by Mark Tufo
From a short distance away one of the dogs let out a horrific shriek and the horse reared up and back. Louis held on as tight as he could double wrapping his hands in the reigns and squeezing his thighs, stubbornly. He could almost hear his riding instructor chastising him in the back of his mind but pride was a tricky thing.
The front hooves of the horse fell to the earth again and Louis tried to regain control. The leather reigns had torn up the skin between his fingers and he could feel the blood, even as he pulled and jerked, attempting to redirect his mount. Out of nowhere, the body of one of the hounds was thrown, knocking Louis from where he sat.
Falling to the floor, he was jolted from the dream and finally connected the screams from Miriam to the scene the played out before him. He almost wished he was back asleep when his mind processed that what he was seeing was real.
Rushing to his feet, he half ran-half stumbled to Miriam’s aid. Wrapping his fingers around Isabel’s arm, he swung with all his might with his free hand and aimed at her temple to knock her unconscious. When his arm made contact, it succeeded in releasing Miriam from Isabel’s grasp but only to refocus that ire at Louis.
Falling against the bed, Isabel righted herself by jumping into a feral crouch. Louis stood in front of Miriam and backed them both up slowly to give more distance between them. Looking into Isabel’s eyes, Louis could see the absence of his sister, again. Once again, her body played host to whatever this was that was growling and hissing at them like some rabid animal. He was growing to hate It. To want It dead. And It could feel that.
With a dry, mocking cackle It crawled closer to him and made a sudden lunge. Louis gasped, stumbling back almost knocking Miriam over.
“Just die!” He finally cried.
“Whatever, or whoever you are…” he said warily. “Go back to Hell and leave us alone!”
Isabel cackled and lunged forward at Louis. Clawed fingers gripped his neck with the strength of four men and Louis’ eyes grew large as he fought to breathe before being violently lifted off his feet. He could feel the blood circulation being cut off and hear Miriam shouting for help. Darkness was closing in when Felipe charged in and slammed the hilt of his blade into Isabel’s temple resulting in her crumpling to the floor like a rag doll.
Louis sucked in a deep breath like a newborn babe taking his first breath. His hand cradled his neck gently against the coughing that caused him even more pain. There was definitely some damage; he was spitting out blood.
Father Dulante and I trailed behind moments later, running to Felipe’s aid. Lifting Isabel’s body from the floor they lay her onto the cot again, and Miriam pulled the blanket over her. They all seemed to fall back at the same time with a sigh of relief, exchanging glances but no words. Miriam placed her face in her palms and began to cry. I could not bear to see her in such a state. I placed my palm on her back and patted gently, offering as much comfort as I could while remaining modest and keeping her virtue out of question.
She pulled away from me abruptly and stood up to grab fresh linens and bandages. We all watched as she tended to Isabel’s head wound in continued silence. She finally turned and spoke, chiding us like young boys.
“Go now. I must change her clothing and bedding.”
She waved us off with a clean towel, “Shoo!”
“Fetch me some clean water and get some dinner. Why are you just sitting there?”
Her voice had a stern tone laced with anger but we all knew and we all understood. All of us were equally deprived of sleep and sanity.
“Yes mum.” I said, then moved obediently to do as she asked.
Louis stared at her with fearful, tear-filled eyes. Guilt spilled over his face at the respite of being relieved of his watch duty.
Miriam glanced at Felipe and let her voice soften slightly, “Take your friend to get cleaned up and get some food in him. He’ll do no good in this condition.”
Felipe’s jaw tightened and he nodded, curling an arm under Louis’ and then helped him to his feet. He spared another look at Isabel and I could see the real thoughts he tried to hide as if he had spoke them aloud. That must be how the Lord saw us. Nothing was hidden to him. And staring now at Felipe I could see that he wanted nothing more than this to all end. He believed Isabel “the woman” was gone and that what was left, was evil. He believed that evil was going to destroy all of them if he didn’t take matters into his own hands, soon.
I could not let him kill her.
Felipe pulled Louis to his room and helped him out of his coat. He had been through many battles with the man before him but never had he seen the defeat in his eyes that he saw now.
“Louie.” He whispered roughly, shaking his friend by the shoulders.
Louis was someplace else, again.
THE CRUSADER’S INTERLUDE: LOUIS
This time he and Felipe were moving along the sand at night. Even with no sun, the grains were like shards of searing glass through their sandals. The wraps they used to blend in did no good. They were not seasoned to the environment, yet. Each step caused them to wince pain.
When the moon sat high enough above them, Louis gave indication that they were ready to make camp for the night. He and the seven other crusaders filed in and began to build what could barely be called tents from scattered palm leaves or pieces of their clothing and branches.
Two of the scouts came back moments later and informed Louis that it was safe enough to build a small campfire so the men did, and made meager rations of a meal before bunkering down for the night.
The nocturnal sounds of the desert kept Felipe alert and unable to sleep for most of the night. He was more accustomed to the sounds of the forest and its inhabitants than the eerie silence of whispering winds. Every now and then there would be a strange call of a creature he’d never heard before and his grip on the hilt of is sword would tighten.
The moon was falling into the horizon on its journey to relinquish the sky to the sun when his eyes grew so heavy he could no longer keep them open. He must’ve lost time – or, did he fall asleep? Time escaped him when he felt the sudden shift in wind and leapt to his feet. A spray of blood crossed his face and he watched his brother-at-arms fall without so much as a sound.
The surprise attack was so clandestine and well-timed it deserved as much awe as it did abhorrence.
Louis and Felipe were in a room in the far west wing. Father Raphael would not allow him to stay in the convent at first, insisting that it was not proper. Louis used what pull he had left with the Church to gain the upper hand. He would be allowed to stay, as deemed by the Archdiocese, but Father Raphael insisted that he be far enough out of the way to not interfere with Isabel’s care. The heated debate caused alarm in the Pope and, at his insistence, a small team of his own priests were sent to escort them back. They would be reporting Isabel’s progress back to him. This seemed to agitate Father Raphael all the more but he bowed his head and conceded, casting a hateful glare in Louis’ direction before sweeping out of the room.
It was a long, slow ride home from the Vatican but Louis had felt a sense of accomplishment. That victory would grow dim over time. He would already see that Father Raphael had reached the other priests, winning them over. The clergy would barely speak to Louis about Isabel’s condition which infuriated him. The way they were so quiet, Louis felt as though they were zombies. Their eyes seemed lifeless and grey and they would move slowly, always under Father Raphael’s supervision. Louis was noticing that the two nuns looked very similar. His suspicious eye watched Miriam for days but she did not have the same demeanor. Slowly, Louis began to ease around her. The poor woman was enduring quite enough already on behalf of Isabel and him. His thoughts were heavy and racing through his weary mind, exhausting him of any reserve energy. Louis was sitting in his room across from Felipe as dusk began to fall over the earth for another night.
The tension could be felt on the air, pungent with anxiety and fear. Felipe was gazing out the window, his hands hanging loose at h
is sides. His breathing was slow and even but Louis could see his trusted friend and confidante were filled with thoughts. He barely spoke them since they arrived, a trait unlike him. It made Louis’ heart heavy; what had he gotten him into? This was no battle with the average adversary. Louis didn’t even know what they were up against.
“Speak, Felipe” he said. “I need to hear it. Whatever it is.”
Felipe stood there for another long moment in silence before turning to face Louis. The two had been through so much together. Their friendship had been forged by blood, steel and honor. They were closer than brothers.
“God has left us” he said. It was so soft and plain that Louis was sure he had heard him wrong. The shock of the words left him dumb. No thoughts formed in reply to it, for what seemed like hours, but it was only seconds. If it had been any other man Louis would’ve been filled with rage, calling him a blasphemer. Hearing Felipe say it filled Louis with terror because it sounded so real. So very, very real. When Louis finally found his tongue, his voice was stretched and frail, “By all things holy, I pray that is not the truth.”
Lowering his head, Louis looked down to the book in his hands. It was a small parchment that he carried with him. In times when he felt his fear against a sea of soldiers, during odds that seemed insurmountable, this is where he found his strength. The word of God carried against his heart into every battle: “Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.”
Marciel could feel the terror gripping the entire group. The tension was thick in the air as they all sat back together in the library. The Catholic Church was not lenient with those that opposed them. What they weren’t sure of was who to fear more. The constant rattling and shaking of furniture had set all of their nerves on edge. The men were jumpy and even Miriam would recoil at the slightest noise or movement. Isabel’s condition wavered between bad and worse. There were days that the situation seemed like it would improve, or that she would be alright, and other days they feared for her life. The amount of blood loss made her look feeble and pale. All the weight she had lost caused her cheeks and eyes to sink in and grow dark.
The mask over Isabel’s eyes had calmed her in the beginning like blinders on a horse, but lately it only agitated her more. She would writhe and jerk at her restraints, pulling her arms out of socket resulting in her wailing in pain. The others in the convent could take no more, and they ran out to seek shelter elsewhere in neighboring villages or abbeys. The only ones left were the ones that aided Father Raphael and Isabel’s friends and family. Miriam tried her best to help the men looking after Isabel but the two nuns that were aiding Father Raphael made it nearly impossible. If Miriam was caught bringing the men extra food or clean linens she would be punished severely.
Marciel cringed every night he heard her weeping during her flagellation. And every night it seemed to last longer and longer. He admired her devotion to God and Isabel all the more because it was punishment which was required to be enforced by her very own hand. How she found the strength was beyond his comprehension. He knew, though, that it was Father Raphael’s hope, and pleasure, that she would eventually give in.
Louis was growing fatigued in his faith, as well as, physically. The men could barely console him most days as he’d wake from monstrous nightmares, cursing and denouncing God for what he was putting his sister through.
“This is too much!!” he’d scream to the skies, and Felipe would try to keep him from attacking those around him.
There were days he’d rush the door, aiming his hate toward Father Raphael, sword drawn. It was those nights that the men had to be most vigil. Louis never gave any warning so they had to be on their best guard. It was on one of those nights when they were struggling to wrestle the Templar’s weapon from his white-knuckled grasp that they heard the most ungodly scream of all. Dropping his weapon, he rushed past Marciel and the other two to his sister’s door only to have it slammed shut in his face with such violence that the frame cracked and pushed inward. Louis tugged frantically at it while the others tried to catch up to him.
“ISABEL!” he cried, his voice cracked and straining against his throat. “No..Not again!”
SECRET TO THE END - MARCIEL
Marciel nearly shrunk back at the amount of torment in Louis’ voice. Afraid of what was beyond the door, flashbacks of the last time filled his head causing the bile in his stomach to crawl upwards from the depths of his belly. Behind him, Father Dulante stopped dead in his tracks and Felipe barreled through them to help his brother-in-arms. The two men were nearly clawing at the door to wedge it free but it was sealed shut. The floor beneath them trembled and Isabel howled once more – a mix of human and in-human vocals reaching their spinal cords, traveling down to their knees. They all paused until their struggle returned with more urgency than before.
Seeing how futile their attempts were, they cowered back as the room before them seemed to go silent and take a breath, pulling the door inward until it splintered and broke. The pieces exploded throughout the room, some of the sharper pieces embedding in the men’s skin. They were undeterred by the danger, however, and all of them pushed against one another to the horrific scene before them.
Louis’ body lurched forward and his back hunched while he grabbed at the nearest piece of furniture to steady himself. His companion Felipe, the large, stoic man with the eyes of a lion was forced to step back. Father Dulante and I were frozen where we stood even as the stench of Louis’ sickness filled the room.
“My God..” was all I could manage to say.
I could feel my entire body shaking at the scene in front of me. How could this all be real? Isabel was hunched in a corner near a wall stained with blood and feces. Crouched low, she looked like a feral stray, with the fluids matted in her hair and on her face. She was shoving something in her mouth. I couldn’t figure out what it was – no, I refused to process what it was – until finally, realization hit me. She turned and faced us, the ugly mask that covered her eyes only accentuating the demonic grin on her features.
Her side was wide open and half of her intestines were oozing through the open wound. She was eating her own flesh! Louis was still emptying his stomach when Felipe finally lost it and drew his sword. “I will end this. We have to put her down and end this is MADNESS!”
Louis who was on his knees, now, grabbed Felipe’s ankle and cried out, “NO!” but Felipe was pulling away in disregard. Tearing my eyes from Isabel, I reached out for Felipe to restrain him causing Father Dulante to snap out of his shock and help. Isabel seemed amused by it all in some sick, twisted way. She skittered along the floor like a spider, even using her back leg to rest against the wall as if perching on her web. Her entrails dragging alongside her, she cackled and hissed at us. The smell of death and feces, mixed with the coppery taint of blood made our stomachs turn, again.
I had no clue what to do.
It was Father Dulante who surprised us all and came into the scene with the fire of God behind him. Rushing forward, he thrust his hand out wielding the cross that dangled from around his neck.
“Unclean thing, it is by the power of the almighty God who commands you now to hear him and obey his command!” The priest continued forward cautiously, knowing how clever and dangerous the Devil was.
Isabel let out a cry from Hell and arched her back like a wolf howling at the moon. The sound made our ears ache and the floor to rumble. With our balance thrown off, I fell back into Louis who had lost all the color in his features but Father Dulante radiated with his newfound faith in the power of God. He faced this beast head on with no regard for his own safety.
Felipe stood behind him with his sword at the ready. His knuckles were pink and white from strain. With every step the Priest took, Felipe matched it stride for stride. It’s working! I thought to myself then pushed off Louis to help the two corralling Isabel to the far wall until she had nowhere else to go.
Isabel lurched forward, cl
awed fingers swiping at them like a cornered rat. Her back hunched and she panted loudly, eyeing them and sizing them up. When Father Dulante brought out the vial of Holy Water she turned her face away and cringed. A flurry of ancient words flew from her lips in the voices of many souls, not just one. The other two men could not understand the language but Marciel did.
“Kill the Priest! He will kill us! Send him to Hell! Shove that cross in his ass! He’s killing us! Father save us! She’s ours! Take her with us!”
Marciel’s eyes widened with fear, but Father Dulante splashed the blessed water across repeatedly until she collapsed on the floor. Felipe did not hesitate to subdue her. He threw a blanket over her body and pinned her to the floor.
“She’s DEAD!” Louis was on the verge of a meltdown and continued to shout the words from his spot on the floor.
I found a sheet that was strewn across the room and wound it tightly into a rope then began to bind Isabel within the blanket. Felipe’s eyes were locked on her form, ready to strike in an instant. She might be dead, but I did not say it. If she was her soul was lost to the Beast, forever. Please, my God, don’t let this be.
“Let’s get her into a bed and get the surgeon. Quickly, Louis! Fetch the surgeon or she WILL die, certainly!”
Louis scrambled to his feet and ran out the door. Father Dulante kept close watch on Isabel with his crucifix held out before him like a beacon while Felipe and I wrangled her to the bed. The three of us stood there over her mangled body and wept.
After a long few moments, Louis ran back into the room with the surgeon before the unsuspecting man entered. He so stunned at her condition he nearly fell over himself in a dead stop once he passed the threshold. Louis shoved him impatiently toward his sister and the three of us slid away to let him work.
