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Authors: Christopher Stasheff
ground. He will lie here, hard by the wilderness that was in his soul."
"So be it," the crowd murmured.
"So be it indeed!" the bishop cried. "Yet for the father who reared him to discontent and intemperance, to irreverance and impiety, for the misbegotten parent who encouraged his endless, impertinent, Page 31
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blasphemous questioning, the penance must be great, and lifelong!" The stocky gray man lifted his eyes to the bishop, eyes stony, face impassive.
"Down on thy knees, recreant!" the bishop thundered, suddenly red-faced. "Pray for forgiveness to the God who made thee, forgiveness for having led astray the soul He entrusted to thy care!"
"This is consolation?" Rod murmured, aghast.
Slowly, the father shook his head. "It was not I who led him astray, but they who preach humility, yet practice arrogance."
"Sinner! Recreant!" the bishop bellowed. "How darest thou speak so against those who give their lives to the service of others! Purge the Devil who doth lurk in thy soul, till thou hast learned the very humility of which thou dost speak!" He turned back to the congregation at large. "Henceforth let none in our village of Wealdbinde speak to this man Roble, under pain of sin! Let all shun him, let all turn away from him, lest he spread this contagion of faithlessness among us all!" The people muttered and backed away from Ranulf's father.
"Let him walk in silence, till he doth learn the error of his ways!" the bishop cried. "If he should seek to speak with you, turn a deaf ear! If he should ask thine aid, turn away thine eyes, see him not! In his pride, he doth set himself apart from God...."
"Not from God!" the father roared. "Thou liest, rogue, and dost know thine own lie!"
"Smite him to silence!" the bishop howled, and a peasant near the father leaped to pin his hands while another struck him across the mouth.
"Never speak again!" the bishop bellowed, finger spearing out at Roble. "For if thou dost, none shall hear thy words of seduction and temptation! Begone, to thy living death!" He turned to the congregation.
"Dearly beloved, let us resume our daily life, resolved never to let one soul of this village of Wealdbinde stray as this Ranulf has strayed! Let our compassion be shown by exhorting and admonishing our weaker bretheren! Let us return now to our homes and our fields, resolved to keep them secure against the assaults of the Devil!" And he strode away toward the village, taking up the dirge again. The altar boys, priest, and nuns hurried to follow him, and the congregation turned to fall in line. They strode away quickly, leaving the grim-faced father standing alone by the mound of broken earth that hid what was left of his son. The sound of the chanting faded and died away.
Magnus started to speak, but Rod silenced him with a touch on the arm. The gray man stood alone with no consolation but the wind, gazing at the grave, speaking softly at first, then louder.
"Here ye lie, my son, hard by the wilderness to which thou didst long to go-if for naught but to be away from them, with their everlasting questioning and searching of thy life, their blaming and their harrowing. They're all done now, lad, and they can't hurt thee anymore. They're all done, and they've mangled what's left of the memory of thee, and made it a caution for children-but never thought it should be a caution to themselves. Nay, they're all done now, and thy suffering's done, too, and thy torment is ended." For a moment, anger showed. "May His Grace, the good bishop, be hanged! For if that's what goodness is, I'd liefer be evil! To torment the young with visions of hellfire, to bind them fast within rules of his own devising, to roar at them and and tell 'em they were born evil, and must strap every last bit o'
Page 32
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life out o' themselves, then turn and preach to 'em of the
"So be it," the crowd murmured.
"So be it indeed!" the bishop cried. "Yet for the father who reared him to discontent and intemperance, to irreverance and impiety, for the misbegotten parent who encouraged his endless, impertinent, Page 31
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
blasphemous questioning, the penance must be great, and lifelong!" The stocky gray man lifted his eyes to the bishop, eyes stony, face impassive.
"Down on thy knees, recreant!" the bishop thundered, suddenly red-faced. "Pray for forgiveness to the God who made thee, forgiveness for having led astray the soul He entrusted to thy care!"
"This is consolation?" Rod murmured, aghast.
Slowly, the father shook his head. "It was not I who led him astray, but they who preach humility, yet practice arrogance."
"Sinner! Recreant!" the bishop bellowed. "How darest thou speak so against those who give their lives to the service of others! Purge the Devil who doth lurk in thy soul, till thou hast learned the very humility of which thou dost speak!" He turned back to the congregation at large. "Henceforth let none in our village of Wealdbinde speak to this man Roble, under pain of sin! Let all shun him, let all turn away from him, lest he spread this contagion of faithlessness among us all!" The people muttered and backed away from Ranulf's father.
"Let him walk in silence, till he doth learn the error of his ways!" the bishop cried. "If he should seek to speak with you, turn a deaf ear! If he should ask thine aid, turn away thine eyes, see him not! In his pride, he doth set himself apart from God...."
"Not from God!" the father roared. "Thou liest, rogue, and dost know thine own lie!"
"Smite him to silence!" the bishop howled, and a peasant near the father leaped to pin his hands while another struck him across the mouth.
"Never speak again!" the bishop bellowed, finger spearing out at Roble. "For if thou dost, none shall hear thy words of seduction and temptation! Begone, to thy living death!" He turned to the congregation.
"Dearly beloved, let us resume our daily life, resolved never to let one soul of this village of Wealdbinde stray as this Ranulf has strayed! Let our compassion be shown by exhorting and admonishing our weaker bretheren! Let us return now to our homes and our fields, resolved to keep them secure against the assaults of the Devil!" And he strode away toward the village, taking up the dirge again. The altar boys, priest, and nuns hurried to follow him, and the congregation turned to fall in line. They strode away quickly, leaving the grim-faced father standing alone by the mound of broken earth that hid what was left of his son. The sound of the chanting faded and died away.
Magnus started to speak, but Rod silenced him with a touch on the arm. The gray man stood alone with no consolation but the wind, gazing at the grave, speaking softly at first, then louder.
"Here ye lie, my son, hard by the wilderness to which thou didst long to go-if for naught but to be away from them, with their everlasting questioning and searching of thy life, their blaming and their harrowing. They're all done now, lad, and they can't hurt thee anymore. They're all done, and they've mangled what's left of the memory of thee, and made it a caution for children-but never thought it should be a caution to themselves. Nay, they're all done now, and thy suffering's done, too, and thy torment is ended." For a moment, anger showed. "May His Grace, the good bishop, be hanged! For if that's what goodness is, I'd liefer be evil! To torment the young with visions of hellfire, to bind them fast within rules of his own devising, to roar at them and and tell 'em they were born evil, and must strap every last bit o'
Page 32
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
life out o' themselves, then turn and preach to 'em of the
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