Demon Rider

'I mean you no harm, none of you!'

Silence. He located Hamish in the corner to his right, but even Hamish's expression was grim, surprisingly so, considering he had an arm around Eulalia. Was he wondering whether this was the Toby he knew?

'Here, catch!' Hamish wadded up a shirt and tossed it over with his free hand.

'Thanks.' Toby put it on. It would not close around his chest, but it helped. He had slept half the day, and yet he felt as if his limbs were made of stone, utterly exhausted.

Brother Bernat and Father Guillem sat together in the center of the tent, holding a sleeping Pepita, and both were frowning at the newcomer as if he had betrayed them, which in a sense he had. In a far corner the don was cuddling Gracia and either whispering secrets in her ear or chewing it. Gracia sat like a white-faced doll in his arms, immobilized by shock and apparently unaware of him. Dona Francisca looked so much like a very frightened old lady that it seemed incredible anyone could still be taken in by her masquerade.

Speaking to all of them, Toby said, 'You have known me for several days. You know I mean you well.'

'Did you leave any survivors?' Father Guillem demanded harshly.

'No. We are out of danger for the time being.' That might be true of him, but they would feel otherwise. 'I am not possessed by a demon, however it may seem to you. There is a spirit that protects me. It rarely interferes, but tonight it came to my defense. I can't control it or call it at will.' Was that still the case? He had certainly been directing it tonight, pointing out targets. 'It won't harm any of you if you are still my friends, as I hope you are.' And he could never guarantee that, either.

'Friends?' the acolyte boomed in sonorous sarcasm. 'You murder thirty men and expect us to be your friends?'

'He saved you all when Senor Brusi was killed!' Hamish snapped.

'We should have seen then that his fighting powers were more than human.'

'As far as I know, they were merely human that day,' Toby protested. 'Then I was fighting to protect your horses. These mercenaries were my own enemies. All I wanted was to proceed in peace along the highway, yet they would have locked me in that cage and taken me away to be tortured to death. Have I no right to defend myself?'

'Not if you are guilty and condemned by law.'

'I do not consider myself guilty.' What sort of defense was that?

'Did they use violence on you?'

'They were going to, as you well know, Father.' But it had been Toby himself who began the violence, avenging a crime that might never be committed.

He sighed and wiped his face with a sleeve. In spite of his sleep earlier he felt deathly weary, and his shoulders still ached from the strappado. 'The moon is rising. I will leave as soon as I can. You may come with me or remain here, as you please.'

Their decision would make a lot of difference. There must be many more landsknechte where these had come from, and they would be after him like hounds when they heard the news. So would the Inquisition. On the other hand, this checkpoint had been a well-kept secret. Tortosa might not learn of the massacre for several days, so if he could pass by the town before dawn, he should have a sizable head start on any pursuit — provided everyone else came with him. If even one of the pilgrims remained behind to tattle, he would be in very serious trouble. He glanced over at the don, hoping for support, but the don was ignoring the proceedings altogether.

'If you do come with me, then you will have to ride. I checked out the commissary. There is ample food there. I fully intend to steal provisions and horses, and probably also a few of those gold chains the Germans wear.'

That possibility produced a ripple of interest among Rafael, Miguel, and the two Elinors.

'You are trying to bribe us!' Father Guillem sneered. 'You want to make us your accomplices.'

He was absolutely right, and he held the moral high ground, but Toby wanted to strangle him. The moral high ground might become a killing field for all of them. Could he make the monk see that?

'In the eyes of the Inquisition, you are my accomplices already. Nothing I can do or say will change that. Furthermore, you are all in considerable danger — not from me, from others. You have two choices. You can come with me, or you can go to Tortosa and report to the authorities. If you do that, though, you must beware of revenge from other landsknechte. They will not be easily convinced that I accomplished the slaughter singlehandedly. At the least, the Inquisition will throw you in jail as witnesses, and it may be years before you are released.'

Senora Collel wailed and clasped both hands to her mouth. The Rafael-Miguel foursome muttered nervously among themselves. The don was still paying no attention, and neither was Gracia. Josep's face was unreadable.

'Father Guillem, am I right about that?' Toby asked.

The monk glared at him. 'We shall certainly be interrogated, and I admit I fear those German barbarians. Where are you planning to go?'

'If you come with me, then we can go on to Montserrat. If you do not choose to come, then naturally I cannot reveal my intentions. Once we reach the monastery and Barcelona and split up, there will be no evidence against any of you. The records were burned in the tent. No one else knows what happened. No one knows who was here.'

He looked around the group. It was hopeless. Why should they trust him? He should leave now, either with Hamish or alone. Would even Hamish trust him now?

'Suppose all but one of us decide to accompany you,' asked Father Guillem with a return to his earlier sneer. 'What will you do to that one?'

'Nothing. Jaume and I will go alone. It must be all of you or none.'

That statement brought a slow chill as each one worked it out — they must either trust him by accepting his offer or trust him not to dispose of those who refused it. In the ensuing silence, all eyes turned to Don Ramon, but he was still intent on Gracia.

'The Fiend's army never attacked Montserrat,' Father Guillem said. 'That was a condition when Barcelona opened its gates to him. If you go there, the landsknechte may follow you in. You are a marked man.'

Toby had been a marked man for years, but the monk had made a good point. Furthermore, the hob had a virulent dislike of tutelaries. 'Agreed. I have no wish to cause more trouble. I shall deliver you to the safe area and leave you there.'

'I hate those German brutes!' shouted Senora Collel. 'It was they who slaughtered the people, raping and burning. They deserved what happened to them. And I have no sympathy for the Inquisition either! Some evil person brought false charges against my second husband, and he died in their cells. I was not allowed to see his body, but I know they tortured him. They admitted he must have been innocent because he died! I think Senor Longdirk did us all a favor tonight. I trust him.'

Surprised, Toby nodded his thanks to her. He wondered who had started the tales about her husband and reproached himself for being unfair.

'Can we keep the horses?' one of the Elinors asked slyly.

'I don't see why not. Say you found them. There are stray horses all over the place.' Toby could see the lines forming now, friends and non-friends. 'Josep?'

Josep glared at him angrily. 'I have no wish to be racked.'

'You may get racked anyway,' Toby snarled. 'I thought you were my friend.' He was being unfair. Young Brusi was a rich man who could be tracked down by his name alone, whereas the four peasants would vanish into anonymity in the countryside somewhere.

The tent was stuffy and he was exhausted. He ought to walk out, saddle a horse, and ride away before he fell asleep right here on his knees. He owed these people nothing.

'It is our moral duty to report this man for murder and the use of demons,' Father Guillem proclaimed. 'If we accompany him, then we become accomplices in his crimes.'

Brother Bernat stirred and said something. Father Guillem objected in an urgent whisper. The old man shook his head, insisting. Reluctantly, the monk scooped up the sleeping Pepita and took her onto his own lap. She did not awaken. Brother Bernat clambered painfully to his knees. He looked twenty years older than usual, bent