up charges so that their accusers could benefit. Something like that had happened to Jolie's own family.
Father Service, in contrast, tended to bear down hard on any accused, and to exact the maximum penalty. He had no villain-girl conscience to ameliorate his dedication to what he knew was right. Parry found that problematical; he did not wish to affront his companion, but he suspected that there was such a thing as being too certain in one's sanctity.
The fact that this particular pair had been selected for this mission was significant, for their attitudes were known. That meant that the Dominicans suspected that this was an invalid case, and depended on the two of them to deal with it appropriately. That Parry intended to do, despite the predilection of his associate.
"You know that people are often condemned on very slender evidence," Parry remarked as they rode their donkeys, starting what he knew would be an argument. But the long, slow ride was dull, and this would enliven it slightly.
"Better that than to risk the proliferation of heresy," Father Service said piously.
"Pompous ass!" Jolie exclaimed.
The friar turned his head. "What?"
"My mount is becoming willful," Parry said. Had Father Service actually heard Jolie's remark? He hesitated to inquire. As far as he knew, he was the only one who could perceive her, but he was not sure whether that was because he was specially attuned, or merely because she manifested only to those she chose. There were intriguing mysteries about her, in death as there had been in life.
They arrived at the local monastery, and began the tedious process of reviewing the evidence. It was the usual assemblage of rumor, hearsay and speculation. He wondered whether there was any connection between the terms hearsay and heresy. His mind drifted, speculating on that. What an indictment of the system that could be! Suppose that all heresy turned out to be illusory?
"Where there's smoke, there's fire," Father Service said, satisfied.
"The idiot!" Jolie snorted. "You have to do better than this, Parry!"
Parry sighed. He knew that the worst smoke sometimes occurred after the fire had been doused. "I shall have to interview the witnesses directly," he said.
"Why?" Father Service asked. "We have their depositions. This many witnesses cannot be wrong."
"I don't care if there are a thousand ignorant depositions!" Jolie fumed. "These aren't grounds to condemn anyone!"
"We wouldn't want to leave any possible grounds for later criticism," Parry said smoothly. "It is better to nail it down absolutely. I believe I can develop firmer testimony."
Father Service blew out his cheeks. "Very well, Father Grief, if you insist."
"This one," Jolie said, pointing to one of the depositions. "I have a feeling about her."
Parry picked up the document. "Fabiola," he read. "Her testimony seems to be crucial."
"So it seems," Father Service agreed. "That alone is sufficient to seal the case."
"Then we are agreed: she must be interviewed."
Father Service opened then closed his mouth. He had no such intention, but was now in an awkward position to deny it. They reviewed other documents. "It appears that Lord Bofort stands to gain somewhat from this transaction," Parry remarked. "His lands are adjacent to those of the accused. I begin to suspect a motive." Indeed, Jolie was growing excited; she suspected Lord Bofort.
"Such suspicion is inappropriate to men of God," Father Service protested. "Lord Bofort is not on trial!"
"Perhaps not," Parry agreed. But if he turned out to be the one... In due course the woman stood before them. Fabiola was young, no more than seventeen, but looked older. Her hair was bound back by a fillet and hanging loose behind, in the fashion of unmarried girls. Her tunic was in fair condition. She stared at the two men behind the desk with great frightened brown eyes, reminding Parry momentarily of the way Jolie had been when he first summoned her to his house. Even after twenty years, such memories were poignant.
"She's been tortured," Jolie said.
Tortured! Parry wanted to ask for more information on that, but could not speak in the presence of the others. His ability to talk with his dead wife would not have been understood by the men of his order!
"According to this deposition," Father Service said to her, "you have testified that the accused has had communion with devils, and that you have seen this yourself. Is this true?"
"Yes, Father," she said, almost whispering.
"And that when the accused discovered you observing him, he sent one of his devils after you, and the devil caught you and raped you?"
Her pallor faded as she tried to show some color. "Yes, Father." It was a difficult thing for a woman to confess rape, because it reflected on her more than on the rapist.
Father Service turned to Parry. "We have documentation of the rape. She was examined by Lord Bofort's personal physician, who verified it."
"She was raped," Jolie agreed. "But the deposition says nothing about torture."
Parry nodded. "Fabiola, we are not here to add to your burdens," he said gently. "We wish only to ascertain the truth. I am not certain that your deposition covers all of it."
Her eyes widened with something like terror. "Please, Father, I have told all! All! I swear it!" She was eager not to be tortured again, of course.
"I doubt this," Parry said firmly.
"Oh, Father, what is it you wish me to say?" she begged. The significance of this phrasing was not lost on Parry; she was ready to say anything she was directed to say, because her will had been broken.
"Only the whole truth, Fabiola."
"But I—"
"I see nothing in this document about your torture."
Father Service started, but remained silent. This line of questioning had caught him by surprise, but it interested him.
The girl tried to shrink into herself. "I have not been—" She could not continue, for obviously she had been threatened with more torture if she told of the first.
"She's marked on the belly," Jolie said.
"Remove your tunic," Parry said.
Now Father Service had to protest. "We are men of God, Brother! We cannot expose this woman to—"
"True," Parry agreed. "We must clear this chamber of all but the essential parties." He glanced around to where guards and servitors stood. "Depart, we shall call when we require your presence."
"But Father!" the sergeant said.
Parry simply turned his gaze on the man, making a slight frown. The sergeant quailed, knowing the trouble he would be in if one of the friars reported him for insubordination. The power of the Church was supposedly neither physical nor political, but in truth it was both, and all knew it. Peasants were not the only folk subject to torture.
In short order the chamber was emptied of all but the two friars and the girl. "Remove your tunic," Parry repeated softly.
"Oh, Father, why do you seek to shame me?" she cried.
"We are men of God," Father Service said sharply. "There is no lechery in our gaze. We seek only to ascertain the truth." He had enough experience with Parry to know that Parry never made foolish demands, and of course he had to support the authority of the Church. This had become an issue; therefore he defended it.
Trembling, the girl drew off her tunic. She wore only a bandage beneath it, stained cloth wrapped around her abdomen. Her body was so thin and dirty that it was no incitement to lechery. "A knife, I think," Jolie said. "But she wasn't cut deeply; there must be something else."
"You said you have not been tortured," Parry said. "Why, then, do you wear a bandage?"
"Oh, Father, the demon did it to me!" she exclaimed.
"Did what?" Father Service asked, getting into it now.
"He—it—it clawed me when it—"
"Woman!" Parry snapped, causing her to jump guiltily. "Do not attempt to deceive men of God!"
She broke into tears.
"Fabiola, look at me," Parry said.
The girl wrenched her gaze up until it met his own. She seemed like a bird before a serpent.
"There are two kinds of damnation," Parry said. "One is the damnation of the body, and I see you have suffered that. The other is the damnation of the soul, and you are in danger of that."
"Oh, please, Father, mercy!" she screamed, terrified anew.
"The Lord Jesus is merciful," Parry said sternly. "But He requires truth. Tell the truth now, and your soul shall be removed from peril."
The girl sobbed, but did not speak.
"There is something else," Jolie said. "I think she's been threatened. Or maybe her family."
Parry nodded. "Do you fear to bring destruction on your family if you tell the truth?" he asked quietly. "Remember, God is your judge."
Her mouth worked. "I—"
"I give you my word that no harm—no further harm shall come to you or your family if you confess the whole truth before us now," Parry said.
A tiny flicker of hope showed. "Your word, Father?"
"And mine," Father Service said. "You have nothing to fear from us."
Still she hesitated. "You swear?"
Father Service stiffened, but Parry cautioned him with a touch on the arm. "Lucifer can be cruel to the ignorant, Brother," he murmured. "She is not conscious of questioning our word." Then, to the girl: "We swear, before God and the Holy Virgin, child. You and your family will be protected. All it requires is the whole truth." Even that did not seem to be enough. The girl stood there, obviously wanting to cooperate, but unable to take the necessary step.
"You know we are not alone in this," Parry said. "Look at me, child." He brought out a small silver cross.
She looked, and he fixed her with his mesmeric gaze. "In a moment you will see this cross begin to glow. It will be a sign from God to you personally, that all will be well. Look at the cross now, child."
She transferred her gaze to the cross. In a moment her face seemed to illuminate. She was highly suggestible, as the ignorant tended to be. "Oh, it glows, it glows!" she exclaimed.
Parry extended the cross toward her. "Take it, child. Feel the warmth of it. This is God's protection, as long as your faith is strong."
Hesitantly she took it. "Oh, it is warm!"
"As warm as our Savior's great and blessed love for you," Parry said. "He will protect you always, if your sins be confessed and your heart pure."
"But I am full of sin!" she cried. "Terrible sin!"
"Confess that sin, that it may be freely forgiven. Our Lord Jesus died, that this be possible. He welcomes the penitent sinner."
Then the floodgate was opened. "They made me do it!" she said rapidly. "They stripped me and put the knife to my belly, and they cut me, and it hurt but I could not scream because they bound my mouth, and they said they would cut a hole in me and draw out my gut and tie a horse to it and strike him with a whip so that he would gallop away and draw out my life and they brought up the horse and oh, I had to do it!"
Father Service's mouth fell open. But Parry, prepared for this, took it in stride. "We understand, child. Put your clothing on again, and we shall discuss the details. You have done well to tell us this."
Fabiola scrambled into her tunic, and the interrogation resumed. They learned that Lord Bofort, the accuser, had done this, threatening to do the same to each member of her family if she failed to testify as he wished, and if she spoke one word of this to any other party. Lord Bofort was the nemesis of this region; she knew he could and would do all of it. There were stories.
"But I have not been raped," she had protested as she learned the story she had to tell.
Whereupon one of Bofort's men had raped her. She, seeing the knife and the horse nearby, had not dared protest. Therefore she knew that by contemporary custom she had not truly been raped, for she had technically acceded to it. But she would be sure to tell the story they demanded of her. Parry turned to his associate. "Are you satisfied, Brother?"
"No," Father Service said. "Justice has not yet been done."
Parry nodded. "And it had better be initiated before this girl leaves this chamber." He raised his voice. "Magistrate!"
The magistrate entered. "The girl has satisfied you?"
"In a manner of speaking," Parry said dryly. "We are satisfied that we now know the truth of this situation. You will arrest Lord Bofort, for he has incited false testimony. You will also extend protection to this witness and her family, lest there be misfortune."
"But I do not take orders from you!" the magistrate protested.
Parry turned that disconcerting gaze on the man. "Of course you do not, magistrate. You merely do what you know to be proper. We merely advise. The Church does not interfere in the concerns of men." The man became as uncertain as the girl had been. "You really think—?"
"We believe that the truth will manifest in due course, and would not want it to be said that any party interfered." Parry continued to gaze at the man.
"Uh, yes, perhaps it would be best to—I will see to it."
He hurried out.
Father Service shook his head, bemused. "Brother, you certainly have a way with you! First you caused the girl to reverse her sworn testimony, then you—I could not have done it!"
Parry smiled. "Surely you could, Brother, if you saw the need." He was fortunate that his associate could so readily be managed. That was a common trait of those whose views of right and wrong were narrow.
But it turned out that Lord Bofort was not so readily arrested. He resided in a castle that was defended by a host of a score or more of knights. It would take an army with siege equipment to fetch him out—and by the time that could be arranged, his potent political connections would have gotten him off.
Parry realized that his promise to Fabiola would be worthless unless he got Lord Bofort out of the way. The moment the friars departed, those knights would swoop down and wreak vengeance on the girl and her family. The magistrate would bend to the most proximate power, and not interfere. Parry had kept the girl in the vicinity, knowing that it would not be safe to release her until the matter was resolved. She was looking better, having been fed and cleaned, and her confidence in the cross he had given her almost made her glow. That glow would quickly fade if Bofort got hold of her!
However, he had come prepared for this kind of encounter, thanks to Jolie's suspicion about this assignment. "I shall simply have to go and fetch him out," he told the magistrate, "and deliver him to you for trial."
Father Service coughed. He was firm in his faith, but not a fool.
The magistrate shook his head. "Begging your pardon, Father, but you can't do that. He has little respect for friars. He would have you beaten, or worse."
Parry affected surprise. "But I am a man of God."
"Father, we are far from the center of things. The power of God sometimes has trouble making itself felt here," the magistrate said.
"The power of God is without limit," Parry said righteously.
"All the same, Father—"
"Perhaps we should merely report this to—" Father Service began.
"No, this is a thing that must be done," Parry said firmly. "But I agree, Brother, it should be reported. Suppose you return to make the report to our Order, while I go to bring the man to justice?"
"You must not go alone!" Father Service said, agitated.
"I will not go alone," Parry said. "I will go in the company of God, than which there is none better."
"Yes, of course! But even so—"
"Then it is settled. I will see Lord Bofort to justice here, while you relay word to our Order, who will advise the Pope, who I am sure will be pleased. It is not every day the Church is able to act so specifically in the cause of justice."
"Not every day," Father Service agreed hollowly.
"Really, Father—" the magistrate started.
"No more of this," Parry said briskly. "My course is clear. Merely show me the way to Lord Bofort's demesnes, and I shall pursue the matter as God directs me."
"I can show you, Father!" Fabiola said. "I live near there." Which might have been the main reason she was selected as a key witness. Why travel far to induct a peasant girl when one was close by?
"Excellent, child; you shall be my guide." Father Service exchanged a look with the magistrate. Both evidently thought Parry had lost his wits, but neither was in a position to make an issue of it. They thought he was going naked into the lion's den.
However, he reminded himself, there had been one who had gone into the lion's den before, and had tamed the lions.
In due course they set off, the girl leading the way, the man riding the donkey. There had been one who rode a donkey into town, too, he remembered.
And, gazing at Fabiola's thin back, he was reminded again of Jolie, as she had been during their first interview.
That thought evoked Jolie. "Now don't go getting notions!" she chided him.
"None, my love," he murmured.
Fabiola turned. "What, Father?"
"It is all right, child. I was merely talking to myself."
But the girl continued to gaze in his direction. "Who is that great lady, Father?"
"You see her?" Parry asked, startled.
"Of course she sees me!" Jolie said. "You gave her the cross."
"So I did," he agreed, doubting that that could be the reason. Father Service had a similar cross and had not seen Jolie. Then, to Fabiola: "The lady is my wife, when she was your age. She has been dead more than twenty years, but she guards me yet."
"Oh." Fabiola faced forward again and resumed walking.
"What do you have in mind, love?" Jolie inquired. "You know that evil man is not going to come out just because you ask him to."
"I know. But if he is, as we strongly suspect, the sorcerer who spotted us, and led to your death and my father's, he cannot withstand exposure. That may be my major weapon against him."
Fabiola turned again. "Lord Bofort is a sorcerer, Father?"
He had forgotten, carelessly, that the girl could overhear him when he spoke to Jolie. Yet was there harm in it? Fabiola was dependent on him for her security and that of her family; she would support him absolutely.
"Yes, child, I believe so. So am I—but my magic is white, in support of God, while his is black, supported by the forces of evil." Parry had made a considerable study of evil; on occasion other friars had even teased him for his supposed love of evil because of his finesse in ferreting it out, as in this present case. He had learned well that evil was not always where one expected it, or of the nature one anticipated.
"I would like to see the man who was responsible for denying me my life with you brought to justice," Jolie said. "But still, I don't see why mere exposure should hurt him."
"Because he once worked in support of the crusade," Parry explained. "That was actually a work of evil, but was believed to be good. He would therefore have seemed to be aligning himself with good, and surely he would not thereafter declare himself to be the opposite. His present situation is evidence that he professes to be a good man. If his servants or knights knew that he was not, and that the whole countryside was about to know that truth, they would not support him. So exposure could cost him greatly at the outset; his own men would turn against him."
"I would love to see that!" Fabiola exclaimed.
Surely she would, for she had been tortured and raped by Bofort's men.
"Do you know, Parry, we might be able to use her," Jolie said.
"Use her?" he repeated, startled.
"Use me?" Fabiola asked. She evidently understood that he was answering questions she could not hear.
"I believe I might be able to speak to her, if I floated through her head," Jolie said. "Then I could tell her what to say. It might make a difference."
"I don't know..."
But Jolie was already floating toward the girl. Her form fuzzed as it overlapped the head, then shrank into it.
Fabiola abruptly straightened up. Then she turned to look back at him. "Hello, my love," she said with Jolie's voice.
Parry almost fell off the donkey. "Get out of there!" he sputtered. "That's too much like possession!"
"No, it's fun," Fabiola said in her own voice. "I can hear her now, and feel how she wants me to speak. I think I would know a demon. Jolie is good!"
"But the implications—"
The girl stood, evidently listening. Then she said: "I suppose that's true." She was talking to the ghost within her. "But it seems like trying to vamp a holy man."
"Get out of there!" Parry repeated.
The girl glanced at him, forming a marginal smile. "Can you make me, Parry?" she asked in Jolie's voice. Now her features seemed to resemble Jolie's, too.
He jumped off the donkey and strode to her. He took her by the shoulders. "By the greatness of God, depart this vessel!"
Jolie reappeared in the air above the girl's head. "You exorcised me!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I'm no demon!"
Fabiola began to cry. "I didn't mean any harm! It was only a game, she said!"
Parry turned her loose. "Some games we do not play," he said shortly, and returned to the donkey.
"Don't be so stuffy!" Jolie said. "I was only showing you what could be done. I can help you directly, if I work through her. I'm not going to corrupt her, and it might make a difference if Bofort proves harder to deal with than you think. Anyway, what do you suppose you are going to do with her, after she brings you to the castle? Turn her loose so the knights can run her down?"
Parry had to concede there was a merit in her position. "You're sure she isn't being imposed on? I gave her my word to protect her from that."
"No, it's fun," Fabiola said. "I feel like a woman when she's with me."
That was part of the problem. Parry had lived for twenty years without any women in his personal life, wanting none after Jolie. The sudden manifestation of Jolie's personality in a girl close to her age when she lived had jolted him, arousing reactions he had thought long forgotten. Fabiola resembled Jolie in no other respect; she was neither pretty nor bright. If such a manifestation could provoke such a reaction in him, what would a closer match have done? He was a man of God now!
Jolie floated over to him. "You started to see her as a woman?" she asked softly.
Parry nodded grimly.
"I'm sorry. I hadn't thought it through. It was almost like being alive again. I won't tease you anymore."
"Thank you." He did not look at her.
"But I really do think she could help us—and it isn't safe to let her go, yet. That Bofort is a bad enemy."
"Agreed."
"Then is it all right to—?"
"Do what you believe is best, Jolie," he said, yielding reluctantly.
She drifted off. In a moment Fabiola straightened again. "Oh, I wish I were like you!"
Surely so. Parry reflected. He was not at all sure how he felt about this development.
"Now I can remain with Fabiola, or I can explore the castle, when we get there," Jolie said through the girl's mouth. "What do you wish?"
"I'm not sure," Parry said. "I won't be able to speak to you there, lest I give away your nature, so you'll have to use your judgment. Probably you should circulate, to see what is around us, that I may not be able to see, and report to me, but at other times remain with her."
"I will do that."
"Fabiola," he said. "Are you sure you wish to enter the castle? They will not like you there."
"I have the cross you gave me, Father," she said promptly.
"I cannot be banned."
"That is true—so long as your faith is firm. But if you begin to doubt, that protection will falter. Jesus cannot help those whose faith is not pure. They will try to make you doubt."
She gripped the cross, holding it high. "They cannot make me doubt."
Parry hoped that was the case. He knew they could not make him doubt, but her faith was of recent vintage. Still, with Jolie to guide her, she had a chance.
They arrived at the castle. It was not any giant of its type, but it was imposing enough, a motte and bailey with forbidding stone walls. Like any castle, it was highly defensible; twenty men could hold off an army here. They were evidently expected, for the drawbridge was down and the gate guards snapped to attention as they approached. "Our master bids you welcome, Father Grief," a guard said. "We shall take care of the donkey and the wench."
Parry stiffened momentarily; even after the score of years, that term wench bothered him. But he forced himself to relax. "Thank you; the donkey you may care for, but the young woman will remain with me."
The guard paused, assessing the situation. It was not unknown for friars to abridge their vows of chastity when opportunity offered. Parry had investigated more than one such case, and taken the appropriate disciplinary action; it was galling to have such suspicion adhere to him now. But perhaps that was better than the alternatives; at least it gave a pretext to keep the girl close. They were ushered into the main castle. As they walked down the long entry passage, Jolie floated away, then returned. "They are drawing up the bridge," she announced.
Parry nodded, as if to himself. He had expected as much. The lion did not wish his prey to escape without a reckoning.
They came to the main court, which was elegantly furnished. Illustrated tapestries hung on the walls, and the floor was polished wood. Lord Bofort had excellent taste—and the ill-gotten wealth to indulge it.
"There are bowmen watching from concealed recesses," Jolie said. "Crossbows."
Parry reached into an inner pocket and took his large silver cross. He doubted that anyone would fire at him yet, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances. Fabiola felt the same way; she clutched her small cross tightly.
Lord Bofort awaited them at a great oaken table. He was a stout man of perhaps fifty, very well dressed with embroidered robes. "Welcome, Father Grief," he said expansively. "To what do we owe the honor of this visit by a man of the cloth?"
"Bofort," Parry said without preamble, "there is a warrant for your arrest for abuse of your power. I have come to take you to the magistrate."
"Friar, you are overstepping your bounds," Bofort said curtly. "You have no business meddling in my affairs."
"I shall be satisfied to let the magistrate decide that," Parry said. "I ask you to leave this castle and come with me now to the town, so that this matter may be settled."
"Because of the reckless charge of a foolish young girl? Surely you know better than that, friar."
"You were satisfied with her testimony when you meant to use it against your neighbor," Parry reminded him. "Now we have ascertained that testimony was perjured, the result of the torture and threats you made against her. She is a more credible witness against you than she was against your neighbor."
"I think she will not be a witness at all," Bofort said grimly. He made a gesture, and two guards stepped forward.
Fabiola straightened, and Parry recognized Jolie's aspect. She lifted the small silver cross. "Creatures of hell, touch me not, lest you be chastened," she said.
The guards hesitated.
"Do not be daunted by a superstition!" Bofort snapped. "Take her!"
The guards resumed their motion. Fabiola fixed her gaze on the face of the nearest and swung the cross, shoving it against his forearm.
The man screamed and fell back, holding his arm.
Parry knew that Jolie had drawn on an item of magic they had learned since her death: the mesmeric burn. The guard had not really been hurt, but he had felt the pain where the cross touched—because of the guilt on his conscience. He had known it was wrong to interfere with a witness protected by a friar. Superstition had indeed daunted him.
"So it is of this manner," Bofort muttered. He made another gesture.
"Deflect!" Parry cried, warning Jolie.
Two crossbow shafts came down from the bowmen in the alcoves. The arrows swerved slightly and thudded into the wall on either side of the girl. Jolie had invoked the spell of deflection, causing the barbs to miss. Conjuration or levitation was difficult magic, but deflection was its simplest aspect, and they had more than a decade to study it.
"If your guilt were in doubt," Parry said, "that doubt has been resolved by your action. Come with me." He strode around the table toward Bofort.
"Clear the court!" Bofort cried. "I will talk with this man alone." The guards and attendants hurried out, as did the bowmen.
In a moment Parry and Fabiola were alone with Bofort. "Who are you?" Bofort demanded. "I know sorcery when I see it!"
"I am sure you do," Parry agreed. "You have practiced it for decades."
"On behalf of the Church!"
"On behalf of Lucifer."
"How dare you charge me with that? I gave invaluable magical aid to the crusade!"
"You systematically eliminated your competition—in the guise of that support. That was the work of Lucifer."
"Who are you?" Bofort repeated. "I know of all competent sorcerers, and there are none among the monks!"
"I am the one that got away. You killed my father and my wife. Now I bring the power of that God you wronged, to see that justice is done."
Bofort reflected. "There was one that escaped! A novice, a stripling, who murdered a crusader and slipped the noose. I had all but forgotten."
"I had not forgotten," Parry said grimly. "Now you will come with me voluntarily to the magistrate, or I shall reveal your nature to the personnel of this establishment. That will demolish your reputation as well as your estate."
"You seek to make a deal, friar?" Bofort sneered.
"My calling requires mercy for the sinner, no matter how grievous his sins may be. Confess your sins, and accept your punishment, and I shall not add to it. Come with me now, and some part of your estate may survive."
"I cannot come with you," Bofort said. "You know whom I serve."
"I serve a greater one."
"No, you merely serve a different one."
"Must we try our strength? My Lord supports me; does yours support you?"
Bofort thought about that a moment. It was known that Lucifer quickly lost patience with those who were clumsy in the pursuit or practice of evil. "Perhaps we can after all deal. I will give you information that is worth far more than I am, if you will depart in peace."
"I seek no deal, merely justice. Come with me; perhaps you can make a deal with the magistrate."
"The magistrate? He goes with the politics of the moment! You have incited the town against me; there will be no justice there."
"It's true, Parry," Jolie said through Fabiola's mouth. "The townsmen are massing now to march on this castle. It seems that quite a number of them have suffered at the hands of this man, and now they see their chance to bring him down."
"So you are finished, sorcerer," Parry said. "Come with me."
"I tell you, you would be better off to make the deal," Bofort said. "I can tell you of the greatest scourge ever to strike this fair land, now in the making. You may be intimately involved; what irony! You can save yourself and all you hold dear, if you know its nature."
"I make no deals with your kind," Parry said. "Now come; I will protect you from the malice of the throng."
"Well, if I must," Bofort said, and turned as if to walk.
Then a bolt of energy lanced at Parry. It bathed him in fire, then died. He was untouched.
"So you are braced against physical assault," Bofort said. "But perhaps not against this." He made a sign.
Parry held up the cross. Something struck it, invisibly, and bounced back.
"Why you cunning—Hell and damnation! Damn, damn, damn!—rascal!" Bofort exclaimed. "You used a mirror spell to send the curse back at me! There is no cure!"
"Come with me," Parry repeated.
"I shall not—God be cursed! Lucifer be worshipped! Damn, damn, damn!—come with you, friar! The peons would—animal fornication! Black Mass! Damn, damn, damn!—tear me apart!"
"Then I shall go without you," Parry said. "Come, Fabiola; our business here is done."
"For the love of—damn, damn, damn!—what do you expect me to do?" Bofort cried in desperation.
"I expect you to suffer to the precise degree of those you have afflicted with this curse in the past," Parry said.
They walked from the chamber, Lord Bofort ranting behind.
"Father, what's wrong with him?" Fabiola asked, awed.
"The curse he sought to inflict on me," Parry said. "My research in the documents relating to this case suggested that he has used it on others, so I prepared myself against it. It causes the victim to swear uncontrollably when he tries to speak. Such a person cannot hide, for his mouth soon gives him away. Lord Bofort is finished; his own retainers will not serve him now. I doubt he can do much magic, for the interjections will ruin both the spells and his concentration."
"Serves him right," Jolie said. "You really fixed him."
"I did nothing to him," Parry demurred. "He did it to himself."
"You are a man of God," she said smugly. "You have left worldly passions behind. But I am only a vengeful spirit; I glory in our enemy's downfall. It was long in coming, but nonetheless satisfying."
Parry let it go at that. He did not want to explore his private emotions more closely.
They departed the castle without opposition; the guards had seen enough to realize that it would be extremely bad form to oppose the powerful friar. Outside, they soon encountered the advancing throng. "Do not seek vengeance," Parry urged them. "The man has brought mischief on himself."
They milled uncertainly, not wishing to oppose him but also unwilling to give up their satisfaction.
But the matter soon became academic. News came from the castle: Lord Bofort had lambasted his guards and servants in the foulest possible terms, then stabbed himself. His body, they claimed, had turned to charred ashes before their eyes, as if burned in the fires of hell itself.
Parry saw Fabiola back to her family. "Keep the cross, my child; it will protect you always, as it has today."
"Oh thank you, Father!" she exclaimed. "And the Lady Jolie!"
"God bless and keep you, child." Parry remounted his donkey and rode away.
"You put on a humble front for the populace," Jolie said. "But you know that the legend of Father Grief has been started, and will last long in this region."
"Perhaps it is time that the power of God manifested in the hinterlands," he said.
"This won't do you any harm in the hierarchy of the Dominican Order, either," she continued.
"It is true that there are projects I have wished to pursue. Perhaps God has chosen this way to forward them."
So they chatted as they traveled home to the monastery. Parry tried to maintain a humble pose, but deep down he was extremely gratified. The action of the day did not restore Jolie or his father to life, but it went far to alleviate an abiding frustration. He had finally settled with the one who had brought such mischief on him.
Yet there was a dark current, too. Thanatos had said that there was great evil attaching to Jolie's death, so that her soul was in near balance instead of being free to float blithely to Heaven. So far he had not fathomed that evil; what he had done following that tragedy had been manifestly good. Could Thanatos have been mistaken? So it seemed—yet somehow he doubted it.
His success did indeed have impact. The following year, in 1231, he was invited to meet with Pope Gregory IX. He explained to the Pope the necessity for a more ardent pursuit of evil, because Satan had many tools among disaffected folk. Lord Bofort had become such a tool (Parry was not free to say that he believed Bofort had always been such a tool, because the Pope had endorsed the crusade of his predecessors), and was constantly seeking evil in others. Only the most constant vigilance and understanding of the problem could keep the works of Lucifer at bay. He expressed his conviction that the Dominicans, as the order that had studied this issue most scrupulously, should be formally assigned this duty. As it was at present, the Dominicans lacked the authority to pursue the evil of heresy to its limit. Stronger measures were required.
The Pope listened, and seemed impressed. But he would not act without further deliberation. He thanked Parry and dismissed him. But Parry had the impression that the Pope intended to act, and was gratified.
Two years later, in 1233, that action came: the inquisitores hereticae pravitatis were henceforth to be Dominicans, appointed by the Pope and subject only to him. Parry was not the friar placed in charge, but he was the mover behind the scene, which was exactly as he wanted it.
Now at last he could go after the ultimate source of evil, of which Lord Bofort had been only a symptom: Lucifer himself. Parry intended to discover the nature of the scourge Bofort had spoken of, and to foil it. The Inquisition had gained teeth.