In 1239 Parry rode his donkey to the Germanic realm. It was fall, and the countryside was turning beautiful. He was alone this time; the monastery had not been able to spare another monk for such a long journey, and it was known that Father Grief could take care of himself despite his advancing age. "He brings grief to any who oppose him," it was said, without complete humor.
"Whose chestnuts are you pulling from the fire this time?" Jolie inquired, manifesting as a ghost floating before him. The donkey, used to this, merely twitched an ear and plodded on, ignoring her.
"The Emperor's," he replied, knowing what was coming.
"Frederick?" she asked. "But he's been excommunicated!"
"Twice," Parry agreed equably.
"So how can you, a devout man of God, go into his realm?" She was badgering him, but he liked it.
"Because the realm of the excommunicated is where the light of God is most needed," he replied. "My journey here is not to be construed as support for Frederick II, though in truth he is not an evil man, but as an effort to abolish heresy wherever it is found. The Holy Roman Empire does not question the authority of God, or even of the Church; it merely seeks to increase its temporal power at the expense of that of the Church."
"Big distinction! How can the Emperor fight the Pope and not be an evil man?"
"Because good and evil do not lie in the material realm. If Frederick stopped pushing his influence farther into Italy's rich northern lands, the Pope would soon enough find him to be a worthy man."
"You sound as if you are criticizing the Church!" He turned a bland countenance to her. "Surely you misunderstand, my dear! How could I, a Dominican friar, dedicated as I am to the eradication of evil, possibly do that?" She laughed. "I wish I were flesh again, Parry! I'd corrupt you so rapidly!" He nodded. Jolie was great company in spirit, but would have been much better alive. He had done well as a monk in large part because of her advice, and because he had no interest in mortal women while Jolie was with him. If she ever should leave him, appearing no more in her ghost semblance, he would be in trouble, for even at age forty-nine he did notice the young women.
"But I don't think you ever really answered my question," she continued. "What is your present mission?"
"As you know, I have labored diligently to extirpate heresy from the fair face of France. Most heretics are simple, uneducated folk who accede readily to correction when it is made; they merely have known no better. Thus my labors are mainly of enlightenment and persuasion."
"You're stalling, Parry! Don't use your Guest Lecturer pose on me. What's so special about this case?"
"Well, some few are hardened in their error, resistive to the amelioration of normal efforts. Such cases are referred to the higher structure of the Inquisition. I have shown a certain talent in this regard, so have been assigned increasingly to the most difficult cases."
"Parry, you know I know all this!" she exclaimed in exasperation. Then her eyes narrowed. "Is it a female heretic?
A luscious young woman who—" Now he laughed. "I love it when you're jealous, Jolie! But I must confess I have an additional motive: not only do I wish to abolish heresy wherever it sprouts in its weedlike profusion, I seek to discover Lucifer's larger purpose. Do you remember Lord Bofort?"
"That girl!" she exclaimed. "What's her name—Fabiola! The one that demon framed! I knew you had a woman on your mind!"
"That was years ago, and I only remember her because you animated her. Oh, Jolie, if you ever could return to life—"
"I could only do it halfway, with the consent of the living body. And that would ruin your celibacy. You're better off with the dead." She lifted her head with a flirt of her hair. "Now stop changing the subject and tell me about this particular mission."
"From Lord Bofort, before I left him, I learned that Lucifer is up to some terrible scourge. I refused to deal with him, yet always since have regretted it. What did he know, and why did he think I should have any connection with it? That haunts me. This upcoming heretic may be a genuine agent of Lucifer; there are certain signals. If so, I may at last learn from him the nature of this thing. That is what makes this potentially significant, for me and perhaps for the world. All I know now, from those scattered hints I have gleaned from recanting heretics, is that this scourge will devastate all Europe, perhaps destroying the Church itself, and that it will occur about a decade from the time I first learned of it. That was nine years ago."
"So you still have one more year to ferret it out."
"No, not necessarily. It could happen before the time expires, or after. I can't afford to let it go any longer than absolutely necessary. Suppose it happens this year?"
"Is there any sign of such monstrous evil?"
"No, there isn't. That's the most disturbing aspect of all. I see nothing capable of devastating the entire continent and delivering the majority of its souls into the power of the arch-enemy. To the north I see King Henry III of England squandering the purse of that nation in foolish wars and pointless extravagance; he lacks the wit to bring such disaster on any except his own head. To the south I see the Christian states of Castile, Aragon and Portugal wresting the Iberian peninsula from the Moorish infidel; that is hardly any tragedy. Here in France Louis DC is close to an ideal King; when he has had more time to establish himself. France will benefit greatly. To the east is the Emperor, who has too much to gain from controlling central Europe to risk destroying it. In short, I see no sign of any evil so monstrous as to devastate the entire continent and deliver the majority of its souls into the power of the archenemy. Europe is its usual chaotic self, neither better nor worse than it was the century before. The matter baffles me! Yet I am sure it is not bluff; somewhere, somehow, a terrible scourge is in the making."
"I hope you find it out, Parry," she said, and faded.
He hoped so, too!
Near the border Jolie brought another matter to his attention. "There is a group of orphan children that need to be taken to a nunnery to the east," she announced. "But the nun who is supposed to take them is afraid to travel through the Black Forest without an armed escort, and there is none available."
Parry sighed. "What do you want of me, Jolie?"
"Why, I think you could readily convey those poor children. No robber would dare to bother you."
"I appreciate your confidence," he said dryly. "Where are they?"
"Right this way, noble knight!" She floated before him, guiding him. Parry was just thankful that he had taken the trouble to learn the language of German, for this was surely a German nun guiding the children to her home nunnery.
The nun was only too glad to accept his offer. She knew that a Dominican friar was the best available company for a dangerous trip. Once again Jolie had served as his conscience, alerting him to a deed he would not have thought of on his own. He was a better man and a better friar because of her, he knew. That was ironic, because he would never have become a friar if she had lived, and would not have remained one had she somehow been restored to life.
There turned out to be eight children, all girls, ranging in age from five to twelve. They were barefoot and in rags, but reasonably healthy and clean. The nun had taken good care of them, to the best of her resources.
They started along the path. Parry offered his donkey to the nun. She accepted, but did not ride herself; instead she put the smallest two girls on it.
The forest closed in densely soon after they left the, village. The road degenerated to a trail, so that they had to go single file. Parry led the way, and the donkey brought up the rear, with the nun keeping a wary eye from the middle. They had hoped to reach an established camping spot by nightfall, but a sudden storm drenched them and made the trail a wash of mud. The children began to whimper. It became obvious that they would have to camp for the night in the wilderness.
"There are edible berries," Jolie said. "And some ferns. We can feed them and bed them down."
Parry relayed her suggestions, and soon the girls were foraging for their supper and sleep. Under his guidance they managed to form crude shelters from boughs and sticks, and to gather sufficient fern for comfort.
Then the shapes and sounds of the dusk manifested. There was an eerie howl that sent the girls clustering together, terrified, and rustlings amidst the foliage of the trees.
"These are merely wild creatures," Parry said. "They will not harm us."
"The holy man says not to worry," the nun told the children. "Now settle and sleep."
They settled, clustering together in their shelters. Parry considered, then hoisted himself into a tree. Safely out of sight of the party, he could change into the form of an owl and roost with relative comfort and safety. One of the pleasures of recent years was his renewed facility with magic, now that he no longer feared being tracked down by the mysterious sorcerer. He used magic only for proper purpose, of course, and always discreetly; it was too easy for ignorant folk to assume that any magic was evil. The truth was, the Church was based on magic, from the simplest rituals in the Mass to the full-scale miracles; without it, the Church would soon falter and fail. That was one of the most compelling reasons to extirpate heresy: if folk were permitted to practice magic independently, the monopoly would be broken. And, of course, without the guidance of the Church, folk would inevitably drift into evil magic and Lucifer would profit. Good magic was a marvelous tool, but evil magic was treacherous.
There was a commotion at the shelters. The nun muttered, evidently investigating. Then there was a piercing scream.
Parry flung himself out of the tree. That had been the nun screaming!
She had cause. In the slanting moonlight was the shape of a wolf.
Stories about wolves abounded, but Parry had taken the trouble to research the matter and knew that wolves almost never attacked man, only man's domesticated animals. That was why a lone shepherd boy could protect a flock of fat sheep from predation; it was not his presumed skill with a weapon, but the fact that wolves feared man and avoided him whenever possible.
With certain key exceptions. When an animal was inhabited by a demon, it was no longer in full control of itself and acted irrationally. The demon did not care for its welfare, and indeed soon ground the animal to a miserable death. In the final stages the animal foamed at the mouth, and fled water. But before it died, it tried its best to bite some other creature, such as a man, by that action transferring the demon to the man. Thus the course continued indefinitely, with relatively few demons causing misery and death for an endless chain of victims.
This was of course a job for the friar. No wonder the nun had screamed; she, better than any, had known the creature for what it was: a sending of Lucifer.
"Do not move," Parry said clearly. "Motion attracts it. Remain where you are, and I shall deal with it."
The nun crossed herself. The wolf's head snapped about to orient on her. "No motion!" Parry cried. "The cross only baits it! Demons are, infuriated by the cross!"
The nun froze, realizing the truth of his cautioning.
Now Parry advanced slowly on the monster. "Orient on me, demon," he said. He brought out his own silver cross. "Gaze on this, O accursed one! These good children shall not be yours!"
The wolf did orient on him. Its eyes seemed to glow, but it maintained its uncanny silence. No growl, no sound of breathing, just that silent assessment. What was it waiting for?
"Parry!" Jolie cried, manifesting. "There are others behind you—and not just wolves!"
Parry turned. There were two other wolves—and above them, hovering low, several dark bats. All centered on him unwaveringly.
Parry realized that he was up against no ordinary thing. This was a deliberate, concerted effort. In fact, it was a trap. Lucifer was moving against him directly.
"Behind!" Jolie cried. He whirled. The first wolf was almost upon him, jaws open, faint bubbles showing. He brought the cross down, and the creature bristled and withdrew, grudgingly.
"Behind!" Jolie cried. "A bat!"
Parry whirled again, lifting the cross as the bat swooped at his head. The thing shied clear, but not before the malice showed in its tiny eyes. A drop of saliva splatted against Parry's cloak.
Then he returned to the wolf, who was crouching, about to spring. He thrust the cross at its snout, and it snarled silently and ducked away.
"Another wolf! Behind!"
He parried that one with a quick motion, then whipped the cross back to counter the first again. He would already have been bitten, had not Jolie been present to watch his rear.
So Lucifer had at last realized the effectiveness of Parry's quiet campaign against evil, and was acting to eliminate him. This was a compliment, of a sort! But how was he to escape this dreadful trap? He knew that a single bite of any one of these possessed creatures would doom him; the process might take days or weeks, but there was no cure for this type of malady.
"Behind!" Jolie screamed.
Parry jumped aside, so that whatever was coming at him would miss, and held the cross toward the wolf in front that was already tensing for a leap. The tactic worked; the bat spun by his ear, only its wingtip touching. But the wolf was unable to halt its coordinated action; it sprang, and its body struck Parry's hip.
Parry chopped downward with the cross. It rammed against the wolf's back. There was a kind of flash.
Now the creature made a sound of pure anguish, as the demon within felt the power of that enchanted talisman. It twisted to the ground, shuddering and stiffening. Ordinary folk were affected primarily by their own belief, but truly possessed creatures were literally smitten, being animated by the humors of Hell.
But the others were closing in from every point of the compass. Parry saw there was no way to thwart them all physically. He had to have some more effective measure against them. But what was there?
"Sing, Parry!" Jolie cried.
Then he knew what to do. He drew upon his lifelong ability to sing and improvise, and he set aside his inhibitions and unbound his voice. He sang to the wolves and the bats:
"Creatures of the wild, hark unto me! I am not your enemy! Your enemy is the demon inside each one of you, Who leads your soul to damnation!"
His voice reached out into the gloom of the forest, gaining authority and conviction. He saw the children staring raptly, and the nun with eyes and mouth open in astonishment. The Dominican friars did not sing, only the Franciscans!
The wolves stood at bay, and the bats hovered uncertainly. They were listening, but not in a position to respond. They were waiting for their chance to charge again.
"Creatures of the wild, hark unto me! I am not your enemy! Rise, throw out the evil spirit within your body! Cast it out, and be free! God forgives the worst human sinner who is penitent; Even so will God forgive you. Cast out the unnatural thing that possesses you Cast it out, and be natural!"
He was pleading to the hosts that the demons were using. He doubted that the animals could understand his words, but they understood his message, for the song was imbued with it. Possession of this nature was thought to have no cure, but now he was going to try to change that.
"If your demon is too strong, If it strangles you rather than be evicted, Come to me, and I will banish it With the touch of the Holy Cross."
The song was having its impact! The possessed creatures were struggling to banish their demons, and could not; but neither could the demons make them attack the singer.
"If you cannot come to me, Wait where you are. I will come to you; I will touch you and heal you."
But when he approached the nearest wolf, it shied away.
Still the demon was too strong, or the faith of the wild creatures too weak. More was required.
"Be like them!" Jolie cried. "Show them, Parry!" Parry nodded. As always, Jolie's advice was good.
"Creatures of the wild! I am your friend! I know your natures! I am one of you!"
Then he stopped singing and transformed himself into the form of a wolf. The cross remained in his right paw; he lowered his head and took it between his teeth.
He approached the nearest wolf, and this time the creature stood its ground. The silver cross touched its nose. There was another exclamation of anguish—but this time the demon spirit fled. The wolf collapsed, but it was free.
Parry approached the second wolf, and touched it similarly. Then the third. Now all three lay panting, exhausted by the terrible animation they had suffered, but restored to their natural states.
Parry changed to bat form. He was a huge bat, because the cross was too heavy for a small one. He flew slowly up, approaching one of the hovering bats, and touched it with the cross. It screamed silently and fell to the ground, but the other two did not flee. They hovered where they were, able to balk the demons to this extent. He approached and touched each, and each fell to the ground.
Now Parry returned to his human form. "Rise!" he cried to the wild creatures. "Go your ways, and suffer no demon spirits again! Live your lives as they are meant to be, far from the human kind!"
The creatures stirred. The wolves climbed to their feet and walked unsteadily into the darkness. The bats paused, then launched themselves one by one into the air, and flew away.
All that remained was the group of staring children, and the staring nun.
"I think you have some explaining to do, love," Jolie said, fading out with an impish grin.
Surely so! Parry turned to face the small audience. "What did you see?" he inquired, as if this were routine.
For a long moment there was silence. Then the smallest child piped, "Wolves!"
The next smallest added "Bats!"
"Demons!" several chorused.
"An angel!" another breathed.
"That was the Madonna!" the oldest corrected her. "And she warned you when things were behind you!"
"And she told you what to do!"
The others nodded. They had seen it too. They turned to the nun inquiringly.
The nun spoke with difficulty. "I saw—a vision," she said. "Perhaps Father Grief will clarify for us its nature."
So she hadn't seen Jolie, but realized that the children had seen something. She surely had seen Parry change form, but hesitated to proffer an explanation for that, in case the others had not seen the same.
He would put them all at ease. "It was a vision," he agreed. "Evil stalked us in the form of possessed wild creatures, but it was put to rout by the power of Jesus." He held aloft his cross. "That is all that happened, but the manner the struggle between good and evil manifests is subject to individual perceptions."
The younger girls looked blank.
"Each person sees it her own way," Parry said quickly, and the blank looks cleared. "No way is wrong; each is suited exactly to the person. So some of you may have seen wolves and bats, while others saw infernal creatures animating them. Some may have seen and heard an angel helping me, while others saw the Madonna. It does not matter; the important thing is that God saw the need, and extended His help by advising me and enabling me to drive off the creatures." He smiled. "Some may even have seen me change form, to carry the cross to the creatures in their own semblance. This too is fair."
Now the nun nodded. It seemed that that was the form of the vision she had seen. The girls, being more innocent, had seen the angel. Jolie was seldom apparent to adults, who were inevitably corrupted by life and cynicism, but children retained the openness to see spiritual doings.
"And you sang, Father!" a girl exclaimed. "When the demons were closing, you sang the evil from them!"
"Song is a wonderful force for good," Parry agreed. "Remember that, when it is time to sing in a service at the nunnery."
Again the nun nodded; she approved of that. These children should be model students, because of their experience here. But there seemed to be a certain reservation about her, and Parry understood that too. He had demonstrated too much magic for comfort.
They completed the trek through the Black Forest without further event, and delivered the girls to the nunnery. Parry wished there was more he could do for them; he knew that they faced a life of only slightly diminished privation, for the nuns had little to offer in the way of material things. But the face of each child shone with an inner joy and wonder that had not been there at the start of the journey. The vision evidently remained with them, and perhaps that was enough. Jolie manifested as he resumed his donkey ride alone. "Parry, I'm worried," she said.
"I had not realized that spirits were capable of worry," he remarked.
"I'm serious! Lucifer never went after you directly before."
"True. Obviously he knows my mission. That must be a good sign."
"A good sign? Parry, you have done well all these years because you have never taken proper credit for your accomplishments. Lucifer never realized that you were the one responsible for all that good. But now, if he knows, he'll be out to get you. The demons in the forest may be only the beginning!"
"It is good, because it means I am at last getting close to the truth," Parry explained. "Lucifer does not want me to interview this particular heretic."
"But it's dangerous! Who knows what horror will menace you next?"
"Accomplishment is seldom without risk. I trust you will keep watch over me, as you have these thirty years."
"I have no choice," she grumbled. "You hold my blood hostage."
He glanced at the stain on his wrist. Her soul was still housed there. "Certainly it has been good to have you always with me, always as pretty as you were in life."
"I think you like me better as a spirit than as a living woman!" That stung him. "I would give anything to have you alive, Jolie! But since even the semblance of that poses horrendous complications, I must be satisfied with that aspect of you that is available. Yet if I could release your spirit to go to Heaven where it belongs, I would do so."
"Oh, it's not so bad being a ghost," she said, mollified. "Though I do wonder what the great evil can be that keeps me fixed in perfect balance. I have seen no evil in your life since my death, and it is true that I would be old and fat by now if I had lived."
"And I would not be in the Church," he added. "I agree: it was terrible to have you die, but I perceive no evil apart from that. I can only presume that it has not yet manifested."
"But now Lucifer knows you. Oh, Parry—I fear that evil is close upon us!"
"We shall oppose it together," he said with conviction.
"Together," she agreed, and floated close for an ethereal kiss. Then she faded out.
There were no further episodes with evil as he completed his journey. Parry concluded that Lucifer was not truly aware of him, just of the fact that a friar had been dispatched to handle this case. So a contingent of demons had been sent to eliminate that friar. The fact that no others had come meant either that the Lord of Evil had not been paying close attention, this being a minor matter, or that he lacked other forces at the moment in this vicinity. Probably the former. Still, if this heretic did have critical information, and Parry were able to get it, then Lucifer would certainly pay attention. Then things could become difficult.
The heretic was an old man, gray of beard and frail. He was not comfortable when Parry saw him; he was in a dank dungeon, naked on the floor on his back. His wrists and ankles were roped to stakes so that he could not move them. There was a flat board on his front, and on this were set metal weights. The man was breathing only in shallow gasps, unable to inhale properly because of the pressure on his chest.
"What is this?" Parry demanded, outraged.
"It is the peine forte etdure, Father," the gaoler said. "The strong and hard pain."
"I know what it is!" Parry snapped. "What I mean is, why is this punishment being practiced on this person? I was told he has not made a plea."
"This is not punishment, Father. It is merely an inducement to cause him to make his plea."
"An inducement? It looks like torture to me!"
"By no means, Father. He is not being cut, his bones are not being dislocated, he is not being burned or starved. He is merely being encouraged to plead."
"Because if he does not plead guilty or innocent, you cannot try him," Parry said, disgusted.
"True, Father. Criminals are becoming obstinate; they dally forever, clogging the processes of justice. They must be made to plead."
"But under such duress, any man would plead, even if he had no guilt!"
"No, Father. Some die rather than plead."
"So most plead guilty? What happens to them?"
"They forfeit all their goods, and are let go."
"And what of those who plead innocent?"
"They are found guilty, and punished for their intransigence, and their property is forfeit."
"I can see why they try to avoid making pleas," Parry said dryly. "Their alternatives are starvation or torture and starvation. Did it ever occur to you that a man might be innocent, undeserving of any punishment?"
"No, Father," the gaoler said, surprised by his naivete. "We have only guilty here."
Jolie appeared. "Stop talking and get him out of this!" she exclaimed. "The poor man!"
Parry agreed. "Release the prisoner," he said.
"But he has not yet made his plea!"
"I wish to talk to him. That would be hard to do if he can't breathe."
"Oh. In that case I will lessen the weights just enough to enable him to answer."
"No. Remove them all, and unbind him. I want him free of fetters."
"But Father, this is most irregular!"
Parry delivered a steely stare. "Gaoler, do you value your soul?" The man gave way, grudgingly. In due course the prisoner was free. But he was unable to rise; he lay where he was, his gasps diminishing.
Parry tried to help him, but the man groaned. He had been bound so long that the circulation had suffered in his hands and feet, and his joints hardly functioned. Parry had to let him be; it was the kindest thing he could do.
"I have come to talk to you," Parry said gently. "I regret that you were put under such duress; I did not know of it until I saw you. I will do what I can to help you escape this situation, if you will return to the bosom of our Lord and tell me what I wish to know."
"I cannot!" the man gasped.
"Surely you can," Parry said gently. "God is forgiving, for the truly penitent."
"No, I cannot, for I dare not make a plea!"
Parry nodded. If the man confided that he had dealings with Lucifer, that would be confirmation of his guilt, and the savage retribution of the law would wipe him out. If he denied it, and in so doing swore falsely, there would be no salvation for him. It was certainly a difficult situation.
But the order thought there was evidence that this was a true heretic, and Lucifer had tried to prevent Parry's arrival to interview him. This could be the source of the information Parry had to ferret out. He could not let it go without making his utmost effort.
"Let me speak candidly," he said. "It is my desire to save your soul from the eternal fires of damnation if at all possible. It is also my desire to learn certain information. I am not without influence. Cooperate with me, and perhaps your situation will ameliorate."
The man's eyes nicked to the gaoler. He looked like a hunted animal. He did not speak.
That was enough for Parry. The suspect did know something!
Parry addressed the gaoler. "Allow me to interview this man alone, if you please."
The goaler's look was crafty. "I do not please, Father. This criminal is dangerous! I must remain here to protect you from possible harm."
"This man can hardly breathe, let alone stand," Parry pointed out. "He represents no threat to me. He is alarmed by your presence; I believe he will talk more freely in private with me."
The canny look intensified. The goaler thought there might be revelation of hidden money. "I cannot—"
Parry fixed him with an imperial glare. "Leave us!"
Reluctantly, the man retreated. He exited the cell, but stood just beyond it, well within hearing range.
"Go elsewhere," Parry said, his patience fraying.
"But I cannot leave the cell unlocked!"
"Lock it, then!"
The man hauled the heavy door shut, and barred it from outside. Parry knew he was standing just beyond it, his ear straining, but was assured that low voices would not carry sufficiently to satisfy the man.
"Now the gaoler is gone," he told the suspect. "You may speak freely to me, and I will keep your confidence."
"I—wish I could," the man said.
Parry realized that the man needed help. "I understand the situation you are in. You cannot plead, because no matter what you plead, they will deprive you of your property and perhaps your life." He saw the agreement in the haunted eyes. "You have perhaps a family, who would suffer privation, and you do not wish that." Again the muted agreement. "But if there were only some way you could get out of this without hurting those you love, you would take that course."
"Yes!" the man breathed. Now he was recovered enough to struggle to sit up, and Parry assisted him.
"Therefore your problem may be material rather than spiritual. Suppose you were to be found innocent of the charge against you?"
For a moment the man brightened; then he slumped. Parry continued to read the signals. This man had dealt with Lucifer! But now regretted it.
"You were in need—your family was in need—so you did what you thought you had to do, to deliver them from grief. What did you offer Lucifer? Surely not your soul!"
"Not my soul!" the man agreed.
"But what else would the Lord of Evil desire of you?"
The man struggled. "My—my silence."
Parry concealed his mounting excitement, and spoke calmly.
"Your silence about what?"
"I—" But the man balked, hesitant to convict himself.
"And for your silence on this score, Lucifer paid in gold," Parry said, as if there had been no balk. "It came as if by accident; you found buried coins—" The man was nodding as he spoke; he was hitting close enough to the mark.
"And when you spent them, the neighbors became suspicious, or rapacious, and turned you in, hoping to gain those coins for themselves."
"Yes!"
"And now if you confess to dealing with Lucifer, you are lost, and if you do not confess, you will be tortured until you do confess. In either case you will lose the money, and your family will be worse off than before you started."
"Yes, Father."
Parry fixed him with a gentle variant of his stare. "Did it not occur to you that Lucifer broke his bargain with you? He gave you the money—then alerted the neighbors so that you would lose it and be worse off than before."
The man's mouth fell open.
"Lucifer reneged," Parry continued relentlessly. "You owe the Lord of Evil nothing!"
"Nothing!" the man echoed.
"But you may redeem your soul and perhaps your family if you cooperate with God. God does not renege. God will welcome you back to His fold. All that He requires is genuine repentance and dedication to His will."
"My family..." the man said, daring to hope.
"First we must ascertain what we have," Parry said. "Tell me the thing about which Lucifer bought your silence, and I will see what I can do."
Suddenly it poured out. "Father, I am a historian! All my life I have studied the scrolls of the ancients, and tried to fathom the courses of mankind. I have questioned travelers, learning about their homelands, piecing together the tapestry of the mortal realm. Oh, the tragedies that abound, the wasted lives! But recently I learned of a terrible scourge that is building—"
The man paused to recover his breath. That was just as well, because Parry needed a moment to steady himself. The scourge! Here it was at last!
"And I saw that it was coming this way," the man continued. "Others have not noticed, because it is as yet far away. But it is coming here, to the ruin of us all! I sought to publish my discovery, but lacked the money, and then—"
"Then Lucifer proffered much greater wealth—for your silence," Parry said.
"Yes. He came to me in the form of an ordinary man, but I knew him for what he was. He told me where to find the coins, and said I could do whatever I liked with them, as long as I kept silent about my discovery. And I—my wife was ailing, she needed better food—"
"And you realized that if you did not agree to do as Lucifer wished for gold, he might coerce you by some less amicable means," Parry said.
"Yes. He—he frightened me! I did not want to deal with him, but—"
"My son, you did wrong," Parry said. "But your deed was understandable. What was the nature of this scourge?" He hoped that the man did not balk now!
"It is the heathen Tartars," the man said. "They come from afar, as they did eight hundred years ago, but they come in terrible strength. Then they destroyed the empire of the Romans; this time they will destroy all that remains. Already they are overrunning the lands of the Moors, making pyramids of their severed heads! The Moors are our enemies, so our kings are not concerned about their problems, but the Tartars are a worse threat than the Moors! In one, perhaps two years they will come here, and there will be carnage such as we have never seen before!"
And there it was: the scourge of which Lord Bofort had hinted! The alien Tartars—coming at last to Europe! Suddenly it all made sense. Parry had studied some history himself; he knew how ferocious had been the invasion of the Tartars before, then called the Huns.
But more information was needed, and there was not much time. One or two years? It would take that long just to prepare a respectable defense, assuming the proper ears could be reached.
"You can document this?" he inquired. "You can prove your case to those in a position to understand it?"
"Oh, yes, certainly! But—"
"But you fear the reprisals of Lucifer or the law," Parry concluded. "Do not be concerned; I will protect you from these. You must come with me, to give evidence about this matter. We must prevent the ravaging of Europe."
"But my—"
"We shall provide for your family before we go." Parry walked swiftly to the door and rapped on the wood with his knuckle. "Gaoler! Bring the prisoner's clothing! I am taking him out of here!"
"You have no authority, Father!" the gaoler cried. "The criminal is ours!"
Parry paused to take stock. It was true that the Church did not like to intervene in secular matters directly. He realized that the gaoler and his superiors were greedy for the spoils of the prisoner's property; they would not let him go without a horrendous struggle. He didn't have time for that; he had to get the man to his Order as soon as possible.
"Jolie," he murmured.
"He has summoned guards," Jolie said, manifesting. "They will not let you take him out."
Parry nodded. "Then I am constrained to use magic."
He returned to the prisoner. "I must put you in my pocket for a time," he said. "Do not be afraid; it is temporary."
"Anything is better than the torture!"
Parry touched the man's shoulder, and transformed him to a mouse. The creature squatted on the dank floor, astonished. Parry reached down to pick up the mouse and put it in a voluminous pocket. "There is a piece of bread there," he murmured. "Eat of it, and be welcome. But make no sound."
Then he gestured at the floor, and the likeness of the prisoner appeared there, lying bound as before.
He turned and strode again to the door. "Then keep what you find here!" he called. "I'll have no further part of this."
Now the gaoler hauled up the bar and hauled open the door. His gaze darted past Parry as he spied the illusion. "I'll see you out, Father!" he said, eager to be rid of this interference so that he could resume the pressure on the prisoner.
Parry marched sedately out. Soon he was back with his donkey, riding through the town.
He went to see the local magistrate. "The disposition of the one you charge with heresy has been taken from your hands," he said. "His property is not to be attached until the Church has come to a decision in this matter. His family is blameless, and must be left alone." He knew that when the magistrate learned of the disappearance of the prisoner he would suffer all manner of frustration, but would not dare to go against the expressed wish of the representative of the Inquisition. The Church had ways of enforcing its measures.
Meanwhile, he would carry the prisoner directly to the monastery in France. The man would realize that both he and his family were better off with this separation; it would not be safe for him to show his face locally for some time.
The Tartar campaign, as Parry came to understand it, was a juggernaut; a new tribe of heathens, the Mongols, had taken over and was fashioning the most massive and savage empire the world had yet seen. This was indeed the scourge, and Lucifer was shaping its thrust to overrun Europe in the course of 1241 and 1242. At the moment the eastern portion of the Saracen domains were captive, and the Russian principalities were being subjugated. The Mongols were leaving no nation untouched; they were incorporating the entire continent into their cruel empire. Their manner of dealing with resistance was simple: they cut off the heads of the resistors and potential resisters. There were no rebellions in their lands; all who might or could oppose them were dead.
Yet despite the formidable array of information Parry generated, he was unable to convince his superiors of its importance. "The kings have many troops, well seasoned in battle," he was reminded. "The Asiatics have never encountered real Christian fighting men before, and will quickly retreat before them. Meanwhile, if the Saracens are discomfited, so much the better. That may save us the effort of mounting a crusade against them."
This was sheer folly. Parry knew. But he also knew that if he could not convince those of his order, who were most concerned with heresy, he would have no better luck with the secular authorities. By the time the magnitude of the menace was properly appreciated, it would be too late. That was what had happened to the Saracens.
But he could not stand idly by while this disaster loomed. Lucifer obviously intended to reap a lavish harvest of souls as the Mongols decimated Europe. Surely evil would flourish under that cruel yoke, without the authority of the Church to suppress it. The Mongols were said to be tolerant of religion; that meant that they would permit any form of it to prosper as long as it did not conflict with their rule. Thus they were like the Holy Roman Empire, only more so. What heresy would manifest under that alien umbrella, unchecked! Truly, Lucifer had crafted a scourge.
There was no help for it: he would have to do the job of saving Europe himself. All he needed now was to figure out how.