by Troy A Hill
A spirit swooped at Enid, who shrieked and dodged. She took a step back and fell. The girls clinging to her legs tumbled with her. Cadoc took off toward his bride. Behind me, more shrieks erupted. Crap!
More spectres darted about the courtyard. More undead Romans, with sword and shield, harassed the festivities. One swooped at Fadog and his men. The nobleman blanched. He swayed and toppled backwards. The men behind him ignored their downed lord and dived under one of the serving tables.
I had seen spectres before when my brother and I ventured into an ancient tomb in the middle of a desert. One dived into the body of our guide and possessed him. The spirit made our friend attack us, which did little good. Once it determined it could not hurt us, the spirit pulled the life energy from our guide. He collapsed at our feet. Nothing left but a pile of dry flesh and vacant eyes. I didn't want that to happen here. Not with a score of these spirits flying about Caer Penllyn.
Gwen would know what to do. Her face, however, was as white as Fadog. She wrapped her arms around her chest, her eyes wide with fright and her mouth open. Rhian, Dylis and Nesta stood with her. All the Ladies clutched each other, with Gwen in the centre.
Even the so-called Witch Hunters seemed frozen with shock. The seeker stood with his mouth open and hand out as though he was going to begin a prayer. His eyes followed Cadoc up the hill. His servant was no help, either. Their lack of action didn't surprise me. The guild loved to deal with flesh and blood. Here we had a real threat where their devotion to the divine might shine through, and they stood frozen. They were useless.
Lord Emlyn and some of his guards had their blades out. One spectre dived at the war leader of Penllyn. Both of his blades danced in the night. The ghost tried to thrust his spear into the Penteulu. Lord Emlyn attempted to use his main sword to push it aside while he pivoted away from the thrust. The steel passed right through the apparition. His other did no better as it sliced through the ghost without effect. Emlyn stepped out of its line of attack, and confusion danced across his face.
I knew the feeling. If cold steel couldn’t harm the spirits what could? Gwen might know, but she shivered, wide-eyed with fright.
Behind Emlyn, Fadog stirred. He glanced around and found his men under the table. He crawled toward them, waving for them to slide over and allow him space to hide. Another of the spectres charged at him, seeking to cut him off. He shrieked and flopped down. His arms crossed tight behind his head, and his eyes scrunched shut as he wailed.
44
A Spiritual Night
Penllyn guards, with swords in hand, tried to fight the ghosts. Their steel still did no good. Another spectre flashed by me and thrust his glowing sword at Lord Penllyn. Bleddyn had steel in hand. It did as little good as Emlyn's had. He twisted to the side as the spirit charged.
A Roman ghost dived at a monk. The cleric, older and just as portly as the abbot, raised his cross and muttered a prayer. Maybe the Roman ghost hadn't kept up with the language changes during the last few centuries. The monk's prayers hadn't phased it. Nor did it seem bothered by the holy symbol. Instead, the Roman ghost flew, spear first, right through the man.
The poor monk clutched at his chest where the misty spear had pierced him. He shuddered. He looked down at his grey monk’s robe. No blood. Not a mark on him. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground.
Beyond him, Abbot Heilyn waved his monks on, pointing them toward children and women, then gesturing at the keep’s main doors. He urged them to help people get to the imagined safety of the large building.
Spirits chased shrieking townsfolk about the courtyard. Even the lords hid behind tables. The noble ladies ran toward the serving tables. They had to pull Gwen along. Her mouth still open in shock, her eyes shut tight.
Up the hill, Lord Cadoc stood over his fallen bride, his sword in hand. The very blade that Gwen had called upon the goddess to bless. Cadoc's sword glowed with the same divine light Gwen had called forth in the blessing.
A ghost dived at the girls.
Cadoc sliced the blade into the spirit. Light surged from the blade. Without even a cry, the ghost winked out of survival. Prayers might not do any good. Divine magic, however, could harm them.
Gwen lay under a table. Nesta and Rhian lay next to her, huddled together with Dylis.
Magic dispelled the ghosts. The only person who could use magic, Gwen, was scared senseless.
I glanced back at the witch hunters. They paid me no mind. The seeker still looked to be in shock. His servant clasped his hands before him but stared at Cadoc and his glowing sword. Some witch hunters. Couldn’t even handle a few ghosts.
Ruadh had his cross clasped in one hand, his other hand fished in a pouch at his belt. He found whatever he searched for and pulled his fist out. He shut his eyes and mumbled a few words.
I felt the warmth of the goddess settle on me then. My fingers tingled. I felt the mystical cord that connected me to Gwen’s goddess hum with energy. I held my hand up. The white light of the goddess arced between my fingers, seeking release. What id I know about magic? I couldn’t even summon a ball of light. I needed something to put the magic into. No one near me had a sword. Even the guards were hiding.
Another ghost, Roman spear and shield before it, darted at the tables where Gwen and the noble ladies hid. Gwen along with the others shrieked and ducked their heads.
I grabbed the cross that hung from my neck and sent a quick prayer out to the goddess. I hoped she knew what she was doing. The cord parted at my sharp tug. I pushed the divine energy into the wood. I darted in front of the spectre and shoved the glowing cross into its dark face. Damn the witch hunters to all the hells. I'd do what they should be doing. If I had to run later because of them, and leave Gwen, I would. But right now I wouldn't let harm come to her.
The cross in my hand glowed, then flashed. Another ghost dissapeared. Up the hill, another spirit charged toward the terrified girls. Cadoc's glowing blade met, sparked and dispatched another one.
I ran around the courtyard. Wherever a spirit flew, I thrust with my cross full of the goddess's magic. Every flash ended the existence of another ghost.
The last spirit in the courtyard dived at Lord Fadog who was crawling toward his men under the table. It flew right into his face. He shrieked and flung himself over to avoid being hit. I shoved the cross full of magic in the spirit’s face. It blinked away. Gone.
Fadog bounded to his feet and ran for the main gate. In his haste, he tripped on a stool and flew facedown into the well-trod main path. The mud-coated lord bounced up and continued his run, leaving his men behind.
The only ghosts left were on on the hillside, near Cadoc. Half a score darted in and around him. I raced up the hill with my cross in my hand. My headscarf came loose and fluttered away in the breeze behind me.
A few young maids ran past us, down the hill. Their shrieks adding to the confusion. I spied several of the girls a few paces away from Cadoc and Enid. I headed toward the scrub where they hid.
One spirit flashed toward me, as it dodged his strike. I thrust my holy symbol into it. Another flash and that spirit winked out too.
Cadoc noticed my efforts. Since the spirits seemed to avoid his blade, he and I worked as a team. He’d attack one and force it back toward me. I thrust the goddess’ magic into it. Another ghost gone. But, Cadoc had stepped too far away from Lady Enid.
A spirit surged toward the bride, its arms stretched wide as if to grab her. Cadoc darted back and slashed with his blade. The glowing sword sliced right through the ghost. Light pulsed from the blade as it connected. The spectre disappeared into the glow.
Another of the spirits dived at me. It held the curved shield of the legionnaires and thrust its spear at me. I thrust the I thrust the cross into its face as it charged. The ghostly form hit the glow I felt a surge of power from the goddess, through me and out the ivory in my hand. A burst of light blossomed, and the spirit winked out of existence. The final spectre darted back toward the trees. Cadoc
pursued and lunged with his sword. The last ghost disappeared as the others had.
Cadoc gave a long look at the dimming light from his weapon, then sheathed his blade. He swept up his bride. Enid clung to his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Most of the young girls at my feet trembled and covered their faces. One, however, gazed up at me, her eyes wide.
"Let's go down to the keep, girls," I said. The two older girls had a haunted look to their gaze, and their eyes darted around as they stood. I retied the cord for the cross around my neck, then reached down to help them. Two warm hands from the frightened girls found mine. The other two girls grabbed onto my skirt as we turned to walk down the hill. But my thoughts turned toward the spirits.
Why did these spirits show up here, tonight?
I glanced at the huddle of ladies where I had last seen Gwen. Her face was still white. Nesta and Dylis clung to her. Rhian had recovered and was directing others about. Gwen’s eyes were haunted but open. Her eyes met mine, and I saw a look of pride fill them. Evidently, I had done all right tonight.
45
Questions
Once Cadoc set Enid on her feet, she took the youngest of my charges by the hand, then gathered the others around her and led them toward the keep's main door. Seren stood by the door and reached toward the frightened girls. A pat on a back or a stroke along an arm was her way to bring comfort.
Many of the remaining guests peeked out from behind overturned tables, under wagons, or around the small cottages. Even the bard was peering out from behind an overturned table. His ornate harp stood alone in the centre of the courtyard. I groaned when I realised he'd write a few verses about the haunted wedding celebration. I would, unfortunately, have a significant role.
Several guards had their blades drawn and stood in a protective circle around Bleddyn, Caerwyn and Einion. The guards twisted their hands around the hilts nervously as they looked about for a threat made of flesh. Even the lords wore looks of shock, their eyes creased with fear or worry.
Emlyn’s eyes were on me. He met my gaze and held it for a moment. Despite the supernatural nature of the foes Cadoc and I had just battled, the Penteulu was all warrior. He gave me a stiff nod.
“Emlyn will release weapons to your men,” Bleddyn told the other two. “They can help with patrols on the gate and grounds.”
"Swords won't do much against spirits," Einion said.
“We’ve got Fadog camped outside,” Bleddyn added. “Assuming he’s not run back to his own lands by now.”
“Never trust a Fadog,” Caerwyn said. “Extra force on the walls won’t go unnoticed by him.”
“With the panic about the spirits,” Bleddyn said, “he might get his courage back for an attack. Though ambush and trickery are more his style.”
The abbot had joined Lady Seren by the doors. They greeted each of the girls and their parents at the doorway into the great hall. Several of the girls with tear-streaked faces managed a smile for the friendly cleric or Lady Seren.
I found Gwen near the keep, still pale. She saw me and gave a weak smile.
“How are you feeling?” I sent when we were still a few paces apart. Her head swivelled toward me, her mouth open in surprise that we hadn’t been touching.
“How did you… dearest…?”
“I’ll explain later,” I sent. “Will the Lords mind if we listen in? I want to hear what those damned Witch Hunters thought they were doing.”
“We’ll be welcomed by all except the Witch Hunters,” she sent. The Abbot strode toward the Lords. We fell in behind him.
Gwen stood straight but shifted to lean into me, so our shoulders touched. I felt a small shudder, more a twitch, in her flesh for a second. Then she resumed her usual demeanour.
The Witch Hunters also stepped into the circle. Abbot Heilyn, with Ruadh behind him, stood next to Bleddyn.
“Milord, you were fortunate to have a blessed blade, and good church folk here tonight,” Seeker Bechard said.
"Blessings indeed," the abbot said, then turned toward me. "Sister Mair, we are fortunate to have you here." He took my hands in his and raised them to his lips. "Your bond with the Holy Mother has helped save us from catastrophe tonight. You are a blessing from on high for our humble parish."
"Indeed," Bechard said with only the barest of acknowledgement toward me. "The blade, how did you come by a holy relic?" he asked Cadoc.
“Lord Meirionnydd passed that blade to Lord Cadoc,” the abbot said, “earlier today as part of the betrothal ceremony. I understand that he had representatives of the church bless the blade before he passed it on.”
“Ah, then the one true faith has helped all of us today,” the seeker intoned. His lips were tight though.
"When the spectres appeared," Einion asked, "and chased the bride, why did you, the Witch Hunters, not respond as Sister Mair and Lord Cadoc did?" His eyes shifted from one to the other. "We were fortunate that they were here to confront the spectres because our bare blades did little against the powers of such evil."
"We, ah…" Bechard blanched at the accusation. "The power of prayer and the church works best. We aided the defence with our prayers to strengthen the resolve and divine blessings they wielded in the name of the Almighty. The prayers of the pious strengthened the sister and the young lord and helped them defeat the spirits."
“Perhaps you should have been here two score of years ago and helped the twelve hundred monks who prayed to have Powys spared from the Northumbrian invaders. The invaders slaughtered them all for their prayers,” the abbot said. “I have long admired those who can both pray and act when evil approaches.” His gaze shifted between the two witch hunters. “What business of the church has brought you to our land?”
“That is information for the bishops of the lands we travel through.” Bechard intoned, his voice one of authority.
“I see,” Abbot Heilyn said. He waved his hand to Ruadh, motioning him back to where the abbot had sat earlier for dinner. He then dug through the leather pouches that hung from his belt as he muttered to himself about Bishops, ignoring the witch hunters.
Bechard’s look of contempt at the abbot was obvious as he shifted his attention to Bleddyn. “Lord Penllyn, if we may be so bold, we must investigate the items of magic here. The young lord’s sword… oh, and the sister’s cross.”
"Ah, here it is," the abbot said, as he pulled a gold ring with a single gemstone from a pouch. He slid it on the fourth finger of his right hand. Ruadh came back and held out a flat, cloth-wrapped bundle in the palm of his hand. The abbot untied an elegant ribbon from around the velvet. He laid one side of the soft cloth open, then the other, to reveal a large golden cross, as large as Ruadh's hand.
I had seen such before, worn only by bishops of the Roman church. The abbot retrieved it by the chain which he placed over his head, so the pectoral cross hung low on his chest.
Bechard and Lecerf blanched as they saw the ring and cross. Both bowed. Evidently, our friendly and overly hungry abbot didn’t like to proclaim his higher station without need. I was glad to see he viewed the Guilders as such a need.
“Now, Seeker Bechard, you are before the bishop of this See,” our rotund abbot said. “What is your business in this land?”
Bechard blanched, then reached into his satchel, and brought out a document, folded and marked with a seal in red wax. He handed it to the bishop who passed it to Ruadh without even a glance at it. His eyes held Bechard’s. The seeker attempted to match stares, but shifted his eyes around the group. He had been outmanoeuvred in his power play, and he knew it.
“That is church business, best discussed in private,” Bechard said.
“Considering what has just occurred, I believe it best to discuss it here with the Lords of the cantrefi.”
The Seeker flicked his gaze to Lecerf, who met it, his hands moving nervously along the black staff.
Bechard curled his lips back in a little snarl. I could tell he was not used to being outmanoeuvred, nor did he like having
his authority blocked.
“Well, your grace.” The seeker’s tone was hard. Frosty. “Besides helping the church in Canterbury, we are to convert the unchurched in the Saxon lands to the one true faith.”
“Excellent,” the abbot… er… bishop interrupted him. “Once he returns, I’ll have my Prior, brother Iolo, take a message King Penda in Mercia. He will inform his majesty that your guild will be building new churches for all the villages of his who have converted.”
“The guild will do no… I mean that’s not what we usually, do,” Bechard stammered. “Under orders from his holiness in Rome, we are to find and correct those villagers and lords who cling to their heretic ways, and ways of the old religions.”
“Is that why you’ve had men recruiting from the yeomen in the villages?” Bleddyn asked.
“Our advance groups have been recruiting for the guild,” the seeker said, “so we will be ready to spread the true faith to these lands.”
"Cymry lands have long been converted. Your efforts would have a much greater effect in Mercia to the east." Bishop Heilyn said and turned toward the Lords. "Have the guild parties been active in your lands? Recruiting?"
All three indicated they had.
“Did any of them seek your permission to recruit?”
“Not a single request,” Einion said with a glare at the seeker. Bleddyn and Caerwyn shook their heads to show the same.
“The Bishop of Rome has given us our charter, himself,” Bechard declared.
“Cymru bishops work with, not for, the Roman clergy,” Heilyn said. His glare at the Witch Hunter told me all I needed to know about the local Bishop’s opinion of the Roman Church.
I'd never heard the guilders needed local permission for such activities, but we were in Britain now. Did the guild require the consent of the local lords or the local church officials? If I didn't know, I doubted the Witch Hunters knew either.
