A Mortal Glamour (37 page)

"It is too late to stop, Pierre. The babe will be here by Christmas, just like Our Lord.” She held her wrist where his hand had hit her.

"Stop this jeering. It gains you nothing!” His voice had risen and he strove to lower it.

"It gains me satisfaction,” she said, bringing her chin up. “You will not have me, my father does not want me, the Church is a farce, so what does it matter that I will have a child. It will be mine."

He took a step back, his heel crushing the stalks of half-grown basil. “And what then? God and the Martyrs, girl, you're inviting disaster."

"Well enough. If that is what God intends for me, I will embrace it. You see how compliant the convent has made me? I will bend my will to God's Will. And you can do nothing to change that. You are not God.” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Of course, you could marry me, and then there would be no problem, would there?"

"Why not marry your lover? Or is he married already? Or is he a priest?” He aimed the questions at her as if they had been quarrels to pierce armor.

She beamed at him. “But you have heard the priests, Pierre. My lover is a demon. They have decided that, those three eunuchs, between them. And Frère Renaut records it all, to tell the men at Avignon.” She pointed to his feet. “Stop walking, mon Duc: you are ruining my garden."

"What do you mean, they are recalling you?” Évêque Amalrie asked Frère Renaut as they waited to hear the confession of Seur Catant.

"That was the instruction the messenger brought,” the young monk said, sighing.

"But you are needed here. I must have someone to record all that transpires, so that they will know what we have accomplished.” The Bishop's mouth turned downward.

"It is from His Holiness’ secretary. I cannot easily refuse such orders, mon Évêque,” Frère Renaut said. “There are the priests. Both of them can read and write after a fashion; enough for your purposes."

"But...” He folded his hands. “They are subverting my work here. They are making it impossible for the Devil to be routed. Whatever they put their hands to will be contaminated by this."

Frère Renaut shook his head. “Your feelings are just, mon Évêque, but I beg you not to say such things to me, for I will have to report them when I return, and it would be to your discredit to have such sentiments, no matter how justified, known to Pope Clement.” He went toward the door to the hospice. “I must hasten, since the orders require that I leave here before sunset."

"Tell them to authorize a replacement for you. You can do that at least,” the Bishop insisted.

"I will tell them that you are in need of another monk to record for you. But I am in no position to do more, mon Évêque.” He forced a kind of smile to his lips. “We are servants of more than God when we are in the Church."

"The Church! The Church!” Évêque Amalrie flung up his hands. “That is why we are here, Frère Renaut. They have lost sight of that fact, it appears. They have decided that casting out the Devil is unimportant. They are subverting the very work we are mandated to perform!” He paced the length of the room. “First they send that infuriating Parcignonne to interfere—and he is not a churchman, but the most worldly noble—and then they remove my aide. What has come over them? They are chasing Roman specters as a cat chases mice. And they catch far less. This should have their attention, not what the Roman Cardinal did with his nephew in bed."

"Mon Évêque, please—” Frère Renaut began and was cut off.

"Don't you see? They must be made to understand what danger we're confronting here. They do not appreciate what is at stake, and so they are proposing to abandon their daughters to the degradations and degeneration of demonic possession. They have not thought about it. They do not comprehend what I must do here! And you. You! You obedient hound, fawning at their heels and wagging your tail because they have called you in from the stables. But this is not a stable, it is a cesspool. They do not have the knowledge to ... to...” He made a complicated gesture to indicate how vast the hazard was. “You have not told them! You have not recorded all the confessions correctly, and that has deceived them!"

"Évêque Amalrie—” Frère Renaut protested, his face alive with distress. He shook his head and made an attempt to leave the room. “When you are cooler, we will—"

"When I am cooler? Who are you, Frère, to determine if I am fit and if I am able? Or is there more to this? Have you been sent not to record these confessions at all, but to watch me on behalf of my enemies?” The Bishop approached Frère Renaut with an unpleasant grin on his rosebud mouth. “Is that the game they are playing? They remove one spy—you, mon Frère—and give me another—that confounded imbecile of a Duc—in order to keep me from fulfilling my purpose here. You have thwarted me from the first, by objecting to floggings and vigils! I should have seen it at once. I have been blind!” He was a deep, plummy shade and his small eyes bulged with his emotion.

"Mon Évêque, this spleen is—” Frère Renaut's tone quivered.

"Out of my sight! You are not to approach me again. Go back to those lickspittles at Avignon and slander me! God sees what I do here. God is my defender and the force of my arm!” He turned away from Frère Renaut. “Do not think I will ignore your perfidy, Frère Renaut. The Cardinal may think he has banished me, but he is wrong. You will all learn that."

Frère Renaut watched the Bishop storm away, and his heart was tight in his chest. He knew of Évêque Amalrie's unruly temper from other monks who had had the misfortune to work with him, and now he understood their frustration in dealing with the man. He shook his head, this time slowly. He would have to include all this in his report to the Cardinal as well as the less official message he would send to Tuscany where it would be relayed to Rome. He was contemplating the possible rewards he would receive when he heard a footfall behind him.

"Frère Renaut?” said Mère Léonie.

"Yes, ma Mère?” he responded, facing her.

"You have had some disagreement with Berger Amalrie?” Her pale eyes rested on his face and she could see his embarrassment at her stare.

"Évêque Amalrie is a man of ... strong temperament. It is not wise for those of us who are in his company to ... to act in any manner that displeases him.” He was drawn into her gaze, transfixed by the clean lines of her features.

"What has displeased him, then? You are not bound by the confessional, mon Frère, and may speak as openly as your conscience will permit.” She came a step nearer. so that she was not quite out of reach.

"First ... ah ... he suggested that it was unfortunate that I should be recalled to Avignon. And he is not ... convinced that it is necessary to have le Duc and his men here.” He wanted to be silent, to keep what he had heard to himself, as a good monk was expected to do, but there was something about Mère Léonie that captivated him, enthralled him, and he could not still his tongue while she was near him. “You understand that he is convinced there is a demon here."

"Only one? With all that has transpired, the creature must be worn to a rag.” There was just enough humor in her retort that Frère Renaut was able to laugh a bit.

"There is a demon here, ma Mère,” he told her, but as softly as if he were entreating her love.

"Why do you say that? Because we have not perfected ourselves and are still weak in the flesh?” She smiled at him. “I know what women are, mon Frère, and I wish to bring them to Our Lord. If you believe that because of misfortune and human error we have fallen far from grace, that is one matter, and one that does not require a Devil, only that God has not moved the hearts of the Sisters to His perfection.” Here she crossed herself. “But do you think it is more than that?"

Frère Renaut dragged himself out of her gaze, moving away from her and looking toward the crucifix hung over the door. “Yes, ma Mère. It is more than that. There is a demon here."

She came up beside him. “I agree."

This calm statement astonished him, and he turned recklessly toward her. “You do? Don't you know what that may mean for you and your Sisters?"

"That there will a Process?” She considered it. “I would be surprised if the Church bothered to begin a Process here. There are so many more important matters demanding their time."

"Évêque Amalrie has said something of the same thing,” Frère Renaut admitted. “He believes that there is subterfuge behind it."

"Of course he does,” she said, speaking very evenly. “He is an ambitious man. He does not want to be here, and for that reason, he punishes the nuns.” When she heard the protesting gasp, she amended her condemnation. “He is afraid of the Devil. He does not want to see the Sisters in the toils of Hell, and for that he is a good shepherd; that is apparent. But he would rather be sent to investigate demons in some place that will add to his credit. We are a small convent and there are fewer nuns here than there used to be. Our Order is not large, we have no distinguished patron, the location is ... insignificant.” This time when she smiled, her handsome face was more open, as if she were his comrade sharing a drink and reminiscences with him. “I have no illusions about Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion, but I go where I am called, mon Frère. I am the devoted servant of Our Lord, and if this is where He wishes me to do His work, then I am content to obey."

Frère Renaut was more relieved than he could express. He would not have to battle the Superior as well as the Bishop. “God send us more such Mères as you, Mère Léonie,” he said, no longer resisting his urge to stare at her.

"To say amen would be vanity, and therefore a sin, mon Frère,” she said, chiding him lightly. “But it was kindness for you to say so, in this hour of trouble."

There were visions in his mind that he would have to confess, but he could not bring himself to leave her alone. Mère Léonie entranced him. He had never felt the flesh pull him as it did now, and not for a prostitute or other slattern, but for a tall, lean nun with a face as handsome as a boy's and eyes of cold blue fire. “There is more I might say,” he whispered.

"What? Of demons?” She shrugged. “What is there is say until Avignon speaks or the Plague comes again? What more is left to us?"

"No, not that.” Confusion made him tongue-tied. “No ... You don't understand what ... what it is ... I mean, what can happen ... it—"

She took pity on him. “Do you fear to say that these Sisters may be sent to the stake if the Process begins? Who is not aware of that? Which of us is safe when the Devil is abroad?"

"That's not...” He coughed. “I will make my report to Avignon, ma Mère, and I will say that you have done all you might to keep this place from being ... infested."

"But that is not correct, is it? I hope you will tell the truth, for all falsehoods, even the most kind or flattering, are homage to the Devil and traps for the virtuous.” She hesitated. “I do not speak against you, mon Frère, I wish only to accomplish the tasks Our Lord sets forth for me."

"Most commendable,” Frère Renaut said, anxious now to be out of her disturbing presence. “I will do as you ask."

"Deo gratias,” she responded, her manner still humble but no longer as potent as it had been.

"I will tell them,” he said, as if repetition could increase the force of his promise. “I have seen how these things are dealt with in Avignon. I know how to tell them."

"Yes; and for that Our Lord be praised,” she said, then went away from him back to her Sisters waiting in the refectory for their midday meal.

By the time the second messenger came from Avignon, Évêque Amalrie had ordered eight of the nuns into a week of seclusion and had given floggings, with Padre Bartolimieu's help, to five more. His temper was still uneven and he was terse with everyone around him. He gave an elaborate greeting to the messenger, offering him a bench in Mère Léonie's study, which he had taken for his own. “It has been more than three weeks since Frère Renaut departed for Avignon. Your arrival is most welcome, but I find it a little tardy."

The messenger was enveloped in a simple dark brown cloak, and the warmth of the day had made him sweat. He removed the cloak and revealed the splendid Papal tabard beneath it. “We are told to travel covered, so that Romans will not know where we go, or why,” he explained.

"I am aware of that!” Évêque Amalrie barked. “You are not dealing with a simple village priest who knows little more than the Mass and the Psalms."

"You have not been much outside of Avignon until now, mon Évêque,” the messenger reminded him smoothly. “I often visit my father's vidamie, and then, when I am simply an obedient son, I ride covered. The times require it. In this instance, it was best to observe all the precautions."

Évêque Amalrie pouted. “They have forgot me out here. They think I am as gone as if the Plague had come again."

"Pray God it will not,” the messenger said, crossing himself.

After a moment, Évêque Amalrie did the same. “It is a bad time, my lad.” He assumed his most portentous manner. “There are forces here that would cause even the most holy of men to blanch with fear."

"That is unfortunate,” the messenger said, unmoved by this revelation. “You are being recalled to Avignon."

Évêque Amalrie sat in disbelieving silence. “To Avignon?"

"I have been sent to give you notice, and to require you to prepare to depart. The Pope has ordered you to return. He is concerned about the Romans who have been busy again."

"Romans? But these are demons here. They are at work on these Sisters, and if we do not act swiftly, the demons will spread among us.” He looked with suspicion at the parchment that bore the huge Papal seal. “Why am I being recalled at this time? Were there not Romans when I was sent here?"

"Of course,” the messenger said smoothly. “And their numbers are increasing. They are reaching more of our faithful, reminding them that the Church had its beginnings in Rome and attempting to convince them that therefore it should continue this way. There are political favors, as well, for those who are not too proud to take them.” He looked at Évêque Amalrie. “You have said that you wish to serve the Church and defend her. God and the Pope have given you that opportunity."