Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (56 page)

“Silence all of you,” Martin demanded.

Altea had been dragged to the main floor by
now. She twisted her face away from the hand on her mouth.

“Save me! What is happening? Save me!” she
screamed before a dirty-nailed hand slapped over her mouth
again.

Martin pushed aside his crying boys and
issued a scorching demand to the governess to get them away. She
tried to push them toward the kitchen but they resisted
mightily.

Vito observed the disturbance, relishing the
display of his power. He had made all of this happen and it was
going to distinguish him to the Church leadership in Prague. Likely
the new archbishop would be hearing his name soon. Vito would be
the man to speak to when the Church needed the cooperation of the
Court in Prague from now on.

Getting his first look at his top priority
witch, Vito admired her fine looks. Wearing only her nightgown, she
was red faced from her struggle. Her golden hair was in tousled
disarray, and her lapis eyes blazed with precious fear. Her beauty
would help draw good crowds to her trial and execution. People
liked seeing someone better looking than themselves meet a foul
end. And the luscious wench would surely draw out his greatest
prize. If the werewolf valued her at all, he would come.

“We know that you have been cavorting with
the fugitive Thal Lesky. Only a Devil worshipper and wielder of
witchcraft would fancy that werewolf. Think well on the sins you
must confess,” Vito declared.

Her moaning terror told him that she was
guilty.

“This fallen female will taint your home no
more,” Vito said.

“Foul treacherous whore,” Martin said and
spat at her. He knew he had to make a good display of his disgust
to impress Vito. He could not afford any doubt clinging to his
reputation. Martin motioned for the sellswords to hold her against
the wall. Martin grabbed her throat. Choking, she looked at him
with wild eyes full of terror like a helpless drowning animal.

“Pity I did not send you to a convent years
ago. It might have saved your soul,” Martin said.

He released her throat. She gasped for air
and sobbed. Martin hit her three times across the face, venting all
his dark feelings for her.

“Father!” Elias screamed. Tenzo slapped a
hand across the boy’s chest to keep him in place. The hard strength
of the frightening sellsword froze Elias, who did not know what to
do.

“Free us of this witch!” Martin begged and
stepped away from her.

The sellswords dragged her kicking and
screaming out the door. One of her slippers flew off and was left
behind like a piece of unripe fruit blown down in a wind.

The floor was hard beneath Rainer’s knees.
The coarse weave of his robe dug into his skin. Leaning over his
little cot, he pressed his hands over the string of beads. The
cross dangled from his thumbs.

For days he had been praying fervently and
maintaining silence. His brothers did not chide him for slacking.
They admired the fervor of his faith.

In the seclusion of his cell, guilt stabbed
at him and prevented sleep. Darker craters than usual imprisoned
his eyes. His inability to tell Brother Vito where he had found
Thal nibbled at his sanity.

In the deep caves of his mind a nasty voice
berated him with scathing hate. How could he honor the command of
Thal? But every time he resolved to confess his lies to Vito, pain
flared inside the healing bite wounds. His stomach turned. Only
obedience to Thal’s will soothed him.

So his prayers begged his God to release him
from the evil chains of werewolf slavery. Countless times he had
mouthed his appeals on bent knees, but no relief had come.

Now reduced to an exhausted trance, Rainer
stared at his beloved little cross. His mind wandered, seeking to
answer the riddle of salvation.

He must find a way beyond the pain. Hopefully
the second curse inflicted by Thal’s bites was his final test. If
he could surmount that power, then he might gain freedom from all
the werewolf magic.

Rainer’s life was not the only one at stake.
He knew that Vito and others were intent on a new witch hunt. It
helped people feel like they could combat the magic attacking the
city. Rainer cringed when he imagined the people on his master’s
list facing interrogation and judgment. Their suffering would be
his fault because he had not delivered Thal. If Vito could not have
his great prize, then he must use some other way to attack
devilry.

A terrible thought burst into Rainer’s
tortured mind. Will Vito reveal my curse and prosecute me? It
chilled him with such fear that he imagined the Devil himself
cackling at his predicament.

He would change again soon. How much longer
could Vito risk concealing him? Would Vito’s purging of magic
workers conclude with his removal?

The awful questions stormed across Rainer’s
ravaged mind, washing away trust in his master with floods of
doubt.

“No,” Rainer whispered, breaking his silence.
The tiny sound of his voice warned him that his curses and sins
were diminishing him. Only a dusty shadow of his soul remained.

Terrified that he was no longer worthy of his
master’s efforts to save him, he realized there was only one course
that he could embrace. He had to give up Thal to Vito. Then his
master would have a fine werewolf to execute, and Rainer would
finally prove his faith. He had been too weak. That was why all his
prayers and good deeds had failed to alleviate his misery.

“I must give him Thal,” Rainer said. He
clenched his teeth against the grinding pain that drilled into his
neck. His stomach churned but was thankfully empty. Slowly he stood
up, fighting the creak in his aching stiff knees. He draped his
beaded cross over his head and pressed it against his heart. He
imagined Christ lugging his cross to the Calvary, and he valued the
privilege of his own trial.

He yanked open his door and startled two of
his brothers. Rainer’s moist pasty face worried them.

“Where is Brother Vito?” he asked.

“He went to see the Magistrate,” a brother
answered.

Reaching out with a shaky hand, Rainer said,
“Can you help me go to him?”

Both monks stood up. One took his hand and
gave him support. “Of course,” he said.

******

The crowd outside the jail was so thick it
spilled down the street and into the square. The removal of the
bodies had made a gruesome sight. The shocking slaughter had people
in an uproar, and then the Jesuits had arrived bearing a witch.

Vito’s sellswords were hard pressed to keep
back the raving onlookers. He quickly had the Magistrate summon
more guards from the Town Hall to assist.

After sending his first witch onward, Vito
remained in the square with Miguel. He admired the spectacle of the
pretty young woman being hauled through the streets. People’s fear
easily shifted to hatred at the sight of her. The folk loved that
she was from a Patrician class. Dirt already smeared her silk robe.
One of her feet was bare. Her golden locks flew in all directions.
Eve ejected from Paradise could not have looked more guilty. Tears
streamed from her wide eyes as she faced the rage of a God-fearing
populace.

Climbing the Court steps, Vito began to
preach. Not often did he take the center stage, preferring to pull
levers from behind, but he wanted people to know that it was he and
the Jesuits who were restoring order.

“Good people of Prague hear me!” he cried.
Miguel and another monk worked to herd people toward him. Once he
got a few listeners, more came.

“I have come to rid you of the Devil magic
afflicting the city. With the power of Holy Mother Church, we will
purge the evil from this place. There will be no more killing in
the night. Devil worshippers will be sent to Hell. I call upon the
faithful to help us! Tell us of those among you that you suspect of
sorcery and witchcraft. Save Prague and save yourselves. We do not
have to live with the Godless among us. Tell us of those who work
magic in the night. We will hear their confessions and cleanse them
in lawful fires.”

He repeated his entreaty as more people
gathered. Excited by the beginning of a fresh witch hunt, people
yelled with approval.

“What of the werewolf?” yelled a man.

“Bring us the witches and it will flush him
out. It is their magic that has summoned him,” Vito declared.

People nodded because he made good sense.

Vito continued to impress upon his audience
the need to stay true to the Roman Church. “Heretics pierce the
body of society like nails put Christ on the cross, but Christ did
not turn from his God and Father,” he said.

After railing about the dangers of
encroaching Protestantism, he reiterated his call that people
report witches to the authorities. The new Constable was
listening.

Eventually Vito yielded his preaching to
another brother, who would keep the message going all day. Ducking
away with Miguel, Vito headed toward the Court doors. He intended
to monitor the Magistrate closely. He expected that he had
established a secure hold on the man, but he was likely in shock
and would need close guidance.

“Brother Vito!”

The voice came from the bottom of the steps.
Vito spotted two of his monks helping Rainer along. He waited for
them to catch up. Rainer stumbled forward and clutched Vito’s
arm.

Pain was twisting his monk’s face. Vito took
Rainer alone into the waiting room for the Magistrate’s office.
Rainer collapsed into a chair and held his head. He took a few deep
breaths to gather his strength. “I remember where Thal is,” he said
and then groaned.

Vito clenched his hands as excitement surged
through his body. This morning had already been extraordinarily
rewarding. Thal had conveniently removed most of the Magistrate’s
staff and given Vito a perfect opportunity to move in, and it
seemed the day was going to get even better. He recognized the need
to calm himself. He did not want to make any stupid mistakes.

“Did you always know?” Vito asked icily.

Rainer could not look at him. He groaned
again, and Vito accepted how much pain he was in. Stepping close,
he set a hand on Rainer’s shoulder. “Tell me,” he said.

Rainer rubbed his neck. He wanted to tell
Vito that there was magic in the fresh bites and it was controlling
him, but he feared to reveal to his master that another force had
command of him. Rainer lifted his head, determined to face his
agony.

“I will go find him for you. I swear by
Christ I won’t fail you this time,” he said and held his cross
tightly.

“Should you not wait for the full moon when
you will have your beast power,” Vito suggested. Rainer looked too
weak to wrestle a mouse.

Rainer shook his head. “I can’t resist him
when the moon curse is upon me. But right now I am with Christ.” He
held up his cross.

Vito smiled. He was proud of Rainer. He was
not even a tenth of the man Thal was but at least he was serving
God. Vito started pacing. Details clicked through his head with
every step of his feet. At length he returned to Rainer and loomed
over him.

“I will get some sellswords to help you. When
you find Thal, tell him you want his help because I will no longer
harbor you. Gain his confidence. Tell him my sellswords are hunting
you and you need his help. You must get close and then grab his
fur. Then the sellswords will move in to subdue him, but you must
get his fur off him,” Vito instructed.

“Yes, I will,” Rainer said, blinking against
the pain. His blood boiled with the demand to cease working against
Thal, but he resisted it with a sheer act of will. He understood
better now the great gift of free will that God had given people.
It bestowed so much power. The Devil wanted slaves but God loved
those who chose Him freely and truly. And he gained strength from
each moment he denied the Devil. His faith became more robust and
he began to believe that he would transcend his torment.

Bruised and bloody, Carlo stumbled into the
daylight. His head was pounding and his mouth felt lined with half
dry plaster. He looked back at Captain Jan in the stable
doorway.

He wagged a finger at Carlo. “Don’t forget
how to find your way back,” he said.

Carlo scrambled off down the rutted lane
toward a street. People were going about their regular business,
unaware of the dreadful drama locked within the derelict stable
behind burned out buildings.

He plodded into the traffic. People glanced
at him and assumed he had been waylaid by robbers while drunk in
the night. Carlo wished it had been so simple.

When he reached a fountain he gratefully
flopped over the stone edge. He drank and washed and felt somewhat
revived, but he did not know where he was. After asking directions
many times, he finally reached Lady Carmelita’s house.

He hoped that Thal would be in his room,
sleeping off one of his mysterious nocturnal adventures, but the
room was empty. The blanket was spread smooth upon the bed. Thal’s
things were gone.

Deflated, Carlo sagged against the door
frame. Exhausted and traumatized, he was nearly unable to think but
his friends depended on him doing something.

“Are you looking for Thal?”

Carlo jerked his head up. The pot boy stood
in the hall hugging a big ceramic pitcher of water.

“Do you know where he is?” Carlo gasped.

The boy shook his head. “He told me goodbye
yesterday. Do you really think he’s gone?”

Carlo’s stomach shriveled into a miserable
hole. Thal had warned them he would disappear. In retrospect Carlo
realized that when he had shaved Thal yesterday he had been trying
to say goodbye but Carlo had not wanted to accept it.