Could he really be talking about himself?
—sacrifice, chastity and abstinence. Thirty years of poverty—
Oh, please.
—and preaching to congregation after congregation of ignorant, uneducated sinners. And what do I get?”
Knowing it was a rhetorical question I interrupted by answering,
“Some kind of promotion, I would have thought…”
The flash of eyes again. He still had Cleaver’s knife. I shut my mouth.
“Nothing, that’s what. Not even the assurance after all this faith that there’s even a Great Father still out there.”
“Oh, I’m sure the Gr—”
“What would you know about the Great Father?” Prattle’s eyes bulged. He stopped walking, turned me and screamed into my face. “Eh? You with your books and your laws and your smug self-satisfaction? You think you’re so intelligent, so above the rest of us, don’t you? And you don’t have the first idea what it is we’ve all lost today, do you?”
The villagers who’d been following us were now hearing everything we said.
“An inedible barbecue?”
Prattle laughed. It was a strange sound; not one of happiness but the strangled guffaw of the anguished in whom the emotions are too intense to be distinguished.
“Fine. Make your jokes, Delly. You might as well while your body is still alive. But when you die your soul will go to Hell. All our souls will go to Hell.” He held up his thin white arms and shouted, “The Great Father is DEAD. WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL.”
I pulled his arms down, regretting it the moment the sour smell of his sweat hit me.
“Don’t tell them that! There’ll be a riot. You’ll be the first one they lynch. You have to help me keep everyone calm until we work all this out.”
“There’s nothing left to work out. Everyone is doomed.”
“How can you say that? We have to think about this before we give up and go like lambs under Cleaver’s blade. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe the Great Father isn’t dead at all.”
“He would never allow this to happen. His death is the only explanation.”
“All right. Maybe it is. But what if he—I mean He—wasn’t dead? What might that mean?”
“That He has abandoned us.”
Ah. Not positive.
“Right,” said I. “ Er, Good. And so He’s a forgiving sort of…being, isn’t he?”
“The Great Father is the most forgiving of all.”
“There you go then. There’s already a way back.”
“But how can you prove He isn’t dead?”
“How can you prove He is?”
“The demon said—”
“Crusty cow flops, Leopold, you’re not going to take the word of a demon are you?”
With some of the steam gone from his pot, Prattle deflated a little. We walked on and he spoke in more even tones.
“Well, no…of course not…but—”
“But nothing. That demon’s a devious mischief-maker. He may only be telling us half the truth. He may be lying through his pointy yellow teeth. Either way, we can’t trust him. Meanwhile, we have to find out what’s really going on.”
We arrived in the open square where a circle of onlookers now goggled at the body of the demon. It was standing unmoving, as we’d left it. The villagers didn’t seem confident to go any nearer than about fifteen strides and I couldn’t blame them. It had a long reach and moved fast when it wanted to. Even the inability of its body to function without a head might have been nothing more than a ploy. The crowd parted to let us through and we stood in front of the demon scratching our chins and jumping every time the headless giant so much as twitched. Prattle looked pale and tired now as he regarded our adversary.
“What the Hell are we going to do with it?” He asked.
I shrugged, unable to answer.
“Just look at the size of its…club.”
“I know, I know. It isn’t natural. No matter what happens, the ladies in the village will be dreaming about that appendage for the rest of their lives. And to have three onions that big! Imagine the mess.”
“Thank you, Delly Duke, I’d rather not.”
We were thoughtful for a moment. Me, contemplating the results of the demon servicing our womenfolk and Prattle, no doubt, imagining he was the demon. I thought it best to curtail his fantasies before they became dangerous.
“Isn’t there any information on demons in your holy scroll? A ritual for exorcism perhaps?”
“The problem doesn’t seem to have been anticipated.”
“That’s interesting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well why would the Great Father create Hell and demons and then not mention it in His scroll?”
“There’s a section on dragons,” said Prattle as if that would make up for it. It explained his keenness on the idea of the feast of the dragon.
“Never mind. I think there are a few more pages on demons in the Ledger. I’ll give it a more thorough read through and meet you at sunrise to discuss it.”
“I’m not having that creature’s head in my lodge until morning. It’s an abomination.”
“The people will expect you to be the custodian of the head until we fathom this out.”
“Yes, but why can’t we finish it tonight?”
“Because we’re all tired and we’re not prepared. Tomorrow we’ll all be fresh and ready to act. Right now we need a rest.” I gestured to the folk in the crowd. “Look at them, Leopold. They weren’t exactly fit before this started. Now they’re exhausted and so am I.”
As we walked back towards the lodge, Prattle asked me a question:
“Where did you get this Ledger? How can it contain so much information?”
“It’s been in the Duke family for generations. Tells you everything you need to know.”
“Let me see it.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate, Leopold. You are a man of the cloth, after all. It wouldn’t become you to pollute your mind with the fatherless literature that the Ledger contains. I promise I’ll glean every last fact from it before tomorrow morning. Then, together, we shall rid Long Lofting of the demon.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and snatched my hand away before it became too soiled. We reached the lodge and it was deserted. I assumed Velvet had gone home ahead of me to prepare the supper. I bid Leopold goodnight and sauntered home amid long shadows of a bright evening. It was still hot enough to make me sweat and I knew that none of us would sleep deeply that night, especially Leopold, who had the topmost portion of an underworld employee right in the middle of his house. I couldn’t help smiling at that. What a stroke of genius it had been to insist he act as the demon’s guardian.
I walked through the front door of my croft into an almost cool atmosphere. The shutters had been closed all day to keep out the sun and allow the breeze to pass through. I sighed with pleasure at the relative comfort it brought, knowing that as soon as I became used to it I would feel hot all over again. The croft was silent.
“Velvet?”
I walked through the entryway into the main room where the kitchen and dining and sleeping areas were. It was quiet. No pots rattling, no hissing of escaping steam. I opened the back door to see if she was in the garden and tripped over a hen that had been pecking at the boards of the porch in a brainless bid for nourishment. When I kicked it, it flapped in shock, gaining enough air for a moment that my booted foot sent it, clucking and yodeling, far into the garden where it crashed into the corn and disappeared.
“Stupid bird. Velvet? You out here?”
Mary the goat, tethered out of reach of the crops, ignored me.
As I walked back into the shade of the house, Velvet bustled in through the front door.