Feast of the Elfs: The Green Knight's Squire Book Two (Moth & Cobweb 2)

by John C. Wright

  Gil said, “It is the rub it with my eyesight part I don’t get.”

  She said, “I’ll do it this time.” Then, she smiled sadly. “This might be the last time I ever do any witchcraft. Will I miss it?”

  “If it pains you, think of that pain as punishment for trying to kill that guy you mentioned,” said Gil. “But no, I don’t think you will miss it.”

  Foxglove told Gil to close his eyes, which he did. As they trotted along, a cold sensation came up from his hands holding Dyrnwen, like snakes of frost climbing to his elbows, and rapidly spread over his mail shirt, leggings, and coif. When he opened his eyes, he saw a white shadow hovering around him.

  “Is this an illusion?” he said.

  She said, “No, it is like the base you apply before applying blush. The mist just subtracts from a human’s eyesight the things he does not expect to see. If you walked into a Renaissance Fair or a Halloween Party, everyone would see your chainmail.”

  “It is called mail, not chainmail.” Said Gil. “What do they see instead?”

  She said, “Well, nothing, really. Sort of whatever they expect to see. Their own mind fills in the background, like it does in a dream. I can weave an illusion for you, if you like, so that everyone would see the same thing. I need something to work with. Oh! I know!”

  And to Gil’s embarrassment, the girl took a gauzy green scarf out of her apron pocket and draped it over his neck. She sang a song without words or melody, made some passes in the air with her hands, and then took a pin out of her dress seam and thrust it through the scarf. She said, “Green is the best color for illusions. Something about the optical properties.”

  Gil said. “What do I look like?”

  Foxglove said, “It’s a Boy Scout uniform.”

  Sure enough, when they trotted into the town of Houma, the passersby glanced at the horse and gave him a nod, but seemed to see nothing out of the ordinary. A policeman directing traffic gave Gil a snappy three-fingered salute.

  5. Church Bells

  The cathedral consisted of a tall bell tower with wings to either side, and the main nave running back from the intersection, so the floor plan, if seen from the sky, was a cross.

  Foxglove was getting nervous. “The bell noise is bad for me… I… I am not sure I can go on with this. I’m scared.”

  They were close now. Gil dismounted and raised his hands to her. “Let me help you down.”

  That made her forget her worries for a moment. But then, when she was in his arms, her whole body started to shake. She said, “It think they put something inside me. When they closed over my tear ducts. It is going to hurt me! This is a bad idea. The witch was not so bad…”

  Gil took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Winner, listen to me. The witch was going to sacrifice you to save herself. There is holy water in a little cup by the door. Just take a few steps. Just a few more. Come along.”

  “I– I’m scared. I don’t think I can do it!” Her eyes swam. Tears of panic began to trickle down her freckled cheeks.

  Gil said, “Say a prayer.”

  She said, “What prayer?”

  He said, “Any prayer! Hail, heavenly queen, mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope… do you know that one? Our Father who art in heaven…? Come on. Everyone knows that one.”

  She made a strange gargling noise in her throat, as if she were choking.

  Ruff said, “Boss! People are looking at us!”

  Gil looked up. There was a crowd of people in their Sunday clothing, who had been filing into the entrance of the church, but now were stopped. They were staring at him holding a girl suffering some sort of choking spasm.

  Gil looked and saw a mother with a child. He said, “Ma’am, get help. Go get the Father. Quickly!” The woman turned and ran in the door. Gil said to Foxglove, “Just say, God is great. God is good.”

  Foxglove wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm and then stared at her own hand, awestruck. She whispered. “It’s wet. I’m crying. But the witch sealed up my tear ducts in my eye. It really hurt. When I signed the contract. It must be… oh, Lord, thank you…”

  Foxglove uttered a scream. Her legs went out from under her.

  Gil caught her and lowered her to the ground. He looked up and said to the throng of onlookers, “Stand back, please. Give her some room. Would someone lend me a crucifix, please?”

  A man in a hat said, “Why do you need a crucifix?”

  But the woman next to him said sharply, “He’s a Boy Scout! He knows what he’s doing!”

  The priest came trotting out, smiling genially. He was remarkably young and rather plump. “What seems to be the problem, my children?”

  Gil looked up, trying to keep the writhing body of the young girl from banging her head on the brick walkway. “Father? Please say a prayer for her. She is trying to run away from witchcraft, and there may be a bad spirit tormenting her. Can you do an exorcism?”

  Gil saw the looks of doubt and disbelief on the faces of everyone there, with one exception. The young, plump priest seemed to have no doubts that witches and bad spirits existed. From the look on his face, he did not even seem to think this was out of the ordinary.

  He knelt, whispered in the girl’s ear, removed his alb, and laid it around her shoulders. He took the crucifix someone in the crowd held out, blessed it, and put it around her head even though she choked and screamed and tried to bite him.

  The plump priest called four men by name and said, “Ralf, Nathan, Bill, Eddy, come here. Eddy, you are the biggest, lay down your coat. We are going to roll her onto it. Let us take her inside. My son, what is your name?”

  Gil said, “Call me Swan.”

  “It that a Dutch name? Svonn, you take her hands. I know just what to do. I have everything prepared. Never thought I would get to use those lessons, but I got top marks in seminary. Gently! Here we go. When I count three, lift her up.”

  The four men, with Gil and the priest, grunted and stumbled and lurched, and then carried the girl through the big wooden double doors.

  The interior was surprisingly opulent; rows of golden lamps hung from the white arches above the ranks of pews. White pillars marched toward an immense rose window like a brilliant eye, and its beam slanted down to glow across a tall altar of carved wood. Niches to the left and right held saints; niches above held angels. In the center was a suffering figure on a cross. A box of gold, shut with lock and key, was at his feet.

  The priest said, “Ah! Sister Marigold! As I warned everyone, mass may be delayed for a time. Could you please lead the congregation in prayer, for the salvation of the soul of this girl, ah…”

  Gil said, “Susannah Winifred Worth. The witch tried to take her name.”

  The priest smiled again. “Her name will be written in the Book of Life, never to be expunged, and she shall be placed beyond the reach of all the powers of darkness.”

  Gil said, “How can you be sure, Father?”

  The plump, smiling young man laid a finger along a nostril. “Let’s say a little bird told me. Come! This way! Into the vestry. We can have a little privacy. Did you ever see the movie The Exorcist? It is actually not very much like that. There were some technical inaccuracies, you know. Sister Naomi! Bring me my weapon.”

  Gil said, “Your weapon, Father?”

  The nun scurried up, holding out a belt of rosary beads with a shining silver crucifix dangling from the end, bright as a sword.

  6. Cynocephaly

  It was late in the afternoon by the time Gil, atop Ceingalad, with Ruff trotting alongside, came back past the crossroads with its tall stone cross to the old stone bridge leading back into the other world.

  There was a man sitting not far from the cross. In one hand was a tall pole. He wore a hooded sweatshirt and a dented and crushed cowboy hat, its wide brim pulled low. Over that, he wore a ragged overcoat that looked like it had been new about the time of the Civil War. In his hand he held a little square of cardboard with some angular lette
rs in crayon scrawled on it. Next to him was a shopping cart filled with trash bags. One bag was open. Inside were vegetables. Gil could see a head of lettuce and a bunch of carrots.

  Ruff sniffed. “I smell a dog.”

  Ceingalad said, “I smell carrots!”

  Ruff said, “I don’t trust a guy who smells like a dog. Also, look at his size. He’s really big. Let’s keep on.”

  Gil was not pleased with the smell either, but all he could smell was wine, and vomit, and months of unwashed hair, dirt, grime, and perhaps a whiff of some horrible skin disease.

  Gil said, “I don’t know. We are already late getting back. I don’t want to lose my Sunday privilege.”

  Ceingalad said stubbornly, “You promised! You promised me a carrot!”

  Gil sighed. He saw no other choice. He was not going to break his word to a horse.

  He dismounted. Gil saw that Ruff was right. Even seated on the ground, the shapeless wide-brimmed hat was nearly the level of Gil’s eyes.

  The little sign said, Am a veteran.

  And there were other words, in smaller print, below that. Gil stepped closer, squinting, wanting to hold his nose.

  Served Devil. Bounden in a seat of iron and set afire. Shot by XL arrows. Almost drowned. Please help. Christ is heavy.

  A croaking voice came from under the hat. “Buy some produce? Veggies is good for you.”

  Gil said, “I don’t have any money at the moment. I’d like to buy a carrot. Hang on. I think I can pry one of these diamonds out of my gorget.”

  The hat brim twitched. “You would mar your father’s armor to keep a promise to a beast and bestow a diamond on a beggar?”

  Gil with his dagger point had begun the process of bending the little floral tines awry which held one of the dozens of blue white diamonds on his neckpiece. He paused, glancing up at the stinking, shabby figure. “How did you know this was my father’s armor?”

  “I stare into the face of the Father, and it is a bright-looking glass and holds all the worlds he has made in his gaze; and what I need to see is revealed to me, yes, even in the most secret hearts of men. You are a good lad but prone to anger. I am sent to command you to discipline.”

  Gil said, “Who is my father?”

  “Your mother’s lover, true and faithful.”

  Gil said, “Who are you?”

  The foul smell was gone, and a fresh scent, warm and musky, came from the figure. He cast his hat aside, and stood, and grew taller, and then taller again, until he was three times the height of a man.

  The pole in his hand grew with him as he grew, and it was as tall as the mast of a pirate ship.

  His clothing was torn as his limbs expanded, and the rags cast aside, revealing a shining white garment beneath. Looking up, Gil saw the being had the head of a dog. His skull was black and his mouth was brown, like a Doberman Pinscher.

  “I am a messenger, here to tell you three things. First, you have found favor in the eyes of Our Lady, for your compassion toward her lost daughter, Susannah.”

  Gil said, “By Our Lady, do you mean the Virgin, Mary? Did she have other children after she gave birth to Jesus?”

  “All who are baptized in the living water are her children, for she is the Mother of the Church. Susannah was baptized as a baby and does not recall it, but due to this chrism, a champion both bold and kind was sent to rescue her.”

  Gil said, “What happened to him? Why didn’t he show up?”

  The dog-faced giant knelt, leaned down, and licked Gil on the face. Gil jumped back, a little upset, but then he simply had to laugh aloud. “Well! You are a friendly pup, aren’t you!” He wiped his cheek with the green scarf and laughed again, for a feeling of lightheartedness had come into him, a spirit of solemn joy.

  Ruff said, “Boss, I think he means you are the champion.”

  Gil said, “No way. He must mean someone else…” because the thought that he, Gilberec Moth, might be serving not just Arthur’s memory, but also everything for which Arthur fought, was too huge a thought for Gil to believe. Oddly enough, he felt a sense of shame, for he knew himself unworthy to serve so high a cause.

  The dog-faced giant said, “My second message is to tell you of Reprobus.”

  Gil said, “Who is he?”

  7. The Tale of the Scoundrel

  “His name, Reprobus, being interpreted, means Scoundrel. He was of the lineage of Cain, and he was of a right great stature and had a terrible and fearful cheer and countenance. And he was twelve cubits of height.

  “So great was his strength it came into his mind that he would seek the greatest prince that was in the world, and him he would serve and obey. Coming to Byzantium, where the king of all the Romans ruled and reigned, the king received him into his service and permitted him dwell in the royal court. So Reprobus served there seven years. Scoundrel.

  “Upon a time, a minstrel sang before him a song in which he named oft the Devil, whereat Scoundrel saw the king make the sign of the cross before his visage. Marveling, he demanded of the king what it meant. The king said, Always when I hear the Devil named, I fear he should have power over me, so I garnish me with this sign that he neither grieve not nor annoy me.”

  Ruff said, “Oh! Oh! I know where this story is going. Is there a dog in it? The dog saves the kid from drowning or something, I betcha.”

  The dog-faced giant said, “That is not quite the ending. The kid saves the dog. But you must wait for the telling of it.”

  “Oh! Oh! What happened next?”

  “Knowing now that this Devil, whomsoever he might be, was mightier than the king of Byzantium, Scoundrel went to the crossroads where a suicide was buried, far from holy ground, a stake through the heart and the right hand cut off. The ghost arose and told him the way to where the Devil had his Earthly throne, a mighty city called Pergamon on the river Caicus.

  “On the road to Pergamon, he came across a rider on a pale horse, and behind him a mighty host; and this rider spoke to him, saying I am he thou seekest. These in my train are the votaries of Baphomet and Mahound, whom I have deceived with the false prophet Saint John foreknew; and all the Christian lands from Libya to the Levant are red above from the light of the burning cities and red beneath from the blood of the slain. I have commanded the jinn and janna to break up the mountains where hermit folk might hide and commanded the paynim to burn each book to ash and every smallest bone and relict of every holy saint.

  “And so Scoundrel went with him, and served the Devil seven years, and did many cruel deeds.”

  Ruff sat and scratched his ear. “Hey! Is the Devil the good guy in this story? He is always the good guy in the stories told by elfs.”

  The giant said, “You must wait for the telling of it.”

  “Okay! But get to the part with the dog.”

  “The dog is throughout the tale. Listen: Upon a time as Scoundrel and the Devil passed through a straight highway in the desert, the hosts of Hell came upon a tall and fair cross erected by hermits in the wasteland, and the Devil blanched pale, and turned aside, and could not walk past the shadow of the cross, no, nor so much as look on it. Marveling, he demanded of the Devil what it meant. The Devil answered and said, There was a man called Christ, who was hanged on the cross, and when I see his sign, I am sore afeared and flee from wheresomever I find it.

  “Knowing now that this Christ, whomsoever he might be, was stronger than the Devil, Scoundrel sought out the hermit who had raised the cross in the wasteland and was instructed by him.

  “And the hermit said, This Prince whom thou desirest to serve requireth this service that thou must oft fast and on Lenten Days abstain from meat. And Scoundrel said to him Require of me some other thing, and I shall do it. For that which thou requirest I may not do. For the children of Cain eat no grain, but flesh alone, for so our teeth are formed.

  “So the hermit told him of a river where many perished and were lost. Because he was high of stature and strong in his members, Scoundrel was made to dwell by the riv
er and bear over all them that passed there. So he did for seven years.”

  Ruff said, “What is with the ‘seven years’ jazz?”

  “Upon a time a child small and fair came to him and called him as he slept, saying Wake! And bear me over! Out of his hut he came, but saw no man. Again, he slept. Again, the voice came, and again, he woke and saw no man. But the third time he was called and came out, he found a child beside the rivage of the river who prayed him goodly to bear him over the water.

  “And Scoundrel lifted the child on his shoulders, and took his staff, and entered the river for to pass. But the water arose and swelled, and the child was heavy as lead. As with each step, the water grew wilder and wilder, and the child waxed heavy and more heavy, until Scoundrel had great anguish and feared to be drowned. So he called upon Christ to save him in his distress. Lightly, the child took him up by the hair of his head and bore him across the top of the waves to the shore.

  “Scoundrel said Child, thou hast put me in great peril. Thou weighest as much almost as I had had all the world upon me.

  “And the Child answered, Marvel thou not. Thou bearest me, who bearest the weight of the sins of the world. Yours also I will bear.

  “Whereupon the eyes of Reprobus were opened, and he knew him, and he prostrated himself along the ground before him, confessing the many crimes and horrible deeds he had done in the Devil’s service and also in the service of the king in Byzantium. He said How can so small and frail a thing as a child carry off from me so many heavy sins? It is no more possible than this dead stick in my hand should bloom to life again.

  “And no sooner was I done speaking these words than the staff in my hand bloomed into leaves and succulent dates. No other food have I needed since.

  “So I served the Christ seven years and at the end of that time was martyred by a cruel king after many painful torments. After death, my shed blood healed his wounds, so he was converted and baptized, and now he knows eternal life and joy.