Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman

by Walter M Miller Jr

  “‘From the tomb’ he descended into Hell,” added Jarad. “And on the third day he arose again from the dead and ascended into Heaven. That’s orthodox enough.”

  “If it befall him! And he called God’s word abominable.”

  “A slip of the tongue,” said Brownpony. “He meant admirable.”

  “‘Subtle and abominable’ is what he said. Attributes of the Devil. The serpent was the subtlest of beasts. God’s word is Satan?”

  “Come, come!” said the abbot. “I think you misheard him. Verbum subtile atque infandum. It means finely woven but unutterable. Even elegant but unutterable. Truth so subtle it evades speech. The silence of Christ. And he was waving his arms around at the universe when he said it.”

  At the end, the conclave unanimously agreed on one thing. If any man could return to New Rome as the head of the Church and play Peter to the Mayor’s Caesar without any compromise of fear, it was indeed this Amen (cardinal in pectore of Linus VII, as many were now willing to concede) Specklebird. But it was in compromise and fear that the conclave at last elected him, even permitting the conclavists of Archbishop Benefez to vote in his absence, which was not legal since he had not been present to instruct them. To their later chagrin, they voted for the gaunt and wild-eyed hermit.

  “Gaudium magnum do vobis. Habemus Papam. Sancte Spiritu volente, Amen Cardinal Specklebird…”

  The roar of the crowd drowned the rest of it, and the conclave turned within itself again as each cardinal came before the new Pope to kiss his slipper and be embraced by the new heir to Saint Peter’s keys, and heir as well—if Brownpony the lawyer was correct—to both of Saint Peter’s swords, meaning both the spiritual and the temporal power, the latter subordinate to the former. Brownpony the lawyer who knew more about the history of canon law and the papacy than anyone outside of Leibowitz Abbey had talked freely during the conclave about the ancient Theory of the Two Swords, to the dismay of conclavists of the absent Archbishop of Texark. He quoted from an ancient bull: “Porro subesse Romano Pontifici…de necessitate salutis…” “And so to be eligible for salvation everybody must be subject to the Roman Pontiff.” According to Brownpony, this never-popular decree had been aimed especially at monarchs, whether civil or Nomadic, and the Hannegans and Caesars as well, but it passed the test for infallibility defining a matter of faith and by backing it with a stated penalty, the loss of salvation, for rejecting it. Perhaps what the electors sympathetic to Texark feared most, Brownpony as Pope, was now replaced by fear of Brownpony as gray eminence. That the cardinal had been the hermit’s patron and cultivated his friendship and managed to get him restored to favor with Linus VII was well known to everyone. It had seemed a harmless relationship between a rich and lordly Churchman and a humble holy man. If one lacked a conscience, one could always pay to support one, was the cynical view. But Brownpony and Specklebird, though poles apart, had always seemed genuinely fond of each other. There was that friendship to worry about now.

  There was jubilation in the streets at first, but then the people heard with outrage that their hero had reversed his initial position, which was thought to have been that the real Rome was wherever the Pope decided to settle down. A further rebuff to the city was the sentence of interdict which Pope Amen laid upon Valana until the instigators of the violence against the conclave should be brought into his presence. For three days, the population seethed. Under the interdict, Masses were forbidden to be said or confessions heard, and only the last sacraments could be offered to the dying. The city was sick, and the city knew that the punisher behind the interdict was Cardinal Brownpony. But on the fourth day, the terrorists were brought bound before the Pope. He ordered them untied, heard their common confession, and granted them absolution on condition that they repair all damage to the building under the supervision of the Cardinal Penitentiary and satisfy any other claims against them before an arbitrator. Having thus subdued the city, the Pope-elect again called together the conclave and had himself reelected in the absence of mob violence. This too was attributed to Brownpony’s influence. A vote against the Pope was a vote against an early departure from Valana; there were no such votes, and only two abstentions.

  It was true that Specklebird had once said that Rome was wherever the Pope settled down, but saying that the Pope was Pope wherever he lived was not the same as saying he should live in Valana. Specklebird had never said he should, for he was Pope only by virtue of being Bishop of New Rome. The public ministry which informed and influenced popular opinion published an analysis of Specklebird’s views, and it was posted on the doors or walls of every Church in the city. Valanans, this essay concluded, had nothing to fear from Amen Specklebird’s return to New Rome, for this was his home, and while he left as spiritual conqueror, he could be expected to return every summer to Valana for the rest of his life, and permanently to establish here many institutions of the Church which were now in New Rome, such as the Ignatzian Order, in order to free them from imperial influence. Nevertheless, the angry burghers seemed intent upon preventing Pope Amen from leaving Valana until Urion Cardinal Benefez had arrived and paid homage to His Holiness.

  By this time the attendant electors, cardinals of the College, had knelt before, kissed the ring of, and been embraced by His Holiness Pope Amen. Only a handful refused to do so, claiming that the election was held under duress and therefore invalid. These few had obvious Texark affiliations and their attitude was not unexpected.

  It was about noon on the fateful election day that the coach bearing the Most Eminent Lord Urion Cardinal Benefez, Archbishop of Texark, arrived in the sickened city with a party of cavalry. Blacktooth caught a glimpse of the fury on the portly archbishop’s face when he learned of the forced election, and heard him rain abuse on his own conclavists for their votes, but the meaning of the fury and its portent faded almost instantly from his mind. Across the plaza from the palace stood a barefoot girl in a brown nun’s habit. It was Ædrea, looking at him in apparent shock.

  He took a step toward her; then Brownpony’s voice echoed in his mind: You are not to intentionally see her again. If you ever see her in Valana, avoid her. He stopped. But she had already turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

  CHAPTER 12

  Idleness is the enemy of the soul. Therefore the brethren should be occupied at certain times in manual labor, and again at fixed hours in sacred reading.

  —Saint Benedict’s Rule, Chapter 12

  S SOON AS ELIA BROWNPONY HEARD THAT HIS old friend-enemy Urion Benefez was in town, he began looking for an opportunity to escape from such ceremonies as the vesting of the new Pontiff. When he found the right moment, he insisted that Blacktooth accompany him to see the Archbishop of the Imperial City, but for what purpose the monk could not quite imagine. As they hurried to the address where Benefez had reserved a residence, Blacktooth confessed that he had seen Ædrea. There was a quaver in his voice, and the cardinal stopped smiling and looked at him sharply.

  “I told you to avoid her!”

  “I did not disobey you, m’Lord”—yet, his internal demon added silently.

  Brownpony’s smile dimly returned. “I know. She avoided you. I talked to her myself.”

  “Where?”

  “At the office, while you were out. I had asked Security to send her to me the next time she brought silver from the colony. When we stopped in Arch Hollow, I told you about the group of gennies in the Suckamint Mountains. They call it New Jerusalem. There’s an old silver mine they work. She comes to town about once a month to the, uh, other wing of the building to exchange silver for currency. Their contacts are strictly with the covert wing, which keeps me informed. That’s why she didn’t know me before, although I was very surprised. We keep their secrets. They fear for their silver mine, among other things. You saw the papal flag over Shard’s house.

  “I’ll tell you how our visit looked from their viewpoint, Nimmy. They’re on the edge of lawless country. The last party of Churchmen who stopped at Arch
Hollow turned out to be Texark agents, and they were very suspicious of Shard’s family. One of them penetrated behind their place to the cliff trail, and he saw too much, so the guards killed him quietly and dragged him away. When the other two realized he was missing, they wanted to go looking for him. Shard said there was danger of bear attacks. The guards would have killed them both. Ædrea went to search on their behalf, and brought back a piece of an arm with teeth and claw marks on it. So they prayed over it, buried it, and went back south the way they had come. But before they left, they let Shard know they were on Texark’s side, and that all gennies should go back to the Watchitah Nation.

  “Then, right after these false Texark priests left, there came a cardinal with no bishop’s ring, a monk who plays a guitar, a Nomad in a magic hat, and a swordsman who admits he had worked for the Hannegan. Furthermore, if the cardinal was who he said he was, he should know all about them, but he didn’t seem to.”

  “All they’re hiding is a silver mine?”

  “Not quite. The gennies in New Jerusalem are about ninety percent spooks, able to pass, relatively normal, like Ædrea. They began fleeing to those mountains generations ago. They put the gleps up front and call it Scarecrow Alley.

  “Now, as for Ædrea—” He broke off and looked at the monk. “She sends her regrets.”

  “For what?”

  “Probably for avoiding you in the square. For teasing you too, I suppose, back at her home. How do you feel about her?”

  Nimmy groped for words, but none came.

  “I see. The Secretariat can have no visible contact with anyone from New Jerusalem. Do you understand that?”

  “No, m’Lord.”

  “Their aims are controversial. So are some of ours. They are refugees, and stand accused of killing Texark guards when they escaped the Watchitah Nation. They fear a raid from imperial forces from the Province. Stay away from the subject, and from her. She’s trouble.”

  Don’t I know! he thought miserably.

  “She will no longer be accepted by us as their agent,” the cardinal added sharply. “That should be the end of it.”

  The coaches from Texark were still loaded with baggage and both military and civilian personnel standing around as if waiting for orders. A monsignor politely blocked the cardinal’s path and asked his name and business.

  “Just tell him the Red Deacon is here.”

  “May I state the purpose—”

  “Tell him I came to find out why he tried to have me and my secretary assassinated.”

  Shaking his head, the monsignor went through a door with the message. Half a minute later, the lecturer Urik Thon Yordin emerged, white as a sheet, looked in terror at both of them, and fled the room. The cardinal looked at Blacktooth and smiled. Nimmy now understood why he was here.

  Brownpony was called inside. Blacktooth sat by the door, which was not quite shut. The Archbishop of Texark had not yet changed out of his traveling clothes. The Hannegan’s uncle was pacing in fury.

  “Elia, how dare you accuse me, even jokingly, in front of my servants and visitors?” he raged.

  “I was not aware you had a visitor,” the monk heard his master lie. “The fool seemed very upset. I apologize, Urion.”

  “Well, yes, Yordin is a fool. When he notified us about Corvany’s killer, he associated the thing with you and one of your men. I’m sorry someone tried to kill you, but I resent your insinuation, Elia. As you no doubt resented Yordin’s.”

  “I apologize again, Your Eminence. I do wonder if Yordin himself wasn’t behind it. But we’ll let this wound heal. And now, Urion, will you also heal the Church by paying homage to His Holiness? I know how you must feel, and while the election was very irregular, it’s plainly valid. Be generous! The new Pope wants to go home to New Rome, unconditionally, where the Empire wants him, without demands. You have gotten what you wanted.” There was such a stoppage of Brownpony’s breath with the word “wanted” that Blacktooth could almost hear the except the tiara which did not follow. “He makes no demand for a withdrawal of Texark troops, Urion.”

  There was a long silence. “I shall consult with many other cardinals, Elia. Thank you for your advice,” the big man said at last. “I don’t like what I’m hearing, but let’s not be enemies.”

  “What have you been hearing?”

  “That you stirred up the city, that your agents caused the riots. Or that the, uh, hermit himself did.”

  “You have been lied to. The people had to drag that ‘hermit’ to the conclave. Talk to Jarad. Talk to Bleze. Then talk to His Holiness, that hermit, for love of the Church. A love we share.”

  “Oh, yes, Elia! I know you love the Church. It’s what else you may love that I wonder about. We’ll see, we’ll see.”

  On his way out, Brownpony found that Blacktooth had been joined in the outer office by three frustrated electors who had come to Valana as Texark allies. One of them, however, had already knelt at the feet of Pope Amen and been embraced by His Holiness. Brownpony exchanged weather opinions with them and hurried on.

  “Why did you want me to go with you there, m’Lord?” Blacktooth asked innocently.

  “Because I knew Yordin was there, of course. I wanted him to fear we were going to accuse him. And frankly, I wanted to get him in trouble with the archbishop.”

  “You think he hired the men?”

  “If not, he knows who did, but he knows it was a mistake. I think we’ll be safe now. It just proves they’re dangerous. Now we all need a rest after the worst conclave I’ve ever seen. Take two or three days off.”

  As Blacktooth was leaving the Secretariat, the receptionist guard at the entrance handed him two letters. One was a note from Ædrea. He glanced at the guard, who was watching him with an expression that made Blacktooth ask:

  “Did the sender give this to you personally?”

  “It was handed me by a young sister in a brown habit, Brother St. George. May it not displease Your Reverence that I did not ask her name, for she was silent herself and I did not wish to spoil it.”

  “Spoil what?”

  “Her silence.”

  Nimmy studied him in surprise. He was a beefy man of mature years, and looked like a retired soldier. His name was Elkin. “You’ve been to a monastery, haven’t you?”

  “I was at your own abbey for three years in my youth, Brother, at the same time as the cardinal. Of course, he wasn’t a cardinal then, or even a deacon. And I wasn’t yet a soldier. But we left at the same time. He had been there to study, but I was there to—” He shrugged.

  “Find a calling or not,” Nimmy finished, and resolved to be amazed later by this information. “About the silent sister. Does she come here often?”

  The guard’s expression blurted a yes before he caught himself and said, “You should question His Eminence about things like that, Brother St. George.”

  “Of course, thank you.” He turned to go. The other letter was a note from Abbot Jarad apologizing for being unable to meet with him as promised. I am writing to His Holiness on your behalf, my son, and you may be sure I shall write only what will be favorable to your good intentions.

  Whatever that means.

  The note from Ædrea said: I shall leave your chitara in the crack in the ledge below the waterfall up the hill from the Pope’s old place. Blacktooth began walking in that direction. He wondered why she hadn’t left his g’tara with the guard instead of the note. It was a five-mile hike to the falls, and the climb made him dizzy. When he arrived, a white horse was drinking at the pool under the falls, and he froze for a moment; but then he saw that it was a gelding rather than a mare, and wearing a bridle but no saddle; it snorted at the sight of him and trotted out of sight around a curve in the trail. The waterfall was hardly more than a shower, and it fluttered in the wind, producing an occasional flash of rainbow. He walked around the pool, fearing and half hoping to find her behind the falls. The g’tara was there as promised. It was slightly damp from the mist of the falls, causing him
to grunt irritably and wipe it against his robe. Why had she made him walk so far?

  He glanced at the hoofprints in the sand as he walked around the pool again. Then he stopped. The hoofprints of the horse crossed and partly overlaid a set of human footprints, smaller than his own. Both led in the same direction away from the pool. He wrestled with himself for a moment, then followed the trail.

  Her footprints led him into a wooded ravine, then under a low ledge which overhung the sandy bank of the swollen creek. He had to duck low to walk, then dropped to his knees and crawled. Then he found her. He had heard of this place, but never seen it. The small cavern under the ledge was said to have been the home of Amen Specklebird before Cardinal Brownpony bought him the remodeled cavern closer to town.

  Slanting sunlight filtered through the foliage and made delicate patterns on the stones and the bare thighs of Ædrea, who was no longer wearing the nun’s robe but the leather skirt and a halter above her waist. She sat with bare flesh on bare sand. He had been following her trail on his hands and knees, and at the sight of her bare legs he paused to look. She laughed at him, and put away a handgun she had been holding in her lap.

  “You might as well admire the rest of me.” She pulled up her skirt and spread her legs to let the dappled light shine on her crotch, then closed her thighs quickly. He had seen it before, dimly, in a barn. Her vagina was small as a nail hole because of the stitches, but her clitoris was as big as Nimmy’s thumb, and maybe because he loved her he could see nothing repulsive about her crotch, however embarrassing, and she could see that he was not repelled but sad and curious, and embarrassed. She smiled wickedly and patted his arm.

  He sat in the soft sand beside her. “Why do you tease me?” he asked wistfully.

  “Now or back home?”

  “Then and now.”

  “I’m sorry. There was a runaway monk from your Order who stopped at our place once. He didn’t like me, not at all. He was in love with another monk. I wondered if you were like him. And your gap was showing.”