The yeoman began smiling, when he asked the question. ‘Do you really want to know my name? To tell you the truth, I am a fiend. My dwelling is in hell. I ride about the world searching for gains. I like to find out if men like you will give me anything. That is the only profit I can earn. We are engaged in the same trade, you see. To get something, anything, is the sum of my endeavour. I will ride to the end of the world to find my prey. I am riding now.’
‘God in heaven,’ the summoner replied. ‘What are you saying? I really thought that you were a yeoman. You have the shape of a man, just like mine. Do you have the same form in hell, where you chiefly dwell?’
‘Certainly not. We have no shape in hell. But we can adopt whatever form we fancy, or else make it appear so. I can appear as a human being, or as an ape; I can even take on the form of a bright angel. Why are you surprised? A second-rate conjuror can deceive you easily enough. So why cannot I? I have more experience, after all.’
‘So you are telling me that you can ride around in different shapes. You are only a yeoman for a short while?’
‘Of course. I take whatever shape is necessary. To trap my prey.’
‘Why, sir fiend, do you go to all this trouble?’
‘There are many reasons, dear summoner. Now is not the time to explain them. The day is short. It is already past nine, and I have not yet found my quarry. I must attend to business, if you don’t mind, and not spend the time revealing all my plans. Don’t take this the wrong way, brother, but I doubt that you are capable of understanding them in any case. You asked me why we take such trouble. Well. Sometimes we are the instruments of God himself, fulfilling His commandment. He wreaks his will on humankind in various ways and for various reasons. We have no strength or purpose without Him. That is certain. Sometimes, if we ask kindly enough, we are allowed to afflict the body rather than the soul. Job is a case in point. We certainly punished him. There are occasions when we can do some harm to the soul as well as to the body. That’s the fun part. There are other times when we can attack the soul, but not the body. It all depends. It works out well, in any case. I’ll tell you why. If anybody can resist our temptations, then he or she will go to heaven. That was not our intention, of course. We want the soul to settle down with us. And there are even occasions when we act as servants to mankind. Take the case of Archbishop Dunstan. He used to be able to control us devils. I myself have served one of the apostles in a lowly way. But that’s a long story.’
‘Can you tell me this?’ The summoner was now thoroughly absorbed in the conversation. ‘Is it true that you make your new bodies out of the elements themselves? Out of the wind and the fire?’
‘Not really. Sometimes we create the illusion of that. Yet there are other times when we reanimate the bodies of the dead and rise from their graves. Did you hear about the witch of Endor, who conjured up the spirit of Samuel before King Saul of Israel? Some people claim that it was not Samuel at all. I don’t know. I am not a theologian. But I’ll warn you of one thing. I won’t deceive you. Soon enough you will find out about our changing shapes. You will not need to learn anything from me. You will know the truth from experience. You will be able to lecture on it, write books about it more learned than those of Virgil and of Dante. Come on. Let us ride. I enjoy being in your company. I’ll stay with you until you tell me to piss off.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ the summoner replied. ‘I am a yeoman, and widely respected. I am known to keep my word, and I would stick to it even if you were Satan himself. We are brothers, you and I, and we will be true to one another. We will help each other in our various trades. You take what you can, and I shall do the same. We are both businessmen, after all. But if one of us makes a killing, then he should share it with the other. That is fair, don’t you think?’
‘I grant you that,’ the fiend said. ‘On my honour.’
So they rode forth on their way. They passed through the forest and very soon came up to the village where the summoner hoped to exact some tribute. Here they happened to see a cart filled with hay, being driven with some difficulty by a carter. The road was deep in mud, and the wheels were lodged in it. They could not be moved. The carter was frantic, and kept on shouting at the horses. ‘Come on, Brock!’ he screamed. ‘Come on, Scot! What are you stopping for? Get a move on! The devil take the lot of you, as whole as you were born! I have gone through hell today because of you. Well, you can go to the devil – hay, cart and horses!’
‘This is going to be fun,’ the summoner murmured to his companion. ‘Did you hear what that oaf said? Did you hear the carter? He offered you the cart and the hay. And his three horses. What do you say to that?’
‘Not much. He doesn’t really mean it, you see. If you don’t believe me, go and ask him. Just wait for a moment. You will learn that I am right.’
The carter began to strike his horses on their hindquarters, all the while urging them on with the reins, until finally they began to move. They put their heads down and dragged the cart from the mire. ‘That’s good,’ the carter exclaimed. ‘Jesus Christ bless you! Well done, you dappled beauties! All the saints in heaven preserve you. You have got us free.’
‘What did I tell you?’ the fiend asked the summoner. ‘This is a lesson for you, dear friend. The carter said one thing, but he thought another. Let’s be on our way. I am going to earn nothing here. This is a waste of time.’
So they rode through the village. Just as they came to the edge of it, the summoner rode up to his companion and whispered in his ear again. ‘There is an old woman living around here, who would sooner risk her neck than lose a penny. I’ll get some money out of her, so help me. Otherwise she will end up in court. She hasn’t done anything wrong, of course, but that doesn’t matter. The important thing is to get her. You haven’t had much luck so far, but I’ll show you how it’s done. Just watch.’
When they came up to the old widow’s door, the summoner began beating on it. ‘Come out, you old trout!’ he shouted. ‘Have you got some priest or friar with you? You old hag!’
‘Who is knocking?’ The old woman opened the door a fraction. ‘God save us! What do you want, dear sir?’ She knew that he was the summoner.
‘I have a bill of summons here,’ he said. ‘On pain of excommunication I command you to attend the archdeacon’s court tomorrow. There you will have to respond to certain charges made against you.’
‘May God be my witness,’ she said, ‘I have done nothing wrong. I have been ill for a long time, in any case, and I cannot go very far. I can only hobble and, sir, I could no more get on a horse than on your back. The pain in my side is something dreadful. Can you not give me a written statement of the case? Then I can get someone to answer the charges for me in open court.’
‘If you pay up now, I’ll consider it. Now let me see. Yes. Twelve pence should do it. If you pay me those twelve pence, I’ll drop all charges. I shan’t make much profit myself. It all goes to my lord and master. But for your sake I’ll do it. Come on. Cough up. Where’s the money?’
‘Twelve pence!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mary, Mother of God save me from ruin! If I were to gain the whole world by it, I still haven’t got the money. Twelve pence? I’ve never seen so much money in my life. You can see well enough, sir, what I am. Have pity on a poor old hag.’
‘No way. If I let you off, may the devil take me! Pay up, even if it kills you.’
‘In God’s truth, I don’t have any money.’
‘Pay me now. Otherwise I will confiscate your brand-new frying pan. The one I can see lying in the corner. Don’t you remember the debt you owe me for cheating on your husband? I paid your fine then to the archdeacon.’