"Sought?" Matt seized on it. "No luck, eh?"
Brunel shook his head. "Her father, bless him, kept his house secure, the door and shutters barred. I crept back to my parents' house by day, knelt beside my bed, and wept with manhood's tears the whiles I vowed I never would become a fell and vile beast again."
Matt nodded thoughtfully. "So you went to the Church to purge the sin from your soul."
"For that, and more. I would devote my life to goodness and Godliness, to live within the shining mantle of God's Grace, so fixing all my thoughts on longings for eternal Heaven that, even in my most secret heart of hearts, I would never more seek sin."
Matt pursed his lips, turning the silver knife over and over in his hands, wondering if he could even have the heart to use it now. "I take it you got an `A' for effort, but it didn't work."
"It succeeded fully," Brunel said sharply. "The monastery welcomed me. All there were strict and Godly men, devoting every minute of each day to piety and prayer, to body labor that would both feed them and tire the body, lessening its demands. I fasted and I prayed; I chanted hymns to God. I prospered in pursuit of Godliness and grew to my full manhood in His favor. Any sin of thought or wish I confessed at once, and never, ever, for ten years and five, did my heart betray me; never once did I turn wolf."
"Only fifteen years?" Matt looked up, surprised. "But that means.. . Wait a minute! How long ago was that?"
"Scarce five years." Brunel smiled bitterly. "I have aged quite quickly and harshly, though. I would have dwelt within the monastery all my life - and gladly; but our abbott died, and a new and younger one took his place. Hardly had he been elected then he summoned us to conclave, to tell us that the forces of Evil once more clustered thickly about the land. He said that there must now be one priest for every village, to guard each tiny flock with never-sleeping vigilance. Then we trembled, for we knew we must go out from safety to the world of sinners - priests among them."
He buried his face in his hands. "You cannot know the torment in my soul when the abbott commanded that I go out into the world, bereft of holy fellowship, to guide a flock. I shuddered in my heart of hearts, knowing the trial laid upon me."
Matt frowned. "Then why'd you go?"
The priest looked up, astonished. "Why, I had sworn obedience! And if it please the Lord my God to place me in temptation so much greater than any I had known, He must have done so as much for my own perfecting as for that of my fellows."
"Your faith does you credit." Matt tried to keep the sarcasm he felt out of his voice; he'd meant what he'd said - or his mind had.
"But my strength of will does not." The priest bowed his head. "Yet while the old king lived, I held my soul secure. I chanted psalms and prayers each moment that I spared from duty; I labored in my garden and among my flock. I worked and prayed and learned how to see only faces when I looked at women in my parish. And I stood fast! While the old king lived, my sins were small and not of fleshy lust! Even then, I quickly found a fellow priest, a village away, to hear my sins. For four long years, I never turned to wolf!"
"But the old king died," Matt said softly.
Brunel nodded, mouth hard and bitter. "And the usurper took the throne, the vile sorcerer Malingo climbing up behind him. We were weakened, and temptations grew ever more severe. The faces of the women in my parish seemed to dim, the contours of their bodies seemed to glow through their thick, homespun gowns. I strove; I fought, I say. But one lass flaunted herself ever before me, took each moment that she could to seek me out alone. I rebuked her; still she pressed herself upon me. At last, fearful of my own weakness, I fled the village, vowing that if I should sin, 'twould not be with one entrusted to my care. And..,"
His voice hung in the air, eyes staring forward, glassy, lower lip protruding, moist.
Matt finished it for him. "You sought out the lust-witch."
Brunel squeezed his eyes shut, nodding, shoulders sagging. "Thus I fell from Grace - and I turned wolf. Time and again I sinned; time and again I ran to my brother priests, for shriving. And time and again, I became a wolf."
It had only been a year. How often could 'time and again' be? "How many times have you gone were?"
"Three times," the priest said bitterly, "and now 'tis four. I sinned in my heart; and the moon rides high tonight. I knew that I had sinned, but there was no priest nearby. I could not confess my sin, nor therefore purge it from me; so I became a wolf."
He turned slowly to Matt, face brittle, eyes empty. "Oh, friend, if you have within you any vestige of mortal, human kindness, take that silver knife and stab me through the heart! Stay my breath! Let me die, that never more may I profane the earth with evil! Kill me now, I beg you! For only one like you, a wizard with a silver knife, can end my sinful life!"
"And one like me won't do it," Matt grated.
Brunel grabbed Matt's collar with both fists and shook him like a rat. "Slay me, wizard! Or, if I turn wolf again, I'll seek you out and tear your throat!"
A furnace roared, and a huge form blocked out stars.
Brunel whipped about, to see a miniature mountain in reptilian form bearing down on him, jaws gaping wide to blast.
"No, Stegoman!" Matt shouted, leaping up. "He didn't mean it! He was exaggerating!"
Flame exploded from the dragon's jaws. Brunel howled and leaped back - into moonlight. He kept on howling.
Matt stood over the fluxing, changing form, silver knife in hand.
"Stab him!" Stegoman commanded. "Now, whilst thou canst! Do not doubt him, Wizard - he will slay thee, an he can. Slay him now!"
Growling fury answered him. A huge, shaggy shape rose up from the ground with eyes of fire.
"Strike!" the dragon bellowed.
"I can't," Matt grated. "He isn't shriven; he'd go to Hell."
The wolf howled exultantly and sprang.
Matt dived to the side and rolled, fast. Behind him, he heard a flame-blast and a long-drawn howl of anguish. He rolled to his feet, ran around the charred and churning thing on the ground, and leaped up Stegoman's shoulders.
"Aye," the dragon rumbled as Matt landed between two huge fin-plates. "Rest thee there, the whiles I purify this thing with fire."
"No!" Matt snapped. "This is a good man, in spite of his sins and weakness! Back off, dragon! He's a force for the good!"
The churning form gathered itself and rose up, charred no longer, blood in its eye and murder in its throat.
"What good could be in such a monster?" Stegoman demanded. "What ails thee, Wizard? Thou'lt help Evil, if thou dost let this monster live."
"No, I'll weaken it! Don't ask me to explain - I know I'm right!"
The wolf stalked forward stiff-legged, snarling.
Stegoman stretched his jaws.
"Turn and go!" Matt bellowed, slamming his heels into the dragon's throat.
Stegoman swallowed abruptly, jaws slamming shut. The wolf howled and leaped, landing on the dragon's muzzle with twenty claws. Stegoman bellowed in anger and high octane, and the wolf fell back screaming, curled around a burned-out belly.
"Now!" Matt bellowed in fury. "Go now, before you torture him any more!"
Stegoman drew back his head, startled by Matt's vehemence.
"Go!" Matt howled. Behind him, he could hear the burbling sobs of a wounded creature.
Stegoman muttered in mutiny, but he waddled into motion. His legs might have been short in relation to his body, but that was a lot of body, and the legs were still six feet long. He could move them quickly, too. Matt had no doubts about the dragon being able to outrun the wolf - if he could get Stegoman moving at top speed. "Go! We've got to get the party moving fast! They've only got horses; we've got to make sure they get a good lead on the wolf!"