Night Blooming (67 page)

“I will,” said Bishop Iso. “But is it not incumbent upon me, as a Christian, to denounce Satan’s Work wherever I see it?”

“It is, and you shall, but in the right time,” said Pope Leo. He rubbed his jaw along the jagged scar, then went on. “You have already demonstrated your position, and I am well-aware of it. You needn’t worry that I will lose sight of all you have told me.” He made a sign for protection. “May God keep us from harm.”

“Amen,” said everyone in the chapel.

The Pope gave his attention to Gynethe Mehaut again. “You have done penance for these … these injuries, haven’t you?”

“And my skin, and my eyes,” said Gynethe Mehaut tonelessly.

“Yet you are still pale as whey,” Pope Leo said, shaking his head. “How is it God could so afflict you, were it not that you have done some wrong deserving of punishment?”

“I don’t know, Holiness, nor do I know why.” She lowered her head and her hands. “If I have done anything against God’s Law, I cannot think what it could be. I have been guided by the Church since I was a child, and all I have done has been scrutinized.”

Watching this, Rakoczy wanted to explain to the Churchmen that occasionally infants came into the world in this way, that it was not a failure of faith, but an accident of birth; he held his tongue, for this argument would mean nothing to the clerics, and might serve to put Gynethe Mehaut in more danger than she already was. He hoped he would be given the opportunity to speak on her behalf, but knew better than to expect such a concession, even from Pope Leo, who was so much beholden to Karl-lo-Magne that he might as well be one of the Emperor’s vassals. He put his hands on his knees and listened closely to all that was going on.

“—because of your parents?” Bishop Didier was asking.

“How could they have done this? What act of theirs would visit itself upon my flesh in this way?” Gynethe Mehaut asked. “It was a dreadful burden for them, heavier than most have to bear. My father sometimes said he had been cursed and I was proof of it.”

“Some beasts have red eyes. If your mother had congress with such an animal, one with a white coat, surely you might bear the mark of it,” said Bishop Gondebaud.

“My mother would not do such a despicable act,” said Gynethe Mehaut with a little heat in her words. “If she had, she would have Confessed and they would have drowned her for it, and I would never have been born.”

“Your father, then? Could he have been possessed by a demon when you were conceived, or a demon taken his form planted you in your mother’s womb?” Bishop Gondebaud pursued.

“I cannot say if a demon possessed my father,” Gynethe Mehaut said. “But he said that God had marked me to some purpose, and that I must bear it or bring more shame upon my family.”

“A wise man, no doubt, and one who may have enemies capable of blighting his child before birth,” said Pope Leo. “Yet that may be the knowledge of experience, of one who has caused ill to others and has been made, through this woman, to pay the price. What might he have done that would bring this upon his child?”

“I suspect the father may have been a priest of the old gods, and gave his daughter to their use,” said Bishop Gondebaud. “Many simple people still try to follow the old ways, forsaking their salvation.”

“Sublime Gondebaud is right,” said Cardinal Archbishop Paulinus Evitus. “Even here in Italy, the old ways still have adherents.”

Rakoczy wondered what Olivia would think of this condemnation, with her lares still on display on the iconostasis, presented as Saints instead of household gods and ancestors. How many others, he asked himself, used similar devices to keep up the traditions of Imperial Roma?

“You can see her eyes are red,” said Bishop Didier. “Surely this can’t be a sign of Heavenly favor.” He had got to his feet and began to pace.

“No, indeed,” said Cardinal Archbishop Ittalus. “God requires that we be vigilant.”

“We are doing so,” said Pope Leo. “We are here to do His work.” He leaned forward. “White Woman, do you recall anything your father might have said that would account for your condition? Remember you are in God’s Court here.”

“I have always been dedicated to God and His Good,” said Gynethe Mehaut, beginning to feel as if all this was futile.

Cardinal Archbishop Iovinus regarded her narrowly; he rose and approached her, looming above her so that his shadow fell across her. “It is a simple thing to say, but how can we know it is anything more than sophistry?”

“If Bishop Freculf were here—” Gynethe Mehaut began, then stopped herself: Bishop Freculf was in Franksland, and anything he might have said on her behalf was of no consequence here. “I have spent many years doing penance; I have kept the night-blooming gardens at convents where I have lived, because I cannot easily endure the light of day without hurting my eyes and burning my skin. I have prayed in my cubiculum, keeping all the Hours, and I have lain before the altar from Vigil to Matins, reciting the Psalms.”

“Very commendable, if the prayers you say are to the Glory of God, and not the worship of Satan,” said Cardinal Archbishop Ittalus.

“I have prayed as the Priora and the Abba, and the Bishop, have instructed me, remembering always that Christ suffered to take our sins away and to redeem us.” She had to fight back tears; they weren’t listening to her, they were deciding among themselves already, and she could not change their minds. She saw two more drops of blood on the floor and wished she could rewrap her hands.

“That is worthy conduct,” said Bishop Gondebaud dubiously. “But if you have been so devoted, how is it that you are still white and your hands bleed?”

“I cannot say,” Gynethe Mehaut told him.

Pope Leo clapped his hands. “We have witnesses,” he reminded the Bishops and Cardinal Archbishops. “It is fitting that we let them speak.” The men were immediately silent: they resumed their seats and became decorous once more; the Pope cleared his throat. “I will hear the first witness. Come forward and give your testimony.”

One of the witnesses came around the end of the benches and knelt before the Pope; he was an old man, with gnarled fingers and a bent spine, his eyes rheumy and moist “May God save you, Holiness.”

“Amen,” said Pope Leo. “Who are you and what is your testimony in this matter?”

“I am Foudu. I am a mendicant, and have been since I escaped from slavery in Carinthia. I was despised because I am a Christian, and I prayed when they said I should work. When I escaped, I came here to Roma as a pilgrim and have remained, a tertiary monk and mendicant” He rubbed his knotted fingers together. “I have begged in Roma for four years. I saw this White Woman arrive in Roma; she came surrounded by a flock of black ravens, and they swept about her in a cloud. She spoke to them in their tongue and they did her homage. She pointed to men in the street and they fell dead, the ravens alighting to feed upon them.”

Rakoczy got to his feet. “Holiness, may I question this man? I escorted Gynethe Mehaut to Roma, and I saw nothing of this.”

“You may ask him three things,” said Pope Leo. “But remember that God gives special sight to those who suffer in His Name.”

“I won’t question his devotion,” Rakoczy said, and turned to the kneeling mendicant. “Tell me, Foudu, what time of year was it that you saw this portent?”

“I saw it as Holy December was beginning, and the churches set out their lights for Sant’ Ioseppi and Santa Maria.” He made a sign of protection.

“And what time of day was this? What Hour was being sung?” Rakoczy inquired.

“Sept was sounding,” said Foudu. “I had knelt to recite the Psalms.”

“Very good,” said Rakoczy. “And other than ravens, what companions did she have?”

“A hunchback with one empty eye and the other white as hoar,” said the mendicant.

Rakoczy turned to face Pope Leo. “Holiness,” he said, “I swear before you, and your God, and by the trust reposed upon me by the Emperor Karlus Magnus, that I and three armed men escorted Gynethe Mehaut into Roma in September. She rode in a plausterum, covered, and drawn by a mule. If this man saw us arrive, he did not see the things he has described. I do not say that this man has not had a vision, but he has not seen Gynethe Mehaut in it. The soldiers of the escort are still in Roma; I can summon them to testify before you. If you wish to hear these men, I will go to the House of Franks and bring them to you before Sept. I can ask our hostess to tell you how long we have been guests at her house, and in what state we arrived.”

“You are with Bonna Dama Clemens, aren’t you?” asked Cardinal Archbishop Rufinus Colonnus. “A most useful woman, beyond all doubt.”

“Yes. We are guests of that widow,” said Rakoczy.

“I will send a messenger to her, a monk, so that she may swear to her account,” said Cardinal Archbishop Rufinus Colonnus. “If it will suit your purpose, Holiness.”

“Oh, yes. By all means see it is done,” said Pope Leo. He contemplated the mendicant. “Do you say it was this woman you saw? This woman, and no other.” He pointed to Gynethe, Mehaut “By your soul. Bearing false witness is a grave sin.”

“The woman I saw had skin like milk and eyes like embers, young and of a hideous beauty. It had to be her,” said Foudu.

“There, you see?” Bishop Iso demanded, pointing to Foudu. “He knows her for what she is.”

“The Anti-Christ is not a woman accompanied by ravens, no matter what color her skin and eyes may be,” Rakoczy said. “
The Apocalypse
has no such avatar in it. The Whore of Babylon rides on a many-headed beast, and has no ravens.” He stared over at Bishop Iso. “You’ve read the signs, haven’t you, as Sant’ Ioannes saw them, and wrote them in his book?”

“Yes,” said Bishop Iso. “And I know Satan is filled with wiles and has as many disguises as there are stars in the sky.”

“Why should Satan, if he can disguise his demons, send one into the world so obvious as this?” Rakoczy asked, and glanced at Cardinal Archbishop Ittalus. “You are said to be learned. What would be the point of having such a woman as this be the agent of Satan? Wouldn’t it be more in keeping with the trials God gives to those who might achieve sainthood?”

“Blasphemy!” shouted Bishop Iso.

“Possibly not,” said Cardinal Archbishop Rufinus Colonnus, studying Gynethe Mehaut as if seeing her for the first time. “But if Satan wished to deceive mankind, he might present us with the model of sanctity but in such a way that all eyes would be on her, and her example, by appearing virtuous, would lead others to emulate her and thus fall from Grace.”

“But that would only be if she were considered deserving of emulation. If that were the case, this Court would not be sitting,” Rakoczy said, speaking directly to the Pope. “She has lived withdrawn from the world, doing humble work and praying. What more can she do to prove her merit?”

Pope Leo shook his head. “This is one of the matters we must consider, with all the rest. Let us hear another witness.” He gestured to the gathering behind the benches. “Fratre Lothar. Come forward.”

The monk with the ruined hand came and knelt before the Pope. He ignored Foudu, as if he were afraid of contagion. “I am your humble servant, Holiness.”

“Amen,” said Pope Leo. “Give us your testimony, Fratre, and may God give you to know the Right. We will attend to your words and your manner.”

“So I pray,” said Fratre Lothar. “I tell you this in all duty, in humility and devotion. To this end, I tell you that I have been in Roma more than a year. I came from Franksland with my Fratri, and have resided in the monastery attached to the House of the Franks, Sant’ Ioannes. But before I was a monk, I was a soldier, and because of that, I sometimes talk with Frankish soldiers, to learn what has become of my old comrades. This is not uncommon; many monks who were soldiers do the same. In that habit, I had reason to dine with the remainder of Gynethe Mehaut’s soldiers, those who accompanied her from Franksland to Roma. These men are known to Magnatus Rakoczy and the Emperor.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “I spoke with these men—they told me of their travels with this White Woman, and what became of them in their travels.”

“What did they tell you?” the Pope inquired.

“They said that they had lost three men—almost half their number—coming here. The first was killed in Franksland by a bison. This was a terrible misfortune, or so they all supposed. What else could such a death be? They said at the time, that they thought nothing more of it, and that in their journey over the mountains nothing more worrisome occurred.” Fratre Lothar made a sign of protection. “So they were safe enough for some of their journey, but then two of the men quarreled for reasons that had not troubled them earlier, and Einshere, the leader of the escort, killed Notrold, and, I have learned, succumbed himself to fever in a penitent’s cell. All this could have happened by God’s Will without any intervention of the White Woman, but the soldiers who rode beside her to guard her are certain that their misfortunes were caused by her presence, and they hold her responsible for the loss of Pepin, Notrold, and Einshere.”

“How did you come to learn of this?” Bishop Gondebaud asked. “You say you have been a soldier. Is that why they would impart such things to you?”

“Of course, and Sulpicius is my kinsman, although a distant one,” said Fratre Lothar.

“Why have their Confessors told us nothing?” asked Cardinal Archbishop Rufinus Colonnus.

“I don’t know what they have Confessed. I am only a monk, and I hear nothing under the Confessional Seal.” Fratre Lothar lowered his eyes. “I can’t tell you what their Confessors know.”

“May I speak to this witness, Holiness?” Rakoczy asked.

The Pope paused for a moment. “All right. But you may not question this monk’s character or his veracity—that has already been established to my satisfaction.”

Rakoczy contemplated Fratre Lothar. “When you had your discussions with the soldiers, where did they take place?”

“In the House of the Franks,” said Fratre Lothar. “I thought that was plain.”

“But where in the House of the Franks? The building is large and has many halls and chambers for any number of purposes. Where were you when you talked with these soldiers?”