MY LORD AQUITH 
                              By 
                         Yves Barbero 
 
                              I 
 
    My Lord Aquith directs me to place these words on paper. 
    He insists that I identify myself as the scribe. Men call 
me Piplerian Q'Norcail Veni. My Lord Aquith laughs as he 
rolls my name about his tongue. 
    "They gave you enough names to rule a country." 
    I was found forty-four years ago in a field. I came into 
this world deformed so my parents abandoned me. This wasn't 
cruelty but a chance to give the gods an opportunity to 
correct their error. They chose to do so by having Lord 
Aquith, the elder, my Lord Aquith's father, pass judgement 
that I should live. He gave me to the women of the Keep to 
use according to their needs and my poor talents. 
    Each of the eleven women offered the gods a name for me. 
Denir, the priest, accepted each name and gave them a form he 
called, "logical." 
    Wise Denir saw my eyes and pronounced me fit for 
education as a scribe. Denir had a wisdom that spoke of the 
elder gods although he wore the cloth of the usurper from the 
East, the one Patrick brought, the God of Death, the one they 
call, Savior Christ. 
    I fear this god. He has ambition. He states that other 
gods are false. I state no god is false who makes himself 
felt. Denir would have understood. With a grin, he adopted 
the cloth of the new god and let the water be splashed on his 
face. 
    "Patrick," Denir once told me, "had men with heavy swords 
at my baptism. I didn't want to be called to the bosom of 
this new god on that day so I made do with his blessing 
instead." 
    "But baptism is powerful," I protested. 
    "And I am a good Christian, Pip. I didn't take his holy 
water with a closed heart. Still, an ocean could not wash 
from me the ways of my fathers. I still carry the verse of 
law and the stories of old. The old gods have not left me. 
Christ will simply have to share me with them. 
    He laughed shamelessly. 
    Denir was old when I was young. He said he would face 
this Christ and mediate his quarrel with the elder gods in 
the next world. Denir's had no success as yet, if I may judge 
from the humorless monks who replaced him. They have not the 
poetry or humor of the Druid, nor his learning of the law. 
They act without precedent, relying on unknown spirits rather 
than the law. 
    Men no longer know how to behave. 
    These monks have only scribbling, something, if I serve 
as an example, any idiot may learn. 
    I bless my Lord Aquith that these pages will be secret 
and I can say my piece without fear of these dark monks. 
These men of small learning despise me as I know their craft 
without sharing their loyalties. I serve the elder gods in 
secret. When they splashed the holy water on me, I was in 
this world but a few days and so the baptism was less 
powerful and did not hold my soul. 
    They know but cannot kill me. My Lord Aquith protects me. 
    Still, the purpose of these pages is not served by my 
ramblings of the past. It is the events of recent days that 
must be set down. I place my first lines only because my Lord 
Aquith thinks they will help those who are to come to under- 
stand. He has faith that these pages will be found in an 
age when we are both dust. 
    "Even the walls have their lifetimes. There'll be a time 
when these stones are removed and the iron chest will once 
again come before the eyes of men. 
    "What sort of men will find it?" 
    "You're curious for a scribe, Pip. I venture they'll be 
much like us." 
    "Wiser?" 
    "I fear not. Cleverer, perhaps, with better tools. But 
not wiser." 
    I could see he was having private thoughts as he said it. 
He broods at times. I can't presume to understand the 
meanderings of my betters. He gives me much freedom in the 
strokes of this quill. He knows I understand the limits of 
his tolerance." 
    My Lord Aquith was presiding over the festival of the 
fall.  It has always been a time of joy. For the space of a 
few days, the drudgery of summer is replaced by mild weather 
and there is time for contemplation. 
    The poets are at their best just before the first snows 
and will recite for long hours before the fires of cool eves. 
    Children born in this season are strong. 
    If they are boys and survive the winter at their weakest, 
they become the good right arm of my Lord Aquith. The common 
soldiers are always chosen from this stock. 
    If they are girls, they will bear many children. 
    It's a good time under the rule of the elder gods. I 
don't know what this Christ will bring. No comforting 
thoughts, I fear. 
    The festival was lit by seven huge fires set in the 
ancient pattern. They lit the spirited dancing of the young. 
If the old gods looked on all this with mirth, the sexless 
monks from the East viewed the dancing with fierce and 
unforgiving glares. But for the will of my Lord Aquith, this 
ritual would be forbidden. 
    I saw the future Lord Aquith standing among the monks, 
his hair unnaturally cut with continence as stony as theirs. 
    May the gods preserve! 
    The child, who has barely seen six summers, seemed so 
joyful at birth. Now he is Christ's. Does a dark generation 
cloud this Keep? 
    They say Christ walked the Earth in the guise of man. 
Could he have been like his followers? I wonder if his judges 
were not correct in their judgement. My Lord Aquith once 
executed a man who was leading his followers in a pattern of 
worship my Lord Aquith thought too rigid. I asked him why. 
Did not this man honestly worship the old gods? Surely the 
complaints of worthless monks was not reason enough to 
execute a man? 
    "You presume to judge my judgement?" He asked in a 
playful manner. He can be playful about his deepest feelings. 
    "I...I did not mean to presume...to give offense. Truly, 
I sometimes forget my place." 
    He laughed. "I don't take offense of your sincere 
question, Pip. Nor should I use my office to intimidate a 
loyal servant. Forgive me!" 
    "Readily, Sire." 
    He pondered for a long moment. "There is a type of man 
who traps himself in a few ideas. If he also carries the 
ability to lead others, he becomes dangerous. He'll challenge 
my rule, first, then that of the gods." 
    I didn't completely understand and pressed my Lord 
Aquith. Had I let it go, he would have been truly angry with 
me. He demands honest opinion and will not tolerate agreement 
for the sake of ambition or fear of a beating. 
    "Do you think I was unjust? Answer me honestly, Pip!" 
    "Forgive me, Lord, but where is  the precedent? All law 
is precedent and there is none for this." 
    "I thought you despised Hetter," He said of the executed 
man. 
    "I confess my hatred of Hetter. But I cannot see how he 
threatened you, my Lord Aquith. He was weak and too ill 
disposed to command soldiers. My hate is not sufficient 
reason for his execution. There must be precedent." 
    He nodded. "For a crippled fool, Pip, you ask hard 
questions of me. The Christians have supplied the precedent. 
Consider the Christ! At best, he was a worker of wood, 
a cabinet maker, a carpenter. A good skill, highly valued and 
yet the priests sought his death for leading the people 
astray. But now, his followers have the ears of kings and 
the dear of the people." 
    My Lord Aquith saw that I finally understood. In the 
quiet that followed, we shared the same thoughts. 
    I watched the young dancers, especially the women, with 
envy and let my mind wonder back twenty-five years when I 
shared the hay with Minia. It was my only time. She was older 
by two summers and crippled of mind and, I think, she was 
given a coin by the elder Lord Aquith. I was his fool. He 
fed me and provided. She was of good disposition. 
    My Lord Aquith's laughter behind me returned me to the 
present. "Thinking of Minia, Pip?" 
    "Aye, Lord." 
    "I think of her too. You were not the only one she 
introduced into the mysteries. She was cruelly dealt with." 
    She was fond of throwing rocks at the soldiers, who were 
expected to accept them with good humor. Gentle, if playful, 
demons possessed her. One knight, who had changed his name to 
Sir Paul on accepting the Eastern God, chose to torment her 
for her graciousness towards men. 
    Minia would not be tormented. Her kindly demons would 
not allow it. Instead, they showed her how to torment Sir 
Paul with smiles and loose garments and a grab at certain 
moments and at certain parts making others, including my 
Lord Aquith, laugh at the knight's redness of face. 
    She was found along the road with her throat cut. The 
wound bore the mark of a man who knew his trade. 
    Denir said, those years ago, that the killer had used her 
forcefully. 
    Two nights later, I heard screams from the tower. A man 
was being whipped. His name is my Lord Aquith's secret though 
I know it to be Paul, Knight of Christ. My Lord Aquith will 
neither confirm or deny my certain knowledge, even now, ten 
years after Sir Paul's death and sixteen since Denir made his 
way to the Keep of Christ to mediate for the old gods. 
    My certain knowledge came from the uncomfortable walk 
of Sir Paul the next day. I told Denir of it and he mumbled 
sadly, "Sir Paul took an oath to Christ. If it was he who 
could not control his lust and he who would kill to hide his 
weakness in violation of the Christian commandment, his 
punishment was soft indeed. 
    "Why did he not give her a gift of copper? She was 
playful." 
    "She also had a tongue and Lord Aquith cannot abide 
hypocrites. If Paul took an oath of chastity, as foolish as 
such an oath is, our Lord Aquith would expect him to keep it. 
He murdered her to keep the secret...if it was he. Oh, that 
all men were like you, Pip." 
    My Lord Aquith gave me his cup. "Drink quickly, Pip! 
There will be another after that. Soon, we'll all walk as 
you do!" 
    His four knights, Sir Cullier, Sir Michael, Sir Malyarn 
and Sir Asien all laughed. Only the sour monks kept their 
silence. 
    The mead went down roughly and I was quickly drunk. 
    "Look!" A monk shouted, pointing to the sky. "A sign from 
heaven!" 
    We all looked up. The shout came from a truly frightened 
man. 
    The stars seemed to be growing and disappearing in 
silence.  The night was lighted up as if by lightning but the 
brief daylight was longer than lightning and there were no 
clouds or claps or rain. 
    "The gods battle!" I shouted. 
    "Aye, Pip!" Sir Malyarn answered nervously. 
    A monk drew a cross from his belt and held it out. "There 
is no God but Christ, heathen!" 
    Sir Malyarn made the sign as he staggered back, 
fearfully. I held my ground. Drink had made me brave. That 
was foolish. The monks would find an opportunity to flay me. 
    "Silence, monk!" My Lord Aquith ordered. "Back to your 
place!" 
    The monk retreated but did not replace the cross in his 
belt. 
    "What is it, Lord!" Sir Cullier shouted. 
    "Am I a seer to know the heavens?" 
    We watched the silent battle. Only the roar of the seven 
fires could be heard. Everyone had fallen silent and looked 
upward. 
    Soon, it was over. 
    My Lord Aquith laughed. "Are we to be frightened by the 
manifestations of the heavens?" He shouted for all to hear. 
"The gods, too, have their quarrels!" 
    The knights joined in the laughter. 
    "Dance!" My Lord Aquith ordered. "Be joyful, least we 
displease the bountiful gods and they have cause to turn 
their terrible weapons on us!" 
    The drum took up their rhythm and the dancing resumed. 
    My eyes were misted from drink but I saw a silver spear, 
larger than the largest horse, pass in front of me, its shaft 
afire. A clap of thunder followed it an instant later. It was 
louder than any thunder I ever heard. A rough wind made the 
seven fires sway after the spear. Many fell to the ground 
from the force of this momentary storm. Or from fear. Drink 
and wind combined to cause of my falling. 
    I felt my Lord Aquith's firm hand pull me up and with his 
other hand, he handed me my cripple's stick. 
    "What..." 
    "There's nothing to dread," My Lord Aquith said to my 
startled cry. 
    There was a smaller clap of thunder in the distance. The 
ground shook, almost knocking me from my feet again but for 
the strong hand of my Lord Aquith. In the far, beyond the 
trees, was a light of unearthly glow. 
    After a spell, it disappeared. 
    "Dance!" Came the cheerful command of my Lord Aquith. 
The drums resumed their beat and the pipes took up the drone. 
We watched the young people dance into the night and 
disappear into the mounds of hay. Drowsiness was creeping 
up on me. In fact, I soon fell asleep in the bliss of mead. 
Sir Cullier told me that it was my Lord Aquith, himself, who 
carried me to my straw below the kitchen. 
    I remember the look on my Lord Aquith's face before the 
slumber of mead took me into the shadows. It was turned to 
the spot of the distant glow. The smile disappeared, a frown 
formed and the eyes narrowed. 
 
                              II 
 
    The days of September soon ended. 
    Little happened except that I was beaten one night by 
two monks as I stepped from relieving myself. I had taken my 
cup of mead as was permitted me on Sundays but I wasn't 
drunk. Still, I am old and my body seems in a hurry to 
relieve itself. 
    The monk's cowls hid their faces but I knew them to be 
John and Mark. Of the five my Lord Aquith is forced to 
tolerate, it could only be them. I didn't complain to my Lord 
Aquith over this trifling incident. It is the place of 
cripples to be beaten from time to time. 
    It's only because Sir Cullier happened upon the scene 
that my Lord Aquith learned of the act. Sir Cullier 
approached the monks and with the back of his gloved hand, 
boxed their ears. 
    Naturally, they fled. 
    "Cowards!" He shouted after them. He looked down on me. 
"Who were those monks?" 
    "I did not see their faces, Sire!" 
    A grin appeared on his face. "But you know who they are, 
little cripple." 
    I said nothing. 
    "You fear their retribution? Very well, have it your 
way!" He kicked my stick to me and left. It's not that Sir 
Cullier wanted to show me kindness. He, himself, has booted 
my behind when I was slow to react to his commands. Although 
he is more playful about it then cruel. Sir Cullier has a 
sense of the law and the law leaves punishment as the sole 
prerogative of the Lord of the Keep or fathers punishing 
children. 
    "How long have these beatings been inflicted on you?" 
My Lord Aquith demanded of me the next morning. 
    "All my life, Sire." I was trembling as I stood before 
him. Not from fear of retribution from the monks but because 
I held back from my Lord Aquith. He had always looked to me 
for the Keep's whispers. 
    Sir Cullier is the shrewdest of my Lord Aquith's four 
gentlemen at arms. "He knows who they are, Sire. I offered 
Pip my protection. I am offended that he still fears them." 
    My Lord Aquith's eyes narrowed. "Do you accept Sir 
Cullier's protection?" 
    "Yes, Sire." I was trapped. 
    "Then name the monks!" He boomed. 
    "John and Mark, my Lord Aquith!" I had little choice in 
naming them. I didn't understand why my Lord Aquith made such 
a display of the incident. He knew that I was beaten from 
time to time by the cooks or some soldier. He never made a 
fuss over those incidents. But he ordered John and Mark back 
to their bishop after giving them twenty lashes each. 
    In private, I later asked him why. "I am not so important 
that you would anger the bishop?" 
    "You see only the surface, Pip. If you saw more fully, 
you'd be a better instrument to me. I am the law, here! If 
you committed some offense, I, and only I, must be the 
instrument of your punishment. The Church presumes to take 
my place in ordinary matters. It needs to be taught its 
place." 
    "But my Lord Aquith, John and Mark didn't beat me for 
some offense of the law but because they despise my learning 
and my teacher, Denir." 
    "Aye, that's true. I chose to see it another way since 
it's of use to my policy." He grinned. "Think of the benefit 
it does us both. The bishop will be more thoughtful because 
I dared punish his agents and you, little cripple, are not 
likely to be beaten again. Twenty lashes to important monks 
is something the cooks will remember." 
    With that, I shared his grin. 
    It was the third day of October when the woman came 
before my Lord Aquith. She came dragging her daughter behind 
her by the hair. It took two guards to restrain the daughter, 
I was later told. 
    I was sent for after a few questions by my Lord Aquith. 
    "Pip, take pen and paper and mark down our words!" 
    A monk, Jeromy, protested. "We may do the task, Sire!" 
    Jeromy and Martin were left to us after the banishment 
of Mark and John. Old Albert, the fifth monk, was in ill 
health and did not share the confidence of his younger 
brothers. They suspected him of being a secret Druid. He did 
nothing to contradict their suspicions. He didn't care what 
they thought, knowing full well that he'd be in Christ's Keep 
before many weeks would pass. 
    "Silence, monks!" Sir Cullier shouted, placing a hand on 
his scabbard. 
    Jeromy knelt before my Lord Aquith. "Sire! This woman 
speaks of demons and out worldly fires. Surely, this is the 
province of the Church?" 
    "I acknowledge your interest in this matter, monk." My 
Lord Aquith told him. "But I want a hand free of bias to 
write down her words. You are free to copy Pip's lines 
later." 
    Jeromy nodded and resumed his place. 
    "Speak, women! Tell Pip your name and that of your 
daughter!" 
    The old woman spoke. "I've always been called Boutha and 
my daughter is Mary. After the Virgin. I tell you, great 
Lord, that she is the first child to be named after the 
Virgin in these parts. I was first in my village to acknow- 
ledge the Christ as my Lord and Savior. It was eighteen years 
ago when I was heavy with Mary..." 
    "Yes, yes! Go on, Boutha!" My Lord Aquith gestured 
impatiently. "I know you are a woman of true virtue." 
    Boutha's eyes grew large. I picked up pen and ink. 
    "It was the night the gods battled. I shared my bed with 
my husband, Tull. And Mary slept by the door." 
    "Why wasn't Mary here with the other young people?" 
    "She was wed last year." 
    "Why was she not with her husband?" 
    "Jos is gone." 
    "Yes." My Lord Aquith reflected. "I remember now. Was he 
ever found?" 
    "No, Sire!" Sir Cullier supplied. "We think he was taken 
by the bog." 
    "Or thieving on some southern road!" My Lord Aquith added 
to general laughter. "He was a wild one, I recall. Continue, 
Boutha!" 
    A horrible shriek came from Mary. It was so sudden that 
the guards were taken by surprise and let her go. She ran for 
mother, striking her cruelly about the head and shoulders. 
Surely, she would have slain her mother if Sir Cullier had 
not acted swiftly and pulled the girl away. 
    Mary turned her rage on my Lord Aquith's retainer and bit 
him on the hand. Sir Cullier made short work of her. One blow 
from his free hand and she fell unconscious. 
    Jeromy approached my Lord Aquith. "The girl is possessed! 
It is a Church matter!" 
    "Perhaps, monk!" But so far, I am convinced only of a 
quarrel within her family. Let the evidence unfold itself! 
If it reveals concerns belonging to the Church, I will allow 
you voice. Until then, you will remain silent!" 
    Boutha was on her feet. Two marks were on her face and 
blood came from her lips. 
    "Let Boutha be attended to!" My Lord Aquith ordered. Take 
Mary and lock her firmly! Pip, attend me!" 
    I followed My Lord Aquith and Sir Cullier to the chapel 
behind the great hall of the Keep. 
    Jeromy and Martin followed us but Sir Cullier closed the 
heavy door of the chapel before they could enter, saying 
something I could not hear but which sent the monks angrily 
away. 
    My Lord Aquith approached the altar and bowed slightly to 
the iron cross with the figure of the Eastern Savior nailed 
firmly to it. "Forgive me, my Lord Christ, but these matters 
concern you not!" He turned the heavy cross to the wall. 
    I sensed sarcasm in his words and action. My Lord Aquith 
turned to Sir Cullier. 
    "I would have your counsel, my most honest of retainers!" 
    My Lord Aquith used the words blunt and honest 
interchangeably. 
    "Twenty strokes for the girl, Sire! Ten for striking her 
mother and ten for striking me!" 
    "A fair punishment, Sir Cullier. It will be executed." He 
rubbed his bearded chin. "But there is something else I want 
your thoughts on. Something of more pressing moment. Do you 
think demons are involved?" 
    "I know not, Sire. I know only that when a family is in 
the midst of quarrel, large and regrettable claims are made." 
    My Lord Aquith nodded in agreement. "The curse of such 
claims is that they divide villages and, unless wisdom is 
applied quickly, the wildest of imaginings come forth and 
deaths quickly follow. I don't wish to see my people killing 
each other." He turned to me. "Your eyes are full of 
questions, Pip?" 
    I shifted nervously. 
    "Before you arrived at the hall, Pip, wild charges of 
fire coming from Mary's finger were spoken. Jeromy and Martin 
immediately concluded possession. I look for a more mundane 
explanation." 
    With those words, my Lord Aquith produced a metal object 
from his tunic and placed it in my hand. "What make you of 
this?" 
    I've never seen its like, My Lord!" 
    It was of polished metal, such as a fine silver but 
without the weight of the precious metal. One end was hollow 
and the other had a grip angled from the tube and very 
comfortable to the hand. In the angle between the grip and 
the tube was a framed space with a small piece of metal 
inviting a finger. I dared not touch it for fear of the 
magic. 
    "Boutha called it a wand. Her husband took it from the 
girl." 
    Sir Cullier approached me and took the wand. I was 
pleased to be rid of it. "It has the feel of a weapon, Sire. 
Perhaps a small arrow thrown from the tube but I see no 
mechanism for winding it and it looks too small to cause 
harm unless it involves a poison." Without another thought, 
sir Cullier gripped the thing, his finger touching the small 
metal piece. 
    Fire, in a long straight path, issued noiselessly from 
the tube and touched the metal cross on the altar. The cross 
glowed briefly, crackling as it turned a color a smithy sees 
and fell melted to the stone altar. 
    Sir Cullier eyes widened. It was the first time I saw 
surprise on his face. He examined the thing and carefully 
avoided pointing it at any body. 
    My Lord Aquith rubbed the bald spot on his brow thought- 
fully. "We shall take care with that." He took the proffered 
wand from his retainer and regarded it carefully. "Your guess 
is correct, Sir Cullier. It is a weapon. I wonder how it 
contains the fire?" 
    "There is a demon within it, Sire!" Sir Cullier offered 
with heavy breath. 
    "It's a mindless demon, if he be there." My Lord Aquith 
observed, inclined more to curiosity than fear. "It serves 
whoever pulls the triggering rod. Perhaps it the same demon 
which resides in any good bow." 
    He replaced the wand in his tunic. 
    "It attacked a symbol of Christ!" I said. 
    "A sensible choice." My Lord Aquith ventured 
sarcastically. "But I think that if it had been pointed at 
you, it would have attacked you. Are you afraid, Pip?" 
    "Aye, my Lord Aquith!" 
    "You were always sensible with your fears, Pip. Let's 
go find this demon of Mary's and see if he is sensible." 
    We left the next morning. 
 
                             III 
 
    The party was equipped for war. My Lord Aquith and Sir 
Cullier led on their chargers, followed by the other 
retainers. Those of us on foot, eight soldiers, myself, the 
woman Boutha, and her daughter with Jeromy and Martin behind 
them and four more soldiers to guard our rear, slowed the 
procession to a slow walk. 
    It would take us most of the morning to get to Boutha's 
village. The roads were little more than wagon tracks in the 
country north of the Keep. Because of the shortness of the 
journey, we took only what supplies we could carry and left 
the carts behind. I wish we had left the monks behind and 
even ventured to suggest it to my Lord Aquith. He gave me 
only a knowing grin and said nothing to my suggestion as he 
checked the straps of his saddle and mounted the war horse. 
    It was a quiet journey. Mary's hands were tied behind her 
back with a stout rope. Another rope at her feet was long 
enough to allow her to walk but not so long that she might 
run away. 
    The monks mumbled their prayers for her soul as they took 
unhurried strides behind her. 
    The morning fog had lifted and it was getting warm. My 
bones didn't ache that day. It was a good sign. I thanked the 
sprites of the forest softly so Jeromy could not hear. 
    After our talk in the chapel, my Lord Aquith, Sir Cullier 
and myself had gone to speak to Mary without telling the 
monks. But for my Lord Aquith's orders, I would not write the 
words which followed. 
    This is Mary's tale. 
    "The demon is without hair and is covered with bruises. 
His complexion is fair, whiter than any man I  have ever 
seen. And he doesn't smell! He has no hair on his chest or 
legs..." 
    "How know you this?" Sir Cullier demanded. 
    She shrieked, "He is my lover! And such a lover, no woman 
has ever had! He is larger than any man I have ever seen!" 
    She laughed madly and astounded us with descriptions I 
had never before heard issue from a woman's mouth. Even the 
common soldiers, with their ribald tales, would never speak 
as she did. 
    My Lord Aquith listened calmly. He kept his thoughts 
private. As he often tells me, silence is an ally. People 
assume you agree with them if you pay close heed and say 
naught. 
    Finally, my Lord Aquith took out the wand and asked. "How 
did you get this?" 
    "The demon slept and I took it. I saw him chase the men 
away with it, using it so the fire burned the ground before 
them, or the trees around their heads. I saw him kill a wolf 
that came into his camp." 
    "But he let you in his camp?" 
    "Aye! I am a woman and often consort with the wood 
sprites. I walk into the woods with my breasts bared and my 
tongue licking my lips. Sprites and men know what that 
means." 
    She opened her dress and revealed herself. "I could take 
all three of you at once and would..." 
    "Restore your clothes, girl!" My Lord Aquith said coldly. 
"We are not demons or sprites and you hold no appeal for us!" 
    She laughed and closed her dress. "I know a great 
secret!" She seemed to chant it and repeated it three times 
while doing a dance. 
    "What is this secret?" My Lord Aquith asked, speaking 
calmly as a friend might speak. 
    "Before the men were the women! Once, we ruled! The old 
gods speak of it. We controlled men with our passions! But 
then came iron. It was given men by jealous male gods. Men 
subdued the Great Mother with iron. Iron stays stiff when 
men cannot!" 
    I trembled but took comfort in the wisdom of my Lord 
Aquith in keeping the monks from this interrogation. Surely, 
even my Lord Aquith could not prevent her burning if the 
severe monks heard of this. 
    "Did the demon tell you this?" 
    She gave a sinister smile. "The demon speaks a tongue 
only I understand. He speaks to his iron and the iron comes 
alive." 
    "What does he say to his iron?" My Lord Aquith examined 
his ring of office, showing no concern, as he spoke. I have 
seen him do this when he wished to make as if indifferent. 
    "That's my secret! It will be my secret! My secret! My 
Secret!" She chanted and resumed her dance. 
    "I think you lie, Mary. You don't speak the demon's 
tongue. You want only to increase your importance in our 
eyes." 
    She pointed a finger at My Lord Aquith. "I am not a man 
and care naught for importance!" She chanted, circling about 
us in her suggestive dance. "I am the Earth! Without me, 
there is no ground for the importance of men to stand! I've 
seen the other world! I've seen the other world!" 
    "Heaven?" Sir Cullier asked. 
    "Hell!" She shrieked. "It's a far better place! The Great 
Mother rules there!" 
    Calm as ever, my Lord Aquith asked, "Where is this hell?" 
    "The gate is with my lover. He guards it with his living 
iron!" 
    "Why would the Great Mother tolerate a gate of iron to 
her paradise and use a male demon, larger than men, as a 
guard?" My Lord Aquith was fond of using logic to befuddle. 
    The girl, Mary, ignored the thrust. "You need only see 
the camp to see that it is the gate to Hell! He has cleared 
the forest with his magic and fire, dug a trench the length 
of a hundred men. In the middle, he has planted a tree of 
iron. It gleams in the moonlight and small steady fires issue 
from its heart. They light and go out without the agency of 
men. Demons whisper from the tree. The fires are cold to the 
touch but light the tree with more brightness than the moon." 
    "Tell me more!" 
    "I don't wish to. Go and ask the demon, yourself, if you 
dare!" 
    "Perhaps it is time that I do!" 
    My Lord Aquith decided that nothing useful could be 
unearthed from this evil child and had her locked away for 
the night. He placed a guard at her door with instructions 
that no one should enter save me with her meal. If Jeromy or 
Martin came down this passage, they were to be chased away, 
preferably with a good swift kick. 
    The guard my Lord Aquith picked had no trouble 
understanding. 
    I returned shortly after with bread and cheese and some 
mead and entered the cell to find Mary in the shadows, hiding 
from me but issuing a cruel laugh. I placed the bowl and cup 
on the floor and began walking backwards so she could not 
jump out and surprise me. Not that I could do much. She was 
a young woman, if frenzied, in good health and could most 
certainly tear me apart before the guard could come to aide 
me. 
    She suddenly came out of the shadows, naked to the air. 
She leered at me, moving her tongue back and forth. I was 
more than willing to believe she was possessed by some 
Christian demon. First, she tempts you and then requires 
feelings of guilt because you listened to the temptation. I 
was frozen in place for a moment but gathered my senses and 
ran out of the cell. To this day, I can still feel a trace 
of pain in my abused legs. 
    I closed the door swiftly and dropped the wood in place. 
    I heard mocking laughter. I had dropped my stick when 
I ran and knew I would not see it till the morrow. 
    The guard, Flanor, looked at me in amazement. He'd never 
seen me move so quickly nor my face so drained of color. He'd 
never been a friend to me but he had always granted me my 
peace. He did not mock me and I could not fault him. 
    "Did you see the demon?" 
    I nodded. "Don't open the door for your life's sake!" 
    He took out some mistletoe and kissed it. 
 
                              IV 
 
    We arrived at the village as the sun was almost directly 
overhead. It was deserted. Signs of burned huts were all 
about. 
    "It's Mary's work!" Boutha shouted. "She did it with the 
wand. She burned her father's hand. It no longer serves him!" 
    My Lord Aquith rode back to where Boutha stood. "Go and 
tell the villagers to come out of hiding. They are under my 
protection!" 
    Boutha ran. 
    In the space of an hour, she had gathered most of the 
villagers, including her husband who hid his hand in a 
crude bandage. 
    My Lord Aquith looked at Tull and remembered him. Tull 
was speaker for this village and met with the Lord of the 
Keep at least twice a year. But Tull was a common name for 
men in these parts and I think that my Lord Aquith did not 
know he was this Tull until his eyes rested on him. Since 
these pages must be honest on my Lord Aquith's instruction, 
I must add that he now often forgets the faces of those he 
does not see every day. In others, this is a fault but my 
Lord Aquith occupies himself with weighty matters and will 
not behave as a common man. Although, I hasten to add, he 
was not always so grave a man. It is only in the four years 
since my Lady Aquith fell from her favorite mount to the 
next world that he moves into forgetful moods. 
    It took the strength of Sir Cullier and four soldiers 
to stay my Lord Aquith's sword from the neck of the white 
mare. 
    "How fare you, Tull?" My Lord Aquith boomed to the 
peasant speaker. 
    "My hand is useless and my daughter is the one who did 
it." Tull said this in the same tone as he would argue for 
his village's share of the harvest. The sense of 
righteousness was there but his speech lacked passion. 
    "I will punish her, Tull. Unless you, as her sire, claim 
that right for  yourself." 
    "I will leave the punishment to you, my Lord Aquith. I 
can't raise a hand against my own child." 
    Sir Cullier rode foreword. "Perhaps if you had exercised 
your paternal duties, she would not have consorted with 
demons. She deserves death for striking her sire!" 
    Tull lowered his head. "I plead you not to strike her 
dead, sir knight!" 
    Sir Cullier looked at my Lord Aquith for judgement. 
    "Thirty lashes added to the twenty, Sir Cullier!" 
    "Aye, my Lord!" If Sir Cullier seemed unhappy with this 
mild sentence, it was because my Lord Aquith's own law 
prevented this sentence from being carried out at once. It 
would have to be divided over the space of three days. No 
more than twenty lashes a day were allowed. 
    "I want to break the act, not the spirit!" My Lord Aquith 
had explained in changing the policy of his father. 
    My Lord Aquith dismounted. He placed his arm around the 
speaker. "We will talk, Tull. Come, Pip!" He looked at Sir 
Cullier, indicating with his eyes that his lieutenant should 
stay outside. 
    The good knight knew his Lord's tactic. To loosen Tull's 
tongue, he would leave most displays of power outside. 
    I followed them into the mean hut. 
    "Tell me what occurred here, honest Tull!" My Lord Aquith 
said as he sat on a basket of grain. 
    I placed myself on the dirt floor and took out my inks 
to write. 
    "It was the night of the harvest festival. We were 
satiated as it is your policy not to count what is eaten that 
night in your share." 
    "I know my policies." My Lord Aquith said with mock 
gravity. "Continue!" 
    "We had just gone to sleep when we heard a loud noise. 
It was as daylight outside. I stepped from the hut, followed 
by Boutha and Mary. In the forest was a fire so I gathered 
the men to go and put out the fire. It was dry, as you may 
remember, and we were fearful of its spread. 
    "We ran to the fire with buckets, hoping against hope 
that the spring nearby was not dry. In my heart, I knew it 
to be dry. But by the time we arrived, there was no fire. The 
woods were full of noises, like voices speaking from 
invisible places. We were all fearful but I and some brave 
lads advanced anyway. 
    "We came to a place, a clearing that wasn't there before 
but seemed to be scooped out by the hand of a giant god. It 
was black and there were still small fires about. I ordered 
the men to put them out. 
    "As we entered the clearing, we saw a metal tree, smooth 
and twisted like no tree should be. It had been uprooted and 
was lying on its side. Out of a hole in the tree emerged the 
demon. 
    "Fire came from his finger! 
    "We fled!" 
    My Lord Aquith nodded. "Very wise. Why didn't you come 
to me at once?" 
    "We were fearful that you'd lash us and accuse us of 
taking sprite herbs for their powerful dreams." 
    "As I did four harvests ago?" 
    "Yes, my Lord. The harvest festivals bring on many 
strange manifestations." 
    "What did this demon look like?" 
    "He has the form of a man. I could see that well in the 
moonlight. His coloring was a strange hue like metal and he 
was naked. Some of the lads thought he was dressed but that 
his clothing was tight on his frame. He had no hair!" 
    "Continue, Tull!" 
    "There's little more to tell, my Lord Aquith. It's been 
the habit of this village not to inquire too deeply into the 
affairs of the gods." 
    "A virtuous habit. Tell me about Mary!" 
    "She disappeared from the village that night." 
    A silence followed. 
    My Lord Aquith let the silence fill the hut. He is 
skilled at questioning. After a time, he said. "Tull, I am 
not seeking to punish. I only punish deceit and you have 
offered none as yet. I reward truth, even unpleasant truth. 
You know that. Your village has my protection." 
    "And the priests?" 
    "I will keep them from you and yours. Did you search for 
Mary?" 
    Tull dropped to his knees and blubbered. 
    "You didn't search for her. Why not? I know you have 
affection for your unworthy child." 
    "The forest controls her. She belongs to the old gods. 
I'm but a simple man." 
    "Perhaps not so simple. Were you not worried that she 
might be hurt and need attending?" 
    "No, my Lord! Food would disappear. We knew it was her." 
    "Has she done this before?" 
    He nodded, trembling. "We thought Jos would control her. 
He was strong. She drove him away or..." 
    "...Or killed him." My Lord Aquith supplied. "And since 
then, no one has taken a firm hand to her for fear of her 
magical powers?" 
    Tull's silence had the look of agreement. 
    "Tell me about the night she returned with the wand of 
fire!" 
    Tull looked around to me. 
    "Pip is my creature, good Tull. He is sworn to silence 
and bears no love for the priests of the Eastern God. Tell 
me! Hold nothing back!" 
    "I was asleep. The smell of fire woke me. Then there 
shouts and strange sounds. I left my bed to find confusion. 
In the middle of the confusion, Mary was shrieking with 
demonic laughter. At first, I thought the fire came from 
a finger. Then I saw the wand. I walked up from behind her 
and took hold of the wand. My hand was in pain but I had it 
and threw it from her." 
    "That was courageous, Tull! It was the proper thing to 
do!" 
    "I struck my daughter in fury!" 
    "A fury you didn't know you possessed?" 
    He nodded. "You know my heart, my Lord. We strapped her 
to a post. The next morning, we tied her hands firmly and 
made knots on her legs so she could not run away. Boutha 
brought her to you. Boutha thought it best." 
    My Lord Aquith rose. "I am glad you are speaker of this 
village. You have great wisdom and Boutha is blessing to your 
house." 
    "Thank you, my Lord." 
    "Remove the bandage, Tull. I would examine the wound." 
    Tull did as he was told. Two fingers were missing and he 
could not move the others. 
    "I've seen such injuries before, Tull! I have applied 
fires to seal wounds in battle. You will live to a fine old 
age. I'll have my smith make you a hook so you may do 
honorable labor." 
    The speaker nodded in gratitude. Such services are 
beyond his means. 
    "Lead me to this demon!" 
    But my Lord, he is a manifestation of the harvest time!" 
    "Then lead me to the place! He may choose to manifest 
himself to the Lord of the Keep." 
 
                              V 
 
    As companions, my Lord Aquith took Sir Cullier, Sir 
Michael and the bowman, O'Dounille. He left the rest to guard 
the village. I went as his chronicler to the consternation of 
Jeromy and Martin, who insisted on coming to protect the 
interest of the Church. 
    I thought my Lord Aquith too eager to have them along. 
He was plotting so I kept my own counsel. 
    It was dusk when we arrived at the demon camp. I could 
sense the fear amongst us. We heard whispers, voices in a 
language known only to the gods. Only my Lord Aquith and Sir 
Cullier seemed fearless. They had faced foes from the North, 
horned men with the faces of bears. I know that the horns and 
faces are masks to strike fear into their enemies but 
it's also true that the men of the North took on the spirits 
of the monsters they killed for their coloring. 
    "Do you think the demon has another wand?" I asked in a 
whisper. 
    "I own more than one sword. He has more than one wand!" 
    The horses were left behind and we approached with 
stealth. There was a bright glow coming from the demon's 
camp. It didn't come from a campfire. There was an unnatural 
air about it. 
    I saw the unearthly camp, I admit, on my belly with 
bushes for cover. I've never been known for my bravery. 
    The scene was as the Christians describe the world of the 
damned. Even the shrubbery at the border of the camp was 
wilted in poisoned death. What sort of god kills growing 
things? The land did seem plowed by some giant fiery hand. 
The metal tree was twisted only as an evil entity might 
express malice. 
    The glow was coming from two globes on metal posts. 
    Then, we saw the demon. 
    In the eerie light, he seemed naked. But I soon saw that 
he had clothing. It fit tightly about his body and he carried 
a long wand, half the length of a spear. 
    I heard voices from behind me. They were whispers. 
    "Return to the village, Tull! You've served me well." 
    "Yes, my Lord!" He seemed gladdened by the order. 
    The whisper of Jeromy next filled my ears. "He is a 
demon, Lord!" 
    "Do you propose to fight him, Brother Jeromy, or will you 
leave that to me? The choice is yours." 
    There was silence for a spell. 
    "Well, Jeromy? Can your Christ conquer this demon?" 
    He was baiting the monk. I saw his purpose. 
    "I will cast it out!" Jeromy whispered firmly. 
    "Well and good, Jeromy. I will bide while you do your 
work." 
    I understood the scheme from his tone. My Lord Aquith 
saw the demon as a warrior, not a spirit. He was using the 
demon to rid himself of these troublesome monks. My Lord 
Aquith sensed this demon as a Viking spirit come to threaten 
the people of the Keep. Not an evil manifestation at all. 
    My heart fluttered as I saw Jeromy and Martin leave the 
cover of the trees and advance, cross in hand. 
    "Ready yourself, O'Dounille!" My Lord Aquith whispered. 
"If the Christ fails us, I would trust the spirit that guides 
your sure hand!" 
    He was employing sarcasm again. 
    O'Dounille said a small prayer to the tree from which his 
shaft sprang. 
    The demon saw Jeromy and Martin approach. In a loud 
voice, they muttered their Latin, striking more fear in me, 
I fear, than in the demon. How many times has my Lord Aquith 
told me that Latin moves men, not mountains, and I still 
tremble at its pronouncement. How foolish of me. Denir said 
it was merely another tongue and taught it to me. I scribble 
it but fear to speak it. It belongs to the dreaded Savior in 
its spoken form. 
    "Stand ready but hold your place, bowman!" My Lord Aquith 
whispered conspiratorially. "We must give Brother Jeromy his 
chance." 
    The demon turned swiftly at the approach of the dark 
monks. Perhaps he mistook them for wild animals, dressed as 
they were in their brown habits. Perhaps he knew what they 
represented. Perhaps he thought the iron cross a weapon. I 
cannot tell. He raised his wand and pointed it toward Jeromy. 
    If Jeromy had stopped, I believe, the creature would not 
have loosed the fury of the weapon upon him. He had only 
chased men away before. 
    Jeromy's chest burst into flame and the monk was thrown 
violently back and clearly killed, his face frozen in 
astonished death. 
    Martin dropped his cross and ran. 
    The demon made no effort to chase him. 
    "Now, bowman!" 
    O'Dounille loosed his arrow. 
    It found its mark in the demon's shoulder. The demon let 
 out a cry and fell backwards from the force, dropping the 
long wand. I have never seen O'Dounille err by so much as an 
inch. And yet, he only wounded the demon. 
    Before I could think, my Lord Aquith and Sir Cullier 
ran to the fallen creature and prevented him from recovering 
his wand by placing the blades of their broadswords to the 
throat. If the demon moved, he would be dead. 
    Sir Michael watched where his master couldn't in the 
event another demon lurked in the dark. 
    "Pip!" My Lord Aquith shouted. "Come here!" 
    I ran to him. 
    "Look at his eyes, Pip! Is this a demon?" 
    I stuttered and cleared my throat as I looked at the 
darting, fearful eyes. "No, my Lord Aquith! He is a man, 
misshapen as I am, but a man!" Indeed, his ears were too 
small for his head and of an odd shape. His skin was 
unnaturally white but the eyes told all. Aside from their red 
color, they belonged to a man. 
    Martin came up. "A demon, Lord Aquith! It is a demon! 
Strike it dead!" 
    My Lord Aquith struck Martin with the back of his mailed 
hand. "You left your brother and dropped the sign of your 
god! You feared that the promised paradise was an empty 
claim. You have no faith! Among us, you no longer have a 
voice! Go back to your bishop and report what happened! Take 
care that you report honestly or you will fear my wrath! I 
promise you, Martin, that your kind will no longer trouble 
me. 
    Martin fled. 
    "My Lord Aquith," I said. I could no longer restrain 
myself. "Why did you not use his own wand against him. You 
bear it in your tunic?" 
    He laughed. "Politics, Pip! If I had used the demon's 
weapon in the sight of the monks, the Church would charge me 
and I would burn. Could I resist the combined force of my 
enemies if they were given the blessing of the Church to 
steal my lands?" 
    I blinked. 
    He stooped and looked me directly in the face. "All is 
politics, my friend. Even the capture of demons!" 
    I regarded the now helpless creature. O'Dounille was 
applying herbs and bandages to the demon's wound. "You didn't 
kill by choice?" 
    Firmly, O'Dounille said, "I never miss!" 
    Overhearing my query, my Lord Aquith supplied. "If fear 
of the unknown were a crime deserving of death, I would have 
to kill not only this creature but all of us. This poor 
individual is only guilty of being in a strange country where 
even the elements seem hostile. The bowman obeys my will." 
    "And his corruption of Mary?" I stammered. 
    "I think it was the reverse, Pip! For her crimes, Mary 
will be lashed and sent to a nunnery to serve her namesake." 
    "And Jeromy's death?" 
    "I engineered that! The sin is on my soul, not this poor 
demon's. I shall excuse it as political necessity for my 
conscience's sake. Jeromy and his brothers were ready to put 
people to the torch. I want none of that in my lands. 
Undoubtedly, it will cause me some financial pain since the 
bishop is a greedy man. He is not like his patron, Patrick, 
thank the gods, who was a fanatic. Greed is a useful 
political tool for curing disputes which could otherwise 
become violent." 
    "At last, we will be free of these troublesome monks!" 
Sir Cullier added, still guarding the creature with his 
exposed blade. 
    My Lord Aquith placed his hand on the shoulder of his 
comrade-at-arms. "I wish that were so, old friend. I venture 
to guess that these Christians will plague us again in a few 
years time." 
    "Do you judge this creature as faultless, then?" I 
ventured. 
    "Merely luckless, Pip! Not faultless! Look at him! He 
is a wounded soldier left to die by his retreating fellows. 
His one crime, in my eyes, is that he was careless with his 
weapon and caused my people harm. Had any died at Mary's 
hand, he would have died with her on the gallows. But none 
did so their lives are saved. The arrow has made his arm 
useless and is punishment enough for a warrior." 
    My Lord Aquith turned to Sir Michael. "Gather a party 
of villagers and cover the metal vessel with earth! Until 
the trees grow back, this place is forbidden!" 
    "Aye, Lord!" 
    "Vessel?" I repeated. 
    "He was a sailor of the skies using the stars as harbors. 
Now, he is as earthbound as we. His people have great 
knowledge and can create great works. Still, I don't think 
they are gods or demons. They have too many of the same 
qualities we have. Fear, lust, war and ...despair." 
 
                              VI 
 
    Even as I write these final lines, I look from the window 
to see the demon sitting in the courtyard. He is morose and 
searching the heavens in false hope. For the last several 
days, his bonds have been removed and the guards ignore him. 
There's no place for him to go. 
    He eats little and shows no interest in those around him. 
He makes no effort to learn our speech and says little in 
his. If the women hadn't thrown a blanket over his shoulders, 
he would have no protection against the lightly falling snow. 
When he does speak, the speech is directed at himself. 
    He is pitiful and I fear he will soon die. 
    "He knows he is abandoned." My Lord Aquith says as he 
looks over my shoulder. "A man who cannot adjust himself to 
the situation at hand has naught but my contempt, Pip. He is 
less than a man. You, dear Pip, are a true man. Fate gave you 
poor legs and a deformed back and you're burdened with the 
contempt of the unthinking. Yet, you go on. You serve a 
useful life." 
    He places his hand on my shoulder and walks to the wall 
to prepare the mortar which will seal these words and the two 
demon weapons firmly in the Keep. 
 
 
(C) Copyright 1987 by Yves Barbero                415-285-4358 
                   1073 Dolores Street 
                   San Francisco, CA 94110 
 
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                         - THE END -