Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (17 page)

“Do my brothers interest you?” the monk
inquired. He spoke Czech but the accent of the Italian Peninsula
marked his speech, similar to when Regis spoke.

“Yes,” Thal said because there seemed no
point in lying after eyeballing the group so strenuously.

The tall monk looked Thal up and down, noting
the weapon and the strong body.

“I am Brother Vito of the Society of Jesus,”
the man said.

“Hello.” Thal’s greeting irked the man
because it lacked any awe or respect.

“What’s your business in Mirotice?” Vito
asked.

“Just passing through,” Thal said. He glanced
over his shoulder as Brother Vito’s armed guards spread around the
fountain with their horses. Their expectation that Vito would
command something of them was palpable.

“Idleness does not serve our Lord,” Vito
admonished.

“What’s your business in Mirotice?” Thal
asked.

Vito’s regal composure wavered for half a
moment. Thal recognized how he had jarred the man.

Reinstating his poise, Brother Vito said with
a crocodile smile, “Just passing through.”

“This little town is good for that. The beer
at the tavern is watered,” Thal said.

“Strong drink does not concern me,” Vito
said.

“What concerns you? You seem to have
important business,” Thal said, aching to know more about this
group and the strange one within it.

“It takes a bold man to question a leader
among Jesuits,” Vito remarked.

“You started the conversation. I’m only
asking polite questions,” Thal said. He observed the corners of
Vito’s mouth flirt with smiling again.

“Very well, I’ll tell you what concerns me:
The salvation of all the souls under the guidance of His Holiness,”
Vito said rather self importantly.

“Are they in danger?” Thal asked.

Vito sputtered. No one had ever called into
question the constant peril of the souls of Christendom. “Yes!” he
declared and launched into a well-practiced rant. “Heretic
Protestants threaten the whole continent from within as infidels
gather at the borders. Sorcerers and witches plague the common folk
and invite the Devil into every parish. God has called upon me to
battle back these terrible forces that would see all God’s children
suffer in Hell fire forever.”

“I’ve heard of these things too,” Thal said
gravely, hoping to encourage the subject. Perhaps this Brother Vito
knew of things that would be helpful to Thal’s understanding of his
situation.

Vito warmed to this response and asked Thal
what he had heard.

“Just stories from drunken mouths. I thought
little of them until you said something, but I’ve heard people
speak of a beast upon the land that hunts at night,” Thal said,
feigning some innocence but inwardly eager to gauge Vito’s
reaction.

Vito narrowed his eyes as if he knew exactly
what Thal was talking about. The expression was almost
imperceptible, but Thal was skilled at noticing such
subtleties.

“The Devil often appears as a beast in the
night,” Vito said blandly. Looking meaningfully at Thal’s pistol,
he added, “You seem to be a man who would not shy from hunting
beasts.”

“I am a hunter by trade,” Thal said
proudly.

“Then let us talk further. The Jesuits are
always seeking new brothers. What is your name?” Vito said.

To lie seemed wise, but Thal did not wish to
disown himself. He would risk that Jan’s pledge to make him a
wanted man had not reached the ears of this monk yet.

“Thal.”

“That you are alone on the street at night
tells me you have no proper home. You are the type of man who could
join us and do good in our Lord’s name,” Vito said
encouragingly.

“Is your monastery close?” Thal asked.

Vito shook his head. “The world is our farm.
The defense or our Lord’s souls is too important to hide ourselves
away,” Vito explained. “Come break bread with us. You seem to be a
man waiting for God to call him to service.”

Thal hesitated. Although curious about the
strange one in the midst of Brother Vito’s group, his intuition
warned him against this man with the execution victim dangling so
vividly around his neck. Thal knew that his very nature made him
the enemy of these men. Jan had spoken of their redemptive fires,
but men seemed less able to sniff guilt when it was right under
their noses.

“You are kind, Brother Vito,” Thal said.

He followed the group toward the church.
Servants came out to lead away the horses, and a priest in a
hastily donned frock rushed out to greet his visitors. A young man
scrambled after him with a lantern swinging on a pole.

“Welcome to Saint Gilles,” the priest
declared, eager to please.

“I trust you can supply food and shelter for
the night,” Vito said tersely.

“Of course. We extend all hospitality for the
servants of His Holiness,” the priest said.

They were led past the church that loomed
into the darkness far above the torchlight. Its ponderous stone
walls seemed more than adequate to withstand even God’s judgment.
Thal saw structures such as these at most any settlement he had
passed through. The footprints of men fell deeply upon the land. He
had forgotten how it was so during his long sojourn in the
forest.

The priest took his unexpected guests into
his rectory where servants were hustling to build up a fire in the
main room and bring out chairs for everyone. The armed guards
settled in happily along with another monk who carried a thick
leather bag bulging with books.

Thal could hear the other dozen monks
settling in farther back in the house. Although nervous, he hoped
that they would come forth soon. He needed a closer look at the man
with the intriguing scent.

The priest crammed chairs around his dining
table and then lined the walls with more chairs. Brother Vito and
his secretary took seats at the head of table along with the
priest. Thal was given a spot between two of the guards.

Servants dropped off baskets of bread, stale
from a previous day’s baking but at least plentiful. Watered wine
was poured. No one touched the food. Like the others, Thal watched
Brother Vito for a sign of what to do. The Jesuit remained in
serene silence while the other men entered the room and sat along
the walls.

Thal quickly pegged the strange man, who
stole one furtive look at him. His hair was shorn short, and his
thick eyelashes hid his gaze. Seen from a new angle, Thal now noted
the bad scar that marred the man’s face. His beard did not quite
cover the four red lines on his left cheek that appeared to have
been left by fingernails or claws.

He took a seat strategically behind Thal.
Knowing that the man was staring at him now, Thal resisted his urge
to whirl and confront him. At close quarters, his scent was more
pronounced and the truth of his nature filled Thal’s nostrils. Thal
also uncomfortably realized that the man with the beast within must
sense the same thing about him. His back started sweating beneath
his fur. He wondered if the other man had a magical hide hidden
under his plain coarse robe.

With all the men present, Vito folded his
hands and called them to prayer. After seeing that everyone pressed
their palms together and bowed their heads, Thal mimicked them.

Vito thanked their Lord and Savior for the
blessings of their nourishing bread. Genuine appreciation filled
the room and Thal decided it was a thoughtful way to start a meal.
He had not paused in thanks before eating for a long time.

Slowly he began to eat the bread. The tension
between him and the man behind him was distracting. Intensely
uncomfortable, Thal regretted placing himself in this situation.
Curiosity was not always the best guide.

“So who do you work for?” asked one of the
sellswords. He shoved food in his mouth and chewed on it placidly,
awaiting Thal’s response.

“I wouldn’t call it working,” Thal said.

The response amused the sellsword whose grunt
resembled laughter.

Thal continued, “I’m bodyguard to a traveling
musical troupe. They seem to think they need someone to provide
security on the road.”

“And can you?” the sellsword said.

“Yes,” Thal said.

His simple confident response gave the
sellsword pause. He swilled his wine and eyed Thal
thoughtfully.

Brother Vito said, “The courage in your heart
was plain for me to see. I’m blessed with the ability to judge men
in that regard. Mother Church is in great need of such
stout-hearted sons these days.”

“You’re generous in your assessment of me,”
Thal said and ate more bread.

“I’d like to see you join my retinue,” Vito
offered.

“I could not abandon my companions. I feel
that would be dishonorable,” Thal said.

“Taking up the cause of the Church would
absolve you of any insult you may give your clients,” Vito
said.

Wondering why the monk was so keen on him,
Thal struggled for a way to decline. “I doubt that I am a man
worthy of your holy cause,” he said.

The sellsword that had spoken to him earlier
guffawed. “No need to take the cloth, lad,” he commented.

Vito added, “Taking holy vows and joining our
brotherhood would give your soul a fresh start, but my associate
Tenzo is correct. You can serve in a secular capacity if that suits
you best. Either way I am in the market for reliable men.” The way
he said “reliable” hinted broadly that reliability included
unsavory deeds.

“I will give your offer some thought. I was
not expecting this,” Thal said.

“Of course. This is sudden, but I’m not a man
to let opportunity pass. God dropped you under my nose tonight
because I am collecting good men on my journey. I promise you that
you’ll find no better master than serving our Lord,” Vito said.

“I was not looking for a master,” Thal
said.

The remark startled the other men who ceased
their quiet side conversations. In retrospect Thal realized how
backhanded his truth had sounded.

“Forgive me. I’m sure you’re a kind master.
I’ll give your offer thought, but I must speak with my companions.
They rely on me,” Thal said.

Brother Vito nodded indulgently. He liked the
way that Thal spoke. He supposed he should not be too surprised
that he had failed to quickly recruit the lone rogue by the
fountain. Men with intriguing qualities were not always easy to
harness.

“I admire your loyalty to your current
charges. Should your situation change, remember the kindness of the
Jesuits and the needs of Mother Church. She will always take care
of her defenders. When you tire of your silly musicians, we will be
here and everywhere,” Vito said.

“I appreciate your patience,” Thal said and
took a drink. “May I be excused? I should check on my companions.
They might have gotten themselves in trouble by now.”

The monk leader smiled and told Thal that he
could go.

“It was pleasant meeting you,” Thal said and
dipped his head politely to the others before he put his hat back
on. When he got up from his chair, he faced the man behind him.

“You’ve met with some trouble but seem to be
healed from your wounds,” Thal commented and leaned a little
closer.

The man turned his cheek to hide the scars
and would not look at Thal. The monk next to him said, “We still
pray for Brother Rainer to recover from his trauma, but he will not
speak of it.”

“I apologize for my thoughtless comment,”
Thal said. He waited a moment, hoping the man would look up at him,
but he stubbornly refused to return Thal’s interest.

Unsatisfied, Thal left the rectory. Pistol
jumped up to greet him when he went down the steps. His face was
drawn with deep thought as he crossed the square and passed the
fountain. The little flames in the street lanterns had burned out
and a deep starry darkness pressed down on the village with the
immensity of Heaven.

The knowledge that another man existed like
him both encouraged and alarmed Thal. What did the man Rainer know?
Was he a friend or foe?

This last question pressed most pertinently
on Thal’s mind. Brother Vito spoke of saving souls, but he seemed
intent on a darker business that involved hunting down those
afflicted with devilry. Was Rainer about to start hunting him? Did
Vito know what Rainer was? Did Vito suspect what Thal was?

Panic enflamed Thal’s fears. He had to
retreat and ponder this encounter. He wanted the safety of deep
cover and a cold trail. Like a wolf that has hunted a shepherd’s
flock, he feared the retribution that must inevitably come. Perhaps
he should have accepted Vito’s invitation to work for the Jesuits.
Then he would have been able to answer all his questions, but if
Thal knew one thing, he knew to choose his pack carefully, and he
did not want to look up to Brother Vito as his alpha. Better to
stick with his merry musicians who supported him and appreciated
his talents, what they knew of them.

Thal hurried to the grungy tavern.
Candlelight still spilled out the windows of the tavern, but he
heard no music. When Thal reached the door, two laborers were
stumbling out. Thal had to step aside to avoid their burly
momentum. One of the men patted Thal on the shoulder and burped his
apologies.

Inside, his companions were packing their
instruments. The barmaid had already retired and the tavern keeper
was hauling a tray of dirty dishes into the back.

“Thal, you missed a chance to play primero,”
Regis said.

“Never mind that,” Thal said. He picked up
Regis’s harp and headed toward the back door. The musicians had
been given lodging in the stable loft that was empty of hay because
of the season. The three players followed Thal. They were
stretching and yawning and ready to sleep. When they came into the
stable, Thal tossed them their backpacks.

“We have to go,” he said.

“Why?” Regis demanded irritably.