Demon Rider, page 28
“That was not our doing.”
“This is your domain. You let it happen.”
“They came to loot and rape and so deserved the death they met. We intervened only to save innocent lives.”
“You absolve yourself very glibly!” He wished the spirit would lose its temper and shout back at him, but immortals did not do that. The icy girlish voice was slaughtering him. “I was saving innocent lives at Tortosa—my own and other people’s. I don’t see that my actions are any different from yours.”
“We are not on trial here, Tobias. You are.” Punch!
“Sauce for the gander is not sauce for the goose?”
Hamish thumped his arm with a warning growl. “Be respectful, you big oaf!”
“Why should I be respectful? If this is a trial, then the judge should be in the dock with the accused. I was being threatened with the most humiliating and painful death imaginable. Does an immortal deny a mortal the right to defend his life?”
“We do if he is deserving of death,” the spirit said. “The men you slaughtered were doing their duty, legally and morally.”
“You call torture moral?”
“Would you have submitted had the penalty been beheading?”
Punch! Feeling as if all the breath had been knocked out of him, Toby again wiped his face with a sodden sleeve. He could never win a battle of wits against one of the wisest tutelaries in all Europe. If this went on long enough he would freeze to death.
“It wasn’t!” he shouted. “It was torture. You argue in circles. I deserve death because I defend myself from being put to death for defending myself?”
“And what were you defending yourself from at Mezquiriz?” the spirit persisted in the same calm tones. “What threat to you were the sailors on the Maid of Arran? Or the women who died in Bordeaux? Or the soldiers at Limoges … ”
Punch, punch, punch! He would not survive much more of this. Perhaps the tutelary was dragging all the details from his own memory. The incarnation’s eyes were still closed, but the nuns attending her and the monks with torches all stared at him in wide-eyed horror.
He found his voice; it sounded strange to him. “You know that the hob is not a demon.”
“Tell that to the dead in Mezquiriz. Tell them in Tortosa. You may not think of the sprite as a demon, but who else can agree with you?”
“Brother Bernat did!”
“We are not bound by his conclusions,” the spirit said. “He was fallible.”
“And you are not? The hob’s motives —”
“The hob’s motives do not matter, only its actions. Your promises to make it behave in future are not credible. You show no repentance. We judge you to be possessed.”
Now he was on the ropes!
For a moment no one spoke. He caught Hamish’s eye and answered the horror in it with a shrug. There was certainly some truth in what the tutelary said—the hob could be very demonic at times. If he were just given time to learn the techniques Brother Bernat had taught him … but he might never succeed, and every failure would risk more innocent lives. Toby Longdirk was not guilty of anything except wanting to go on living, and the hob would not have let him kill himself anyway. Could it rescue him from the Inquisition again? This time, after Tortosa, the inquisitors would be very careful.
“So you will hand the creature over to us, Holiness?” Father Vespianaso inquired, rubbing his skeletal hands. He looked pleased.
“Unless the man asks us to exorcize the demon, or sprite, or hob, or whatever he chooses to call it.”
Hope pealed like thunder. Toby came out with fists flailing. “Is that possible. Holiness? I have been wanting that for years!”
“It is possible,” said the incarnation. “You had time to become acquainted with Jacques?”
Oh, bloody demons! Knockout!
6
Jacques! Toby had completely forgotten the inexplicable messenger and had not seen him since the ambush, but he was inexplicable no longer, and neither was his message. This was the worst blow yet. He stared in revulsion as the gardener-cleaner-porter came shuffling in through the misty rain with a bemused smile on his empty face. Horror, horror!
“He is broken,” Pepita had said.
“No, Jacques, do not kneel,” said the spirit. “You are no less worthy than any of these men. Tobias, make your choice.”
Desperately fighting for time to think, Toby shouted, “No! I don’t understand.”
“You do understand, but we will spell it out for you. We can exorcize the sprite, the hob, but much of you will come with it.”
“That? You will turn me into that?”
“Something like him.”
“He was possessed by a hob too?”
“An elemental. Dejamiento does not always work. Jacques was a very fine man in his way, but he lacked the patience and self-denial needed to become a true alumbrado. He succumbed to carnal temptations and the spirit ran amok, just as your hob did at Mezquiriz. When it was exorcized, much of Jacques was lost. The same will happen in your case, although perhaps not as severely, for he had been invested since childhood. You may not be as badly damaged as he is, but you will certainly lose something. You will do no more harm to others. You will be happy as he is happy and remain here, being well cared for, but you will not be the person you are now.”
“You would turn him into a rabbit?” Hamish shouted. “This is barbaric!”
“Possession is worse,” said the spirit. “Choose, Tobias.”
In his vision of cutting off Hamish’s head, he had been free of the hob. And he had been a slobbering moron. A demon had enforced his obedience to the baron, but the demon had not made him into that cringing idiot, that butt of the court’s humor, that bumbling sycophant who would shamelessly take women to bed at his master’s orders or cut off his friends’ heads without a care.
To become a moron or be tortured to death? A long life of useless idiocy or a short one of unspeakable agony? It would not seem short. He wanted to ask Hamish to advise him, but that would be grossly unkind, for no man should be expected to make such a decision—not for himself nor for anyone else.
No, he could not subject his flesh to the inquisitors’ torments again. And if he accepted what Montserrat ordered, he would at least be cheating Oreste of his triumph.
Hoarsely, he said, “If you will grant me asylum, then I accept the exorcism. Holiness.”
“On that condition we grant you sanctuary for the remainder of your days.”
“Wait!” Captain Diaz had been watching in grim silence. “If we cannot have the man, then I must still claim a certain purple gemstone he possesses, Sergeant Gomez!”
“The amethyst is mine!” Toby roared.
“What is this gem?” Father Vespianaso demanded angrily. “An immured demon?”
“No, it does not contain a demon,” said the tutelary. “Give it up, Tobias. You have no further use for it.”
“It has great sentimental value for me. My foster mother gave it to me, her last gift. It is my property. Will you tolerate armed robbery in your realm, Montserrat?”
Diaz stepped forward with another soldier at his heels. “You have admitted to being a demonic husk, so you have no rights in law. Give me the stone.”
It was another failure, but a man should know when he is beaten. Toby fumbled at his collar to pull the thong over his head; he opened the locket and rolled out the amethyst onto Diaz’s waiting palm.
Surrender.
The captain walked over to the closest torch and inspected the purple crystal. “Thank you.” He came and took the locket from Toby, replaced the stone in the little bag and turned to his companion, who held out an ivory casket. The locket went in the box, and then the box into a satchel, which Diaz slung over his shoulder.
“I wish I could say that you were welcome,” Toby said ruefully. “Do you know why the baron wants it so badly?”
“I do not want to know.” Diaz turned to the incarnation. “And the other man. Holiness? My warrant also names Hamish Campbell.”
Toby had forgotten that. He stared in horror at Hamish’s pale face.
“He is not possessed! He is not guilty of any crime!” He was guilty of knowing the truth about King Nevil, though. Oreste would see him dead for that.
“He has been your accomplice for three years,” Father Vespianaso retorted. “It was his duty to aid the authorities in apprehending you.”
“The man Campbell belongs to us!” bellowed a new voice.
They had all been too engrossed to pay attention to the newcomers whose clattering and splashing Toby had heard earlier. Heads turned to peer in the downhill direction, where a second troop of soldiers stood in the darkness, a considerably larger force than Captain Diaz had brought. After everything that had happened already, it was not surprising that they were landsknechte.
The tutelary would never be surprised by anything. “Approach and state your claim, Leopold.”
In marched the mercenary captain, a solid, powerful-looking young man whose russet beard failed to conceal a monstrous scar deforming his mouth. His doublet was splendid, his ermine-trimmed cloak hung open to display a wealth of gold chains adorning his chest. He saluted the incarnation respectfully, but he merely sneered at Diaz.
“The man slew our comrades!” His Castilian was almost incomprehensible under a harsh Germanic accent. “He to us belongs!”
Captain Diaz cocked one eyebrow. “I have a warrant from the viceroy.”
“It is a matter of honor!”
“It is a matter of law. Your presence here violates your contract, Hauptmann von Münster. Why are you absent from your post at Lerida?”
“For honor, Captain. Perhaps a Catalan cannot appreciate honor?”
“My warrant names both men,” Diaz said stonily, turning to the incarnation, “as your Holiness is well aware. His Excellency would be highly displeased if —”
“Are you threatening us?”
“Not at all. Holiness. I merely quote my orders.”
Lightning on a dark night, claw marks in the sand—of course it was a threat! Toby should have seen the truth much sooner. The Fiend’s army was supposedly excluded from Montserrat by treaty, but Diaz and Vespianaso had been waiting up at the monastery. Nevil’s viceroy would never let a mere treaty stand between him and the hated Longdirk. And although Montserrat’s wisdom and power were legendary, and its mountain realms immune to almost any mundane attack, it would not be able to withstand the baron’s demonic legions. Oreste had sent Diaz with an ultimatum, and the spirit had yielded. The tutelary had sold out to the hexer and the Inquisition.
Von Münster was scowling at Toby with hatred and disgust. “About the creature nothing we can do, but the man is ours for justice.”
“It is nice to feel wanted,” Hamish remarked airily. “Shall we start the bidding at ten ducats?”
Toby shot him an admiring smile. “The fault was not his. Let him go, Hauptmann. Promise me a quick death, and you can take me instead.”
“Fools you think us, demon? You stay here. We a witness have.” The mercenary turned and barked orders in German.
Two men strutted forward as if they had been waiting for the command, hustling a woman along between them, and of course it was Eulalia, which explained how the landsknechte had tracked Toby into Montserrat so easily. But they must have been close on his heels even before they caught her.
“Tell the friar what you to us told!”
Although she was bedraggled and looked half frozen, her eyes flashed triumph at the sight of the prisoners. “The big one burned up the men with thunderbolts.” She tossed her head defiantly and smiled as she pointed to Hamish. “I saw Jaume killing one of the foreigners with a sword.”
Father Vespianaso massaged his bony fingers. “This may be more serious than we thought. Did you see evidence that he was possessed, child? Did he behave strangely, talk aloud when there was no one there, fall into trances? Did he use unnatural powers—to take advantage of you in some way, perhaps?”
Eulalia accepted the threads offered and began to embroider. “Oh yes, Father! Oh, yes! He summoned me to his bed by night, and I was unable to resist. I didn’t want to go, but he had some terrible power he used that made me helpless to refuse his demands. He violated me many times, and he was supernaturally strong, strong beyond all mortal men, never tiring, never satisfied. And he would mutter strange things I couldn’t understand, about foreign places and secret books and —”
“That will do for now, my daughter.”
Hell hath no fury …
Oh, Eulalia! Her spite really should be directed at Toby, because Hamish would certainly have forgiven her by bedtime, but she must have heard enough to know that Toby was beyond her reach now. Oh, Hamish, Hamish! See what I have brought you to in return for your loyalty and friendship?
He wanted to scream. He wanted to blast the spirit of Montserrat and its famous monastery to ashes. And the Inquisition. And Oreste, who had won at last. And Nevil the Fiend, demon Rhym, the ultimate cause of all this evil. But he could do none of those things. He had lost everything.
“One hundred ducats?” Hamish said. “Do I hear two hundred? I am flattered, but unfortunately she is lying. Isn’t she, Holiness?”
“She was telling the truth about the sword,” the spirit said. “Everything else was exaggeration and wishful thinking. Campbell is not possessed.”
“Then I take him!” snapped Diaz.
“How far do you think you will get?” the landsknecht sneered. “Spare your men’s lives and your own and give him to us.”
“What an unseemly squabble!” Hamish remarked, shaking his head. “Why not just agree to let me go?”
Then it was Father Vespianaso’s turn again. “We must of course accept the holy spirit’s declaration that the accused is not possessed. But he has undoubtedly known for many years that his companion is, and he has done nothing about it. He bears much guilt as an accomplice and must be questioned at length. If the facts are as I have just stated, then justice will be done.”
“Under torture questioned?” von Münster demanded.
“Possibly.”
“Only possibly?”
“Very probably. We must make quite certain that he is telling the whole truth, you understand.”
“And what his penalty will be?”
The friar shrugged as if such details were unimportant. “Assuming he is found guilty, I would expect him to be sentenced to a series of public floggings followed by some years in the galleys. At least ten years. It will depend on the evidence.”
Even Hamish could not smile at that.
“One of my comrades he to slay was seen!”
“Of course, there is that, too,” the friar agreed. “Then, Leopold, my son, I can assure you that the man Campbell will ultimately be handed over to the civil authorities for execution—to be hanged for murder or burned at the stake for consorting with demons. Do you agree with my opinion, Antonio?”
“I am no lawyer, Father.” Captain Diaz was much too wily to get caught in that mill. “My orders were to arrest these two men, take them to Barcelona, and deliver them to you for examination. His Excellency reserved only the right to ask them a few questions if he so wishes. Before you ask any, that is.” His emphasis implied that after the Inquisition began its interrogation would be too late to obtain useful answers. “Longdirk has been granted asylum here, but I shall take Campbell and deliver him to the Inquisition. Does that satisfy you, von Münster? Have I your word that you will return your troop at once to Lerida and make no attempt to interfere with the transportation of these prisoners?”
The mercenary displayed his gargoyle smile again. “I so promise.”
Father Vespianaso rubbed his hands in undisguised pleasure. “You will also take the witness into custody, Captain. And these other witnesses also.”
Senora Collel wailed like a trampled cat.
“No!” Hamish snapped. “I confess to the killing. There is no need to arrest anyone else, Captain.”
Toby moaned. Hamish was headed to torture and death, and he was to live on, growing old pottering contentedly around the monastery herb garden? It was intolerable. Everyone else here was bargaining madly—couldn’t he? He was the one Oreste and Vespianaso really wanted. Could he buy back Hamish’s life with his own?
“Your confession is recorded,” the inquisitor said with a macabre smile. “But there is another matter that must be investigated. The massacre here tonight—was that also the demon’s doing? Or do we have another demon to hunt down?” He peered at Josep, Senora Collel, and Gracia. “I still think we need to interrogate these witnesses.”
Gracia uttered a shrill cry of alarm.
And Senora Collel opened her mouth. …
“Yes!” Toby yelled. “The brigands’ deaths were my doing also! My demon slew them and I gloried in it. If I change my mind and refuse the exorcism, will you release all these others, including Campbell, and swear not to molest them in future?”
Would the tutelary expose his lie? Or had it planned this to fulfil its agreement with Diaz?
Father Vespianaso considered his confession with sly calculation. “Whom are you protecting? Only Campbell?”
“We accept those terms for the others,” Diaz said. “But not Campbell. The two of you come and the rest can go.”
Toby’s mouth was incredibly dry in marked contrast to the rest of him. He knew what was in store, and strappado would be the least of it. But he could not let the inquisitors get their claws in Gracia. And he could not betray Josep, either. Hamish was beyond saving, thanks to Eulalia.
“And what happens then?” demanded von Münster. “A sword through the monster’s heart? It is too good for him.”
Father Vespianaso continued chafing his fingers. “He will be taken to Barcelona for examination.”
