The Wizard Priest

by Patty Jansen

  He raised the skull and laughed a high, maniacal laugh.

  “Look at this!” he shouted. “Look at this.” His voice echoed through the cavernous space.

  Then he noticed Nellie. His eyes widened for a moment and then he came towards her, holding the terrible thing.

  “You thought magicians from other lands could control us? You thought the dragons and the demons they have sent would be strong enough to defeat us? Look at this.”

  He laughed again. By the Triune, he had gone mad.

  In the back of her head, Nellie heard Gisele’s words someone has infused the gin with a magical object like an amulet. It can’t be too big of course . . .

  Yes it could be big. If you poured out the gin and used a big bowl, you could infuse all kinds of things with evil magic.

  The shepherd continued, “They all think we have no power. They all think we are powerless and so they can come in to possess, besiege and disown us. No, I shall be the ruler of this land, and I shall rule all the adjacent lands. There will be no ridiculous fat king with ill-behaved sons and a whore for a wife. There will be no council of pampered nobles who cannot decide because they’re too afraid of their neighbours, their cousins, their brothers and half-brothers and the whole inbred lot. It’s a wonder they don’t all have six toes on every foot. Saardam will be a centre of knowledge. People will come from all the lands to learn about the historical rules. This will be a second Senoza. It will be better than Senoza. I have this power.”

  With each sentence, a glow of light pulsed out from the skull.

  He had not only gone mad, but he had somehow found a way to control magic.

  How else could he do that apart from being a magician?

  And not just one of the artisan type, but a really powerful magician?

  Nellie scrambled to her feet and retreated into the aisle.

  He laughed. “Yes, run, child. Tell the world we will suffer no more fools. No more weak nobles, no more priests trying to curry favour with the masses, no more banquets for the stupid nobles. From now on, I will rule this city.”

  He laughed.

  A burst of fire erupted from the ruby skull. It leapt into the air, uncoiling as it went, until it landed in front of the altar on four paws. The fire dog.

  Nellie ran.

  She hadn’t run for many years, didn’t know she still could. But she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, down the aisle, through the pitch darkness of the vestibule, into the biting cold of the night.

  Gisele waited outside on the porch underneath the arched entrance. She had set the boy down to catch her breath.

  Nellie ran out of the church. “Quick. Quick, it is not safe. We must go.”

  Chapter 22

  * * *

  THE DISTANCE FROM the church to the harbour was short but, in the darkness, while carrying the boy, covering it seemed to take longer than ever.

  He didn’t attempt to walk for himself; he just whimpered and hung onto Gisele’s neck.

  Nellie kept looking over her shoulder to check if the fire dog was coming. But it wasn’t. The shepherd seemed to have been so engrossed in whatever magical victory he had achieved that he hadn’t even noticed that somebody had removed the prize prisoner out of the crypt.

  But now she wished nothing more than to reach the safety of the barn.

  She had never done anything like this in her life. Disobeying the shepherd, stealing things from the church, sneaking around after dark. Not wearing a bonnet outdoors. All things she would have despised even as recently as a few months ago.

  She was doing this to let truth and justice prevail.

  She was doing this to prove her father was right.

  And to prove that neither she, nor Madame Sabine, nor Wim or anyone in the palace had killed Lord Verdonck. Here was the magician powerful enough to put magic in gin. Shepherd Wilfridus would have visited the palace often enough to know Lord Verdonck loved his gin and needed only have placed the poisoned bottle in his room. The shepherd hated Lord Verdonck because he stood in the way of the church’s influence on the Regent.

  The shepherd had chosen the Regent not as someone who would not upset surrounding nations, but as someone just strong enough to hold the position but weak enough to be controlled and replaced when the time was right. Replaced by someone from the church, just as the Most Holy Father Severino was not only the head of the Belaman Church, but ruled the city of Senoza.

  The harbour was unusually quiet. The platform stood ready for use tomorrow, seats and benches all ready. The boats lay moored along the quay, dark and silent, with not a breath of wind rippling the water.

  All the women came rushing to the door when Nellie and Gisele came into the barn.

  Gisele put the boy down in the straw in the barn. He stared at the dark water.

  The women all gathered around him, making comments about how skinny he was.

  Hilde said, “Is that him? Is that Prince Bruno? He doesn’t look like much.”

  “Oh my, he is filthy,” Agatha said.

  “Let me take those shackles off first,” Gisele said.

  She extracted the hammer from the pocket of her habit and with a few deft blows, dislodged the metal pin that held the two halves of the metal band around his ankles together. They fell apart with a clang.

  The skin underneath was raw.

  Nellie shivered. How could anyone do this to a young boy?

  Gertie got a bucket of water from the rain barrel at the back of the barn. She came back followed by the white horse.

  At the sight of it, the boy scrambled up, his eyes wide.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.”

  “Give him something to eat,” Nellie said.

  Koby ran to the table and cut a chunk of the bread.

  She reached out to the boy. It struck Nellie that the two were similar in age, but Koby looked so much healthier, even if she had been without a proper home for most of her life.

  He seemed hesitant at first, reaching out for the bread, but not quite touching it. Maybe because of their similar ages, he seemed to connect with her.

  She pushed the bread to him. “Come on, it’s yours.”

  “Me?”

  It was the first word he said. Nellie was relieved that he spoke. She’d heard horrible things about children mistreated for most of their lives.

  “Yes, take it.”

  He snatched the bread out of Koby’s hands as if he still couldn’t believe it, and bit into it as if fearing someone would take it away again.

  What had been done to this poor boy?

  “How long did they lock you up in there?” Nellie asked.

  But he looked at her with a hazy expression, as if he didn’t understand what she was saying. He was busy chewing.

  “If I were locked in there, I wouldn’t be able to tell the time,” Gisele said.

  True. From the way Gisele crossed her arms over her chest, and from her guarded expression, Nellie wondered whether she’d had a similar experience. Nothing about Gisele’s life was simple or nice.

  They all watched while the boy demolished the bread and then ate another piece.

  While he ate, the uncomfortable silence lingered. What could you say to someone who had been so mistreated for so long and who clearly didn’t remember Nellie from when she had helped look after him.

  She asked if he wanted tea. He gave her a blank look, but water, he did want. He drank awkwardly, with water spilling over his cheeks.

  She told the women, “Get him clothes, get him cleaned up.”

  While the other women scrambled around to find him something suitable to wear, Nellie sat down next to him on the mattress.

  He was obviously much older than the boy she remembered, but now she noticed familiar features in his face, the set of his eyes, the fullness of his mouth. He had the eyes of his eastern trader father, but the nose and freckles of his mother, Queen Johanna. A chill went through her again. This boy’s life had been stolen from him. His mother w
as dead; his father had fled.

  “I’m Nellie,” she said.

  He turned around and looked at her, his eyes searching.

  “Do you remember being in the palace when you were little and the woman who looked after you and took you into the garden? That woman was me.”

  He frowned.

  “We had a lot of fun together, walking in the garden and catching frogs.”

  Nellie thought of those wonderful days, and she had often wondered about what she would do if she could go back and live it again, knowing how close they were to disaster.

  “Nellie,” he said.

  “Yes, that’s me.” She wondered if he remembered those days at all. He’d only been four. “And your name is Bruno.”

  “Bruno,” he repeated, his tone empty, as if he didn’t remember his own name.

  Who knew what the monks had called him for most of his life.

  If he had spent so much time in the bottom of the crypt, the days in the palace with his family must seem very far away. Maybe he had even convinced himself that it was all a dream. After all, he had been only four when all these terrible things happened.

  “You’re free now. We will look after you.”

  And because she didn’t know what else to say, she put her hand over his. His hand was cold as ice, the skin dry and flaky. She spread out her free arm, as if she wanted to enclose him in an embrace.

  He didn’t move to hug her. He didn’t withdraw his hand either. He looked small and lonely and frightened.

  Gertie and Hilde came back with some clothes they could spare and helped him to clean himself up and get dressed. He was so skinny and shivered so much that he couldn’t put his shirt on, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with buttons.

  While all this was happening, the children had been sleeping in the storeroom. The dragon was in there with them. Nellie had expected it to show up, but it was still snoring.

  Nellie went to the corner where she slept, found the dragon box, and gave it to him.

  At first he just sat there with it on his knees. His face showed no emotion.

  “It’s yours. Do you remember?”

  He ran his fingers over the smooth wood, a small frown on his face.

  Was it because he remembered something?

  “Open it,” Nellie said.

  He ran his hand along the crack between the lid and the rest of the box until he came to the fastening. He hesitated.

  “Open?”

  “Yes,” Nellie said.

  He slowly lifted the lid.

  The box was empty, of course, and revealed only the beautiful silk interior.

  His frown deepened. He put his fingers inside and felt around in the corners, as if he knew there should be something in it, but couldn’t remember what it was.

  “What?”

  “It’s yours,” Nellie said. “Your father gave it to you. It’s a box of magic.”

  He snapped the lid shut, dropped the box and scrambled away from it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Th—th—there!” He pointed across the barn.

  The dragon, which only a moment ago had been asleep with the children, poked his head out of the storeroom. He noticed the boy and seemed to freeze.

  This was the time of truth. If any chance remained that this was not Prince Bruno, the dragon would know. He took a step forward.

  Bruno whimpered. He retreated few steps.

  The dragon came another step into the barn.

  Bruno turned around and ran for the door.

  “Hey, wait!” Nellie said.

  He froze, one hand on the latch.

  “He is friendly,” Nellie said. “Let him sniff you.”

  To demonstrate, she walked to the dragon and put her hand on his warm and dry flank.

  Bruno looked at her, eyes wide.

  His mouth moved, but no sound came out. His eyes were so wide that the whites showed on all sides.

  Nellie walked forward with the dragon. Bruno pushed himself with his back against the door.

  “There is no need to be afraid. The dragon is yours.”

  “Magic?”

  Sweat pearled on his forehead.

  By the Triune, what lies had these monks and deacons told this boy?

  One thing was clear: he couldn’t control the dragon or perform great feats of magic with it.

  Nellie might have hoped that he would command the dragon to help them, but in this current state the boy was no use to the group. Only a burden. Magic was a curse unless trained. She of all people should have realised that.

  She said, in a calm voice, “Just let him sniff you.”

  The dragon came even closer. The creature was curious, more curious than he had been about her or any of the others.

  Bruno pressed himself flat against the door, his hands clawing the wood. He would run if there was anywhere to run.

  Nellie took his hand, guiding him forward. The skin felt clammy, and he pulled in the other direction.

  “Why are you afraid of Boots?” came a small voice.

  It was Anneke. When had she woken up?

  She faced Bruno, her head cocked, holding the blanket around her. There was straw in her hair from sleeping in the storeroom.

  “Koby says that you’re Prince Bruno. You don’t look like a prince.”

  “Anneke . . .” warned her mother.

  The boy just stared at her as if he had never seen a child.

  She repeated, “Why are you afraid of Boots?” She patted the dragon’s neck. “See, he doesn’t do anything. Except if he doesn’t like you, then he goes all wraaaa and he spits fire.”

  Agatha said again, “Anneke, leave him alone.”

  “Why? I just want to show him that Boots is friendly.”

  While Anneke had been talking, the dragon slowly bent his head down and arched his neck, while continuing to look at Bruno. It was a strange position which Nellie assumed meant subservience.

  Bruno had stopped trying to run away from the dragon.

  Nellie figured that if magic was visible, it would surround both the boy and the dragon.

  He held out his hand.

  The dragon reached up to the outstretched fingers with his snout.

  At the moment the dragon touched him, the creature exploded in a ball of sparks.

  The women screamed. Agatha grabbed Anneke by the arm and dragged her away. Hilde ducked under the bench along the wall. The other women ran to the door into the storeroom.

  The boy stood in the middle of the barn, with his hand still outstretched. A couple of sparks lay in his open palm. He stared at them, his mouth gaping. Slowly other sparks joined them, casting his pale hand in a golden glow.

  “Give him the box,” Nellie said in a low voice.

  Gisele picked up the dragon box and held it open.

  The flurry of sparks zoomed across the barn and snapped inside the box.

  She calmly closed the lid.

  To Nellie, this was a final proof that this poor, frightened, emaciated boy was indeed Prince Bruno. A feeling of fear and chilling importance overcame her.

  If the citizens of Saardam knew this, they might view the Regent differently. They might demand he step down in favour of the prince.

  Did the Regent know about this? Had the church kept this secret from him? Or did the shepherd see the prince as a rival who he might still need to control the dragon, but whom he would otherwise prefer to kill? A rival he had tried to destroy by locking him up? Was this boy even adequately sound of mind that he could rule?

  Mina and Agatha came out from the storeroom, followed by Anneke, who was crying. Nellie wondered what her mother had said to her.

  Hilde was still huddled underneath the bench, trying to be sure it was safe to come out again.

  Prince Bruno, because she should now call him by his name, stood astonished in the middle of the barn with the box in his hand.

  Gisele was a foreigner, so she had possibly no idea of the importance of this moment.r />
  The horse continued to stand placidly in the corner. It had gone to sleep.

  And tomorrow, they were planning the dumbest rescue mission ever, which could put them all in danger. Gisele had said she was coming, too—it was as if the enormity of what she had done in helping to free Prince Bruno only hit her now, and she’d grown nervous, especially after Nellie told her what she had seen in the church.

  The smart thing to do was to get onto that ship and disappear now. Everything was ready, the sea cows were all in the barn, the harness was complete, the ladders lay ready, the shields were ready, the supplies waited in the hold of the Guentherite order’s ship. There was no need to stay, except for that one thing.

  Nellie couldn’t live with herself unless she did her best to rescue their friend and the mother of the six children. And she didn’t want to leave without attempting to save the other innocent people from certain death in the cold water of the harbour. The conviction of witchcraft was nonsense and everyone knew it.

  And it was already time for the last preparations for the rescue before too many onlookers arrived at the quay.

  Nellie and the women used carrots to entice the sea cows into both harnesses. They would attach one to the peat barge, the other to the longboat.

  Once the barn doors opened both ships would go out, and one would make for the platform and the other, the longboat with Floris and the children, would make for the Guentherite ship. The children would climb the harbour side of that ship and wait there with Mina and Gertie until the others came with the rescued people.

  Then both teams of sea cows would be tied to the ship and by that time Gisele would have cast off on the harbour side and everyone would jump on board.

  The plan was risky and crazy, but it was all they had. Nellie grew nervous waiting, worrying that things might go wrong, because when they did, she would not survive. And then Saardam would be truly lost, and the dream of restoring the royal family would be forgotten.

  Shepherd Wilfridus would claim all power to himself and everyone would suffer.

  Chapter 23

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING dawned silent and misty, and for a while Nellie despaired that they might not be able to carry out the plan, because surely the Regent would postpone the punishment if people couldn’t see what was happening. The whole point of punishment was that everyone in the city watched it and knew the Regent was serious about it.