By late 1241 Parry knew that the campaign was almost lost. He had not been able to find any way to stop the approaching Mongol horde. It had annihilated resistance in Poland and Hungary during the summer, and now was orienting on the Holy Roman Empire. The Mongol leader Batu was intent on conquest, and his general Subutai was a military genius. The Europeans remained generally complacent, hardly looking beyond their own borders, but Parry understood now that there was no general and no army who could stand against the Mongol thrust.
"Well, at least you tried to alert them in time," Jolie said, trying to console him.
"Even if they had marshaled the finest joint army possible in these two years, it still might not have been enough," Parry said, remaining dispirited. "The Mongols have routed every type of force, in every type of situation. They conquered the Russian states in a winter campaign; no one has done that before, and it may never be done again. I have learned that they are even now pressing for Cathay. They are simply the most effective military force ever seen, because of their training, dedication and leadership. It may have been already too late to stop them, by the time I learned of the menace."
"But surely Lucifer cannot have the victory so simply!" she protested. "If it was inevitable, why would he have worked so diligently to conceal it?"
That made him pause. It was true that Lucifer had kept the threat of the scourge hidden for years, and had tried to prevent Parry from learning of it from the accused heretic. If the decision were sure, Lucifer should have gloried in it, encouraging mortal folk to switch loyalty to him from God. Lucifer had not done that, and was not doing it now.
"There must be a weakness," he said, his pulse accelerating. "Lucifer must have reason—good reason, if that is not a contradiction in terms—to keep the secret longer. But what could it be?"
"Something that could even now turn the Golden Horde aside," she said.
"There is nothing that can turn it aside," he said. "Had any such thing existed, someone would have used it by now. Subutai awaits only the thawing of spring to move against the Empire, and thereafter France and the Papal State. Indeed, he may not wait till then; he is the master of strategic surprise."
"You keep thinking in terms of force," she chided him. "Isn't there any other way to settle a war?"
"You mean to try to buy the Mongols off? They seem to be virtually incorruptible; all they want is conquest, until nothing remains to conquer."
"Suppose something happened to their leader?"
"You mean, assassinate Batu? That is not a course I would approve, but I'm sure it has been tried. The Mongols are fanatically loyal to their leaders. The fact is, leaders do die, but the campaign continues; they really don't seem vulnerable that way."
She sighed. "Still, there must be something. Some way to stop them, that we might use, that Lucifer is hiding."
"I wish I knew how to find out what it is!"
"Could you do a divination?"
"The Church really doesn't approve of such magic. In any event, the scale of operations is so vast that I would hardly know how to approach it. It is necessary to have a most specific question in mind, or divination is virtually useless. Many people are worse off with divination than without it, because they misunderstand what it reveals."
"Perhaps I could look," she suggested. "I can travel far now, and swiftly."
Parry knew that was true. She had labored over the decades to extend her range, and now could fly to any region of the mortal world. But he remained negative. "Where would you look? You face the same problem as the divination."
"I might watch Lucifer's mortal minions. If they abruptly stir, that might be a clue."
Parry nodded. "That may be our only chance."
"But of course I'll have to spend most of my time away from you. Can you endure that?"
She was teasing him, but there was substance in it. "Your presence and company have sustained me all these years. I will miss you—but for the preservation of our society from evil, I am prepared to endure it."
She smiled, and brushed his lips with the image of hers, and faded out.
In December Jolie brought news: the minions were stirring. They were active in a pattern of locations forming a rough shield toward the east.
"Surely they aren't trying to stop the Mongols!" he exclaimed.
"No, they are operating well within the Mongol sphere, behind the armies. They seem to be alert for something from the east, though. They are at the stations of the major trade and travel routes."
"They must expect something from the east," he said. "But it is winter; the trade routes are mostly shut down. Only a few hardy travelers are abroad now, and the Mongol messenger cadre—"
He broke off, staring at her. "A message!" he exclaimed. "They want to intercept a messenger!"
"That must be it," she agreed. "But why? What message?"
"We must find out! That is surely the news Lucifer fears!"
"I will go look," she said excitedly, and faded out again.
She was gone for several days, and Parry was lonely. He had not realized how much he depended on her company! He had been devastated when she died, but her return in spirit had alleviated much of his grief and enabled him to follow his present course. He wondered how the other friars managed, without spiritual women. Some, he knew, cheated, seducing innocent girls on the sly, but others seemed genuinely uninterested in such relations. Did other friars wonder about him? He had been true to Jolie throughout—because she was always with him. But sometimes he dreamed of living women. He knew he was not a natural celibate; had it been feasible for Jolie to resume mortal form, he would have had to leave the Order to rejoin her. Sometimes he almost wished she would animate the body of a mortal girl for a few hours, so as to—
But such notions were forbidden! He steeled himself and went about his business, which at this stage was mainly paperwork. Had he not known better, he would have been tempted to think that the parchment and quill were works of Lucifer, devised to destroy men with sheer tedium.
At last she manifested. "Parry, I found it!" she said excitedly. "The Great Khan is dead! The messengers are riding out to all parts of the Mongol empire with the news!"
"The Khan Ogedei?" he asked, amazed. "The leader of all the Mongols?"
"The same! Batu is chief only of the Golden Horde; he owes allegiance to the Great Khan! He will have to return to help elect a new Great Khan!"
"Then what of the thrust against Europe?" Parry asked, and answered it even as he spoke. "It will have to halt because their leader is dead, and the new one might have different notions! This is what Lucifer has been waiting for. But—"
"But why should Lucifer be so interested in the stopping of the thrust against Europe?" she put in. "He wants it to continue!"
"Which means Lucifer intends to stop the message from getting through!" Parry concluded. "Then the thrust will continue, and by the time the news of the Great Khan's death gets through, it will be too late for Europe!"
"Yes, even if the Mongols withdraw, the damage will be so great that there will be chaos, and Lucifer will reap a monstrous harvest!"
He nodded. "Now we know. Now we must act. How much time do we have?"
"Those riders are professionals," she said. "They are using horses in relays, and galloping from station to station. But the stations are farther apart in the wilderness, so they have to rest their horses more. I think it will take about a month to get all the way to Poland; it's over a thousand leagues."
"But for a message of this importance, they might move faster," Parry said. "Also, they could have magicians to transmit it instantly across some sections."
"Yes. Lucifer's minions are acting as if they expect the messengers in just a few days."
"So we may not have much time at all. We have to stop Lucifer's minions from ambushing those messengers."
"But wouldn't Lucifer be on guard against that?" she asked. "Lucifer has been setting up for this for many years, ready to take advantage of the situation; surely he will not readily be balked."
"You're right, Jolie! He will be watching! In fact, he will probably be subtle; he won't waylay the messengers, he will simply distract them momentarily and substitute false documents for the originals. Ones that say that the Great Khan is preparing a celebration and wants Europe conquered as swiftly as possible for the occasion. The messengers of course will not know the contents of their packets; those would be only for the eyes of those in charge. We shall have to be as clever as he is—and switch back the original messages."
So they agreed. Jolie went out again, and used her ability to penetrate the message packet of one of the riders, and memorized the content of the key document. It was written in Uigur script, which complicated matters; she had to describe parts of it, and return for more, in a number of stages. Parry drew on the services of a scholar monk who understood the language to re-create the document.
By the time they had a reasonable imitation, their deadline was close. Lucifer had made the exchanges, and the messengers were riding toward Europe. It would be impossible to intercept each messenger; they were widely separated, taking different routes, using the major trade lanes. Lucifer, with his many minions and many years of preparation, had been able to cover every one, but Parry could only do one.
He decided on the one who was now passing through the chief city of the Russian Principality of Novgorod. That was the northernmost trade route, the one that connected to the Baltic Sea. Sections of that route would be virtually impassable in midwinter; if Lucifer's minions were to be careless about any messenger, it would be that one. He might not even get through in time to have any effect; one of the more southerly messengers would be there first.
"But if false messages arrive first. Prince Batu won't believe the true one!" Jolie protested.
"He's no fool, and certainly General Subutai isn't! They will know something is amiss, and will investigate before acting. That's all we need!"
"I hope so," she said doubtfully.
"It is all we can do on this short notice. We are going to have to work closely together, and your part is vital."
"Oh?" she asked archly.
He explained the plan he had worked out. "Oh," she repeated, no longer archly.
He changed to duck form and set off. The duck was not the most impressive of birds, but was equipped to fly steadily over a long distance, and so represented his fastest and least conspicuous mode of travel.
He flew all day, and came to roost exhausted; he had tried to remain in condition, but he had few opportunities as a monk to fly, and he was now fifty years old. The night was freezing. His down insulated him, but foraging and roosting was no fun.
In the morning, tired and stiff, he resumed his flight, north-west toward Novgorod. He made less progress than the prior day, because of his fatigue and the rising winds, but he fought on. He knew that the fate of Europe was at stake; this was his only chance to blunt Lucifer's malicious device.
So he continued, struggling, Jolie floating along with him. Every so often she vanished, going to verify the progress of the Mongol rider. That man, too, was cold and tired, but he was toughened to it, and closed inevitably on the city of Novgorod.
As Parry flew, he reflected on what he knew of Novgorod. About four hundred years before, the Vikings from Sweden had thrust up the river routes of northern Russia, establishing colonies and a trading empire throughout the region. The town of Novgorod became their headquarters, and then the town of Smolensk farther south, and finally Kiev to the south of that, on the approach to the Black Sea. Kiev became the capital of a flourishing empire with strong links to the Byzantine empire of the Mediterranean region. When Kiev broke up, the other cities formed principalities, and Novgorod developed a vast northern fur-trading empire. In recent years, under Prince Alexander Nevski, Novgorod had aggressively extended its domains—until the Mongol onslaught. In 1238, during their winter campaign against the northern principalities, the Mongols had come within twenty leagues of the city of Novgorod. But Alexander had been saved by the luck of the season: the Mongols were steppe fighters who flourished in dry country and in the frozen steppe regions, but were wary of being bogged down and trapped in the marshes by the spring thaw. So they had retreated, sparing Novgorod. Prince Alexander, however, no fool, had yielded sovereignty to the Mongols and paid tribute. Thus they had spared him their next season for campaigning, and moved instead to the west.
Parry nodded internally. Prince Alexander had been wise indeed, for Novgorod retained its strength while the other states were being sliced to bits. Similarly the Principality of Polotsk, now taken over by the Principality of Lithuania, had been spared—but no one doubted the power of the Mongols here, and the Mongol agents were unquestioned. So this was Mongol territory, though it had not felt the Mongol sword directly. Just as much of Europe would be, if Parry's present mission did not succeed. Lucifer had planned well!
By the time Parry reached the border of the Principality of Lithuania, he knew he was not going to make it. The document packet, light enough for a duck to carry, now was weighing him down intolerably. But Jolie hovered with him, spurring him on with words and gibes, so that he dragged himself onward. But soon even her encouragement was not enough, and he had to come to ground at the frozen-over waters of the Western Dvina River. He had not quite made it to the Republic of Novgorod. He was exhausted, and dared not change from his duck form because as a man he would be naked to the snows. Meanwhile, the Mongol rider had reached the town of Novgorod and delivered his message packet to the next rider, who was now riding southwest. Parry's chance to make the exchange in the night was gone.
"But the messenger must pass this river!" Jolie said. "We can intercept him here!"
"In the form of a duck?" he asked dispiritedly. He did not actually speak; he merely thought it, and she was able to hear, being hardly more than thought herself. This was another refinement of their interaction they had developed over the years.
"You said that I would have to make the actual exchange," she reminded him. "That I would have to find a local woman and arrange to animate her body long enough to do it. Why can't I do it here?"
"Because there is no woman," he replied. "And if there were, it still wouldn't do, because the messenger will be riding right across the river without pausing. He will be a professional, not stopping for anything until he meets his relay in Vilna. No hope to make the substitution here!"
"Surely there is!" she persisted. "If I can find a woman, and intercept him here—"
"He would not stop. Not even if you stood naked in the snow. These men simply do not dally; their heads would be forfeit if they did. It is discipline, perhaps more than anything else, that makes the Mongols so formidable."
"There has to be a way," she said. "Maybe you could use magic to stop him."
"I lack the strength to do more than mild illusion or Avination."
"Illusion," she said, musingly. "Much can be done with that, properly applied."
Now at last her attitude struck a spark. "The semblance of a barrier!" he thought. "If the way seems impassable—"
"The river!" she responded. "If there seemed to be a thaw, so that he could not cross—"
"Except by boat, which his horse could not manage—"
"Unless a local girl knew the only safe route across the loosening ice—"
Parry would have kissed her if he could. She had found the key!
In a moment they had their plan. Parry marshaled his strength for a suitable effort of illusion, while Jolie ranged out to find a suitable local peasant woman for her purpose.
Soon a figure approached, swathed in furs. Parry, foraging at the snowy bank as well as he could, tried to hide, but it hailed him in French. "Parry! It is Jolie!"
Already! Amazed, he came out to meet her. This was a young woman, a maiden, with girlishly fair features. Even the bundled fur clothing was unable to mask completely the healthy lines of her.
"She has agreed to let me use her body for this occasion," Jolie said. "She doesn't speak our language, but I was able to make our need plain. But we must give her something."
Parry nodded his duck head. No one did something for nothing. "What did you promise her?" he thought warily.
"I'm afraid it was a pretty important gift. The ability to form a ball of ice, and gaze into it, and see the best location for good firewood under the snow. That way her family will not be cold this winter."
Parry nodded again. How cleverly Jolie had managed it! This was in fact a minor thing to do; he could readily craft it, even in his present state. But of course it would loom important to the peasant girl, whose horizons were limited. "It shall be done," he agreed. "I shall instruct her now, before the rider comes."
So he did. If the girl thought it strange to be educated by a duck, she did not show it; evidently Jolie's presence in her mind reassured her. Parry thought his instructions to Jolie, who relayed them to the girl. Because they were concepts rather than words, the girl could understand.
She formed a ball of ice. Actually, it was a ball of solid snow, but that was sufficient. She stared into it, and Parry showed her how, via the channel of Jolie's understanding, to see the visions in it. When she pictured the kind of wood she wanted, the spell enabled her mind to range out ethereally, much as Jolie's did, and orient on that substance. It was borderline magic, actually more of an extension of the natural power latent in every person; they were merely showing her how to exploit it. It was much easier to train her in this, because of Jolie's presence and experience; they accomplished in an hour what might have been difficult in a lifetime for a person instructed only by words.
"But now we must prepare for the interception," Jolie said. "The rider is approaching."
Parry crafted his prepared illusion: the air seemed to warm, the fog coalesced, and the ice of the River Dvina developed seeming cracks through which clear water welled. It looked dangerous for a horse to attempt to cross. He gave Jolie the document packet.
The Mongol messenger arrived; Jolie had tracked him all along. He drew up at the shore and peered ahead, dismayed. He had understood that this river was completely frozen over, and here it was half liquid. He did not want to ride around it, for that would take him many leagues out of his way and cost him time, ruining his schedule. He could go upstream to the city of Polotsk, where a ford would certainly be available, but then he would have to ride extra time to return to his route.
Jolie, in the guise of the peasant girl, walked by, carrying an armful of wood.
The horseman's thought processes were almost visible. A local girl who lived along the river; she would have intimate news of this inexplicable thaw. "Girl!" he called gruffly, in his own language.
Jolie paused, as if startled; she had not, it seemed, realized that a man was near. She backed away, frightened.
The rider guided his horse to intercept her. Terrified, she dropped her bundle of sticks and stared at him.
"The river—you know it?" he demanded. His gesture made his meaning clear: he wanted to get across.
She nodded affirmatively, making a gesture to signify that she lived on the other side, and was only an innocent maiden gathering wood for her family's hovel.
"You know where to cross? Where the ice is tight?"
Again she nodded.
"Show me!"
Now she hesitated, glancing here and there, signifying that the route was tortuous, hard to describe to a stranger.
Abruptly suspicious that she meant to mislead him, perhaps getting him onto thin ice where the weight of his horse would break through and cause them both to drown, he acted with dispatch. He gestured her onto his steed, behind him. That way she would face the same danger he did, and would not betray him.
Afraid to deny him, she approached and suffered herself to be hauled roughly up. She clung to him, afraid of this height. But she indicated the correct route.
Sure enough, she did not betray him. She guided him through the fog without mishap; nowhere did the ice thin and break. He watched carefully throughout, perhaps not unmindful of her arms clasping his body and her pneumatic front pressed so firmly against his back. Indeed, it was almost like affection, the way she pressed so closely in to him. It would be nice to pause, to get her to embrace him face to face, to open their clothing enough to—
But no, he was disciplined, and refused to yield to such a distraction. He only thought about it, enjoying the way her arms moved against his torso, the way her front rocked against his back as the horse moved. He was alert, but he fell into a kind of secondary reverie, thinking about what he might have done had his mission not been so pressing.
And by the time he was safely across, the packet had been exchanged for the one in his travel pouch, he none the wiser. He set her down on the ground, gave her a small coin, and urged his horse onward. He had not after all lost his schedule. Perhaps the girl would meet him again on the return ride, when he would have more leisure.
Parry had followed, staying hidden in the fog, and rejoined her. "That was beautiful!" he thought.
She smiled. "My host agrees. I have explained to her how important this matter is. She doesn't like the Mongols; already their tax agents are driving the farmers to ruin. She asks whether you would like to come to her house, where it will be warm, to rest in your natural form."
The girl must have had considerable prompting for all that! But he was so tired and cold, and aware of the forbidding distance to France; he needed restoration before he attempted that trip. Perhaps he could reward the girl's family in some additional manner for their hospitality; rested, he could perform more formidable magic. "Yes, if she offers it freely," he thought.
"I have told her what a good man you are," Jolie said, still speaking through the body of the girl. "But not the nature of your profession."
Because it might be awkward having a Dominican friar visit, he realized. He appreciated her discretion. By being anonymous, he could accept the family's hospitality and repay them with some additional favor, and not only would he not make it unduly awkward for them, he would be away from the notice of Lucifer. For Lucifer should be furious when the "wrong" message made it through, and Lucifer would be scouring the route for some hint as to what had happened. Better to have everyone involved anonymous!
Jolie picked him up and carried him under her arm, walking back across the frozen river toward the peasant girl's home. Who would have believed that the duck was actually a man, and the girl actually a ghost who resided in a drop of blood on the duck's wing? Fortunately no outsider needed to believe it!
Actually, no outsider was present. They were alone on the river as the evening closed and the chill of winter intensified. The illusion of melt had dissipated, leaving only the troubled landscape of ice. He was glad they would be getting inside; the very prospect restored his strength somewhat.
In due course they came to the residence. It was a typical hut, fashioned of wood and thatch, largely buried under the snow. "Oh, we forgot the wood!" Jolie exclaimed.
"Perhaps I can make a heat spell for this night," Parry said. "But first you had better get me something to wear, so that I don't shock the good peasants when I revert to my natural form."
"Why not use illusion for clothing?"
"Illusion isn't very warm."
She smiled and set him down. "We'll fetch a blanket."
She entered the hut. Parry heard muffled talk as the girl explained things to her family. Then she emerged with a tattered quilt, and held it out for him.
Parry shifted to human form. The chill clasped his naked body immediately, but Jolie wrapped the quilt about him and opened the door.
The peasant girl's parents stood there: an old man and an old woman huddled in bedraggled furs like her own.
The girl spoke to them in their own language. They nodded. They accepted Parry as a stranger their daughter had befriended, who could pay for his keep for this night. How his nakedness was accounted for he did not know.
"Do the heat magic," Jolie murmured.
Oh. Yes. Parry drew on his talent and cast a spell that caused the walls and floor to radiate heat.
Jolie or the girl—he suspected that they switched control in and out as necessary—held her hand near a wall, showing how it was warming. The old folk did the same, and exclaimed with surprise and pleasure; this was magic they liked!
They had a supper of gruel and water; indeed, the Mongols had not left much in this region for sustenance. But Parry enhanced it with a spell of seasoning, and they all enjoyed it. There was not much conversation, because he did not speak their language; he had to sign to Jolie, who translated for him. He gathered that she had told them that the visitor was under a vow of silence. Again he appreciated her finesse.
He discovered that he was experiencing a deep satisfaction. He realized why: this was like mortal life, with normal folk. He was for the moment no longer a monk, and Jolie was no longer dead. Indeed, the very features of the peasant girl, who now doffed her heavy outer furs to reveal more of those attributes that belonged only to youth, seemed to resemble those of Jolie.
After the meal there was nothing to do but retire, as the gloom was thickening and candles were obviously too precious to waste for there light. Parry stepped outside to attend to a call of nature, then returned to lie down in a vacant corner. The old folk had a rack of their own, and the girl settled on a bed of straw near them.
But when the darkness was total, the girl came silently to him, tugging at the wrapped quilt. Was something wrong?
"No, Parry," Jolie said, manifesting momentarily in her spirit form. "I have come to be with you, as in the old days."
He opened his mouth to protest, but the girl put a finger on his lips. She did not want him disturbing her parents.
But you can't use her body this way! he protested mentally. And I—I am a friar!
She got his quilt open and crawled next to him. Her body was hot and emphatically female.
Jolie! What are you doing!
But it was clear what she was doing. She had not loved him physically for thirty years; she intended to do it now. She had evidently made some arrangement with the peasant girl, who perhaps was not averse. Chastity was a virtue few peasants could afford; Jolie herself had been unusual in that respect, perhaps because he had caught her young enough, before the full bloom of her womanhood.
Parry wrestled with his conscience and his long training, but the battle was so uneven as to be token. He had known all along that he could never withstand Jolie in life, and now for a night she was alive. He clasped her and kissed her with the ardor of three stifled decades, and plunged into the rapture of the body. She responded with total eagerness. So potent was their penned desire for each other that it refused to abate after a single bout, or a second, and a fair portion of the night was expended before they were able to sleep.
But by morning she was back in her own corner, and he remained in his. If the parents had any knowledge of the night's activity, they kept their own counsel. They probably understood as much as they cared to.
He shared another meal with them, improving it magically, then performed some magic in return for their hospitality. In addition to the ability of the girl to locate good firewood under snow, he gave her the power to identify the best bargain of several proffered at the market. That, too, was mainly an extension of her natural abilities, with very little actual magic; but it would enable her to profit significantly by avoiding bad deals or outright cheats. It would help her family through the winter, and more than recoup the value of the food shared with him.
But the use of her body during the night—how could he repay that? What deal had Jolie made for that? Suppose she should conceive by him? In the night he had not seen fit to question the matter, but now by day he was having serious second thoughts.
The girl spoke to her parents, then took his arm. Parry was now garbed in shaggy furs borrowed from the man; they were uncomfortable and riddled with lice, but served adequately. He needed to return them, but could not until he changed form.
They left the house. Jolie wasted no time coming to the point. "She has an illness I told her you could cure," she said. "It is apt to make her barren, but you can abolish it and restore her fertility."
"But to do that, I would require sustained contact with her for a full day and night," Parry protested. "You know that, Jolie! Healing magic of that type cannot be hastily accomplished."
"Yes. We must remain for another day," she said. "I have started the process, and you have given her of your substance. Remain long enough to keep it active, and she is well repaid."
"But I must return to the monastery!"
"You are too fatigued still to fly."
She was right. He was as yet only partially restored. He could not yet undertake that journey, lest he fall and die on the way.
Jolie released the girl, who tried out her talent for finding wood. She fashioned an ice ball and stared into it, then moved purposefully through the trees while Parry followed. In moments she had found an excellent cache of sticks, exclaiming with pleasure. It worked!
Parry helped her carry the wood back to the hut. This would keep them warm another day, and there was more where that came from. Then they went to the nearest market, a league's trudge down the rivershore. The girl had only the coin the Mongol rider had given her, but she was determined to spend it wisely. She turned down the first preferred deal, and the second, finally accepting one for bread, and carried her prize away. The proprietor shook his head, evidently feeling bested. This gift, too, was working. That night she came to him again in the darkness, sharing the quilt. He did not argue; it was obvious that the girl was satisfied with the deal she had made, and did not mind this part of it. She had evidently had some experience before. Perhaps she was accustomed to rougher handling, and appreciated his gentleness and obvious delight, despite the knowledge that it was really Jolie he was embracing. But he did concentrate on the curing of her malady, which was not difficult to treat at this stage, and by morning he knew she was free of it. He had, indeed, rendered a suitable return service.
Next day his strength had recovered, and he knew he could fly back to France. He bid silent farewell to the family and stepped outside. He changed to the duck form, and the girl collected the clothes. She smiled as he spread his wings, evidently in response to Jolie's leave-taking; then Parry was up and away, and Jolie hovering with him.
Now the realization he had suppressed for two days burst upon him: he had violated his oath of celibacy! Technically, celibacy meant the state of being unmarried, but in practice it meant abstinence from carnal relations. For two days he had become married again, and made love to his wife. He had forfeited his right to be a friar. "I shall have to leave the Order," he thought to Jolie. "I am undone!"
Jolie was unpenitent. "I have always loved you, Parry. Now that I know how easy it is to love you physically, I want to do it again. Leave the Order, and be with me! I will find a young girl to—"
"But I must remain to fight evil!"
"You have foiled Lucifer's dire plan. Now at last you can relax."
"But the Order has become my life!"
"It never was my life, Parry! I supported you because I love you, but now that your work is done—"
"My work is not done! Lucifer must be constantly fought!"
"But there are other ways to fight him, are there not?"
"Not as effective as this! Oh, why did I give in to the wiles of the flesh!"
She gazed at him, then turned away as she faded.
"Jolie!" he cried, stricken. "Come back! I didn't mean—"
But she was gone. He had hurt her feelings, and she would not return until she chose.
It took him longer to return than it had to make the outbound flight. He tired faster, and had to land often to rest and forage. But it gave him time to ponder, and when he finally reached the monastery he knew what he had to do.
He had to confess his sin before the head friar and beg absolution.
But at first, when he was back, he just had to recuperate from his arduous excursion. He rested and ate and slept for several days.
Jolie returned. "I am sorry," she said. "I see now that I was wrong. I should not have tempted you into sin."
That made him argue the other side of it. "You are my wife!" he protested. "Nothing you could lead me to could be wrong!"
"No, you are correct. The situation changed when I died, and I had no right to return to the flesh after all these years, knowing that—"
"You borrowed a living body so that you could enable me to complete my mission! Without you I could not have done it! There can be no fault in you for that!"
"But after it was done, and the messenger went on, I had no right to—"
"You knew I was exhausted to the point of collapse, and would die in the snow if not given warmth and food and rest. You acted to save me, not to hurt me!"
"But during the night, possessed of a living young body, I should not have come to you."
With that he had to agree. "You should not have, Jolie. But there was no way you could have tempted me, had I not been willing, even eager. The sin was mine!"
"It was ours," she said.
"Ours," he agreed.
"Yet such is my depravity, I cannot hate what we did. I love you so much, Parry, and want to be with you—"
"You are with me always, Jolie."
"I'm the flesh," she finished.
"And I want you—in the flesh." Now it was out. Not only had he sinned, he knew he would do it again if given the opportunity.
"What will happen now?"
"I must leave the Order," he said. "I thought I could make confession and beg absolution, but now I know I cannot do that, for the sin remains with me. I can no longer be a Dominican friar."
"But the good work you are doing—the foiling of Lucifer's mischief—who will do that if you do not?"
Parry put his head in his hands. "No one, I fear! No other friar has made the same study of evil that I have! How ironic that I should fall prey to evil myself!"
"The evil of loving me."
"No!" But there was truth in it. He was a friar; he had no business loving a woman. "Jolie, you are my conscience. What would you have me do?"
"I am not your conscience!" she flared. "I am your wife who has led you into sin!"
"What would you have me do?" he repeated grimly.
She paced the air, distraught. "There is sin in what I did with you, and would do again. But there is evil in letting Lucifer plot without hindrance. I think the sin must be tolerated for the sake of the good you can do in your present office."
They hashed it over, but could come to no better conclusion than that. The great good ends justified the means of keeping silent about one small sin.
So Parry made no report, knowing that he had compromised his honor as a Dominican friar. He knew the doctrine of ends and means was fallacious, but hoped that in this case it was justified.
Indeed, as the weeks and months passed, it seemed so, for the Mongol juggernaut halted, and finally reversed. The message of the Great Khan's death had gotten through, and Europe was saved from Lucifer's scourge.
But neither his doubt nor his renewed passion for Jolie's living flesh faded. Parry knew he could not remain in this hypocritical existence. He had to find some means to resolve his savage internal conflict.
But what means?