“It was still taking quite a chance. Thank you for braving the risk. Were they sent by the Chief Druid?”
“Chief mocker, you mean, if you speak of Niobhyte,” Buckeye said with contempt. “Nay. They were sent by an evil far greater than his.”
“For Banalix, or me?”
“For you.” The bauchan grinned. “They thought to frighten you away from the protections of—” He decided not to use whatever term he’d had in mind, and said instead, “—from your usual protections. They did not know that you had also the protections of a spirit far more earthly.”
“Meaning yourself.” Matt swallowed thickly. “Why did you help me?”
The bauchan shrugged. “I was bored, and it lent the night some interest. Besides, who would I have to torment if you were slain and I had not yet met your family?”
“I see,” Matt said dryly. “You were defending your property.”
The grin turned to a leer. “You might say that, yes.”
Matt decided he’d better keep his bauchan amused. Then his heart sank as he realized he’d thought of it as “his.”
“Goodman,” Friar Gode called, “you may come back within.”
“Coming,” Matt answered, then turned back to Buckeye. “Thanks for bailing me out.”
“I shall be glad to do so again.” The bauchan’s eye glittered wickedly. “If the whim should take me.”
Matt was tempted to wish something else would take the creature, but he had the sense to throttle the thought, if not the feeling. He turned back to mount the church steps in the first rays of sunrise.
Matt found Jord inside the church, thoroughly chastened and gazing about him in disbelief.
“He is reconciled with God,” the friar said by way of explanation.
Matt said to Jord, “You look as though you’d never been in a church before.”
“All my life,” the ex-druid returned, “until Nio—until the Chief Druid beguiled me away with tales of power and pleasure.” A smile lightened his face for a moment. “They were true, too.” Then he frowned again. “But he did not tell me what awaited failure.” He shuddered. “I cannot say which was worse—those huge padding feet in the night, or the hoarse breathing of they who walked.”
“The feeling of them inside your mind and heart,” Matt told him.
“Aaiiee!” It was short, but it was a scream, and Jord buried his face in his hands. “Heaven protect me from ever suffering that again!”
Matt set a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. At least, it was meant to be comforting, but Jord gave such a start, Matt would have thought he’d been hit with a jolt of electricity. He took his hand away. “Don’t worry, you’re safe from them now, as long as you stay in here.”
Jord calmed considerably, looking about him and drinking in the tranquillity of the church. “None can come in here?”
“No spirits,” Matt told him. “I made sure of that.”
Friar Gode looked up at him, startled, but Matt gave him a wink.
Jord, though, had caught the qualification. “But things that are not spirits can enter?”
“Evil men can,” Matt admitted. “There’s always the chance of that. Whenever pagans come to loot, the church is one of the first places they look.”
Jord shivered, but said manfully, “Even so, as you say, there is always such danger. I must only hope that the Chief Druid and his followers dwindle and fade.”
“They are the pagan threat of the moment, yes,” Matt agreed. “The more we know about them, the more quickly we can rid ourselves of them. What can you tell me about this Chief Druid?”
Jord was silent and began to tremble again.
“Come on, you know he’ll kill you just for losing the gamble to steal the friar’s congregation,” Matt said, “if he can. Help me make sure he can’t.”
“None knows where he came from,” Jord said, his voice low, “but he speaks with the manner and accent of a lord.”
That, Matt automatically discounted—such things could be learned, as any good con man would tell. “And he’s a sorcerer?”
Jord shuddered. “Yes, a most powerful sorcerer! He taught us a few spells and promised us more, but we knew he would never teach us even half of what he knew.”
“Us?” Matt picked up on the word. “Who?”
“The half dozen of us who sought to become druids in our own right, not acolytes only,” Jord explained. “That’s how we began, as a group of worshipers following Nio—his lead. He promised us power, and his glowing accounts of the power and luxury, the silken bodies in our arms and the acclaim of the crowds, swayed us all to become druids in our own right and go out to win more worshipers for the Old Gods. I have converted sixteen villages and four towns already.” There was a touch of pride in his voice; then he remembered the preceding night, and hung his head. “No more.”
Matt wondered how long Jord would stay repentant, how soon the memories of willing women and awe-filled men would sway him out to his own form of preaching again. He wondered, too, how long this Niobhyte would let him live. “He taught you what he claimed was the Old Religion?”
“Yes—the names of the gods; the symbols, such as the golden sickle, mistletoe, and holly; and the ceremony of worship, of drinking to free the impulses of the heart, dancing to please the gods, copulation, and bloodletting.”
“Bloodletting, right. Completely voluntary, but when you have a congregation fully committed, the cuts go deeper and deeper and the blood flows more freely and less willingly, doesn’t it?”
Jord nodded. “We have sacrificed eleven virgins and half a dozen young men already. Niobhyte says it pleases the gods.”
“I’m sure it does, except that the only one he’s really having you worship isn’t a god,” Matt said. “The old gods are only dreams, even in this—” He nearly said “universe,” but caught himself in time.”—land. How does he say you should behave toward one another?”
“Why, that each man should strive for the highest position he can, and beat down those who seek to throw him out— strive also for wealth, and the favors of the greatest number of women.”
Friar Gode’s lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Matt felt the same way, but kept his voice reasonable. “How about if you want something someone else has?”
“Why, you should take it! If he is too weak to drive you away, he deserves to lose it!”
Matt nodded. “How about copulating with someone else’s wife?”
“Again, if he is too weak to prevent you, it is the way of Nature, the way of the wildwood, and it is right.” Jord’s eyes began to glow with the power of it.
“How about if your wife wants to sleep with somebody else?” Matt asked.
“Slay her,” Jord said promptly. “Him, too, if you can.”
Gode cried out in protest, and Jord turned to him, instantly contrite. “Your pardon, holy man! I would not speak of such things, but this good man did ask.”
“I know, and you must tell him,” the friar groaned. “I, too, must know what the enemy teaches—but it is hard hearing of it.”
“How do you behave toward other villages?” Matt asked.
“Why, you obey the King’s Law—but if he bids you attack, you attack, whether it be another village or the land of Merovence!”
“Just happened to mention Merovence, I see.”
“These are no teachings of the old gods, but of the Devil!” Friar Gode burst out.
Jord swung to him, surprised, but Matt said, “You figured that, too, huh?” Then to Jord, “The Chief Druid has told you to break every single one of the Commandments, except the one about the Sabbath.”