Demon Rider

by Ken Hood

  "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."

  "Examination?" barked the mercenary. "What is this examination? Has he not confessed? What need is there of examination? He slew our friends, and justice we seek."

  The friar shook his head regretfully. "It is revenge you seek, my son, and we cannot countenanc
e that. The Holy Office is guided by mercy and does not put men to death. It seeks only to drive out their demons. As the accused is refusing exorcism, it will be necessary to use harsher means."

  "You mean you will torture him until the demon he expels?"

  "Regrettably, we will have no choice. But we are moved by compassion, not a craving for vengeance."

  "So he will suffer, suffer a long time?"

  "He is a strong man and apparently a very determined one."

  "That means yes?"

  "I fear this may well be so." The friar blew on his hands again.

  The scar made Hauptmann von Münster's smile particularly horrible. "Then I am satisfied. Will it be possible to view the body?"

  "No. It would be too distressing for those who do not understand the need for—"

  "That is enough!" said the spirit. "Antonio will take the two men named in the warrant. Leopold and his men will return peaceably to their post. And Vespianaso renounces any further proceedings against the rest. Is this your decision, Tobias?"

  Unable to speak, he nodded, not looking at Gracia or Josep. He wouldn't mind taking Senora Collel and Eulalia by the scruff of their necks and banging their heads together, but that was not possible. The Inquisition would have him.

  "So be it," said Montserrat.

  The audience was over. When the golden shimmer vanished, the abandoned incarnation staggered. Her companions steadied her, whispering inquiries. She nodded reassuringly, and they all walked away with their heads down. One of the torchbearers went with them to light their path. Josep and the three women were hustled after them by more monks before anyone could think of suitable farewells.

  Failure, despair, cold, exhaustion...

  "Sorry, friend," Toby said. "This looks like the end."

  "Ah, you're as daft as I am." Despite his pallor, Hamish managed to produce a faint smile. "We never died before, did we?" He widened the smile into a reasonable facsimile of his favorite grin. "I hate ships, anyway! I didn't really want to go home. Life around you is never dull."

  "You may wish it was before long."

  "Trust the hob!"

  Too late. Toby would be damned if the hob intervened and damned if it did not, but he must not let Hamish outdo him in courage. "Of course. We must be as strong as the rocks in the hills."

  "Strong as a billy goat's third horn," said Hamish.

  Horses clattered and snorted. Men were hurrying around: Captain Diaz taking over the torches from the departing monks, von Münster mounting up and preparing to move out. The wagon Toby had heard earlier had been waiting in the background and now began squeaking forward. He was not at all surprised to see that it carried a bear cage.

  "Longdirk!"

  Toby looked down. "What can I do for you, Captain Diaz?"

  The soldier studied the prisoner for a moment. "You're a cool one."

  "I'm a very cold one at the moment. We're also hungry."

  "I'll see what I can do. You are going to come quietly?"

  Father Vespianaso and three other friars were standing guard around them, all four holding jeweled crucifixes. A circle of a dozen armed men backed them up. The cage would certainly be warded. It was almost flattering to inspire such precautions.

  Toby managed a hollow laugh. "I know when I'm beaten."

  The captain nodded. "Hands in front of him, sergeant." The last remark was addressed to a man standing beside him holding chains, and it was a welcome concession, a surprising one. It produced a frown of disapproval from Father Vespianaso.

  Toby held out his wrists for the manacles.

  PART EIGHT

  Barcelona

  CHAPTER ONE

  Anyone but the Inquisition would have classed that journey as torture in itself. Even Hamish could not stand erect in the cage, while to sit down was to be bounced unmercifully as the wagon racketted over the rough trail. Just as it began to move out, Captain Diaz appeared with some stale bread and peppery sausage for the captives. They ate it greedily after their long day, but he had either overlooked drinking water or had none to give, so they soon found themselves racked by thirst while rain bucketed down on them. Chained hand and foot, they spent the night crouching or squatting, clinging to the bars for support and trying not to batter into each other as they were thrown about.

  Dawn found them on the plain, although the road was hardly less rough and the weather little better. Other traffic appeared: peasants heading for the fields or driving animals to market, traders with wagons, a few fellow travelers hastening by on horseback. They stared apprehensively at the sight of two caged men being conducted by Dominicans, knowing them to be possessed. Fear might easily have turned to rage, but Diaz and his troopers were able to deter violence.

  Toby felt no relief when the flat-topped towers of Barcelona came into view at last. They were impressive, no doubt, but they reminded him of tombstones. When the wagon rumbled through the north gate, he thought of prison. The fine buildings with their grand arches and stairways made him wonder which was Josep's and what it would have been like to be born rich, to have grown up with a family and servants, never being cold or hungry.

  Morning crowds in the street cleared hastily out of the troopers' path and gaped at the ominous captives in their iron crate. A few children screamed insults and daringly threw filth, but there was no riot. The wagon rumbled unmolested along the Portal Nou to the center of the city and the Palau Reial. There, in the courtyard, the cage was unlocked. Toby emerged first to make the awkward descent from the wagon, but he was so cold, bruised, and exhausted that he hardly cared where he was or what was happening. He wondered if Baron Oreste was watching his prize being delivered and gloating over the precious amethyst.

  An escort of soldiers, friars, and anonymous laymen urged him forward. Head down, he shuffled and jingled along in his chains, going where he was directed, doing what he was told. Soon he was struggling down steps and the air was foul with the fumes of candles and rushlights. He assumed he would never see daylight again.

  Déjà vu arrived only when he staggered into the crypt itself. The thick pillars and slimy walls were at once familiar: stench of rot, writhing shadows, instruments of torture, the great rack halfway along on the right... He was returning to a place he had been before, although never in this reality. So certain was he that he knew where to go that he blundered straight ahead when he was supposed to turn, and the guards jostled him hard enough that he almost fell. They led him to some moldy straw, and he sank down on it with a sensation of infinite relief. Just to sit on rotting straw and lean back against wet stonework was pure heaven after so many hours of being churned in a metal box, and much better than being spread-eagled on the wall like a tapestry. A rusty iron collar was locked around his neck and chained to a shackle.

  He could not stop shivering; if he was really lucky, he would die of pneumonia. The soldiers went marching out, but the place was not dark yet—Father Vespianaso and four other friars remained, watching him. He wished they would go away and give him some peace so he could sleep. With a sigh he reached deep inside himself to find some remnants of defiance.

  "Gloating, are you?"

  The old man shook his head sadly. "No, my son. Any servant of the Inquisition who gloats is dismissed instantly. I am feeling sorrow for your obduracy and the sad pass the demon has brought you to. I am wondering how I may best aid you in driving it out."

  "That sounds like gloating to me." He was alone! "Where is my friend? Where is Jaume?"

  "He has been confined elsewhere."

  Toby's spirits sank a notch lower—he would never see Hamish again! He had been counting on having company to support him in his ordeal and hoping he might be able to comfort Hamish in his. They had guessed that and would not allow it. Obviously this crypt must be warded against demons; they need not take such precautions with Hamish.

  "We have sent for dry clothes," Father Vespianaso said. "If you cause trouble we shall leave you as you are, but we have no wish to ruin your health
."

  "You have every intention of ruining my health. You just intend to do it personally, that's all."

  "It is the demon that makes you think that. Believe me, my son, you will come to thank us for what we do. You will beg us to increase our efforts to aid you. Meanwhile, do you want the garments or not?"

  Dry clothes? What did they feel like? It was hard to remember. To accept such a favor would probably put him deeper into his captors' power, but the temptation was too strong to resist. Angry at his own weakness, Toby said, "Yes, please."

  He was very nearly asleep when servants arrived with the garments. His wrists and ankles were unshackled, but they left the collar on his neck. He stripped and was given a coarse towel to use, then a shirt, hose, doublet, no jerkin, and all the time the friars stood and stared at him like black owls until they could chain his limbs again. Yet to be dry in the torture chamber was better than being in a cage in the rain. He would soon learn to be satisfied with even lesser pleasures.

  "Food? Water?"

  "Water. No food."

  At long last they went away and let him sleep. His last conscious thought was that they were passing up a wonderful opportunity. If they began their tormenting while he was in this tumbledown state they would soon have him weeping like a baby. The only reason they were not doing so, he assumed, was that Baron Oreste had reserved first crack at him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  He had no way of knowing how long he slept, but it could only have been an hour or two. Many times he jerked awake, or partly awake—wondering where he was, why it was so dark, who was on watch, why he was so sore and so cold, what had just run over his feet. Once or twice he heard faint noises, probably just rats, although there was no reason why there might not be other captives in this dungeon. Poor devils.

  Lanterns being hung on sconces shocked him to alertness and instant terror. They were about to start! He sat up in a clatter of chains, scraping neck and wrists on rusty metal, finding only a soldier laying a pitcher and a bowl within his reach; and then, as his eyes adjusted to the painful dazzle, Captain Diaz standing farther back, regarding him impassively. The other man marched away, leaving just the two of them.