For Love of Evil (11 page)

"Because he once worked in support of the crusade," Parry explained. "That was actually a work of evil, but was believed to be good. He would therefore have seemed to be aligning himself with good, and surely he would not thereafter declare himself to be the opposite. His present situation is evidence that he professes to be a good man. If his servants or knights knew that he was not, and that the whole countryside was about to know that truth, they would not support him. So exposure could cost him greatly at the outset; his own men would turn against him."

"I would love to see that!" Fabiola exclaimed.

Surely she would, for she had been tortured and raped by Bofort's men.

"Do you know, Parry, we might be able to use her," Jolie said.

"Use her?" he repeated, startled.

"Use me?" Fabiola asked. She evidently understood that he was answering questions she could not hear.

"I believe I might be able to speak to her, if I floated through her head," Jolie said. "Then I could tell her what to say. It might make a difference."

"I don't know . . ."

But Jolie was already floating toward the girl. Her form fuzzed as it overlapped the head, then shrank into it.

Fabiola abruptly straightened up. Then she turned to look back at him. "Hello, my love," she said with Jolie's voice.

Parry almost fell off the donkey. "Get out of there!" he sputtered. "That's too much like possession!"

"No, it's fun," Fabiola said in her own voice. "I can hear her now, and feel how she wants me to speak. I think I would know a demon. Jolie is good!"

"But the implications-"

The girl stood, evidently listening. Then she said:"I suppose that's true." She was talking to the ghost within her. "But it seems like trying to vamp a holy man."

"Get out of there!" Parry repeated.

The girl glanced at him, forming a marginal smile. "Can you make me. Parry?" she asked in Jolie's voice. Now her features seemed to resemble Jolie's, too.

He jumped off the donkey and strode to her. He took her by the shoulders. "By the greatness of God, depart this vessel!"

Jolie reappeared in the air above the girl's head. "You exorcised me!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I'm no demon!"

Fabiola began to cry. "I didn't mean any harm! It was only a game, she said!" Parry turned her loose. "Some games we do not play," he said shortly, and returned to the donkey.

"Don't be so stuffy!" Jolie said. "I was only showing you what could be done. I can help you directly, if I work through her. I'm not going to corrupt her, and it might make a difference if Bofort proves harder to deal with than you think. Anyway, what do you suppose you are going to do with her, after she brings you to the castle? Turn her loose so the knights can run her down?"

Parry had to concede there was a merit in her position. "You're sure she isn't being imposed on? I gave her my word to protect her from that."

"No, it's fun," Fabiola said. "I feel like a woman when she's with me."

That was part of the problem. Parry had lived for twenty years without any women in his personal life, wanting none after Jolie. The sudden manifestation of Jolie's personality in a girl close to her age when she lived had jolted him, arousing reactions he had thought long forgotten. Fabiola resembled Jolie in no other respect; she was neither pretty nor bright. If such a manifestation could provoke such a reaction in him, what would a closer match have done? He was a man of God now!

Jolie floated over to him. "You started to see her as a woman?" she asked softly.

Parry nodded grimly.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't thought it through. It was almost like being alive again. I won't tease you anymore."

"Thank you." He did not look at her.

"But I really do think she could help us-and it isn't safe to let her go, yet. That Bofort is a bad enemy."

"Agreed."

"Then is it all right to-?"

"Do what you believe is best, Jolie," he said, yielding reluctantly.

She drifted off. In a moment Fabiola straightened again. "Oh, I wish I were like you!"

Surely so. Parry reflected. He was not at all sure how he felt about this development.

"Now I can remain with Fabiola, or I can explore the castle, when we get there," Jolie said through the girl's mouth. "What do you wish?"

"I'm not sure," Parry said. "I won't be able to speak to you there, lest I give away your nature, so you'll have to use your judgment. Probably you should circulate, to see what is around us, that I may not be able to see, and report to me, but at other times remain with her."

"I will do that."

"Fabiola," he said. "Are you sure you wish to enter the castle? They will not like you there."

"I have the cross you gave me. Father," she said promptly.

"I cannot be banned."

"That is true-so long as your faith is firm. But if you begin to doubt, that protection will falter. Jesus cannot help those whose faith is not pure. They will try to make you doubt."

She gripped the cross, holding it high. "They cannot make me doubt."

Parry hoped that was the case. He knew they could not make him doubt, but her faith was of recent vintage. Still, with Jolie to guide her, she had a chance.

They arrived at the castle. It was not any giant of its type, but it was imposing enough, a motte and bailey with forbidding stone walls. Like any castle, it was highly defensible; twenty men could hold off an army here. They were evidently expected, for the drawbridge was down and the gate guards snapped to attention as they approached. "Our master bids you welcome. Father Grief," a guard said. "We shall take care of the donkey and the wench."

Parry stiffened momentarily; even after the score of years, that term wench bothered him. But he forced himself to relax. "Thank you; the donkey you may care for, but the young woman will remain with me."

The guard paused, assessing the situation. It was not unknown for friars to abridge their vows of chastity when opportunity offered. Parry had investigated more than one such case, and taken the appropriate disciplinary action; it was galling to have such suspicion adhere to him now. But perhaps that was better than the alternatives; at least it gave a pretext to keep the girl close. They were ushered into the main castle. As they walked down the long entry passage, Jolie floated away, then returned. "They are drawing up the bridge," she announced.

Parry nodded, as if to himself. He had expected as much. The lion did not wish his prey to escape without a reckoning.

They came to the main court, which was elegantly furnished. Illustrated tapestries hung on the walls, and the floor was polished wood. Lord Bofort had excellent taste-and the ill-gotten wealth to indulge it.

"There are bowmen watching from concealed recesses," Jolie said. "Crossbows."

Parry reached into an inner pocket and took his large silver cross. He doubted that anyone would fire at him yet, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances. Fabiola felt the same way; she clutched her small cross tightly.

Lord Bofort awaited them at a great oaken table. He was a stout man of perhaps fifty, very well dressed with embroidered robes. "Welcome, Father Grief," he said expansively. "To what do we owe the honor of this visit by a man of the cloth?"

"Bofort," Parry said without preamble, "there is a warrant for your arrest for abuse of your power. I have come to take you to the magistrate."

"Friar, you are overstepping your bounds," Bofort said curtly. "You have no business meddling in my affairs."

"I shall be satisfied to let the magistrate decide that," Parry said. "I ask you to leave this castle and come with me now to the town, so that this matter may be settled."

"Because of the reckless charge of a foolish young girl? Surely you know better than that, friar."

"You were satisfied with her testimony when you meant to use it against your neighbor," Parry reminded him. "Now we have ascertained that testimony was purjured, the result of the torture and threats you made against her. She is a more credible witness against you than she was against your neighbor."

"I think she will not be a witness at all," Bofort said grimly. He made a gesture, and two guards stepped forward.

Fabiola straightened, and Parry recognized Jolie's aspect. She lifted the small silver cross. "Creatures of hell, touch me not, lest you be chastened," she said.

The guards hesitated.

"Do not be daunted by a superstition!" Bofort snapped. "Take her!"

The guards resumed their motion. Fabiola fixed her gaze on the face of the nearest and swung the cross, shoving it against his forearm.

The man screamed and fell back, holding his arm. Parry knew that Jolie had drawn on an item of magic they had learned since her death: the mesmeric burn. The guard had not really been hurt, but he had felt the pain where the cross touched-because of the guilt on his conscience. He had known it was wrong to interfere with a witness protected by a friar. Superstition had indeed daunted him.

"So it is of this manner," Bofort muttered. He made another gesture.

"Deflect!" Parry cried, warning Jolie.

Two crossbow shafts came down from the bowmen in the alcoves. The arrows swerved slightly and thudded into the wall on either side of the girl. Jolie had invoked the spell of deflection, causing the barbs to miss. Conjuration or levitation was difficult magic, but deflection was its simplest aspect, and they had more than a decade to study it.

"If your guilt were in doubt," Parry said, "that doubt has been resolved by your action. Come with me." He strode around the table toward Bofort.

"Clear the court!" Bofort cried. "I will talk with this man alone." The guards and attendants hurried out, as did the bowmen.