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The forgotten monastery looked out into the valley from its mountain top perch. Blackened and crumbling it had been a fortress monastery during the dark ages. Once proud in its name now corrupted by evil and darkness. Light poured into the courtyard as a door creaked slowly open. Front winds announced the oncoming storm whistling and tossing debris into the opening. As the wind howled turning bits and pieces a figure formed. It stood a moment allowing its shape to complete. Soundlessly, it glided across the courtyard to a large fissure in the wall. An age old the tear which seemed to amplify the damage done to the monastery, a shear drop for thousands of feet lay on the other side. Two cold blue flames looked into the abyss of night out across the stars through the deep veils and focusing down, down until its vision whirled coming into crystal clarity upon the Holy See. His place of damnation, from within the hood a growl emerged, a voice dragged from the grave.
“Soon, soon you will feel the pain which I have endured all these years. I visited you once and once I was brought to you in chains for deeds which I had not committed… Why, why do I lie to myself even now? The deeds for which I was accused I may not have orchestrated but I was a participant. I anger at the way I was taken down with no chance of redemption no contributing evidence to be heard on my behalf. No chance to strike him who truly caused my ex communication, my severance with god. It is then I believe that my anger truly took root to be stripped from the loving voice and embrace of my god. It is in that darkness that I found an answer. The damnable book that was brought forward and held as evidence against me more evil placed upon my soul by one other than myself.” Turning the eyes flared at a ghostly figure walking from the shadows.
“Evening, oh king of darkness. How goes the night in this castle of damnation?” The ghost politely spoke with a scent of Arabia. The ghost wore the robes of a common desert dweller. Brown and shabby, they had remained the same from the day of his death. Shoeless, a shackle affixed to one ankle. In the light a shimmer of chain could be seen, one that extended into infinity keeping the ghost affixed to the Earth unable to roam the heavens or hells. Forever damned to walk the Earth, watching always watching.
“Why do you again come to me Abdul Alhazred? I've been quit of you and your damnable book for ages.” The figure returned with an edge of violence.
“As always it is the condemned man who damns the hangman but forgets why the noose hangs there.” Sighing to himself, “Brother Diego, I merely wrote the treatise. I did not make you read its pages nor did I council you into performing the rituals.”
Bowing low a sly smile crept across the apparition's face. Rising he continued, “In fact in the first two pages I council against performing the rituals because I knew the outcome. Not to mention that I used a replacement code in ancient dialects. It is that same damnable book as to why I'm cursed to walk the earth until the end of days. So, I choose to visit those whom my path has crossed. Eleven of you there are and in all time only eleven have been able to decipher and perform the rituals of the Necro-Humanis. I wrote the Necronomicon and simply acted as a cipher for the words, its language and phrases of the old ones. I stood in judgment and was held acquit for I was destined to perform the deed. In writing the Necro-Humanis I was damned for I created the work from what I had learned in writing its predecessor.”
“So we have both been damned only I seem to have been damned twice. I remember the day when that damnable work came into my possession.” The figure sniffed the air and paused, “The night has a taste of rain, allow me to return to a bottle of brandy which waits for me.” Diego murmured turning from the spirit and heading for the lighted door.
“I'm surprised I didn't know your kind still enjoyed the fruits of life.” Abdul asked in a questioning tone.
“Even though this life is supported by will alone the body still has some requirements small as they are. I find brandy seems to fulfill those needs and even in my un life I am capable of taste. So I choose brandy. It doesn't leave the taste of ashes as all other things seem to.” The voice held power restrained but the head remained bowed as if humility was all important.
In silence, the apparition followed. The two walked down a stone corridor into a room which contained a plush soft leather recliner. A small side table of simple darkened oak stood next to the chair. A large fireplace dominated one wall of the room. Fire crackled and sparked as a log floated in the air depositing itself into the blaze. A puff of cinders blew out as an air pocket popped. The warmth that should have filled the room failed to reach more than a foot or two away from the hearth. The coldness radiated from Diego. Looking upon the table there stood a bottle of brandy, a green crystal goblet and a leather-bound book. The apparition sulked to a corner as Diego poured from the bottle eyeing the ghost. He shrugged and sat down. Glancing around the room at the two bookcases adorning the other two walls. The books on the shelves radiated there own auras some blacker than the night sky others like candles flickering in the wind.
“I've known you many a day or night for that matter but I've never known your story. Your story until after the change when your aura called to me as if a volcano irrupted. I would ask for that tale because as a ghost the after life is very boring. I hope this simple request of an undead to one of the un life would be accepted.” A ghostly chair appeared from the shadows and Abdul lowered himself onto it waiting for an answer.
“So it is a tale you want. You have come to me all these nights in all the years and you simply wanted to hear my tale of sorrow. How could I object to one who has walked the earth even longer than I? My tale starts upon my thirtieth birthday when upon that age I was called to the church of Saint Peter what is now called the Vatican. The date was the late fourteenth century and I was to have a meeting with Cardinal Prete. One of the older Cardinals who had been keeping an eye on the orders looking for one like myself. A monk of the orders who was honest, just, wise, and had the zeal of being young. He had a mission for me. It would be this meeting that would start my road ending in the place I'm now.” Closing his eyes Diego continued his story.
***
Diego climbed the steps to the main chamber of the church. Three cardinals stood off to the side speaking in low tones glancing occasionally as one does when plotting. His simple brown robes seemed out of place among so many different colors. He stopped to smooth the pleats of the robes and adjusted his mantle before continuing. The cardinals that he had been watching broke from their huddle and one walked towards him. Diego noticed a slight limp as the Cardinal approached. Diego knelt waiting to be blessed.
Cardinal Piedmontes spoke with a heavy Italian accent, “I bless you my son in his name and pray your journey was easy.”
Diego kissed the ring that was extended and rose. “My journey was light for knowing its destination my soul soared here before I had placed my first step upon the road, your eminence. If I may ask though why have I been summoned?”
Before the sentence began its echo, the Cardinal made a silence gesture. “Follow me please. We will adjourn to my offices so that our discussion may be held in confidence.”
A puzzled look came across Diego's face. As he followed the Cardinal, Diego noticed more and more of how this holy placed seemed less and less like a place of worship. It was more of a place where administration and politics occurred. He remembered the first rule of politics his teacher had explained. Commit to no plan of action until the facts and perceptions are known.
“I will wait and formulate more upon my situation when I know more. For now I know my soaring heart must be anchored for the time being. A task that will not be easy but my wisdom must not sleep.” This thought quickly smothered his spirit which was floating out of him trying to touch the ceiling.
The corridor seemed longer than it was by a trick of the light. Money, wealth and power filled the hallway and the offices connected to it. Diego could not help himself and wondered at the true immensity and reach of the church. Checking a step realizing that they had come to their destination. He observed the Cardinal. The cardinal was a stout man, barrel chested wearing the traditional black and red of his office. His hair was graying and scars ran down one side of his face. The office was adorned with gilded framed paintings and a large tapestry to one side of the room. It depicted a dragon with a damsel in distress; some of the threading appeared to be gold and silver. There were golden candlesticks on the edges of the teak desk. A silver tipped quill sat in an accompanying ink holder. It was even said that the cardinal had a hundred acre estate and villa somewhere in the mountains. There were two stacks of papers on the desk and a plain leather folder in the middle.
“Brother Diego three years ago Pope Sixtus IV issued the 'Exigit sinceras devotionis affectus' this established the inquisition in the dioceses of Seville and Cordoba. A few months ago in Seville they held there first Auto de Fe and six people were burned alive. I'm disturbed by this but these actions have been sanctioned by our Pope. So the reason why you have been sent for is that I have received a letter from Archbishop Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza. It seems that he has requested assistance for members of the church who have a law background. My office has been rounding up a number of clergy with that type of background. From that pool you have been selected to serve as a fiscal in Seville. It is an important posting but for it to be truly filled I would ask for your acceptance and not simply order you to the posting.” The cardinal's tone had been neutral the whole time betraying nothing of his wants or desire.
“I have heard rumors of the situations that have occurred but I believe that I will be able to contribute and protect the name of the church while proving legally of those who are true heretics.” Diego returned with a flash of pride and eagerness for the job.
At that point Cardinal Piedmontes knew the man before him like an open book and made a further decision. “Brother Diego recently a book that was found in the possession of one of those heretics has come into my hands. It is a work of true evil a second book was found but that book was burned with the individual who held it. I believe it was called the Necronomicon. This book's title and pages are undecipherable. I have also learned that you have a penchant for old languages thus I entrust you with deciphering this book and giving mother church knowledge of a weapon of evil.” With that the cardinal reached into his desk and pulled out a leather bound book colored in night blue. A cold seemed to emanate from the cover and pages of the book. It was truly evil.
Diego accepted the book and placed it aside. “Your eminence I will be underway once I have my official orders.”
The cardinal opened the folder that sat on the desk and pulled forth a sealed envelope. It had the cardinal's seal on the fold. Diego made the sign of the cross and received the envelope. Picking up the book that had been entrusted to him he leaned over the desk to kiss the cardinals ring. Silently he turned and left the office into the corridor of noise. His thoughts weighed heavy on his mind. He did not notice as he left that all else in the corridor seemed to give him a wide berth as one give to the condemned. With orders in hand he made his way quickly to the country of Spain on each night of his journey he attempted to decipher the book he had been given.
Three years had passed since his posting as fiscal. He had performed his job honorably with zeal and a respect for the truth. On numerous occasions Diego had dismissed charges after performing complete investigations making sure that each suspect understood that further charges could be filed if more evidence came to light. To these individuals he emphasized living with god in their hearts and by the cannons of the church. It was in his third year that a new inquisitor was posted. Father Pellegrino of Saragossa arrived October fourteen eighty-five.
This particular October was hot continuing from the heat of the summer. Diego was in a courtroom at the time of Pellegrino's arrival. In the room there were twelve men. The heavy scent of incense did little to relieve the smell of body odor which hung in the air. On one side of the room behind a large desk sat the two inquisitors and behind them sat the calificadores, one for each of the inquisitors. Off to the left sitting at a small desk was the lawyer appointed by his majesty's lawyer. The consultant was there to answer any question of law and ensure the king's subjects were given a fair trial. To the right side of the room sitting at a long bench were the three secretaries, the Notartio de Secuestros, Notario de Secreto and the Escribano General. In front of the inquisitors to the right and left were the defendant with his counsel and the Fiscal sat respectively. The last man in the room alguacil who stood by the door, originally the town's apprentice blacksmith but upon the churches request was made The room was windowless with torches spaced out on the walls adding to the heat and smell.
Diego stood and nodded to the Notario de Secreto. He began, “Honored members of this tribuneral we are here to decide the fate of the farmer Thomasino Couto. He has been formally charged twice with the crime of adultery and witchcraft. Farmer Couto was denounced by members of this community. The calificadores, Father Vendo and Leates, examined the denunciation and referred the case to me Fiscal Diego.” The Escribano General a wormy little man known as Humphrit wrote quickly ensuring to get each statement. Diego continued, “I looked over the original denunciation and then began my investigation with the Notorio de Secreto, Pacho. We deposed each witness and finally the accused. My investigation took little over a week and I have solid proof that the accused is guilty of the crimes for which he charged. On this day the fourth of October at eleven in the morning I present my findings.” Turning he nodded to Pacho. Pacho stood holding five folders each with a wax stamped seal of his office. He handed one to each of the inquisitors, one to the defendants council who was a priest named Armand, one to Diego and one to the Escribano general who marked it with a number and made a corresponding note on one of the parchments in front of him with the date, time and name of the accused. There was one blank space left.
Once Pacho had sat Diego continued, “At this time I would ask that the seals be broken on all but the Escribano General's copy. The first page covers the denunciation. The next page covers the charges and possible penalties. The next six pages cover the investigation and the depositions of those interviewed including the accused. We used the potro method for deposing the accused and after four hours he made a full confession which was recorded.” Diego picked through a few papers and pulled a sheet which had writing on it. He walked to the table and handed the sheet to the calificadores. He walked back to his table, “I have just given a formal denunciation made by the accused against the woman who the accused had committed adultery with. I questioned and here testimony is in the papers already presented. Once I have been given authorization from the calificadores I will proceed in charging the woman presently.”
Inquisitor Father Renee stood and addressed the court, “We will examine the evidence presented.”
An hour passed as the inquisitors quietly examined the evidence occasionally asking a calificadores a question. The lawyer appointed by the king to be part of the proceedings a begun to dose and had no interest in what was transpiring. At the end of the hour Father Renee rose again, “Farmer Couto do you understand the chargers that have been made against you?”
“Yes.” The farmer answered with his head pointed towards the ground.
“Do you understand also that with your testimony and the testimony of others that you have been found guilty of those crimes?” Renee asked in a solemn voice.
“Yes.” Farmer Couto had begun to weep. “The actions that I have performed I indeed admit. I ask only that I be made to suffer for the charges that I have committed and not my family.”
“Are you not the head of your household and as such by condemning yourself you've condemned your household. Are not man and wife one upon marriage the damning of one damns the other. So asking for something that cannot be given simply cannot be given. It is the order of this tribuneral that you be taken from this place and a week from today executed by fire. Your family holding will be sold at auction and your wife and children will serve as slaves to the new owner. Proceeds from the sale will go to the church. Speak no more Farmer Couto or I will increase sentence and impose excommunication upon you and your family. As a Christian man I believe you were led astray by the temptation of the devil and this particular woman. Only few men can withstand the devil's temptations. This is the decree of this tribuneral. Notartio de Secuestros within the week you are to confiscate said property and sell said assets to include the wife and sons.”
With the tribuneral ended the alguacil restrained farmer Couto and brought him to the jail. The other members of the tribuneral shook hands and then made there respective exits. A new tribuneral was walking in as the one left. The process would continue into the early evening. Diego had three more cases to be heard that day and he wanted make sure everything was in order. He motioned Pacho over as he left. The two met outside in an open area next to the edge of the monastery. Sitting on a stone bench the two looked out over the grounds. After enjoying the flowers of the grounds and the sweet scent of honey mead being made from an outer building Diego began, “So we have those other tribunerals today I just wanted to make sure that the evidence is prepared and secured.”
Pacho responded quickly, “I've always made sure that the evidence is secured under my seal and in the strong box in my cell. Are you questioning me Diego? Have I failed in some way?”
Startled back, “No my friend I simply want to make sure that all is accordance for we hold lives in the balance. It is a weight I am continuously finding dragging me at times and it would be so easy to simply become lazy. Your word, my word these are things that not only carry truth with no question but the power to kill. I have talked to those who make pilgrimages to St. Peter's. They have told me of inquisitors who are tyrants. These men pad there pockets with the assets of those they punish. There have been rumors that some tribunerals have mistresses and live lives of decadence. I have worried of this from the beginning when I was appointed.”
“We perform the work of the church my friend. We protect others from the lying Jews and conversos. We have taken up a sacred crusade like many of those before.” A brilliance came across Pacho's eyes as he spoke. “I have never worried or felt concern for I know god guides my hands and you shouldn't worry my friend. I've not know any other who ensures that all avenues are considered nor taking the rights of the heretical into account. Please allow me to get you an ale or mead and we can share a bit of rest before we return to that stench filled room.”
Diego chuckled a bit nervously but understood his friend's point of view. He had shared it not long ago but something has made him begin to question. Maybe it was the book that he had been given. Each night when he has had time he has attempted to translate the text. He had discovered the name and the author of the book. The writer was Abdul Alhazred and the name of the book was the Necro-Humanis. Having broken the code he would be able to write the words that would be there but the language may still be a problem. Hearing his friend's voice he realized that he had been drifting.
“Diego, anytime you would like to return to the here and now would be nice. Where were you my friend?” Pacho asked.
“I apologize Pacho but if you are still up for that draft then I shall gladly accompany you.” Diego shook his head slightly and rose. Noticing another approach he eyed him as his friend got up from the bench. “Good day to you, reverend father.”
“Good day.” The man continued approaching keeping eye contact as he approached.
Diego noticed that the edges of the priests robes were white and crusty similar to salt from an ocean voyage. “Reverend father you seem to have come by sea. I ask was journey well?”
“I'm no sailor for sure but my trip was uneventful. I do not mean to be rude but I am looking for fiscal Diego do you know where I may find him?” Father Pellegrino asked.
“I am fiscal Diego father. How may I help you?” Diego asked extending his hand.
Pellegrino shook Diego's hand, “No. I simply wanted to meet those I'll be working with. I am father Pellegrino assigned as Inquisitor to Seville. My posting was changed from Saragossa. I have been given leave for a few days to acquaint myself with the area as well as those I will be working with. If I may I overhead that you and your friend would be engaging in one of the Lord's bountiful gifts. Mind if I join you?”
“You would be our honored guest, father.” Pacho said quickly.
As a young man he was still awed by those who have spent their whole life serving the divine. Pacho had been assigned soon after Diego arrived. The boy was fresh from seminary but quick and unafraid. He was one to have his head in rapture of heaven forgetting that we all lived below it. Diego had taught him to keep his head in the work he was doing but there were still times when it seemed to float a bit. “Yes, please join us. The ale here is something special and I would love to hear how things fair in Saragossa.” Diego asked politely.
The three walked across the grounds to an octagonal building which had a large covered porch to one side. Monks and clergy sat at tables chatting, debating phrases of the bible, discussing politics or simply reading. Every individual who sat had a tankard in front of them. Heat drifted up from the stone walkways and tables. The shade from the porch seemed even more inviting as they approached. A group motioned for them to sit as they were leaving and returning to their duties.
Pellegrino checked a step as he saw what was occurring. “I'm not sure if I approve of this type of behavior during the day.”
“Do not worry father for it is the time of siesta so there is very little going on right now and the bishop has a strict policy only one tankard during the day and one at night. Any who attempt to violate this have this privilege have it removed for a month and during that time contemplate this flaw in there cell no matter how hot. To my knowledge no one has violated this. There are shifts so that no part of the monastery, church, confessionals, rectory or tribunal are not stopped. The shifts change on a monthly basis with no exception. During lent the alehouse is closed. It gives us a better appreciation of what we have.” Diego said casually as they went into the house. Clean tankards were stacked to one side on a table on another table the dirty ones were stacked with the openings down. Four large kegs were tapped to one side on a long bar. The first was ale, the second honey mead, third was beer and the fourth grog. A number of sailors had left the life of the sea to one of the cloth. Grog still ran through their veins though. Each keg was labeled in Latin for no confusion. Diego helped Pellegrino with his beer and then grabbed an ale for himself. Pacho poured honey mead. They came out of the ale house and sat at the table.
Pellegrino took a pull of his beer. He looked at the tankard in surprise. “Most excellent. Now if you could be so kind as to describe how a tribuneral works in Seville”
“Well we've already had the auto de fey and any grace that was initially given is gone now so we have come to a simple system. There is first a denunciation from one or a group against an individual or family. At that point one of the four fiscals is assigned to investigate. The fiscal and Notorio de Secreto, we have four, each is assigned to a fiscal. Pacho here is assigned to me and is most excellent in his job. We perform our duties in the manner recognized by the church. We have used proper interrogative techniques. If I have found enough evidence for a tribuneral the individual denounced is arrested and placed in prison. The tribuneral is set for as soon as possible. The case is presented to the inquisitors and once the evidence is examined a decision is made.”
“You mean you have not charged all who have been denounced to the calificadores” Pellegrino asked seemingly stunned. “I mean you have used the proper techniques, the tortura del agua (A cloth is put into the mouth and then water is forced in this gives the sensation of drowning), garrucha (An individual's wrists are strapped to pulleys and weights are attached to the ankles. The individual is lifted and dropped repeatedly.) or the potro (rack).”
Pacho spoke up, “Father Pellegrino, Brother Diego always got to the truth. He used the proper techniques and stopped he would start again the next day. I've seen men cry for death but still claim innocence. Brother Diego just knows the difference from when a man lies and when he tells the truth.”
“Easy friend, I am a just an honorable man. When I was assigned by Cardinal Peidmontes I swore that I would perform my duties honorably.” As Diego finished he noticed a brief look of murder and hatred like the devil just inhabited the father sitting across the table. Shrugging Diego dismissed the sight to the heat and drank again.
Pellegrino smirked in his beer. He made sure his eyes stayed level giving nothing away as a series of calculations began. Pacho stood after finishing his mead made his partings and headed for his cell. “So the young father is assigned to you. If I may ask by whose authority I mean it's unusual for a monk to be placed over a father?”
“A bishop of the diocese witnessed three of my tribunerals and some of my interrogations. When Pacho came here the Bishop placed him with me. He explained that when I was done with the inquisitions and placed somewhere else then Pacho would take my place. I am simply training my replacement. I find it odd that an inquisitor is taken from his area and moved to a new area.” Diego steepled his fingers and leaned back waiting for a reply.
“In Saragossa the inquisitors are given two year terms and I had come to the end of my term. I was asked by the Pope to continue my duty but here. I intend to keep my vow in getting out this evil in our midst. The Protestants and conversos are a danger that cannot be easily dismissed. I will see them brought to mother church's justice…”
***
A shadow grew in the corner of the room it wafted and weaved like pipe smoke starting small and growing. At the cone's widest point it congealed into a form. The apparition wore the mantel of the clergy. It was dirty and had large rents in it. The apparition's face had signs of never ending torture.
“Your command is done. The cleric is dead. She died in horror and the message has been sent will you now release me. I cannot endure this. I would welcome the hell that is my fate.” The sorrow and emptiness that filled the voice would make angels weep if they could here the laments.
“Pellegrino your soul is mine. I took it upon your death. You took my life and my love for the church. I was severed from the church and my God. The only hatred that I have that outweighs my anger towards you is that which seethes within me for the Vatican. If you had asked for forgiveness and sought penance I would be unable to do what I had done. I count your sins and hold them against you so until I deem that you have paid in full you are mine. Now is there any other news?” Diego asked the smoke pausing from staring at the fire and glancing at Pellegrino's smokey form.
“I have received word that a new cleric has arisen and he is an heir of the Prete name. He is located in America. I have not sent the eye demons to investigate but from what the watchers have relayed is that he has an old soul. They say that it was as if a star exploded and the energy crackled when they tried to sense closer. The Vatican has heard as well and they have dispatched him to investigate, possibly train the candidate if he is a true cleric.” Pellegrino spoke, bowed and drifted away into the night.
“Interesting, usually there is a few weeks sometimes months before between the death of one cleric and the emergence of the next. There have been instances where two clerics have emerged though these cases are rare. And for it to happen as the watchers describe this individual must have tapped his abilities for the need of a loved one.” Waving his hand and mumbling a few phrases beings began to materialize. Serpentine as they appeared mottled purple bodies with a single large blood red eye. The bodies were segmented and large hairs sprouting from around the eye. Finally when all beings appeared, six floated in front of Diego. “You who are born of evil and fire. Find me this cleric and those he loves. One of you must follow his history and that of his family for I need to know all, understood.”
All six beings nodded and disappeared leaving a foul scent of musk. A scent which could be tasted not just smelt.
“In your anger and vengeance you destroy a force of God.” Abdul casually commented as he focused on the lich.
“Normally I am content in allowing the world to pass in its own way. This particular cleric had been researching me and focusing his efforts towards finding me. In recent days I have been preparing to attack the Vatican. Over the years I've been slowly preparing and my toiling will soon bear fruit. I appreciate these days of political correctness where individuals tolerate things instead of honesty. It is in these self lies where I'm able to plant a seed of hate which can grow and fester. So many simply have to confess and find forgiveness but like my eternal minion they keep secrets which compounds their sin. In keeping secrets and lying to themselves they eventually believe the lie forgetting the truth. It is there. It is in that moment I have the most power over anyone.” Diego finished the glass and poured a new one. Grabbing the filled glass as he rose a bit spilled on the floor. He looked down at the stain on the rug. The brandy's dark ocher color reminded him of blood. Walking to the fire he looked down into the flames. They mirrored themselves in his eyes but of blue flame and not of red no warmth could even exist in its reflection. He continued, “So I had met father Pellegrino and he had begun my demise. I am uncertain how but he found out about your book and my translations of it. Two years passed without incident and my routine was simple I worked on the book when I could while I performed my duties as fiscal. I suppose I was proud of my abilities as well as confident in them. Pellegrino had brought denouncements to me saying they were valid. Upon checking they were and I performed my function. All was well I was happy. Pellegrino came to me one day with a list of twenty names. The list contained the names of local nobles. One of which was a distant cousin of the king of Spain and if I investigated I would have doomed the church as well as myself. He had all his information he simply wanted me to refuse.”
…
The sun shown cresting over the horizon a red and orange ocher filled the sky, illuminating clouds creating playful shadows in their folds and crinkles. Diego had risen early to watch from the bell tower. It was in this time that he was at peace. His translation of the book had been revealing but his dreams had become restless. “Frightful and disturbing,” he thought, in my life I believe I've seen angels but can I also say I've seen demons as well. I begin to truly question what we do in this inquisition. Are we truly making a difference in God's name or something else? I've heard from pilgrims that an inquisitor was murdered before Pellegrino left. They pillaged and plundered wealth stripping many of their holdings. All for greed?”
“What do you say my friend.” Pacho asked as reached the top of the tower. He steps shuffled in his robes and his prayer beads made a slight rattle as he moved. He no longer had a young face since he had become a fiscal himself.
Diego missed the sounds in the morning sun and calling of the birds. “Pacho my friend I have learned that Pellegrino has committed atrocities in the name of God as an Inquisitor. I have found this out from pilgrims who have arrived recently. I am unsure how to act in this matter.”
“Could be rumors? We have heard them before and Pellegrino has been an exemplary inquisitor since he was assigned. I find no fault with him. However, I am concerned with you. You have not been your usual self these last few weeks. Agitated and unkempt not efficient or precise I have heard.” Pacho rested his arms on the ledge and rested against the wall.
“My dreams bother me my friend. I have begun to question what we do and how we do it. You heard some of this as you climbed the stair. My focus has diminished do to lack of rest. Things occupy my mind that should not. My friend I find that there something happening I fear it.” Diego answered becoming restless. A gust of wind blew through the bells causing a slight ring. It whipped at the robes they wore and slung grit at their eyes. They squinted looking at the direction from where it came. Turning and heading for the stairs Diego spoke, “The wind changes Pacho, beware the storm it brings.”
“I trust not my thoughts and I have no one to share them with. Years ago I could confide in Pacho but not now. He has spent too much time with Pellegrino. Am I paranoid? I don't know but in the state I am in I must something. I must cleanse my soul and find my faith again.” He checked his step and turned to the white chapel. He took a step towards the church. As he continued walking his eyes narrowed at the corner of his eyes things became blurry. He developed tunnel vision he had only eyes for the church. He had counted the steps from the tower to the church door, one hundred. He could swear that he had taken five hundred steps and the church seemed no closer. At last he stood before the door on wobbly legs he banged the knocker.
The door opened quickly, and the sound of astonishment filled his ears, “Brother Diego, what has become of you? Come in, please.” Gentle hands bore him up and helped him stagger into the house of God. The two men moved quickly to the pews and sat.
Diego looked upon the man who sat next to him. Slowly his eyes found clarity and he recognized the father. “I am sorry Father Sergio. I have found no where else to turn. My faith has wavered, my mind is troubled and I no longer feel clean. I must confess my sins.”
Sergio was an older member of the clergy who had been here before many of the other members. He had tended this church for as long as some could remember. His brown leather skin and shallow eyes always seemed to carry their own light radiate their own warmth. He no longer presumed anything from appearance alone given he was a bit overweight, balding with white hair. Without saying a word more he laid his hand on Diego's arm and without pressure motioned him to the confessionals. The two entered simultaneously or seemed to a form moved from the corner of the church and stopped Sergio. Sergio who was not one to argue or protest stepped back and allowed the other to enter. Inside the confessional the window opened. At the sound of the window opening Diego began, “Bless me father for I have sinned…”
Two days passed and Diego was returning to his cell from Vespers. As he walked in the hall Pellegrino walked towards him from the other direction. They reached Diego's door at the same time. Diego had placed his hand upon the door as Pellegrino placed his hand upon Diego's shoulder, pausing him. Diego annoyed turned roughly shaking off the hand that held him. “May I do something for you father?”
“Diego, yesterday a young woman came to me in confidence. She denounced a number of men for adultery and cavorting with the devil. I ask that perform your duties and investigate the claims.” Pellegrino handed over a piece of paper with twenty names written upon it observing Diego the whole time. He looked for any tell that may betray an action. He waited.
Diego took the paper and examined it closely. There were twenty names but there was something odd about them. He peered at each name closely and still he couldn't add it up. It appeared to be twenty legitimate names. Names one might find of noble birth. He blinked and noticed the name a third of the way down. It was a cousin to the king. He looked over the list again and found each of the names were local nobles. The nobles had names of tradition and a long standing relationship with the church to perform an investigation would cause a rupture in the area one which may not heal. He weighed the evidence he knew; none of these nobles had ever been at issue before, not one has ever asked a favor of the church and attend every Sunday without fail, any accusation of these families would cripple the church and its relations in the area.
“If you are acting in your formal capacity as inquisitor then I will suffer the repercussions of my actions now. Inquisitor Pellegrino I refuse your official request. I know these men and families to make any accusations would cause irreparable harm for the church and the area. I will be more than happy to face the charges you no doubt will bring but for now father I have had a difficult day.” Diego opened, entered and slammed his cell door. Dust flittered down from the ceiling.
Pellegrino resisted the urge to sneeze as he controlled his urge a snarl crossed his lips similar to a large cat which had a wounded prey ready for the kill. Turning on his heel Pellegrino walked quickly away almost skipping with glee. Diego heard the shuffle of sandals retreat in the distance he relaxed a bit resting on his cot. He stared at the wall after a few moments his eyes closed and slept. He dreamed.
Wood exploded as the door was smashed open by two large soldiers. They had been called from a fort close by. Diego tried to resist but they slugged him to the floor pinning his as one knelt on his neck. Pellegrino followed and fettered Diego's arms while they were behind his back. Wrenched to his feet Diego bled from his temple where a splinter stood out. Pellegrino pulled the shard out quickly turning as he pulled to induce more pain. Looking around Diego noticed a shadow outside his door. Looking through blood that flowed into his eyes he saw his friend Pacho. Pellegrino moved to the wall and pulled the loose board which contained the book.
“Yes it is here. Soldiers bring the condemned to the yard. He will be flogged in public then you are to take him to the Saint Peters in Rome. Do not allow him to ride Vatican he may walk as a pilgrim. A swift rider is being dispatched as we speak with the information needed. He will be tried there.” Pellegrino's voice almost crackled in his moment of triumph. He walked to the door and conversed in whisper with the shadow. “You have done well Pacho. I know he was your friend but remember he has been possessed by the Devil.”
….
“To be betrayed by a friend when all you wanted was to serve your God. I'm amazed you do not have your friend's soul serving you as well.” Abdul asked. His form had faded in out a few times but he did not leave.
“I had not realized what I had heard until now. I've never really made an account of what had happened during that time until now. I've always focused on the emotions of the time and my anger at betrayal. I believed it was Pellegrino not Pacho who had heard my confession. I could release him but the blackness on his soul still reeks. It oozes and flows so that all close are consumed. No the good father's soul is still corrupted beyond contemplation. My good friend Pacho though…” He smashed his fist into the stone wall which exploded out sending shards and brick in odd directions. One spun in a crazy angle spiking itself into the ceiling.
Looking up at it dourly, “Pacho I will not be able to touch for he more than likely confessed his sins after the event and definitely at the end. I now have a new anger which amazes even me. I truly thought my anger spent but to be betrayed all over again.” As he stared at the spike his eyes flared like twin blue super novas in the dark. Abdul shrank back in fear of the backlash of powerful magic for even ghosts may die. Flaring to a furnace then extinguishing darkness now filled the room. The moment passed but a sensation of St. Elmo's fire remained and the room seemed full of charge electrons.
“So you have a new anger for a five hundred year old crime reminds me of locking the corral after the camels have run away.” Abdul mentioned admiring the new haze that the magic had caused around his aura. “So you were to be flogged in the presence of your fellow clergy then brought to the Vatican. Did Pellegrino keep his word?”
From the darkness came, “Yessss.” It faded into silence echoing slightly from each corner so one could not be truly sure where the sound originated or that it could have come from everywhere. The fire sprung back to life and the room was almost cozy compared to a moment ago.
…
The flogging was quick for no one wanted it prolonged. This was one of their own and not just a novice but a respected member of the flock. Dust from the courtyard whipped around and filled the wounds opened from the whip. Tears streamed down Diego's face making streaks in the dust that covered him. A bell tolled in the background commencing the morning meal.
“Soldiers you are tasked to take this filth to Saint Peter's in Rome. He will be tried there for all to witness his disgrace and contamination into the devil's work. I will not reopen the trials he has already performed for the records show that he has done nothing wrong in these but I have a list of names nineteen in all which he refused to investigate. I believe that these names were in league with Brother Diego and shall be tried accordingly. Father Pacho you shall carry out these investigations. A final demand I make of you soldiers. Allow none to succor to him and he shall walk the whole way.” With this he dumped a pale of salt water, prepared for this occasion, all over Diego's wounds. Diego screamed at the fire in his back and sides. “Soldier here is his damning book, make sure he does not get it but also make sure it reaches Rome for it is evidence of his crimes against the Church and God.
The journey lasted days Diego woke in the morning from sleeping on the ground and walked while being pulled by a rope wrapped around his wrists. The other end of the rope was attached to the pummel of one of the soldier's horses. When he could he scratched at his wounds on his back which had festered becoming infected. In crossing the French Alps a fever had come causing him to be delusional. He muttered as he walked stumbling from left to right. Even the cold sweat poured from his bro soaking his remaining clothes and skin. The wounds on his back stood out as flaming red stripes weeping puss from broken open sores. He no longer remembered days just walking. He had lost his sandals making his situation worse for blisters formed causing even further infection. The soldiers followed there orders for none helped Diego until they reached Piedmont region traveling through the town of Austi. Villagers were going about there morning routines as a dust cloud approached many stood stalk still as the soldiers with a monk in tow crossed their path coming to a halt at the town's market. The soldiers dismounted leading the horses to an open trough so they could drink. The monk drank from the same trough. One of the soldiers walked swiftly to the market to get supplies. The market in Austi was like many located in the town square next to the church.
A young priest of the opened the doors to allow the fresh air to flow into the building. He surveyed the market and the people there. Waving to few he turned to enter the church when he noticed the horses with barding and a Spanish soldier standing next to one. A man stood wearing the torn mantle of a monk. His feet had blood oozing from them. The monk turned and bent to drink more from the trough. His back was bright red with raised lesions and puss glistening down his back creating heavily crusted areas on the waist of his robes. The man was truly a shambles. The priest felt hot rage for the first time in his life never had he seen a man treated thus especially one of the cross. He strode across the town square coming quickly to the horses on the men with them. In Italian the priest asked, “Soldier on your soul tell my why a man of the cloth is treated such?”
The soldier simply stood there with little recognition. His fellow came running over when he saw the priest. The priest spoke again in Italian repeating what he had said before. The soldier coming up heard enough to know what had been asked. “Father I understand you. My fellow corporal Mendez does not. I am Sergeant Menyon. This monk is father Diego who is being brought before a tribuneral at Saint Peters for the numerous charges. We have come from Seville a long distance when we have delivered him our job will be done so that we may return home. Your name father if you would?”
“I am father Augusto Prete. Again why is this monk in this condition?” Augusto was from a long line of local nobles and he had chosen the priesthood to help others. He was trained by his family to be a lawyer but when the time came he chose a different path. He stood of average height and was slim though many of his ancestors were on the husky side. He kept his hair close shaven and his eyes were blue full of the flame that fueled his family.
“Father I apologize but I was given strict orders from father Pellegrino Inquisitor of Seville that brother Diego receives no aid or succor at all. His wounds are caused from being flogged in Seville and the journey of which he has walked all the way.” Sergeant Menyon stated flatly keeping his emotions out of it as much as he could. he had never like the orders but his companion was devote and if he crossed that bridge there could be lashes waiting for him when he returned. He looked down kicking at some gravel on the ground.
“Untie this man at once and bring him to the rectory. His wounds need tending and I will not allow him to die before he receives a trial.” Augusto made a move towards the rope. Corporal Mendez moved into his path blocking him. “Tell Corporal Mendez to move or things will get worse.”
Sergeant Menyon translated noticing Mendez begin to sweat. This was an absolute conflict for him a member of the church was telling something in conflict with another member of the church. The moments passed and a crowd began to gather having noticed a town priest facing down soldiers. The time continued to creep on making Mendez's uncomfortable situation worse for he began to visibly shake. In truth there was no way out for him he needed someone to tell him what to do. Sergeant Menyon spoke up, “Corporal Mendez continue on to Saint Peters and inform them what has happened. Ask them for assistance in this matter and if they could send a formal escort for Brother Diego so that our journey may finish and we be on our way home. Don't worry my friend you are following my orders and we are simply clarifying a conflict which has arisen during our travel. I will stay so the prisoner doesn't try to escape.”
“Si.” Was all Mendez said being noticeably relieved? Mounting quickly and spurring his horse south.
Menyon undid the fetter on Diego so he could be brought to the rectory. Diego simply mumbled not understanding what had transpired. His body was wracked with sickness and malnutrition. He was carried upstairs to a room with a window and balcony so that the scent of sickness would not pervade throughout. Augusto removed the sheets down to the mattress and they laid their burden face down. Augusto removed Diego's clothing and tattered rags. The sores and wounds festered into irruptions of the skin with maggots eating the rotten flesh. The smell was that of a dead pig.
“Menyon you may sleep in the room next door and there is an adjoining bath so you have easy access. But be warned do not interfere with my attempt to heal this member of the clergy charges or none. Now feel free to attend your horse, there are stables around back of the rectory. I have work to do.” Augusto spoke plainly turning to Diego paying no further attention to Menyon. The sergeant quietly closed the door and went to his horse. After an hour or so Menyon returned and took position in front of the door. He wrinkled his nose at the stench and briefly wondered how the Priest could stand being closer.
After Menyon left Augusto examined the damage done Diego and listened closely to his breathing. The breaths were shallow, ragged and his body burned from within. Slowly he placed his hands on the temple and chest. “Lord if it is in your mercy heal this man.” He repeated the request several times in a mumble almost like a chant and upon the seventh time Augusto began to feel a warmth flow from his heart through his chest into his arms and hands flowing to Diego. The fever diminished and the breathing though shallow was steady and clean. The sores remained and a fever remained but the chances of survival improved. Tired Augusto slumped in the chair and rested. He rose and walked to the window and out onto the balcony. Looking out across the square and town a vision appeared it was one of burning, death and evil. He reviled from the vision raising his hands in defense stumbling backward into the room tripping over the chair he had sat on a moment before. As he lay on the floor he looked up at the ceiling there looking back down at him was an angel. A glow radiated like white fire from its aura. Its power and presence filled the room though its eyes were sad. The wings which were edged in gold added to the illumination. Augusto wondered why none other heard or saw this marvel even from the street outside.
“Priest Augusto Prete know then that you have been granted a gift through your piety and true devotion. The power to heal has been granted before in the time of his son and has now been granted to you and your family's lineage. This power is a grace and a curse for also know that the vision you saw is true and will come to pass. This day you have helped a seed of evil grow. Do not fear for it has already come to pass. You must continue as you would for if you stray from the path consequences would occur. Remember this day and pass it on to your kin so that they remember.” There was a thunderclap and the angel vanished. Augusto looked over at the sleeping Diego and wondered what he had done.
“Could I stray here and now taking this one's life for even I feel the cold darkness of evil which grips his soul. But I have sworn an oath and that oath carries a heavier weight then I realized so the die is cast as the angel has told me then I can do none other than what I had intended before heal this man and try to aid him in his battle against his inner demon.” Opening the door Menyon stood guard not even blinking at the noise and commotion which had occurred within the room only moments before.
“Padre, may I help you?” Menyon asked politely.
“No. I have done what I could for now and shall ask a nun to come and wash Brother Diego and scrub his wounds. It took several days for Diego to heal. During the nights in his fever he would reach for the book that he had carried.
***
“In that moment of blessing I saw God. I saw him in all his glory and compassion. I looked in his eyes for he said nothing but the sadness which they held made my soul break. He knew my fate and gave me a chance to change. I failed and broke my covenant with him.” Diego sipped the brandy again noting its fragrance. He always savored the aroma for it reminded him of life. He placed the glass down.
“Boom!” The thunder exploded all around when lightning hit the monastery, another explosion blowing the door from its hinges rendering it to splinters.
“I've found you bastard!” Leaping faster than any human could the motion only left a shadow in its wake. “Schling.” A sound echoing through the room as the blur grew larger snap drawing a sword. In a leap the blur crystallized into a being. Pale as night giving no sign of warmth or humanity and clothed in shades of black. Sparkling the sword in its hand gleamed against the fire which reflected off the individual's oversized canines.
The ghost winced involuntarily as the stroke fell smashing into Diego's shoulder slicing down to the pelvic bone. Releasing the sword the vampire stepped nodding to himself at the damage done. A simple patting of hid own back as he turned to the doorway to leave. Venomously the man spoke, “That's for my love!”
Diego had not flinched and had just stood there as the sword pierced his flesh. He felt every inch of the silvered steel knowing the same sword could kill the vampire itself if it was sloppy. Yes, he felt the pain of it and remembered. As he watched the vampire was leaving mumbling something of revenge. Diego reached down and removed the sword. The massive wound had knit together by the time he had drawn the blade from him. The vampire stopped and turned at the clanging of the sword hitting the floor. Before the vampire could turn he was held by power.
Diego's eyes flared royal blue flames filling the room in haze. “Lord Humphrey, you think a simple blade of silver will kill that which is neither live nor dead. Do you take me for some diseased creature like a werewolf or of the hominus nocturna? A simple vampire? I am sure you have not assumed I'm a ghoul, mindless in my acts or worse a zombie brain dead flesh eaters. If your kind are deemed princes then you find yourself in the company of a king.” Diego reached out his hand and began to squeeze.
“I know you, Lich. I've studied your kind and you fail into comparison to us. You killed my wife…uugh.” Pain contorted Humphrey's face as the pressure increased.
“Your mate killed a human I was studying. I was following a bloodline and the girl was key in the next step as to where the family had gone. It took me years to pick up the trail again and all because the whore you called a wife felt the need for a little fun.” Diego's voice had never risen. A voice colder than the grave and simply held no emotion at all. Diego turned clenching his fist. The sound of bundle of sticks breaking reverberated from each wall as Humphrey's body was jig sawed into a pile of broken kindling. With a second wave of his hand Humphrey's body flared as it hit the fire. For a few moments heat could be felt in the whole room but as quickly cold consumed everything blotting out even the fire.'Would you like me to continue ghost?”
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