A Mortal Glamour (35 page)

"If that is what you wish ... I intended only to spare you pain.” The Bishop folded his arms.

"I did not think God or the Church existed to spare us pain,” Père Guibert countered, his annoyance mildly expressed so that Évêque Amalrie could not challenge him. “I will pray for guidance and for clear vision."

"God and His Angels send you good council,” Évêque Amalrie said brusquely. Without waiting for Père Guibert's “Amen", he left the refectory, walking more quickly than usual.

Père Guibert sat alone, his appetite gone and his heart constricted within him, as if held in a mailed fist.

With a faint whistle, the lash fell, striking the pale flesh with a slap that was loud in the chapel. Seur Odile gasped and steeled herself to endure the next nine blows.

"You must understand, ma Fille,” Padre Bartolimieu told her softly, “that this is not to punish you, but to drive the demons from your body so that you will not have to suffer greater pains in this world, or the next. If the demons can be driven out, there will be no Process, and no burnings."

"Deo gratias,” Seur Odile whimpered as the next blow struck. She felt tears on her face and wished her hands were free so that she could wipe them away. But Évêque Amalrie's page held them firmly, a constant reminder that her struggles would be noted and would be construed as resistance to this correction. She wanted to faint.

"You have permitted demons to enter your flesh, haven't you?” Padre Bartolimieu asked as the lash bit for the third time.

"I ... I did not mean for it to happen.” She was panting now, and her words came out in a rush so that she would not scream.

"No one means for such calamity to happen to them, ma Fille,” Padre Bartolimieu said sternly. “That is why we must be vigilant and examine the state of our souls at all times. You do not expect the Devil to announce himself, do you? What good Christian would accept his advance? The Devil is subtle, and he changes you in ways that you cannot see or feel, except that you turn from grace and seek vice."

"I did not seek vice,” Seur Odile insisted. There were six more stripes to go. She could feel the sweat on the page's hands as he held her.

"But you allowed it to use you,” Padre Bartolimieu reminded her. “Think of the sins you have indulged in, and what they have done to you. You confessed that you felt a monstrous man possess you."

"I took no pleasure,” she objected.

"Do you hear yourself? You are defending your lapses; the Devil has turned you away from humility and made you stiff-necked. Be grateful that we do not add more days to your fasting or blows to your chastisements."

She could not keep the wail from her voice now, nor did she try. “Père Guibert never required fasting and lashes of us."

"For which he was seriously lax. Had he been more demanding of you, this would not be necessary.” Padre Bartolimieu turned his head quickly at the sound of a step in the door. “Mon Évêque!"

"Padre Bartolimieu,” the young Bishop said, staring down at Seur Odile naked and prone on the stone floor. “What progress?"

"This is the third one today, and she is not as submissive as the first two. I have three more blows to deliver before the allotted ten have been administered. Still she maintains that the Devil came to her without her knowledge."

"Is that so, ma Fille?” Évêque Amalrie asked, coming closer to Seur Odile.

"I have prayed to God to show me how I fell, and there has been nothing to guide me, mon Berger.” She stopped, letting the sobs come.

"Then you must be doubly grateful for your chastisement that will cleanse your soul and show you your error at last.” He cleared his throat. “Another five lashes, beyond the ten, should assist her. I will watch, to see what happens and to listen to her. It may be that the Devil will speak through her."

Padre Bartolimieu delivered the next two blows in silence, paying no attention to the muffled shrieks that Seur Odile gave. “There are nine given, and you see that she has started to bleed. Shall it be one more, mon Évêque, or six?"

"Six, I think. If we falter now, God will see that we lack purpose.” He folded his hands and observed her. “Strange that there are no postulants here. Where there are demons, there are usually postulants."

"The Plague was very bad, and there are not many young women left to enter Orders. A convent as remote as this one does not attract those from any distance. This is not like Avignon, where the daughters of noblemen come for the privilege of serving in any convent.” He lifted the lash and brought it down with more force than before and was rewarded with a scream.

"That is better, mon Fils. You must not be lenient, or the Devil will have the victory.” Évêque Amalrie bent over slightly. “Ma Fille, do you still persist in your error?"

It was almost impossible for Seur Odile to speak. Her words were slurred and came in breathless clusters. “I am ... thankful that this ... is my reward and ... not the fires of Hell ... mon Berger."

"Ah. You are learning wisdom. When the next five blows are over, you will be prepared to make a full confession. Forget no nastiness, ma Fille. You must reveal all that the demon did and said, all the indignities he heaped on your flesh. It was a male, was it not?"

"Yes. Yes!” she cried out.

"Not a female, to wrest all your chastity from you in forbidden ways?” He sounded more disappointed than curious. “Have you been spared that, or do you seek to deny the whole of your debauchery?"

"No women,” Seur Odile protested. “What could a woman do?"

"That is something,” Évêque Amalrie said to Padre Bartolimieu. “We have reason to be grateful to la Virge, it would seem. The next five blows, mon Padre? Not too gently, I think."

"Yes, mon Évêque,” Padre Bartolimieu said, not quite smiling.

Pierre scowled at the sealed letter Père Guibert held out to him. “Why do you not present it yourself, mon Père?"

"I am afraid of what might happen here if I leave,” the priest answered nervously. “Évêque Amalrie and Padre Bartolimieu are very ... strict in their reprimands and their methods. I ... I wish Cardinal Seulfleuve to know of it."

"Not Cardinal Belroche?” Pierre demanded, his hands braced on his hips. “It is not my wish to leave at all, mon Père, and still less my desire to be embroiled in the feuds of clerics."

"This is not a feud!” Père Guibert snapped, hoping that he was telling the truth. “The nuns here are being treated harshly. You know that. You saw how they've used Seur Aungelique, and you know that no matter what she has done, she does not deserve that.” He held the letter more emphatically. “She is your kinswoman, she is without vocation, and she has been made to suffer."

"That's true enough,” Pierre said with a sigh. “This is a strange place, mon Père.” He looked at the high, white walls. “You believe that this is going too far, even if there are demons?” He shuddered at last.

"Does a fighting man like yourself fear demons?” Père Guibert chided him.

"Not before, but now ... There are demons here, or so I have come to think. They should be got rid of. They should be driven ... driven...” He did not finish his thought.

"But not at the cost of all the nuns, surely,” Père Guibert said, striving to keep a reasonable tone. He knew it would not be a credit to his vocation if he showed himself to be distraught before this nobleman. “They are helpless creatures, women, without the means to save themselves from the predations of Hell. That has been the teaching we have followed since the founding of the Church, and the wisdom of it is all around us, where we see how women may be influenced by others more easily than men, to whom God gave His guidance from the first. But we who have been given the task of caring for them may do things as harmful as neglect or punishment if we do not use them as they ought to be used."

"Use them. Well, if they are subject to demons, they are used, and in ways that are far from God's guidance. Anyone who has dealt with demons knows that.” Pierre shook his head, the scar becoming a ragged shadow across his face. “What do you ask of Cardinal Seulfleuve?"

"That he take time to discover what Évêque Amalrie has ordered, and how he has proceeded here. If the Cardinal agrees, I will accept the whipping and fastings and I will listen to confession with a calm heart. I do not accuse anyone of anything wrong or abusive. I express only my doubts at the force of the methods employed to obtain the confessions. Where there are demons and the nuns desire them, then racking is most certainly proper, but there is yet no proof that the nuns called up the demons to love them. I know this place, mon Duc. I know that it is a place of fears and dreams, and it may be that these nuns, more the slaves of their humors than men, have become confused in their dreams. Even I, upon occasion, have had such dreams here as would make me tremble if such things were truly happening to me. Such an angelic youth has come to me, and abused himself and me that the grace that shone from his features was turned to the lurid flames of Hell. If I, a priest, may be so disordered, what may we think of the nuns, whose reason is not strong and who have come to look upon themselves as under the attack of hellish messengers?” He paused, looking closely at Pierre. “Do you believe they have called up demons?"

"Not ... not that, no.” He coughed. “Any man does dream here...” He was able to speak more firmly as he reached out for the letter. “But demons will come, if they find your weakness, won't they, mon Père? They know where we are troubled and weak and open to them, and they will come."

"But to confess their intervention where it is lacking is a grave sin,” Père Guibert reminded him. “It is wrong to abuse the grace of God in such a way."

As Pierre took the letter, he flushed. “I will deliver this, mon Père, but I will say nothing; this is a matter for clerics, not fighting men."

Père Guibert frowned, sensing more than the usual reluctance in his warning. “Mon Fils, are you troubled? Is something the matter?"

"Nothing that concerns you, mon Père.” Pierre straightened up, tugging at his belt as he did. “Dreams are only that, and what we see in them are naught but the fumes of the brain. Visions are sent by God, and demons rend the flesh as proof of their lusts.” He repeated his old lessons with confidence, reassured by the words themselves. “I will give your letter to Cardinal Seulfleuve, my word upon it. And when it is permitted, I will return again. There are matters that must be decided here, and they are of importance to my House as well as to the Church. As you say, they are not treating my kinswoman well, and that demands my attention."

"I am grateful and will remember your act in my prayers, Sieur le Duc.” He tried to find a better way to express his appreciation, but there was nothing he could do or say that would be correct in such a situation as this one.

"I am grateful, as well. It will be done as you wish, but I will not interfere with what others have done, not without the authority of the Cardinal to guide me, for God did not make me to serve Him, but His Church and le Roi."

"That is acceptable to me, mon Fils,” Père Guibert said, thinking that it was less than he had hoped but more than he had expected. “I will pray for you and ask that God grant you a swift journey."

"My thanks for that, mon Père,” Pierre said as he tucked the letter into his belt. “No one shall take this without my knowing of it."

"Good.” There should have been something more he might say, but Père Guibert could think of nothing. He made the sign of the cross and went back toward Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion.

"Must we leave?” Tristan asked as he came up behind Pierre.

Le Duc jumped, as though he had been wakened from a dream. “Ah! You. What was it you asked?"

"I asked if we must leave,” Tristan repeated.

Pierre fidgeted. “I fear we have been told to go, and there is no reason to dispute the orders. What is wrong here ... “—he shuddered as he searched for words—"does not need force of arms, but something else. I will not let the priest keep us ... waiting on their pleasure."

Tristan did not speak at once. “And the matter I mentioned to you?"

"The woman?” Pierre asked quickly.

"Yes. Philomine.” Tristan did not press further while Pierre glowered down at his boots.

"I know why you want to take her away from here. I don't blame you for it, Courtenay. But if you took her now, while that Évêque Amalrie is still in charge here, it would be the worse for the both of you. It would appear that she was carrying the demon with her, and that you were its servant.” He strode toward his horse, glad to move, to have the illusion of action if not the reality. “You would bring suspicion on her."

Tristan nodded, though Pierre did not see him. “I will need a little time to tell her. She had hoped to be gone from here by this evening.” He did not bother to argue further with le Duc, for he had seen that expression in his eyes before and knew it brooked no dispute.

"You may have a little time. We will wait for you,” Pierre called back to him as he prepared to mount.

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Cardinal Seulfleuve was an older man, harried of manner and scholarly of disposition. He held out the message from Père Guibert to le Duc de Parcignonne and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Sieur le Duc, but you must understand that this is quite out of my hands now. Cardinal Belroche has already approved Évêque Amalrie's methods and any questioning of it now would only serve to make it worse for the Sisters at Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion. You have no notion what it would lead to. From what I have read here, there would be a Process and burnings and all the rest of it."

Pierre shook his head. “Évêque Amalrie is enjoying himself, from what I saw of him."

"That's possible. But there are others like him, and they are in great favor in these days—their zeal gives them power that they might not otherwise be granted. I would hesitate to question their right to do as they wish, just now. You can't be certain that they will not report you to the Pope or his personal assistants, and then there would be trouble.” He put the message down. “It's those perfidious Romans, mon Duc; that is what makes them all so determined to protect the Church at any cost. Very wise and much needed, of course,” he went on hastily. “The Devil rules in Rome and we are the last bastion against him. Still, there are those who in their determination to bring Rome's usurpation to an end cause needless suffering to the devout children of the Church. There has been more of it than you know. In March, a whole monastery was burned, with its monks, because they had become suspect. It could easily happen at Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion. You see that, do you not?"