Table of Contents – (spoilers)
Spitzer’s jail was a stout, round stone tower at the base of the fort’s hill on the town’s main crossroads. Next to it was a stables and a kennel, both attended by soldiers. Father Morrenthall rode up to the stables, where a corporal and a lad came out to greet him and the squad.
“Good day, Corporal. I am Father Spencer Morrenthall, priest of the Knights of the Holy Sword. The Baron Hart has appointed me the magistrate of Spitzer. I am here to take possession of the jail. Would you do me the service of caring for our horses while I do so?”
“Yes, of course, Father,” the corporal said smartly as he and the lad hopped to it. “Shall we unsaddle them and brush them down? Shall I send for the farrier?”
“That shall not be necessary. Just keep them safe and comfortable. Thank you.”
While the squad dismounted, the jailer, Billy, had come out of the tower to glower at them. When Father Morrenthall began striding purposely across the yard straight towards him, Billy turned on his heel to go back into the tower.
“You there! Halt! In the name of the Baron: halt!” Father Morrenthall boomed at him.
Billy did no such thing. He scampered into the tower and began to slam its thick, iron-bound door. However the door’s sturdiness proved his undoing in this, as it took him precious seconds to get it moving on its rusted hinges.
When Father Morrenthall ordered Billy to halt, Choke and Knuckle broke into a run. As was always surprising with a man of his size, Knuckle was quite speedy, and reached the door before Choke. He threw his shoulder into it just as Billy shut it. The heavy door swung open and knocked Billy back. Knuckle continued moving into the tower to put a hard front kick into the center of Billy’s belly. This put him down hard.
Billy skidded to a stop on his ass, and he rolled up into a ball with a gasp. Knuckle stopped over top of him and yanked the stout cudgel from Billy’s belt. Then he beat on his legs with it as Billy writhed around making some very undignified noises.
“That’s enough, Sergeant,” Choke said as he came into the tower.
Knuckle kept on beating Billy’s legs. While Knuckle’s strikes did not have his full strength behind them, they were brutal. In a crouch, Knuckle would pause after each one to pick his next target, which he would then rap smartly. Mostly, he targeted Billy’s shins and their very sensitive nerves, although he did spare the jailer’s calves and thighs some attention. As he got his breath back, Billy began to howl.
“Sergeant! Stop!” Choke bellowed.
“Huh?” Knuckle said as he gave Billy another crack, this time to his heel and ankle.
“Stop, I said!” Choke yelled at Knuckle.
“Oh. Shit. My bad, Choke. I forgot I’m a sergeant now. Sorry,” Knuckle said with a big grin as he straightened up over the now weeping Billy.
The main floor of the tower was all a single room, bisected by floor to ceiling iron bars. In the cage were five prisoners who had been seated on benches when Knuckle had stormed in. Now they were standing at the far wall, staring wide-eyed at Knuckle and Choke.
“Who the fuck are these guys?” Knuckle asked the room at large.
“Prisoners, I would suppose,” Choke said dryly as he looked around the rest of the room carefully. It had not changed since the last time he had been there.
To the right of the main door was a wide, curving staircase up to the level above. Hanging on the wall and coiled on the floor near the stairs was a fine collection of chains, manacles, and ropes. To the other side of the door was a large table with sturdy chairs, a cookstove, and a small cot. There was a heavy trapdoor in the wooden floor down to the dungeon below.
Father Morrenthall strode through the door with Peep, Pinch, and Srecko following. Father Morrenthall gestured for Srecko to shut the door. The sound of Srecko sliding the heavy bolt home to lock the door had a note of dreadful finality to it.
“Theodas: good work,” Father Morrenthall said.
Knuckle nodded happily at the praise. Father Morrenthall looked down at Billy the jailer like he was some kind of insect.
“Billy. You are under arrest,” Father Morrenthall said plainly.
“Ohhhh… oh no,” Billy murmured.
“Oh, yes,” Father Morrenthall said with a cold smile. Then he turned back to Knuckle: “Sergeant, please search the prisoner thoroughly. Then we shall be taking him downstairs.”
“Oh! Ah! No! Noooo!” Billy screamed as he attempted to scramble away. However, the beating his legs had received meant he was less than agile in his hopeless escape attempt.
Knuckle leaned down to easily grab one of Billy’s ankles. With this grip he pulled the wretched jailer’s leg straight and hit him hard on the thigh with the cudgel.
“Shut up! Stop resisting!” Knuckle shouted as Billy screamed. Then, remembering Father Morrenthall’s earlier instructions not to speak, he looked sheepishly at him and said, “oh, sorry.”
“Not at all, Sergeant. I like the initiative. Just what was called for. He is your prisoner and you must control him. He resisted and must be punished accordingly. So, proceed with the beating, if you please. Legs and arms only.”
“Yes sir!” Knuckle said happily. Then he really laid into Billy with a very athletic display.
Billy screamed and begged as Knuckle beat on his arms and legs with his own cudgel. Finally, when Knuckle was out of breath, and Billy had pissed himself, Father Morrenthall raised his hand.
“That’s enough, Sergeant. Nicely done. Very expressive. You are an artist of violence. Now you may search the prisoner.”
Knuckle did so and found nothing on him.
“Very good. Let’s get him downstairs where we can have a proper conversation with him.”
Choke lifted up the heavy trapdoor by its iron ring and looked down into the dungeon. It was pitch black down there.
“We’ll need to light a lantern,” Choke said, pointing over to one of several on the table.
“Ah, yes. Of course. Stron, please give us light,” Father Morrenthall said, gripping his steel holy symbol as he did. He pointed to the nearest of the lanterns, whose base lit up with a bright glow stronger than several lanterns.
Peep picked up the lantern and cheerfully went down the dungeon stairs with it. Knuckle stuck Billy’s cudgel in his belt and grabbed him under the arms to drag him over to the trapdoor.
“No! Ahhh! No! Please! Ohhhh!” Billy wept in abject terror.
Knuckle threw him down the steep wooden steps into the dungeon. Down below, Peep was hanging up the lantern from a bracket on a post. When Billy came to rest in the filthy straw spread out on the dungeon’s stone floor, she moved over to step on his throat with her boot. She pressed down until he could only gurgle.
“Shut up,” Peep said to him quietly. “Ye shut yar fuckin pig mouth. Clear?”
Billy did his best to nod. Peep smiled down at him and eased off just enough for him to breathe.
Up top, Father Morrenthall looked to the other prisoners in the big cage.
“Whose are you?” he asked them.
The five men all stared blanky at him.
“Whose prisoners are you? Why are you here? Do not make me repeat myself a second time,” Father Morrenthall said.
The eldest of the men spoke:
“I’m sorry, Father. Ahh… well, we three here were arrested for vagrancy by some officer of the Baron’s on account of we didn’t want to join up with the army but we was just hanging about in town not gainfully employed, according to him. These two here were fighting in a hoorhouse, from what I understand.”
“Ah. Very good. You may all be seated. Have you been fed and watered today?”
“No, Father. The jailer, ye know, that one that ye, uhh… got downstairs now, he usually does that in the evening.”
“Usually? How long have you been here?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Us three for three days now, Father. These other two got brought in last night.”
“Very well. At your ease, then. I am the new magistrate here, by the way. When I am done with the prisoner downstairs, I shall have my people seek out your arresting officers and hear their evidence. Then I shall judge you. Three days is too long to have you here for vagrancy. It is a waste of good food. I shall have your situations settled as soon as I can. Please continue to be patient until then.”
“Thank you, Father,” the prisoners’ spokesman said. He and all the other prisoners tugged their forelocks down into a deep nod to the magistrate.
Father Morrenthall turned to Choke without further acknowledging the prisoners.
“Lieutenant, may I assume that you would prefer to remain up here while I interrogate the prisoner downstairs?” he asked
“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father,” Choke said.
“Good. I leave you in command here. Keep this building secure. Let no one but the Baron himself in.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Sergeants,” Father Morrenthall turned to Pinch and Knuckle. “Upstairs or downstairs?”
“I’ll stay up here with Bartholomew, Father,” Pinch said.
“Very well. So, if I may impose on you, could you begin cooking our evening meal? For all souls here, if you please. I don’t know what food is to be had, but do your best. Yes?”
“Yes, Father,” Pinch nodded.
“And you?” Father Morrenthall asked Knuckle.
“I’ll come downstairs, Father,” Knuckle said without hesitation.
“Good man. Good man. Stout. The prisoner is surely terrified of you. That shall help. But, as we proceed, I think I shall just need you to stand tall and look the part. Yes? The physical handling of the prisoner shall be carried out by Srecko now. Understood?” Father Morrenthall asked Knuckle pleasantly.
“Yes, Father. Whatever ye need.”
“Good. Well then, Srecko, Sergeant Theodas, shall we?” Father Morrenthall gestured to the trapdoor.
Knuckle and then Srecko went downstairs. Father Morrenthall paused to speak to Choke before he followed them:
“Shut the door behind us, please, Lieutenant. Interrupt us only if the Sheriff or any army officers come here looking to speak to me. But unbar the door for no one but the Baron.”
“Understood, Father,” Choke said.
“Thank you,” Father Morrenthall said as he moved down the stairs into the dungeon.
Choke shut the heavy trapdoor behind him. Then he and Pinch shared a wide-eyed look of barely contained horror.
“I’ll help you make dinner, Pinch,” Choke said quietly.
***
Downstairs, Father Morrenthall, Knuckle, and Peep stood in a semi-circle and watched Srecko get to work.
The pungent bushman first put an iron collar on Billy. It was a simple thing fashioned of two pieces of curved wrought iron not any thicker than a horseshoe. Both ends of the pieces were looped over into eyelets: on one side clasped together to make a hinge, and unconnected on the other. Srecko slipped the collar around Billy’s neck and fastened it by threading a rope through the unconnected eyelets. Then Srecko put the other end of the rope through an iron ring in the ceiling and began hauling Billy to his feet with it.
Billy was in no condition to be standing. However, Srecko was strong and Billy had no choice; it was either get his legs under him, or strangle slowly. Srecko pulled him up until Billy was just able to take some of the pressure off his neck by standing up on the balls of his feet. Then Srecko tied the rope off to a cleat on a nearby post.
With Billy now gurgling and wheezing as he swayed back and forth, Srecko had a leisurely look at the dungeon’s collection of other restraints. He came up with a stout wooden bar with three iron rings riveted to it: one in its middle, and one on each end. He looped a length of rawhide through the end rings and tied off each of Billy wrists to them, with the bar passing across the back of his shoulders. This pulled his arms out into a crucifix pose.
With the prisoner secured, Srecko slowly dragged a sturdy workbench across the floor to a spot about a meter and a half in front of him. Upon this Srecko then dropped his heavy leather tool case.
Of course, Billy was in far too much physical distress to pay any attention to this. With his battered legs unable to support his weight properly, he was slowly strangling to death. Well aware of this, Srecko moved back to the cleat. He first yanked Billy up, so that he was hanging, and left him dangling for a few terrible seconds. Then he unwound the rope from the cleat and let him drop. Billy fell hard. He pitched sideways as his almost useless legs folded under him and crashed down on his extended right arm and then his face. Billy lay as he had fallen, whimpering.
“Do I have you attention, Billy?” Father Morrenthall asked in a calm voice.
Billy only wheezed and mewled.
“I asked you a question. You shall speak when spoken to. Must I have Srecko chastise you?” Father Morrenthall asked reasonably.
“Ohhh… please… Father… please, no,” Billy rasped.
“I asked you: do I have your attention?” Father Morrenthall asked again, his tone harder this time.
“Yes, Father,” Billy said, as he began to get his wits about him.
“Good. Would you like a seat?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Yes, Father. Please, Father. Have mercy, please.”
“You shall have what you earn. For now, a seat for the prisoner, Srecko,” Father Morrenthall said.
Srecko dragged over a stout wooden chair with sturdy armrests that also had a good number of iron rings for securing an occupant. He dragged Billy up into it by the wooden bar. Billy shrieked in agony as he did. The fall onto his extended arm, braced as it was with the stout stick, had injured him somewhere.
When Billy had settled down enough to be sensible, Father Morrenthall moved in front of him.
“It seems you have probably broken your arm in your fall, Billy. That is unfortunate, since I want to have a productive conversation with you. So I shall ask our Lord Stron to heal you of your wounds. Stron, please heal this man so that he may help us in your work. Thank you, Lord.”
With this, Father Morrenthall touched his Wheel holy symbol, which imbued his hand with a beautiful, blue light. Then he laid his hand upon Billy’s brow, and Billy was healed of all his wounds.
“Thank you, Father. Thank you! Oh, I’m so sorry. Please! Please don’t—”
“Shut up!” Father Morrenthall barked as he backhanded Billy hard across the mouth. “What did I tell you? You speak when you are spoken to! Now you watch!” Father Morrenthall then turned to Srecko: “Srecko, please show the prisoner your instruments.”
Father Morrenthall stepped aside so that Billy could have a good look at the workbench right in front of him as Srecko unpacked his case.
First to come out was a rusty pull-saw with big teeth on its twenty-centimeter blade. Then came out an iron spike and a wooden mallet. A leather pouch was next, which Srecko opened to reveal a bunch of rusty nails. More hand tools followed: a heavy meat cleaver, its edge standing out bright and sharp on its otherwise rusted and pitted surface; a stone mason’s hammer with a beveled edge for cracking rock; a large wood file; an awl; an iron pry-bar; a pair of blacksmith pincers. Then came more rustic items.
From his once fine leather case, Srecko set out his collection of rocks. There was six of them. They were all about the size of a fist, but had different shapes and textures. A couple were smoothly polished river rocks. Others were rough with jagged edges. They all were stained and encrusted with blood and other organic matter.
After the rock collection, Srecko took out a forty-centimeter stick about the width of his thumb that had been sharpened at both ends. Then came a big pinecone. Finally, Srecko brought out another sharpened stick just a little narrower than the first. This one, however, had a big, fat squirrel skewered on it. The stick had been stuck up the squirrel’s ass and pushed through its body so that it came out through its mouth. The animal could not have been dead long, for it was still in relatively good shape. Its tale was quite fluffy as Srecko proudly waved his squirrel stick around for all to see.
Father Morrenthall blinked and coughed as he struggled to contain his first reaction to this squirrel spectacle.
“Ah. That is a new addition, Srecko. What is it?” Father Morrenthall finally asked mildly.
“Squirrel,” Srecko growled.
“I can see that. It is a fine specimen. Have you named it as well?”
“This one is Fluffy Tail.”
“This one? Have you others?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Not yet. They been coming around trespassing, so I set a cage trap and caught Fluffy Tail. Then I did him like this so’s the others could see it happen. As a warning, like. So, then, I was thinking I might bring Fluffy Tail along as a warning for this guy here,” Srecko pointed Fluffy Tail Billy’s way.
“I see. Well, I am sure he is quite alarmed, as are the other squirrels. Thank you,” said Father Morrenthall.
“Ye see?” Srecko said to Billy now, slapping him across the face with Fluffy Tail. “He got the stick up his anus. Up. His. Anus. He didn’t like that one bit, I can tell ye. But I kept on pushing it up into him until he stopped kicking up a fuss over it.”
Srecko picked up his other sharpened stick off the bench and held its point significantly under Billy’s nose, who sobbed in terror.
“Up the anus this goes, too. You, or a rabbit, makes no nevermind to me,” Srecko said.
“Well, I don’t think that shall be necessary, Srecko,” Father Morrenthall said reasonably.
“Well maybe just a little bit,” Srecko said, still staring hard at Billy.
“No,” said Father Morrenthall.
“Well, then maybe tonight after ye’ve gone back to church and I’m all alone with him here. Maybe then this’ll go up his anus just a little bit.”
“I think not, Srecko,” Father Morrenthall said, his tone still light and amused.
Srecko finally looked away from Billy and over to Father Morrenthall.
“Just a little bit?” he asked sadly.
“Srecko, it is precisely that sort of thing that has Billy here in the trouble he is in. I forbid it. Do you understand?” Father Morrenthall said as though he were talking to a four-year-old.
Crestfallen, Srecko put Fluffy Tail, his unused stick, and his pinecone back into his case, which he then closed in a huff. Father Morrenthall waited patiently for him to calm down a little before he again spoke to him:
“Srecko, why don’t you show the prisoner Shelly?”
This perked Srecko right up. He picked up the heavy mason’s hammer and brought it over to show Billy.
Father Morrenthall moved to crouch down close to Billy and talk to him in a quiet voice:
“Now, Billy, I am going to explain to you how this is going to go. I am going to ask you some questions. If you refuse to answer, or you lie to me, I will have Srecko use Shelly on you. And let me tell you: I do not enjoy being down here with you. I would much rather be out in the fresh air attending to my other duties. So, if you are obstinate, then that is what I shall do. But, before I leave, perhaps I will have Srecko hoist you up like before by your neck and then crush one of your ankles. Then we shall leave you alone until tomorrow morning. If you are very strong, you may survive.”
Father Morrenthall paused to let Billy think about how that would feel.
“Or,” Father Morrenthall went on, “if you especially vex me and I want to be sure you survive, I could have him break both your elbows. Then we shall attach the rope to this stick here and hoist you up by your arms for a few hours. Remember: after a while of that, I can always have Stron heal you again so that we can continue our conversations. We can keep this sort of thing going for weeks.”
Father Morrenthall grabbed Billy by the hair to force him to look deep into his eyes.
“Understand, Billy, that none of this is of any matter to me, or to Srecko. We shall happily see it done. Do not test me. Understood?”
“Yes, Father,” Billy blubbered.
“Good!” Father Morrenthall said cheerfully as he straightened up. He gestured for Srecko to step away from Billy, who receded to lurk behind him with his hammer, Shelly.
Father Morrenthall stood in front of Billy and grasped his holy symbol.
“Lord Stron, please grant me the ability to detect lies. Amen.”
Then, Father Morrenthall clasped his hands in front of himself like he was addressing a ladies’ luncheon.
“Now, Billy, I heard from Otilla of the Holy Fire that you put your hands on her in an inappropriate way. What have you to say about that?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Please, Father. I’m sorry. I’ll tell ye anything ye want,” Billy blubbered.
“Well, then, go ahead. I asked about your handling of Otilla of the Holy Fire when she was in your custody.”
“I’m sorry, Father. I’m so sorry.”
“If you are sorry for something, then you must repent of it. Telling me clearly what it is you have done wrong is the only way. Tell me what you did to Otilla of the Holy Fire,” Father Morrenthall said, still patiently.
“I know I been wrong, Father. I know it. But it aint me yar really after, is it? I’ll tell ye whatever ye wanna know about whoever. Just tell me who ye want, and I’ll tell ye, Father! Please!”
“Ah. We are bargaining here are we? I think you misunderstand me, Billy. I am not as you and the Sheriff. I am not going to torture you for information. I do not want you to give me false testimony on targets you think I want. I want the truth. Starting with your own.”
“But Father, what did I do? I didn’t do nothing! I just did my job, right? Please, ye gotta believe me! I—”
“Shut up!” Father Morrenthall shouted.
“Father, I—”
“Shut up, I said!”
This time, Father Morrenthall gave Billy a hard backhand across the mouth. This time, Billy did shut up. Father Morrenthall stared at him coldly for a long moment before again speaking:
“Since you insist on willfully misunderstanding me, I see I shall have to revoke a privilege. Srecko, hoist the prisoner up again and remove his chair.”
Billy squealed and then gurgled as Srecko once again yanked him upright by the rope through the ceiling ring. He tied the rope off on the post cleat leaving just a slight tension on Billy’s neck; if Billy stood tall and didn’t sway, he could just avoid strangling himself with his iron collar. Then Srecko dragged the heavy chair out of the way.
“Now. Billy. This is your last chance before I chastise you sternly. Tell me what you did to Otilla of the Holy Fire.”
“I searched her, Father.”
“Yes. I understand that. And in doing so, you put your hands upon her in a sexually deviant manner,” Father Morrenthall said.
“No! I didn’t! You have to search them proper! Ye know that, Father!” Billy protested.
“Lie! You lie! Very well. Srecko, prepare the prisoner’s leg,” Father Morrenthall said.
With Billy screaming in terror, Srecko came at him with a length of rope. Billy did his best to kick his legs this way and that to keep him from getting a hold of him. However, in doing so, Billy began choking himself and could not put up a good struggle. Srecko had no trouble looping the rope around his right ankle and pulling his leg out to his side to tie it to the chair. Now Billy was forced to stand on his left leg alone, with any correction of balance choking him.
“One more lie from you, Billy, and I will have Srecko smash your right ankle. Then he will let your leg down and we will leave you down here until tomorrow. I am fed up with you. Now, tell me the truth: you touched Otilla of the Holy Fire in a sexual manner when you searched her upstairs. Yes or no?”
“Yes, Father. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“At last. We have the truth. Then, when you brought her down here, you touched her sexually again, but even more. This time without any need to search her. That is correct, yes?”
“Yes, Father. I did.”
“And there we have it. Do you realize that this behavior was sinful and wrong, Billy?”
“I do now, Father. Before… I dunno. I didn’t think about it. I just thought that was what I was allowed to do, on account of me doing my job, and all,” Billy said, his words now spilling out of him easily.
“And why would you think that, Billy? Did Sheriff Waters set an example for you in this regard?”
“Yes! Yes he did, Father!”
“I see. Billy, I am now going to ask you a hard question. And you must answer me truthfully. Have you ever raped anyone in your custody?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“What? Rape? No!” Billy exclaimed.
Father Morrenthall frowned at Billy at this. Then he thought for a moment before rephrasing the question:
“Have you ever had sex with a prisoner, Billy?”
Billy began to cry. “No… Father. Please. I don’t wanna answer that. Please…”
“But you must answer, Billy. You must, or things will get much rougher for you here. Answer the question, please,” Father Morrenthall said, his voice now disarmingly gentle.
After a long pause, Billy said very softly: “Yes, Father.”
“Yes what, Billy? You have had sex with prisoners?”
“Yes, Father,” Billy whispered.
“And the truth shall set you free. Srecko, you may release the prisoner’s leg,” Father Morrenthall said.
When Billy was once again standing on his two quivering legs, Father Morrenthall continued:
“Now, these prisoners that you had sex with. They did not want that, did they? You forced yourself upon them, didn’t you.”
“Yes, Father. I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was wrong.”
“You didn’t know? That is rape, man. A mortal sin. You have been wicked!”
“But, Father, Sheriff Waters told me it can’t be rape when it’s a prisoner, since they aint a human no more. Not properly so, anyways! That’s what he told me! I swear it, Father!”
“Ah. There we have it,” Father Morrenthall said with a satisfied smile as the puzzle of Billy’s truthful denial to the question of rape was answered. “I must inform you, Billy, that you have been led astray by our Sheriff. What he said is not true. What you did was rape. A mortal sin. And a terrible crime. You understand that now, don’t you?”
“Yes, Father. I do. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. You are doing a good job now, Billy. I appreciate it. But, I am going to ask you some more difficult questions. And you must answer them truthfully as you did the last. Understood?”
“Yes Father.”
“Has Sheriff Waters ever directed you to rape a prisoner. By that I mean, he told you to have sex with them. Has he done that?” Father Morrenthall asked calmly.
“Yes, Father. He has. Not that much, though. Just from time to time. When, ye know, there’s some lady folk that get themselves into trouble. That don’t happen too often, really.”
“Okay, then. And, to your knowledge, has he had sex with them himself?”
“No, not really, Father. He watches me do it sometimes. And then, sometimes, if there’s a pretty one, he tells them that he’ll stop me from doing that if they’re nice to him. And when they agree to that, he takes them upstairs to the third floor where he keeps them a while,” Billy answered.
“Is that so? How long has he kept them?”
“I dunno. Few weeks maybe? Not really sure. I aint that smart with time and all that, Father. I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright, Billy. Do you know what happens to these women when he has finished with them?”
“I dunno. He just leaves with them and they don’t come back. Once, another guy came and got one, though.”
“Another man took her away? Who was he?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Dunno. Big tough-looking fighter, though. Armored and that. I’m sorry I don’t know more, Father,” Billy said.
“That is quite alright, Billy. You have done very well indeed. You may take a rest now. Srecko, let the prisoner take a seat. Untie his hands and bolt his collar on properly, without the rope.”
“Thank you, Father,” Billy said.
“You are welcome, Billy,” Father Morrenthall answered pleasantly.
Srecko dragged the chair back under Billy and undid his collar rope so that he could sit down. Then Srecko went back to the bench where the restraints were kept. He returned with a bolt and nut and two pairs of pliers. Srecko removed the rope tying the collar eylets together and threaded the bolt throught them, using the pliers to tighten the nut. Then he coiled up the neck rope properly and put it away. Only then did he return to untie Billy’s wrists from the bar across his shoulders.
“There we are, Billy. Much more comfortable now, yes?” Father Morrenthall said.
“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father.”
“You are welcome. You have been quite helpful. So now I wish to have a little discussion with you about some other matters. I do hope you continue to be helpful, Billy. You don’t want to dissapoint me, now do you, Billy?”
“No, Father! Whatever ye wanna know, I’ll tell ye!”
“Just so long as it is the truth. Remember: Stron will tell me if you lie,” Father Morrenthall said with his tone and bearing more that of a schoolteacher than an inquisitor.
“I know, Father! I’ll be good, now. I promise, Father! From now on! I’ll be so good!”
“I hope so. So, Billy, tell me: what do you know about the Outfit?”
Muse Vassal 