The Fiery Angel

by Valery Bruisov

  “Renata!”

  All those in the room automatically turned towards me, for until this moment I had not uttered a word, but Renata, not making a move, only lifted towards me her clear eyes, gazed for one moment straight into my face, and then spoke softly and clearly:

  “Begone from me, Satan!”

  The Count asked me, in surprise:

  “Can it be, Rupprecht, that you know this maiden?”

  But I had already overcome my emotion, and, grasping that the only hope lay in my preservation of the secret, I replied thus:

  “No, gracious Count, I now perceive that I was mistaken: I do not know her.”

  Then the Count himself addressed a question to Sister Maria:

  “Tell me, dear maiden; know you of what you are accused?”

  In her customary, very melodious voice, in which was now, however, unusual humility, Renata replied.

  “Sir! I came hither to seek peace, for I had suffered much, and never addressed my prayers to any but God Almighty. But if my enemies seek to undo me, it may be that I shall not have the strength to withstand them.”

  After some meditation, the Count asked again:

  “Have you yourself ever beheld any demons?”

  Renata answered with pride:

  “I have always averted my face from them!”

  Then the Count put his third question:

  “And do you believe in the existence of evil spirits?”

  Renata retorted:

  “I believe, not in the evil spirits, but in the word of God which testifies of them.”

  The Count smiled and said that so far he had no further questions to ask, and Renata, bowing low again, left the cell, without looking more at me, while I remained shaken by this meeting more than would have been possible by any, even the most horrible, vision. I do not remember what the Count and Mother Maria then discussed between them, but, in any case, their conversation was soon interrupted, for the sister key-warden hurried in, saying that His Eminence had bidden all the sisters and all those who had arrived in his train to congregate with him in the chapel. The Mother Superior of course rose hastily, issuing instructions, and the Count turned to me and said:

  “Let us be going too, Rupprecht. But what has made you so pale?”

  This last remark showed me that I had not succeeded in concealing my confusion, and therefore I strove with every means to preserve an appearance of calm, gritting my teeth to agony, and straining my whole will.

  As we were leaving the house in which resided the Mother Superior, the Brother Inquisitor, walking behind the Count, asked me:

  “What do you think now of Sister Maria—were not the words I spoke to you this morning true?”

  I replied:

  “I think that thorough investigation is necessary here, for many aspects of the case seem dark to me.”

  The Brother Inquisitor gladly picked up my thought, and began to elaborate it, thus:

  “You are, of course, perfectly right, and we can both perceive that no real investigation has as yet been made here. In the first place it is necessary for us to establish which of the two alternatives here obtains (for already the influence of the Devil in the one form or the other is not subject to doubt)—possession or obsession, possessio sive obsessio. In the first case these observants, and particularly this Sister Maria, would be guilty of a pact with the Devil, whom they must have admitted into their very bodies; in the second, they would be guilty only of weakness of spirit, in having allowed the devils to rule them from without. There are many means of determining this, for instance: the flesh of those possessed does not emit blood if it be cut by a knife that has been blessed; they can hold a red-hot coal in their hands without being burned; further, they do not drown in water if they be thrown bound therein, and so forth. Next, it is necessary to discover whether those guilty have caused damage only to their own souls, or also to their neighbours’ goods and bodies; whether, by means of their spells, they have destroyed cattle and human beings, made women sterile, summoned rains and fogs, caused storms to rise and unearthed the corpses of babes, and so forth. And, finally, it is necessary to establish clearly the identity of those demons that have here manifested their activity, infamous in the sight of God, their names, their favourite outward forms, and the invocations they obey—in order that it may be the more easy in future to withstand their pernicious influence.”

  Talking thus, we reached the doors of the chapel, where already not a few people were crowded, for there were gathered not only all those who had ridden with the Archbishop, but also many of the neighbouring inhabitants, and of course there would have been yet a multitude of other inquisitive persons desiring to see their prince and his combat with the demons, had not by his own orders the simple yokels been excluded from the nunnery, so that they seethed without the gates. To us, who walked with the Count, of course the ingress to the temple was open, and soon we found ourselves beneath the crosswise arches of the ancient chapel, dark, gloomy, resounding, but not devoid of grandeur, and I began to study the ranks of the grey nuns, who huddled like a flock of frightened pigeons, columbæ ceu, as Vergilius Maro says, all to one side; but Renata was not amongst them. The Count, and with him Brother Thomas and myself, took seats on the first bench, and for the space of several minutes, while the general silent and wearying expectancy endured, I plunged into sad memories of those days, when, myself concealed behind pillars, I had searched as now for Renata with my eyes. I knew that she would enter here, that I should see her again, and, from that knowledge, my heart beat in my breast like the heart of a timorous lizard, gripped by the coarse fingers of a man.

  The harsh grating of a door forced me to raise my eyes, and I saw advance from the sacristy, with her two attendant sisters, first Mother Martha, and behind her, her eyes downcast but with firm step, Renata, and then immediately, scarcely had they reached the other sisters—the Prince-Archbishop, accompanied by two prelates and the convent chaplain. The Archbishop was clad in his solemn robes, embroidered in gold, with a stole round his shoulders and an ornate episcopal staff in his hand, wearing an infula, yet more gorgeous than that which he had worn at the feast in the castle, bordered at the seams with precious gems, which glittered in the light of the wax candles, lit despite the fact that it was noon, and on his entry all fell to their knees. The Archbishop, with his prelates, walked straight to the altar, where, kneeling also, he read the prayer: “Omnipotens sempiterne Deus,” and when he had finished the whole congregation intoned with one voice “Amen,” in its number also Renata, who was kneeling, however, away from the others, in front of the benches, in the sight of all. Then, rising and turning towards us, the Archbishop, in a loud and clearly distinct voice, called out: “Te invocamus, te adoramus,” and so forth, while we evenly returned him the responses. Lastly, blessing the water, he sprinkled the liquid thus consecrated towards the four corners of the earth, and then, seating himself on the archiepiscopal throne, he bade Renata approach.

  My glances were bound so firmly to the image of Renata that, methinks, no power on earth could have served in that minute to avert my head, and I saw each minutest swaying of Renata’s robe, as, rising slowly, she made a few steps forward, and again when she lowered herself to the ground before the very throne of the Archbishop. The Archbishop made the sign of the cross on her forehead, imposed his hands upon her head in blessing, and pronounced another prayer: “Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus,” to which Renata listened in meek submission, and to which we all replied once more “Amen.” And while all this ritual lasted, since I saw that Renata conducted herself as a true daughter of the Church, and showed no traces in herself of the presence of the Power of Evil—there was born in me the joyful hope that all might yet transpire well, as though a thin streak of the lightening dawn broke through the darkness of my soul.

  After the second prayer, the Archbishop rose once more to his feet and turned to us with the following speech:

  “Beloved b
rethren and sisters! It is known well enough that the Spirit of Darkness assumes often the shape of an Angel of Light, the more certainly to tempt and undo irresolute souls. But a spiritual sword is given unto us for that very purpose, to sever in such circumstances his hideous head, and we call upon you to fear his wiles no longer. And thou, daughter dear unto us, answer us: what evidence hast thou that thy visions are from God and not from the Devil?”

  And now again I heard Renata’s voice, soft, restrained, yet clear, and she said:

  “Highly reverend father! I know not from whom be my visions, but he who appears to me speaks to me only of God and Good, calls me to a spotless life and abominates my transgressions—how can I not have faith in him?”

  But hardly had Renata finished these words when, all around her, on the ground, as if from below, there suddenly sounded quick and agitated knockings, the same as those of which she had said that it was the “tiny ones” who knocked. And at the same moment a great confusion arose in the chapel: screams were heard from amongst the sisters, all set themselves in movement, and I myself was unable to subdue the sudden terror that shook me, while the Archbishop, mightily and angrily striking the earth with his staff, exclaimed:

  “Whose be these wiles? Answer!”

  I could not see the face of Renata, but from the tremor of her voice I realised that she was in a state of the highest excitement, and in a very low voice she uttered:

  “Father! These be my enemies.”

  The Archbishop, maintaining control over himself, began an exorcism, speaking at first in the vernacular:

  “Step forth, dark spirit, if thou hast found thee shelter in this holy place! Thou—father of lies, and destroyer of truth, and inventor of wrongfulness; know then the sentence our candour shall pronounce upon thy artifices! Wilt thou not, condemned spirit, submit to the will of our common Creator? Thou didst fall into deadly sin, and wert thrust from the holy heights into the abysms of darkness and the subterranean depths. And now, hideous creature, whoever thou beest, to whatever hellish hierarchy thou mayest belong, if, by God’s allowance, thou has thrust thyself by deceit into the confidence of these pious women, we name the Father Omnipotent, we implore the Son Expiator, we invoke the blessed Holy Ghost against thee! O ancient serpent! We anathematise thee, expel thee, curse thee, renounce thy works, forbid thee this place, and mayest thou flee, despised, ashamed, exiled into places arid and weird, into horrible deserts, inaccessible to man, and there, hiding and chafing the bit of thy pride, mayest thou await the terrible day of the last judgment! Thou shalt not mock the servants of Christ Jesus, thou shalt deceive none of them, fast flee, quick begone, leave them to worship God in peace!”

  But while the Archbishop was uttering these anathemas and conjurations the knockings not only failed to cease, but yet increased, and began to sound not only through the floor, but on the benches, from the walls of the chapel, and even came from its high crosswise arches, and their strength became so violent that it was as though the full swing of a mighty hammer were striking against the building. At the same time grew the confusion within the chapel, for many of the on-lookers in terror sought the doors, and among the sisters there occurred an extreme disturbance: some of them huddled tremblingly against each other, like sheep at the appearance of a wolf, others, beside themselves, shouted curses and reproaches at Renata. But Renata herself remained immobile, like a statue, as if carved of wood, not rising from her knees, but also not lowering her head, as though all that happened around her concerned her not at all.

  At last, from the ranks of the sisters, there suddenly tore forward a nun, young and beautiful, as far as I could see, who ran into the middle of the chapel, making strange movements and shouting something incomprehensible, and then fell to the floor and began to throw herself about in a fit of that possession that it had been my lot to observe previously in Renata. All, in terror and confusion, then rushed from their places, and I too hurried to the girl, and saw how terribly she was contorted, while her belly bulged out from under her robe as though she were with child. But the Archbishop, in a commanding voice, bade all remain motionless. Then, approaching the unfortunate, he ordered his prelates to bind her tightly with sacred stoles, so that she could no longer throw herself about, and, sprinkling holy water over her face, he asked loudly, addressing himself to her:

  “Art thou here, accursed sower of confusion?”

  The bound sister replied, the demon entered within her speaking with her lips, thus:

  “‘I am!’”

  We were struck by this answer more than by anything that had gone before, and the Archbishop questioned once more:

  “I conjure thee in the name of the living God, answer: art thou an evil spirit?”

  The sister replied: “‘Yea!’”

  The Archbishop asked:

  “Art thou he who seduced Sister Maria in the guise of an angel?”

  The sister replied: “‘No, for we are many here.’”

  The Archbishop asked:

  “Answer, to what end did you scheme this deceit and seduce with false images the servants of God?”

  The answer was not forthcoming, and the Archbishop asked again:

  “Had you the shameful intention of undoing the eternal bliss of these pious sisters, and diverting the whole convent from sanctity to dishonour?”

  The sister replied: “‘Yea!’”

  The Archbishop asked:

  “Answer: had you an accomplice amongst the sisters of this nunnery?“

  The sister replied: “‘Yea!’”

  At this answer all those who crowded round suddenly shivered, and the Archbishop asked:

  “And who was this accomplice? Not she whose body thou dost now inhabit?”

  The sister answered: “‘Nay!”’

  The Archbishop asked:

  “Then was it not the sister who calls herself Maria?”

  The sister replied: “‘Yea!”’

  I understood in this instant that thus had been delivered the death sentence of Renata, and the Archbishop, again sprinkling holy water on the prostrate and bound sister, began to exorcise the demon that possessed her, that he might emerge from her body.

  “Deceitful and sinful spirit”—pronounced the Archbishop—“I charge thee—abandon this body that thou hast wrongfully chosen as thy residence, for it is the temple of the Holy Ghost. Begone, serpent, defender of cunning and riot! begone, ravening wolf, overflowing with all filth! begone, goat, guardian of swine and lice! begone, poisonous scorpion, accursed lizard, dragon, horned vermin! I command thee in the name of Christ Jesus, initiate of all the mysteries, begone!”

  At the last of these exorcisms the bound sister began to throw herself about with especial power, and moaned terribly with her own voice:

  “He is going! He is going! He is in my breasts! He is in my hands! He is in the tips of my fingers!”

  As she spoke, the distension of her belly moved first to her breasts, then to her shoulders, then she lifted her bound hands on high, and at last she remained motionless, like an invalid exhausted by a terrible fit of sickness. Brother Thomas told me afterwards that he and several others with him saw the demon, which flew out of the fingers of the unfortunate woman in the guise of a manikin, shapeless and hideous, and was carried away on a smoky cloud through the door of the temple, leaving behind him a stench, but I, though I was closely observing all that took place, neither saw such an apparition nor was aware of any such smell. And when the possessed sister had quietened down, and it became apparent that the demon that had possessed her had left her, the Archbishop gave orders that she should be carried away, for she could not walk of herself, and himself he turned once more to Renata, and we all followed him.

  During the whole time occupied by the purification of the possessed sister, Renata had remained apart from us, still kneeling and not once even making an attempt to turn her face towards us. Several times I had been tempted to approach her and speak to her, but I had been held back by the thought th
at I should thus expose my intimacy with her, whereas to help her, and perhaps even save her, I could succeed only if people thought me a stranger, or even hostile to her. Therefore, mastering my passionate yearning, I had remained apart from her, in the midst of the others, and approached her only when the Archbishop again turned towards her. This time I tried to place myself so that I could see the face of Renata, and so that she could see mine, but the expression of her features, whose every play I knew so well, boded no good, for I noticed at once that the expression of humility had been replaced in her features by an expression at once stern and stubborn—and a new and sickening fear clutched at my heart. I must add further, that the mysterious knockings, which had died down somewhat during the colloquy between the Archbishop and the demon, had not, however, disappeared altogether and at times sounded still from the wall, from the floor, or from beneath the arched beams.

  Returning to the altar, the Archbishop commanded that, as a sign of affliction, the wax candles be extinguished, and then, turning to Renata, he struck the stone flags sternly with his staff and called to her:

  “Sister Maria! One of our enemies, whom we, with the help of God and the power granted us from above, have forced to quit the body of one of thy sisters, has informed us that thou art in sinful league with diabolical forces. Repent thee before us thy falling from God.”

  Renata lifted her head and replied firmly:

  “Not guilty am I of the sin you have named.”

  Hardly had she said this, when suddenly there sounded knockings so shattering that it seemed as though the walls of the temple were sagging apart and crashing to the ground, or as though cannons with their projectiles and battering appliances with their rams were attacking us upon all sides. In the noise and thunder of the knockings, which followed almost continuously upon one another, for a moment nothing could be heard, and all those present fell upon their knees around the Archbishop, stretching out their arms to him, as to the only one able to save them. And he, still not losing the firmness of his spirit, pointed his staff forward, like a magic wand, and addressing himself no more to Renata, but to the demon he believed to have entered her, exclaimed commandingly: