The Harrowing of Gwynedd (51 page)

“I don't like it,” the priest muttered. “The fellow should be taken into custody and questioned.”

“From this mob?” Manfred returned. “I think I'd rather keep my head, thank you. We'll return to Valoret and tell my brother, though. He's an archbishop; let him decide what to do—and send a small army, if he does intend to take this Revan fellow away from his followers.”

Hubert sent no army of any size, however, though he did decide to come to the Willimite encampment to see for himself just what Revan was doing. Because Manfred brought him the report in the evening, when he was supping with Javan, the prince also became privy to the latest news on Revan. And because Javan had been carefully building Hubert's confidence for several days, both by open conversation and more subtle persuasion, it was no particular feat to be included in the party that Hubert shortly marshalled to revisit the site on the banks of the Eirian.

Hubert, being already well informed about the progress of the quasi-Willimite cult, came rather better prepared than his brother had been, and brought Ursin O'Carroll as his personal Deryni sniffer, along with Father Lior and another experienced
Custodes
priest. They also brought a crack troop of Hubert's episcopal cavalry, just in case Revan's growing numbers of disciples took exception to their archbishop's investigations.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-
FIVE

Then they that gladly received his word were baptized
.

—Acts 2:41

Three days after Pentecost, Javan drew rein with Archbishop Hubert at the top of the bluff overlooking the pool where the prophet Revan held daily court. The day was warm and fine. Javan's plain black attire, suggestive of a junior cleric, made him all but invisible in the archbishop's entourage. Father Lior, of the
Custodes Fidei
, rode at Hubert's other side, and the Deryni sniffer Ursin O'Carroll was among the twenty
Equites Custodium
knights that Hubert had brought for a show of strength. Several more priests and other attendants rounded out the party, befitting Hubert's rank. Though the throngs seated on the banks around the pool recognized their archbishop immediately, and reacted with suspicion to the presence of the armed men at his back, they did not recognize Javan—for who would have expected the presence of a prince of the blood, disguised as a cleric?

Javan hoped Revan did. He would, if Joram had warned him as Javan asked. Javan had told the Michaeline all about the scenario he had worked out, if he actually got the chance to do what he planned. All morning he had been calculating the risks, as the archbishop's party drew nearer and nearer the confrontation point, knowing that he could never anticipate
all
of them. And yet, the possible gains were inestimable. He hoped Revan
did
know—and Sylvan and Tavis. It would be extremely difficult if they did not, and far more dangerous.

Javan tried not to appear too interested as he scanned the scene below them, searching for his Deryni allies. Revan had been preaching as they approached, and paused briefly as his audience murmured in faint hostility, raising a hand to quiet them before going on.

“I do not presume to understand why the Lord has chosen me, the most lowly of His servants, to make His will known to you in this peculiar fashion. But chosen me He has, as many here can attest. And I come to proclaim His mercy to all who will humble themselves before the baptism of purification. Whether ye be Deryni or only tainted by their darkness, the Lord commands me to offer His grace to all who truly repent of their wickedness and would enter the cleansing waters. Now pray with me, my brothers and sisters, that hearts may be moved to guide feet toward His salvation.”

“A dangerous message,” Father Lior murmured aside to Hubert, as Revan sank to his knees to lead the assembly in prayer. “Were he to be brought before a heresy tribunal, no one would think twice if he were found guilty and sentenced to burn.”

“Aye.” Hubert nodded. “At very least, he skirts the edges of blasphemy, preaching a second baptism for the exorcism of Deryni evil. Yet even in his error, he does us a service, for he
does
preach that the Deryni are evil. Even better does he serve our cause if what he does is real.”

“You think he does work miracles, then?” Lior asked, clearly disapproving.

Hubert smiled, a prim, self-righteous pursing of the tiny, rosebud lips. “Whether they are miracles or not, dear Lior, I neither know nor care. But if he does make Deryni no longer what they were, then who am I to stand in his way?”

“
If
, your Grace,” Lior murmured. “Such an important little word.”

“My thought, precisely. Ursin?”

Javan held his breath as the Deryni sullenly kneed his horse closer.

“Aye, your Grace.”

“Ursin, what think you of yon preacher? Do
you
think that Master Revan has been given some miraculous power to wash a Deryni clean of what he is?”

Masking an uneasiness that only Javan seemed able to sense, Ursin shrugged. “I would not presume to consider myself qualified in matters of faith, your Grace.”

“Ah, no. Of course you would not. Well, do you think him Deryni, then? Or can he have discovered some fatal defect of your race which enables him to strip you of your power?”

Before Ursin could reply, Lior snorted. “It's all an illusion. The man has some odd charisma, and people want to believe that they've been cleansed of the Deryni taint—so they
are
, so far as they or anyone else is concerned. After all, we don't actually know of any confirmed Deryni who have been ‘purified,' now do we?”

“Hmmm, my brother Manfred seemed to think that Gillebert of Droghera had been Deryni, and was no more.”

“But based only on hearsay, your Grace,” Lior countered. “I say it's all a colossal hoax.”

“Indeed, it may well be,” Hubert agreed, thoughtfully stroking his multiple chins. “On the other hand, it occurs to me that we have the means to test this Revan even now, with someone we
know
is Deryni.”

Ursin's head snapped around to stare at the archbishop in disbelief. “Surely you're not proposing that I should go down for this—
baptism
,” he whispered.

Javan, praying that Hubert meant to do precisely that, could hardly believe that no one heard his heart pounding.

“Why not?” Hubert said. “If he's a fraud, who better to unmask him? And if he isn't—which seems at least possible—then you, too, will be ‘delivered.'”

“And will that save me, I wonder?” Ursin said bitterly. “If I am no longer of any use to you, will I end like Declan Carmody's family, coughing out my life against a knotted bowstring?”

Hubert studied the ends of the reins in his gloved hands. “You
could
end it like Carmody himself, if you prefer,” he said coolly. “But, be of good cheer. If this Revan is real, and you
should
become ‘merely human,' do you think I would not rejoice? I am your spiritual father, Ursin. Your salvation is my dearest concern.”

Grimacing, Ursin glanced down at the prophet, now entering the water with several of his disciples, as several more began shepherding the faithful into orderly lines to await his ministrations.

“Perchance my lack of faith comes from my wretchedness,” he muttered softly. “A Deryni must expect nothing better.”

Father Lior bristled at the unmistakable mockery in Ursin's tone, and Javan dreaded the possible consequences, but Hubert only chuckled softly.

“I really don't care whether you believe me or not, my dear Ursin, so long as you do as you're told. Now, pretend to be one of the faithful and go down to the ‘Master,' if you value even your wretchedness—and that of your family. Captain Ramsay, please accompany him—and you will no doubt wish to ‘purify' yourself as well, after such prolonged contact with a Deryni.”

Ramsay's expression suggested that he wished no such thing, but he was a good soldier and would obey orders. He saluted briskly before dismounting and handing off his horse to another of the officers, pausing to divest himself of helmet, sword, brigandine, and boots.

“Come, Ursin, we must not keep Master Revan waiting,” Hubert urged, when Ursin did not immediately follow suit. “And do not disappoint me, Ursin. You know how I hate disappointments.”

Though still reluctant, Ursin knew better than to argue further. Sighing resignedly, he swung down from his horse and took off his mantle, belt, and boots, handing them to a sour-faced soldier who approached with the stripped Ramsay. The sun shone brightly on their bare heads as they started down the hillside, Ramsay all but shepherding Ursin with a hand under his elbow, and Javan wondered whether the Deryni's fears really were well-founded. Surely Hubert would not discard Ursin so lightly, once he was no longer of use. Not even Hubert could be that heartless. And what
would
happen to Ursin's family, if Ursin was discarded?

But, no time to worry about Hubert now. For better or for worse, Ursin O'Carroll was about to become an official example of Revan's supposed power. Javan prayed that if it all went wrong, the end would be quick, both for Ursin and his family, but meanwhile Ramsay and the captive Deryni were wading into the pool. Along with the rest, Javan watched anxiously as the two were met by several of Revan's disciples—one of them Sylvan, he suddenly realized!—and were deftly shunted into different lines, Ursin in the one Sylvan had charge of. The two would still come to Revan in succession, but Ramsay would come first. And Ursin, who was expecting something to happen when Revan tilted him under the water, would
not
be expecting an assault to come from Sylvan. Perhaps Sylvan had already worked his magic!

All unaware, the Deryni sniffer stood beside the Healer as another Willimite led the reluctant Ramsay forward to receive purification at Revan's hands. As Revan set a hand on the man's shoulder and spoke to him quietly, and the man ducked his head selfconsciously at some question Revan asked, Javan realized that Sylvan had casually turned his gaze up to the bluff where the episcopal party watched, and thought he caught just a hint of acknowledgment from Sylvan, just before the Healer returned his attention to Revan.

“Receive purification, ye who would repent of past corruption,” Revan said, laying Ramsay back into the water against his arm, his other hand pressing the forehead under the water. “Arise a new man, washed clean in the grace of the Lord of Hosts.”

Ramsay sputtered and wobbled a bit as Revan brought him to his feet, but looked immensely relieved as his Willimite guide began leading him back toward the shore. He quite forgot to look for his charge. Ursin, unaware that he was already blocked and controlled, never faltered as Sylvan led him to stand before Revan, who clasped his hands prayerfully at his breast before lightly laying them on Ursin's arm.

“Rejoice and pray with me, my brothers and sisters, for I perceive that another actual Deryni has come to beg the Lord's mercy. His Grace the Lord Archbishop has seen fit to send us his own Deryni, in the hopes that he might be cleansed of his evil. Look, there sits his Grace to witness this great blessing.”

The stir and whisper of the multitude turning to look at Hubert and his party covered whatever Revan said next—which annoyed Hubert greatly, for he had hoped not to have attention called to his presence—but apparently the prophet had only asked Ursin's name, which Ursin gave.

“Then, take my hand and believe that the Lord will make you clean, Brother Ursin,” Revan said, clasping the Deryni's head between his hands and laying him back in the water. “Come, Holy Spirit, and purify the heart of this child of darkness, that he may know light. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he concluded, as he raised Ursin up.

Ursin coughed and sputtered as he got his feet under him, drying his face on a cloth that one of the other disciples handed him. He staggered a little then, as the totality of his loss hit him, so that Revan had to steady him with a hand under his elbow. Javan could see him nodding at something Revan said, and kissing Revan's hand before passing beyond him to emerge from the water while the next man faced the Master, but his face was white as he rejoined Ramsay, and he kept passing a hand over his eyes, as if trying to push aside a veil.

It took him several minutes to make his way slowly back up to the bluff where Hubert waited, and Javan could see the dread in his eyes as he came, dripping and pasty-faced. Hubert and Lior had dismounted, and the
Custodes
priest was readying one of the Deryni prickers as Ursin approached. Javan and the others of Hubert's party remained mounted. Ursin appeared dazed and hardly even flinched when Lior stuck him in the back of the hand with the pricker, just as he knelt to kiss Hubert's ring. Hubert's hand on his shoulder kept him on his knees.

“What happened, Ursin?”

The man shook his head. “Your Grace, I don't know what came over me,” he whispered, lifting stunned, desperate eyes toward the archbishop. “He—he
must
be a miracle-worker. When he took my hand, I—got dizzy. I felt a sudden warmth come over me, and my senses reeled as I fell back into the water. It was like—like being wrapped in a rainbow for just an instant, and then a moment of—not really
pain
, but a—a wrenching feeling.”

“And then?” Hubert urged.

“I—I'm not sure. I think I—passed out for a few seconds. Because the next thing I knew, I was standing up again and someone was helping me wipe my face—and my—my powers were gone!”

“How do you feel now?”

Ursin managed a wry, bitter grimace. “Bereft. Blind.”

“Not—disoriented?”

Ursin swallowed hard. “No, your Grace.”

Hubert glanced past him at Lior, who was curiously examining his needle and vial. “Is it possible he's shamming?”