Also traveling with the procession was a pudgy man who appeared to be a merchant. “Ah,” Lawrence muttered to himself upon recognizing him.
Riendott was the most successful flour merchant in Enberch. It was hardly a surprise that he had been the one to purchase all of Tereo’s wheat. If that was so, then it would be easy to point to Tereo as the source for the wheat when someone died after eating bread made from it.
If Riendott was truly the man at the center of this plan, then he had purposely avoided buying Lawrence’s wheat when Lawrence passed through Enberch.
In fact, that might have been the precise moment Riendott had decided to set his plan in motion.
Darkness lay but a step ahead, and none could say where human malice might be hidden.
Lawrence sighed slowly.
He lay prone atop the hill watching the proceedings, and Holo reassumed her human form and quickly put her clothes back on.
Then the four of them took the long way around the village to Truyeo’s den.
While it was possible that Iima had locked the cellar door, it was also just as possible that she had merely closed it, leaving it unlocked.
They were betting on the latter.
“Is this what you meant by God’s blessing?” Holo asked.
They had won the bet.
“Is there anyone inside?”
“Nay. It’s deserted,” said Holo.
Since Elsa and Evan had escaped, the villagers had no further business with the church, and it was empty.
Lawrence pushed up against the pedestal. The statue of the Holy Mother tipped over and onto the floor with a clunk. The sound gave him a thrill of fear, but it was followed only by silence. He gave the pedestal a firm shove. Evan slipped through the gap that opened, and lifted the door properly open from the outside.
“Right, now...Yes, we’ll need a sickle and a chalice," said Lawrence.
These were the tools needed for the plan the group was about to execute.
Now out of the cellar, Elsa gave a quick nod and ran off with Evan in tow.
Lawrence gave Holo, who remained in the basement, a small smile. “If everything goes well, you’ll have all the time you want to read."
Holo seemed to give up and finally climbed the steps out of the cellar. “So...how does it look outside?”
“The window wasn’t broken fortunately. We’ll be able to see clearly.”
Once Lawrence and company had made their escape, Iima had found an opportunity to open the front door.
The bar that had hung on the tightly closed door now leaned against a wall, unbroken.
Lawrence peered out through a crack in the window and saw that the procession had already arrived in the village square, where a man in the garments of a high-ranking clergyman—surely Bishop Van—and Riendott, the flour merchant, both confronted Elder Sem.
“Mr. Lawrence,” said Elsa. She and Evan approached from behind him as quietly as they could.
They brought a chalice that on its best day hadn’t been made of pure silver, along with a rusty old sickle.
But for demonstrating a miracle, the older and dingier the instruments, the better.
“Good. Now we just wait for the right moment.”
Elsa and Evan swallowed nervously and nodded.
Lawrence couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but given Sem’s frantic gestures, it looked like he was desperately trying to explain something to Bishop Van.
Sem would occasionally point at the church, causing everyone gathered in the square to look in its direction, which Lawrence found unnerving.
But no one approached the church since they seemed to assume it was completely empty.
Bishop Van responded to Sem calmly, occasionally pausing to consult with the elderly assistant priest at his side.
It seemed as though he considered the feelings of Elder Sem and the assembled villagers to be no more important than the wings of a fly that buzzed around his head.
When Bishop Van produced a few sheets of parchment, Elder Sem was stunned into silence.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Lawrence asked Holo.
“They are demanding money,” came the answer.
Just then a great clamor arose—Lawrence could see a spear-man subduing a villager who had charged the proceedings.
Seeing this, several other villagers charged, though the outcome was no different.
Though their clothes were not uniform and they seemed little more than an impromptu militia, the spearmen seemed to have some discipline. They formed a ragged circle, spears out and at the ready.
“Mm. The man Sem has stopped resisting. He is beginning to yield.”
If he gave an inch, Bishop Van and Riendott would take a mile.
Bishop Van would corner Sem until nothing could help him.
“Who’s that?”
Another villager had joined the discussion. He exchanged some words with Riendott, then soon became enraged and had to be restrained by Sem.
Evan answered Lawrence’s question. “That’s the baker. He speaks ill of me the most.”
Riendott, like Bishop Van, produced a sheet of parchment from his pocket and held it up proudly, causing the villagers to fall silent.
He seemed quite happy to have silenced them so.
“I suppose Father Franz was just too good,” said Lawrence vaguely, which elicited a slight nod from Elsa.
Finally Sem fell to his knees on the stone. The villager, who had been glaring at Bishop Van now hurried to help him.
Watching this, Lawrence heard a fist being clenched.
When he looked, he saw it was Elsa.
Though her face was calm, her feelings were all too evident.
No villager had ever reached out to help her.
“They are finished. A final decision has been given,” said Holo suddenly. Lawrence knew immediately what she meant.
All at once, Sem and the other villagers looked at the building opposite the church—Sem’s house.
Lawrence needed only to look at their backs to know what they were thinking.
Next, two guards climbed atop the large, flat meeting stone.
In their hands, they held the idol of Truyeo that Lawrence had seen in Sem’s house.
“If you but burn this abomination and embrace the true faith, all shall be resolved. If not, Tereo will be guilty of heresy,” Holo said—no doubt repeating Bishop Van’s words.
Sem and the rest of the people looked at the church, as though they could hear her speak.
“Humans—always depending on others in times of need,” said Holo with a sigh, stepping back from the window. “Still, I have depended on humans in my time. Shall we?”
Evan’s face made it plain that he could barely stand to forgive the selfishness of the villagers.
But he swallowed his anger and looked at Elsa.
Elsa stood quickly. “As a servant of righteousness, I cannot abandon the village,” she said shortly.
Lawrence nodded. “Let’s go.”
On that cue, the four of them opened the church’s front door.
Apparently silence could indeed descend.
That was what struck Lawrence about this particular silence.
He would never forget the imploring look that Sem gave him as he stood before the stuffed snakeskin totem of Truyeo.
“Elsa!” It was Iima who broke the silence. Iima was not standing on the meeting stone perhaps because she had aided Elsa—but instead watched the proceedings with the rest of the villagers. Unconcerned with the villagers' questioning glances, she ran toward the people she had tried to protect. “Elsa, why—”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Iima.”
Iima turned to Lawrence, her face uncomprehending.
Before Lawrence could reply, Bishop Van spoke from his place on the stone. “Goodness, what have we here? None other than Miss Elsa, the successor to Father Franz!”
“It has been some time, Bishop Van,” said Elsa.
“I was l
ed to believe that you had snuck out of Tereo. Was the weight of your sin too much for your conscience to bear?"
“God is always forgiving.”
Bishop Van seemed momentarily cowed by Elsa’s firm answer, but he composed himself quickly and whispered something into the ear of the priest who stood next to him.
The priest cleared his throat, then produced a sheet of parchment, and holding it up, read it aloud.
“We, the Enberch Church of St. Rio, believe and declare that the village of Tereo has prayed to pagan deities and has moreover added the liquor of Khepas to their wheat in order to harm the believers of the one true faith. While believers of the one true faith suffer and die, not a single citizen of Tereo has fallen ill. As they eat of the same wheat, this can be nothing but proof that the village is protected by the evil deities they worship.”
When the priest finished his pronouncement, Bishop Van continued. “As stipulated in the contract signed with Father Franz, we will first return this wheat. Moreover, we shall reestablish a righteous holy church. As for the false servant of God, who wears the skin of a lamb but underneath is a lying serpent, she shall face the judgment of the most high God.”
When he finished, the soldiers with shields drew their swords and pointed them at Lawrence and company.
But Elsa did not take so much as a single step back. “That will not be necessary,” she said coldly. “It is true that my faith has at times been misplaced. But almighty God has shown me the true path. I have met one of His divine messengers!”
Bishop Van flinched, then glanced to the priest at his side, his brow furrowed.
The priest said something to him quietly and briefly
Van raised one hand. “That you would claim so readily to have encountered a divine messenger is merely proof of your heresy! If I am wrong, then bring the proof before me!”
The fish had swallowed the bait.
Elsa looked first at Evan, then Holo.
The miller and the wolf girl both nodded.
“If you have doubts, let us show you!”
Evan and Holo headed straight for the wagons that were loaded with wheat, but as they approached, the spearmen prepared to stave them off.
Van gave a derisive snort. “Let them through!” he said.
Evan held in his hand a grain of wheat he had received from Holo.
Elsa watch the two of them go, then made her way to the gathering stone, ignoring Iima’s protests.
“Worship of Truyeo the serpent god is indeed a mistake,” she said.
The villagers that stood atop the meeting stone glared at Elsa as though she had forced them to swallow a rock.
“However, that mistake is not itself a fundamental one.”
She climbed the steps that led to the stone, walked directly past Bishop Van, and knelt down before the totem of Truyeo.
In the church, she had been unwilling to he even after having been trapped by Lawrence and Holo.
She was still that girl, every inch a clergywoman.
So why did she not denounce the snake totem as a false idol, and why was she kneeling before it?
“It is my belief that Truyeo itself is one of God’s miracles."
Sem’s eyes widened, and the villagers were visibly disturbed.
Elsa’s words neither denied nor acknowledged Truyeo.
But Van smiled. “The words of men do not keep close company with the truth. Can you prove that your words were not whispered into your ears by a demon?” he sneered.
“The divine messenger has promised to reveal a sign that will guide the wayward lambs back to the. true path.”
Holo and Evan looked to Elsa. It was the signal that their preparations were done.
Even though he knew all was well, Lawrence was keenly aware of his own nervousness.
Elsa, too, must have felt the overwhelming pressure of all those gazes—the villagers’ and Bishop Van’s.
But her voice was still clear and strong.
She had inherited the teachings of Father Franz and trusted in Holo’s supernatural power, which gave her new faith in the righteousness of the God that had created the world.
“Hmph, you would presume to display the power of God...," began Van, but his voice was drowned out by the cries of fear and surprise that arose from the people who surrounded th wagons.
“Th-the wheat, it’s—!”
The crowd’s cries crew louder.
From within the bags of wheat loaded on the wagons, ears of wheat began to sprout and grow skyward.
Sem and the rest looked on, their faces as expressionless as badly made dolls, and Van was stunned into silence by the miracle before him.
As the wheat stalks continued to grow, the people’s cries echoed throughout the square, at times sounding almost dismayed.
“It’s God! God has created a miracle!” The shouting spread like wildfire, and in the end, even the clergymen bowed down.
Only Bishop Van remained standing stock-still as he took in the sight.
Another cry arose as one of the green stalks of wheat matured.
Of the wheat that sprouted in the sixteen wagons, only one wagon’s wheat was different. Instead of ripening honey brown, it withered and turned to dust.
All who saw knew exactly what that meant.
Everyone’s attention was focused entirely on the wheat, save Lawrence’s.
He looked at the ashen-faced Riendott and at Bishop Van.
The ones responsible for poisoning the wheat could hardly laugh this miracle off.
“God has shown us the correct path,” said Elsa, focusing the gaze of the crowd on herself.
“This...can’t be...It’s absurd...!”
“Bishop Van,” said Elsa, cool and logical. “I would like you to confirm that this is not the work of a demon.”
“H-how—”
“Use this,” said Elsa, producing a dull metal chalice and holding it out to Van.
“Please bless this chalice. Once you have done so, Evan the miller will prove the truth of God’s teachings.”
Bishop Van did as he was asked, taking the chalice, then speaking hurriedly. “Wh-what exactly do you plan to do with this?"
“Even the poor may be baptized in God. I would have you. Bishop Van, cleanse this cup.”
Van was overwhelmed and unable to protest further. He gave the assistant priest a look of anguish. The priest in turn ordered the other clergymen to fetch some water.
They soon returned bearing water, which they handed over to Van.
Any water poured by a clergyman of the Church became holy and pure.
The chalice, now filled with holy water, shone dully in Bishop Van’s hands.
“Take the water now to the miller there,” said Elsa. She refrained from doing it herself so as to make sure he could find no fault with her.
This way, the purported righteousness of the clergy would be transferred to Evan in the very act of giving him the water.
“Watch closely,” said Elsa.
She turned to Evan and nodded. He nodded back firmly.
Evan produced a small knife and climbed atop each of the wagons, cutting open a burlap sack in each one, taking a bit of flour out of the sack, and putting it into the chalice as he went.
It was obvious to everyone what he planned to do.
All eyes were on the young wheat grinder. The villagers' nervous gulps were almost audible.
Once he had taken flour from fifteen of the sixteen wagons, Evan took the cup, now filled with a mixture of flour and water, and raised it high.
As if pulled by strings, the eyes of the clergymen followed the chalice. They murmured something—perhaps their last prayers to God.
Evan slowly lowered the chalice, peering at its contents.
He had seen Holo’s true form and knew that she was no ordinary being. He had seen stalks of wheat complete a full year’s growth in but a few moments.
Evan looked suddenly away from the chalice.
His gaze fell upon non
e other than Elsa.
The next instant, he drank the contents of the chalice down in one great gulp.
“This is the truth of the miracle that God’s messenger has revealed to us.”
Evan jumped down and thrust the chalice back into the hands of the clergymen, flour still clinging to the corners of his mouth. The clergy then poured fresh water out from a water skin to purify the cup anew.
Next, Evan climbed atop the one wagon from which he had taken no flour, and removed a small amount from one of the burlap sacks, placing it in the chalice.
Elsa turned to the bishop, who was now trembling. “If this is a false miracle, then surely you will be able to demonstrate a true one.”
If one had lied and claimed the wheat was poisoned, the only way to prove whether it truly was or not would be to eat all of the wheat.
However, that was speaking in purely logical terms, and miracles went beyond the purview of logic.
Only a miracle could oppose another miracle.
To prove this was not a false miracle created by a demon, the bishop would have to produce a true miracle from God.
“Bishop Van.”
Elsa took the chalice from Evan and held it out to Van.
Riendott fell backward on the spot.
Van was frozen, unable to move.
He could not accept the chalice before him.
“V-very well. This...this is a miracle. A true miracle.”
“And the church of this village?” came Elsa’s quick demand.
Van had neither the words nor the miracle he needed to respond. “It’s...legitimate,” he growled. “A legitimate church.”
“I’ll ask you to put that in writing,” said Elsa.
She finally showed a smile as she addressed Elder Sem and the villagers and reverently gathered up the totem of Truyeo.
Bishop Van could neither complain nor demand that the villagers cease their worship of Truyeo, a condition they welcomed gladly.
Elsa had performed admirably.
Though beneath the thin layer of courage that had let her confront Bishop Van without hesitation, uncertainty and fear surely swirled within her.
She took a deep, deep breath; wiped the corners of her eyes; and bowed her head, her hands clasped in prayer.
Though it was impossible to know whether she was praying to God or to Father Franz, either one would have praised her action .
Spice & Wolf IV Page 19