Warlock and Son (21 page)

"Aye, and hath left discontent and troubled hearts in thy wake! What dost thou here?"

"Couldn't get to sleep, so I went for a walk." Rod waved behind him and toward the village. "We're camped out a mile or so away."

"We took note of it. Is not a mile a longish stroll?"

"Not for me. This is a very peaceful setting you have here."

"And we wish it to remain so," said the biggest fellow. "What of thy son?"

"Back at the campsite, presumably." Rod frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Naught yet, and we shall be sure it doth so endure. What of Roble?"

"Roble?" Rod frowned. "Oh, you mean the father whose son was buried two days ago. I give up-what about him?" The watchman bit down on anger and snapped, "Hast thou seen him?"

"Yes, several times during the day. We even had a chat with him over a tankard of ale."

"So we had heard," the left-hand bully boy growled. "Kind of thought you would. Why? Is he missing?"

"He hath not been seen since sunset."

"Did you check his house?"

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"Aye."

Rod shrugged. "Probably out walking, like me." They should only know how far. "I'd expect that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, at all."

"The guilty conscience doth ever make for the wakeful night," the third guard pontificated.

"Grief has that effect, too." Rod gave an elaborate yawn. "Well, I think maybe I'll be able to sleep by the time I get back to the campsite. Was there anything else?"

The biggest watchman glowered at him, but growled, "Nay."

"Then I'll be toddling along, if you don't mind. Good night." They snarled surly replies as he stepped past them. Twenty paces further on, he was just congratulating himself on having allayed their suspicions when a shout sounded from back toward the village. Rod looked up and saw half a dozen peasants running toward the watch with a black-robed priest close behind them, like an embodiment of the night. Every alarm bell in his head started ringing, and he decided to stroll back toward the watch.

He came up in time to hear one of the peasants panting, "Aye, gone! Both of them, and their beds not slept in!"

"Pray Heaven they do not seek to share one!"

"Raoul!" barked the priest-no, the bishop himself, Rod saw. "Shame on thee, to think such!"

"Thy pardon, bishop," Raoul muttered. "What's the matter?" Rod asked. They jumped and whirled about, not having heard him come up. "What dost thou from thy bed?" the bishop demanded sharply.

"Just taking a walk, to get sleepy-but all this commotion makes me feel wakeful again. Something wrong?"

The bishop eyed him narrowly. "Hester and Neil are missing, as though thou didst not know."

"If they're missing, it doesn't make any difference whether I know it or not, does it?"

"Speak more respectfully to the bishop!" a watchman barked. Rod turned to give him a level stare. "I speak to each man with the respect he deserves." The watchman reached for his cudgel, but the bishop laid a hand on his arm. "Hold fast, Raoul. Let him not provoke thee." To Rod, he said, "What dost thou know of their disappearance, stranger?" Rod shrugged. "What would I know? I gather, since you're talking about a boy and a girl, that the two think they're in love."

"Lamentably, aye," the bishop growled, "for so sweet a lass is far too good for an heretic like him."
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"A heretic?" Rod looked up sharply. "I thought you didn't allow them."

"We will beat the Devil out of him ere long, I assure thee. What dost thou know?"

"Well, if they're in love, wouldn't they have found a hiding place where they can be alone for a while?" The peasants' eyes kindled, but the bishop shuddered. "Perish the thought! And 'tis mistaken, in any case-our good sisters have searched every such nook and cranny." Rod didn't doubt that the nuns knew every single trysting place, and had posted "NO POACHING" signs on every one. "Even for Rob ... What did you say the name of the other missing person is?"

"Roble," the biggest watchman snarled.

"Yeah, him. Wouldn't he have found a hiding place, too?"

"We have spoken of it," the watchman reminded him. "Yeah, but!" Rod said brightly. "Maybe he found the two kids!"

"Heaven forfend!" the bishop snapped. "He would mislead them as surely as he did his own son!"

"Okay, so maybe he's hiding out alone. After all, since you've told everybody not to talk to him, wouldn't that make sense?"

"Wherefore would he not lie in his own house?"

"Memories," Rod said promptly. "It'd make his loneliness worse." The bishop peered closely at Rod. "I think thou dost know more of this matter than thou dost tell."

"How can I? I've answered every question you've asked."

"I say that thou dost lie!"

The watchmen tensed, hands on their cudgels; the dog began growling.

"I can't have been lying," Rod said reasonably, "because I've scarcely made a single statement. I've only asked questions."

"Then I ask thee straight," the bishop barked. "Hast thou sent this benighted Roble, and these two straying lambsnay, this lad and lass!-into hiding?"

"Not hiding, no."

"Thou hast aided them to escape!" the bishop howled. "Don't you mean `to flee the village'?"

"Call it what thou wilt." The bishop's eyes narrowed. "Hast thou done it?"

"Well, now that you ask-yes."

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The watchmen leaped for him, and the dog, excited by their movement, set up a furious barking. Rod twisted, ducked, and wasn't there. The watchmen looked about, astonished, and saw Rod right beside the bishop, chatting. "Of course, it really would be a bad idea to set your bully boys on me. I'm tougher than I look."

"Have at him," the bishop snapped. The three toughs fell on him. Rod twisted aside, staff whirling, and clipped one on the crown. The man fell to his knees, grasping his head-and dropping the dog's leash. The beast pounced, snarling. Rod dodged, just enough for the biggest watchman's lunge to carry him between Rod and the hound. Then Rod whirled to block a swing from the third man's cudgel. The fellow was stronger than he looked; the blow jolted Rod's whole arm, and the pain reminded him that he wasn't as young as he thought any more. But he managed to riposte and jam the butt of his staff into the watchman's stomach, and the man fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

The dog leaped over him and went for Rod's throat, eyes blazing.

Rod dodged aside; the dog convulsed in midair, trying to follow him. It landed off balance, and while it was scrambling to get its hind legs under it for another pounce, Rod swung the staff and cracked the mutt's head. Then he had to whirl to slap the cudgel out of another watchman's hand. The man howled, and nursed bruised knuckles-as something cracked on Rod's shoulder from behind. Pain shot through his left arm, and he whirled about, dancing back, twirling his staff like a drum major's baton. The watchman hesitated at the sight of the windmilling wood, and the bishop shouted, "Pierre! Hugo! Montmorency! Do not stand and gawk! Have at him!"

But the peasants hesitated, seeing the biggest and toughest of them fallen.

"Don't try it," Rod snapped. "I'm a knight!"

"Thou hast the dress of a peasant!"

"I'm the modest type. I'm also in disguise."

The third watchman gathered himself with a snarl and charged.

Rod pushed the staff with a bit of telekinesis to help his single good arm; one end cracked down on the man's cudgel hand. He dropped the club with a howl, and Rod swung backhand at his head. The staff connected, and the watchman slumped to the ground, out cold.

Two of the braver peasants were gathering themselves for a try, but Rod whirled toward them, staff braced, and they froze.

"Art craven?" the bishop shouted.

"Your bully boys dropped their cudgels," Rod said softly. "Why don't you pick one up and try it yourself?"

The bishop recoiled at the thought, then realized how he looked in the eyes of his peasants, and blustered, "'Tis not right for a man of God to bear arms!"
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"Then it's not right for that man of God to command others to bear them for him. Hypocrisy, bishop. If you think force is right, use it yourself!"

"Thou speakest with the voice of Satan," the bishop howled, "to tempt those of weakened faith!" He turned to the peasants. "Do not heed him! Raise the hue and cry! Bring more dogs, more men! We must hale them back to the village, for that path into the forest is the road to Hell!"

"Oh, stuff and nonsense!" Rod snapped.

The bishop rounded on him, red-faced, and bellowed in rage, "I shall have them scourged for their disobedience, and thou, too, if thou dost persist in their suborning!"

"I don't remember the commandment that says `Thou shalt not disobey thy priest,' " Rod said.

"'Tis the First Commandment, thou blasphemer!"

" Ì am the Lord thy God, and thou shalt have no other gods before Me'?" Rod raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You think you're God?"

"You have heard the blasphemy!" the bishop cried to the scandalized peasants. He turned on Rod. "If He is God, thou must needs obey Him-and, therefore, His priests!" Rod shook his head. "No. The one doesn't require the other. A priest can advise, can teach-but he has no business trying to give orders. Look at the prophets in the Bible, bishop! They didn't give orders of their own-they just transmitted the Word of God! And they always prefaced His orders by saying, `Thus saith the Lord.' "

The bishop stared. "Thou canst not know what is said in the Bible!"

"Oh, yes I can. I can read."

The peasants muttered in awe and fear.

The priest's eyes narrowed. "Who taught thee that?"

"My teachers, of course! In a world in which everybody learns to read and write, and reads the Bible for themselves!"

"They do not know Latin!"

"It's been translated."

"Thou art a heretic!" the bishop levelled a trembling forefinger. "Be silent, limb of Satan!" He turned to the peasants. "You have heard the heresy! Catch him, beat him, bind him fast! He must be burned at the stake, for in no wise else can his heresy die with him!"

"The Church teaches that all men should read the Bible themselves." Rod fought to keep anger out of his voice. "The real Catholic Church, that is-not this twisted, distorted thing you false bishops have made for yourselves!"

The peasants gasped and shrank back, clearly expecting a lightning bolt to strike Rod down.
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But the bishop knew better. "Seize him! Smite him! Silence him!" he bellowed. "He is possessed by a demon! He must be, to speak so against the priest of the Lord!" From the direction of the village, faint but approaching, came the baying of hounds. The game was just about over. Rod knew he couldn't hold his own against a mob. The diversion had lasted long enough; it was time for a fast fade. "I'm no demon, bishop, and I'll prove it! Give me a crucifix; I'll touch it without shrinking."

"I shall give thee the sight of it alone!" The bishop pulled out his rosary and held it up, the crucifix dangling before Rod's eyes. "Begone, thou limb of Satan! I banish thee from this village and its environs!" With a swift grab, Rod caught the crucifix. The bishop yelped as his arm came with it; the beads were wrapped around his fingers. Rod held the crucifix up at eye level, turning to the peasants. "See? It doesn't burn me; I don't shrink from it. I'm not a devil."

"He hath profaned it!" the bishop cried. "That is why it hurts him not!" The man was good at argument, Rod had to give him that. Of course, it helped that he didn't have to worry about mangling the truth, since it was already in pretty bad shape. Mangling ... Something about the beads caught Rod's eye. He stretched them out, and stared. "You've even changed the rosary! Twelve beads to a set!"

"Certes," one peasant quavered. "How many else should there be to a decade?"

"Ten, of course! That's what `decade' means! And the crucifix-that, too! You've got Him with His feet side by side! He's supposed to have one foot over the other, held in place by one single nail!"

"What-what happened to the other nail?" a peasant stammered.

"A gypsy stole it." Rod let the bishop yank back the crucifix. "At least, that's the legend; the Gospel doesn't say. Does it, bishop?"

"Only a priest can know what the Gospel doth say!"

"But I'm not a priest, and I've read the Book."

"Thou art a demon or hast one!"

"How could a demon read the Bible? Wouldn't it annihilate him?" Rod sighed and rolled his eyes up to Heaven. "If you say it often enough, they'll believe you eventually, is that it? No luck-I've already proved I'm not a demon. But I am a Christian who's trying to be good, and who believes that it's wrong to use God as an excuse for abusing other people."

"I banish thee!" the bishop stormed. "Begone from this village! Never come near us again!" Rod bowed. "I'll be glad to oblige-to the first part, anyway. As to coming back, I just may-with a tribunal from the Order of St. Vidicon behind me. I'd advise you to reexamine your theology, bishop, and be awfully sure you're right."

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The bishop stared, eyes bulging. Then he whirled to his people. "Slay him! We shall burn his dead body-but do not wait! Slay him outright!"

The peasants started to move toward Rod, and behind them, much closer now, came the baying of the hounds. Time to leave. Rod shrugged. "I'm not one to stay where I'm not wanted. Good night, folks." He stepped back, out of the circle of torchlight.

They stared, amazed that he had gone without a fight. The bishop shook off his surprise and roared,