darkness. A hundred starry candles failed to illuminate its expanse or the worshipers who came at all hours to pray in a silence so profound that it seemed to echo. There, after long meditation on his knees, Diaz confirmed his decision and felt peace. He might die very soon, but what really mattered was what would happen to his soul when he did.
Even then, in the middle of the night, many of the confessionals were occupied, but he found an empty one and knelt on the cushion provided. He waited apprehensively until an elderly nun came in and took the chair before him. She said nothing, just folded her hands in her lap, smiled over his head, and waited. He would have preferred a monk, but truly it did not matter. Only the spirit would hear.
He began with the least of his failings — shortness of temper, fits of envy, ill-considered speech. He progressed to more serious matters — excessive severity toward a couple of recruits, his recent tendency to drink too much, and a shameful incident with a certain married lady. He listed the actions he had already taken to set things to rights where he could, plus a few other possible reparations that had occurred to him during his meditation. Then he came to the problem of his duty and hesitated.
The spirit spoke for the first time. 'Antonio, you were right to dispose of these lesser affairs before you tell us of your greater sorrow. For all the matters you have mentioned, though, we accept your repentance. Do as you have promised, and they will imperil your soul no longer.'
He savored that blessing for a moment. Then he drew a deep breath. 'The other problem, Holiness, is that I am a soldier and must obey orders. Even… I mean when… Although…'
'Take your time. You are in no immediate danger of dying, and we have all Eternity.'
He glanced up gratefully, although the nun had never yet looked down at him. 'You told me many years ago that a boy could honorably aspire to be a soldier, although the risk of doing evil would be greater for him than for other men. When Queen Caterina left and my superiors surrendered the palace to King Nevil, I obeyed orders and stayed at my post. Soon I was promoted. I accepted that promotion, even knowing that the Fiend was a most evil tyrant. I reasoned that if I did not take the position then someone else would, and—'
'That is never an excuse. We told you so when you were sixteen.'
'I remember, Holiness, I remember! I mean that I… that another man might not try so hard to… I mean…' Another deep breath. 'Whenever I can, Holiness, I obey my orders in the least evil way possible. Barcelona groans under the viceroy's tyranny, and some of his evil comes to them through me. I have tried my best to minimize it, truly I have! During the riots, when I was ordered to fire on the crowds, I had the men load one-third charges, so that the shots would more likely wound than kill. When I was sent out to arrest twelve hostages at random, to be executed in retribution, I chose elderly persons, invalids, cripples. It did no good! The baron knew at once what I had done and sent me back for another twelve — young people. My efforts to do less evil merely produced more.' His mouth was dry. His heart ached with the memory.
'Antonio,' said the serene voice of the spirit, 'the greatest of all tragedies is that evil cannot prosper long without the help of the good, and yet prosper it does. Though you were doing less evil than the baron wanted, you were still doing enough.'
'I see that now, Holiness. You opened my eyes. I will serve him no more. I will not return to Barcelona with him tomorrow, or whenever he leaves here. If you refuse me sanctuary, then I must flee and hope that he does not track me down with his black arts. He regards anything less than perfect loyalty as treason.'
Some executions for treason lasted for days, with the victims' suffering extended by demonic power beyond all normal endurance. He had no close family, but his cousins and uncles might well…
'A late repentance is still repentance. This is your firm decision?'
'It is, Holiness.'
'Then you are forgiven. Walk in peace and do better.'
Ah, what blessed relief those words brought with them! The tutelary had not yet offered sanctuary, though. Nor named a penance…
'Was it only our anger that opened your eyes, Antonio? Nothing else?'
'Your disapproval was enough, Holiness, when I had time to think about it. Although… well, later I watched a young man give himself up to the Inquisition in place of his friends. When I compared his actions with mine I was ashamed, bitterly ashamed. I saw myself rotting in evil.'
'And how did you see Longdirk?'
The question disconcerted him. 'An impressive young man, but a tragic one. I am surprised that his demon was able to conceal itself so well. He showed absolutely no signs of possession that I could see, unless the brigands… but I did not really witness what happened to them.'
The tutelary sighed. 'Ignore his demon for now. We believe he has mastered it, or will soon. We can discuss that another time. Without the demon, would you accept that man as a friend?'
The question stabbed to his heart. 'Alas, Holiness! The boy is undoubtedly dead by now, hanging in chains that I fastened myself.'
'Answer our question.'
'Friend? That one would never have extended friendship readily. To have earned his trust would have made any man proud, for it would have been an anchor in the wildest storms.'
'He is not dead.'
'It would be better for him if he were. Are you saying you want me to go and rescue him, Holiness? A man possessed by—'
'No, we are saying he is here, beyond the reach of the tormentors. He stole away the viceroy's demons and left him bereft of his powers.'
'He
'No help from his demon. A little aid from us and from one of his followers, but mostly just Longdirk himself. He reminds us very much of El Cid in his younger days, before he realized how good he was.'
'Praise indeed, Holiness!' Diaz muttered.
'Praise well earned. The baron was enchanted to obey the Fiend, you know. Now Longdirk has released him, he is truly penitent. Like you he will serve Nevil no more.'
'That is marvelous news, Holiness! — for Barcelona, for Aragon, and for me.' So Diaz need not resign his commission? But he had promised to do so, and the tutelary had let him make that promise.
'It is good news. We have not yet named your penance, Antonio. First, go and meet our hero. Return here in the morning.' The nun rose from her chair to end the interview. 'We shall guide you to him.'
Without waiting for his command, his legs raised him from the cushion and walked him out the door. Needing no light, they moved him surely through the silent, dark labyrinth of the monastery, along corridors and up stairs until he was thoroughly lost. Eventually he came to a door and his hand lifted the latch without knocking. He entered a capacious chamber, lit dimly by dying embers in the hearth and a single candle.
A large man sat by the fireplace, his head nodding. He was apparently about to retire, stripped to his doublet and hose. He looked up with a smile as Diaz closed the door.
'Welcome, Captain Diaz!' He rose and came forward to offer a hand. 'So you got my message?' His grip was powerful. Even in chains he had been impressive. At liberty and close quarters he dominated, and not all of that dominance came from his size.
Message? Did this vagabond use the tutelary as a page?
'I am very happy that you escaped, Senor Longdirk, even if it was my responsibility to see that you did not. I am glad you made a fool of me.'
The young outlaw's smile became a yawn, and Diaz saw that he was exhausted — which was hardly surprising in the circumstances. 'I did not make a fool of you at all. You cannot be blamed, because Montserrat did it all. I regret that I cannot offer you some wine, but they drank your share also.' He gestured at the table, which bore bottles and several goblets. Apparently there had been a party.
'It is of no matter,' Diaz said.
'Sit, then.' Longdirk waved him to a chair and sank into his own as if even his great limbs could barely support him. He leaned his head back with a sigh. 'I want first to thank you, Captain. You treat your prisoners with respect, and I have been locked up, arrested, confined, manacled, fettered, and incarcerated often enough to be a good judge of jailers. I appreciated your kindness greatly.'
Sensing mockery, Diaz bristled, but he could detect no guile in those dark eyes, deep-sunken under their
