"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 G.o.d 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 ma.s.sing 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 a.s.sault," 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-h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation! d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n!-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-G.o.d be cursed! Lucifer be worshipped! d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n!-come with you, friar! The peons would-animal fornication! Black Ma.s.s! d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n!-tear me apart!"

"Then I shall go without you," Parry said. "Come, Fabiola; our business here is done."

"For the love of-d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n!-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 doc.u.ments 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 G.o.d," she said smugly. "You have left worldly pa.s.sions 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 h.e.l.l 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!"

"G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 a.s.signed 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 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. 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.

Chapter 5.

SCOURGE.

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 G.o.d, go into his realm?" She was badgering him, but he liked it.

"Because the realm of the excommunicated is where the light of G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 a.s.signed 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, n.o.ble 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 cl.u.s.tering 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, cl.u.s.tering 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 a.s.sume that any magic was evil. The truth was, the Church was based on magic, from the simplest rituals in the Ma.s.s 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.