The Roman

by Sylvain Reynard

  A tear streaked down Raven’s face. “I love you. Please don’t let this happen.”

  Her response was almost drowned out by the sound of boots on the floor. The black robe restraining her pulled her away, almost violently, and pushed her against a pillar.

  A procession of eleven priests led by a man in the vestments of a cardinal marched past her toward the altar.

  The cardinal turned to face Raven and Father Kavanaugh. “Keep her quiet or take her away.”

  The priest hesitated, his gaze moving between William and Raven, who was crying.

  “Father Kavanaugh,” the cardinal snapped.

  Shaken from his musings, Father bowed. He stood next to Raven, giving her a conflicted look. “I’ve never seen that before.”

  “Seen what?”

  “A demon professing his love in a house of God.”

  Father’s ruminations were interrupted by the cardinal, who held up a large crucifix, addressing the black robes who flanked the prostrate Prince. “Bring him here.”

  The cardinal pointed to a spot on the floor, and no less than ten black robes did his bidding.

  William was placed face down in front of the altar, shackled. Eleven priests, robed in white, arranged themselves around him in a semi-circle.

  He turned his head to the left, shifting until he could see Raven’s face.

  “Sarah,” he mouthed, his gray eyes intense.

  Raven nodded.

  “What’s he saying?” Father spoke in her ear.

  “He’s saying he’s sorry,” she lied, wiping away tears.

  The cardinal made the sign of the cross and took holy water, sprinkling it over William, over himself, and over everyone standing nearby.

  William hissed as the water made contact with his body, but the water didn’t burn him.

  The cardinal knelt and began to recite the Litany of the Saints, in Italian. Everyone except Raven and William participated in the responses.

  Then Raven noticed William’s lips moving.

  “Brother Thomas, pray for me. Pray for my woman, whom I love.” Raven wasn’t sure she’d read William’s lips correctly, but she knew the name of his teacher. It made sense he’d beg his teacher for help.

  “Brother Thomas, they betrayed us. Please help William.” Raven’s own lips began to move as desperate supplication bubbled up from her heart.

  She didn’t question her words, or censure herself for addressing a dead man. She was desperate. Adding her voice to William’s only seemed right.

  William’s body convulsed. The chains wrenched and clanged against the floor.

  The cardinal raised his voice so he could be heard.

  William’s lips continued to move, “Have mercy on me.”

  “It isn’t possible,” Father Kavanaugh muttered. He’d stopped participating in the responses, focusing his attention on the fallen Prince.

  “What isn’t possible?” Raven’s gaze swung from William to the priest.

  William’s voice lifted still higher, speaking in Latin, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.”

  “What isn’t possible?” Raven pinched Father’s arm.

  The priest’s blue eyes moved to hers, and he tugged at his white beard. “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

  “I told you he was different from the others.” Raven swiped at her tears. “Let him go before it’s too late.”

  “I can’t do that.” Father wore a look of uncertainty as he re-joined the other priests in their responses.

  Once the litany was finished, the cardinal turned to William and addressed a few words to the demon, asking for its name.

  William groaned, and his body curled in on itself. He seemed wracked with pain and began to cry out.

  Raven moved toward him with speed she didn’t know she possessed. She stumbled and crawled, the skirt of her yellow sundress dragging across the stone floor.

  He turned his head to look at her.

  “William, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I—” He closed his eyes and made an agonized noise as his body convulsed.

  The cathedral echoed with his cries as the large assembly of priests and black robes fell silent.

  “I’m here,” Raven’s voice cracked. “I’m not leaving you, William. I’m right here.”

  He struggled to make eye contact. “I pledge myself to you.”

  His shackles clanked as he moved his hands in her direction, his fingers questing hers.

  “I pledge myself to you, too. Forever.” Raven reached across the floor, but before she could touch him two black robes grabbed her and pulled her away.

  Out of nothing, a breath of air materialized and swirled around the Prince. In the whisper of the breeze, a voice said its name, Despair.

  William’s eyes were shut, his body seizing.

  “No!” Raven cried, even as she was dragged across the floor. “William, no!”

  Father Kavanaugh pushed the black robes aside and freed Raven. But he wouldn’t let her return to William’s side.

  “The demon is there,” Father explained. “Stay back.”

  He stood in front of her protectively.

  “He doesn’t have a demon.” Raven tried to move around the priest, but the black robes stood on either side, poised to intervene.

  The cardinal placed his hand on William’s head and recited another prayer before reading a text from one of the Gospels.

  William’s body continued to seize. The color of his skin changed and deepened, and sweat appeared on his brow. The mysterious breeze swirled above him, a private whirlwind, the voice growing louder and more ominous. “Despair.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

  Raven rubbed her bare arms against the cold. Panic filled her, along with a feeling of defeat. The situation was hopeless. They were torturing William, and she couldn’t free him.

  She felt short of breath, as if the figures guarding her were pressing closer. All her striving, all her words, had come to naught. The person she loved most in the world suffered in front of her, and she could do nothing.

  The cardinal prayed, making the sign of the cross over himself and over William. He took the stole he was wearing from his shoulders and placed it on William’s back.

  Then, in a loud voice that rang out in the great cathedral, the cardinal addressed the demon Despair and commanded it to come out.

  The breeze swirled into a whirlwind, spinning and gusting furiously. The voice shrieked and cursed.

  All of a sudden, the whirlwind ascended toward the dome and vanished.

  William remained perfectly still, prostrate before the altar, face down.

  The cardinal touched William’s head, making the sign of the cross as he continued his prayers. He addressed the demon once again, commanding it to leave.

  A strange white mist appeared over the Prince’s body, like a fog descending in night air. The mist shimmered and vibrated, then it too vanished.

  “It’s finished,” the cardinal announced.

  As the feeling of dread lifted from Raven’s body, like a heavy coat being removed, her legs buckled. Father caught her before she fell to the floor.

  The cardinal prayed a final prayer. Kneeling beside William’s body, he placed his hand on his head. “You have been healed. Arise.”

  William didn’t move.

  The cardinal bowed very low, examining William’s face.

  The cardinal lifted his head immediately. “Medic!”

  One of the black robes ran to his side and fell on his knees. He rolled William to his back, the shackles and chains crashing against the floor.

  William’s head lolled, his eyes closed.

  The medic lowered his ear to William’s chest. “No heartbeat.”


  He began doing chest compressions.

  “What’s wrong?” Raven pushed against Father’s arms, finding her feet once again.

  “Sometimes the demon tries to destroy its host as it leaves.” Father joined the others standing around William. He added his voice to their prayers.

  Raven stumbled toward them, startled that the black robes moved aside for her.

  She watched as the medic continued performing cardiopulmonary resuscitation, moving from time to time to exhale air into William’s mouth.

  “Call an ambulance,” the medic grunted.

  The cardinal sat back on his heels. “Are you sure?”

  “Now!” The medic snapped.

  One of the black robes pulled out a cell phone and walked some feet away, dialing a number.

  “You said an exorcism wasn’t an execution.” Raven turned accusing eyes on Father Kavanaugh. “You said he’d be alive!”

  She struck him with her fists even as the medic continued to work a few feet away. The great Duomo echoed with her anguished cries and the sound of urgent prayers.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “APPARENTLY, SHE WASN’T POSSESSED. We had to sedate her, but the sedative will wear off in a few hours.”

  “After that?”

  “We will leave it to you to adjust her memories. The body is at the morgue. We’re waiting for it to be released.”

  Raven sat in a small bedroom, staring at a crucifix on the wall.

  Since she awoke, she’d been waiting for her mind to clear. Slowly, very slowly, her memories returned, along with scraps of conversation she must have overheard.

  She remembered being taken by the black robes to the Jesuit safe house. She remembered Father Kavanaugh telling her William was dead. He’d been rushed to the hospital, but was dead on arrival.

  She’d attacked the priest in a fury, screaming that he was a murderer. Black robes had restrained her while another plunged a needle into her vein.

  She didn’t remember anything after that.

  She’d awoken in a narrow bed, disoriented and feeling strangely subdued. The sedative had numbed her. She couldn’t cry or feel anger, even as her heart wept blood.

  Raven sat quietly, waiting for her equilibrium to return, and took stock of her surroundings—a narrow bed, a chair, and a desk. A short bookcase that held a few books, all theological, stood next to the desk. A crucifix hung on the wall next to a brass rendering of the symbol of the Society of Jesus. A small window revealed the night sky and the barest sliver of moonlight.

  She stretched her legs and stood, leaning against the bed. The sedative must have numbed her leg because she didn’t feel any discomfort.

  She walked slowly to the door. It was locked.

  Father Kavanaugh was no longer the benevolent man she’d thought he was. While he and the others truly seemed shocked that William had died, they couldn’t have been ignorant of the possibility. They’d shackled him and placed him in an incredibly stressful situation. Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, along with the stress, that killed him.

  Raven didn’t believe in demons. She didn’t have a scientific explanation for the strange whirlwind or the disembodied voice, but she knew William had not been possessed.

  She’d begged Father over and over again to free William. He could have intervened. He could have put a stop to the entire bizarre ritual. But he hadn’t. He and all the other black robes had simply stood and watched William die.

  Murderers.

  Father Kavanaugh and the Curia were now her enemies. They’d been duplicitous in their negotiations for peace and treacherous in their actions. The fact that the priest, who she’d trusted with William’s life, had betrayed them cut her deeply.

  Listlessly, she returned to the bed and sat down. The window was too small to crawl out of, and she appeared to be on the second floor.

  Perhaps an opportunity to escape would present itself before the Curia attempted to wipe away her memories.

  She hugged her pillow, noticing that her gold bracelet was gone. The Curia must have taken it from her. The Curia had taken everything away from her.

  She closed her eyes, trying with all her might to catalogue every moment, every word she’d exchanged with William, hoping some of the memories could be hidden from the Curia amongst the memories of her childhood and its own betrayals.

  Raven awoke with a start.

  The room was dark except for the moonlight that spilled onto the floor from the small window.

  She’d been dreaming. She and William were walking in his garden, hand and hand, in bright sunlight. She’d broken down when she saw him, hardly able to say the words that expressed how relieved she was that he wasn’t dead.

  He’d smiled at her gravely and opened his mouth to explain.

  Something moved, making the sound of a broom sweeping across a floor.

  The room was empty, save for the furniture. As she sat up in bed, she saw something.

  She slid her legs over the side of the bed and unsteadily crossed to the door, bending to retrieve a piece of paper.

  She held it up in the moonlight.

  Open the door and walk to the end of the hall. Take the staircase to the ground floor. Someone will be waiting for you.

  -Sarah

  Raven read the handwritten message twice before the words penetrated her foggy mind.

  The paper was too solid in her hand to be a figment of imagination. She wondered if someone was manipulating her or if the letter had truly been written by the Sarah William had wanted her to find.

  As far as she knew, she and William and Sarah were the only ones who knew about the address on Via San Zanobi. Perhaps the mysterious Sarah had learned of her whereabouts and come to her.

  It didn’t matter to Raven if the author of the note could be trusted or not. She wanted to escape and was willing to risk it.

  She tried the doorknob and was surprised to find that it turned easily. She opened the door and stuck her head into the hall. It was empty.

  As quietly as she could, she exited her room and hobbled to the end of the hall. She opened the door to the stairwell and closed it quietly behind her. The staircase was narrow, and she leaned on the railing as she cautiously descended, her ears straining for the slightest sound.

  When she reached the bottom, she came face to face with a teenage boy. He placed a finger against his lips.

  He took her hand in his, which was stunningly warm, and led her outside into the alley.

  They moved to the street as fast as Raven could manage and walked hand in hand about a quarter of a block. In the distance, she could see Brunelleschi’s dome.

  She winced at the realization.

  The teenager opened the passenger door of a small Fiat and helped her into the seat. He walked around the car and started it. They pulled away from the curb and sped down the street, the headlights penetrating the darkness.

  “Who are you?” she asked in Italian.

  “A messenger.” He gave her a small smile before returning his concentration to the road.

  It was only a short drive to Via San Zanobi. Raven saw the sign as they made a right turn onto the street.

  The boy parked in front of number thirty-three. He leaned his head toward the building. “Press the buzzer, and give them the password.”

  “Thank you.” Raven reached into the pockets of her sundress. “I’m sorry I don’t have any money.”

  “I have been well paid.” He flashed her a smile. “Go. They will realize you are gone at any moment.”

  Raven thanked him once again and exited the vehicle.

  The teenager waited as she crossed the street and pressed the buzzer. As soon as she spoke the password, he pulled away, his taillights disappearing around the corner.

  The lock on the door buzzed and Raven opened it,
stepping into a lightless corridor.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  THE CORRIDOR OPENED UP into a lit courtyard that housed a garden. Doors lined the walls around the courtyard.

  A woman stood next to an open door, beckoning.

  Raven limped toward her.

  The woman appeared to be in her fifties and had shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. She seemed unsurprised by Raven’s disability and moved to her side, offering a shoulder to lean on.

  She ushered Raven through the open door and into an apartment, bolting the door behind them.

  The apartment was spacious, with an open-concept kitchen and dining area that had sliding glass doors leading out to another garden.

  The woman led Raven through the kitchen to a sitting room.

  Raven was grateful to take the weight off her leg and sank onto a low couch. “How did you find me?”

  “It’s best if you don’t ask too many questions,” the woman replied in English, sitting in a chair opposite. “I have been paid to help you escape the city. I couldn’t do that with you being held captive.”

  “William hired you?”

  “We don’t have much time.” The woman ignored her question. “If you wish to escape, you must leave within the hour.”

  “So soon?”

  “The police would like to speak to you in connection with the murdered inspector who was found in the Loggia dei Lanzi. I was also told you wish to escape other interested parties.”

  Raven fidgeted with her fingernails. “You could say that.”

  “Because of the nature of the threats against you, my services were engaged to provide you with a new identity and a new life.”

  Raven’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that really necessary?”

  The woman frowned. “You can refuse my assistance, of course. But according to the risk assessment I was provided, you are in danger. Whether you leave Florence or not, the life you have lived up until this point is over.

  “I’m offering you a new identity, a new job, and a new life. If you accept this new life, you can never return to Italy. You cannot see or speak with anyone from your old life, including your family.”