Table of Contents – (spoilers)
Father Morrenthall soon arrived at Spitzer fort with three of his men, including his stone-faced sergeant. In the courtyard, Choke’s platoon was drilling with some of Lieutenant Cooper’s men, practicing footwork with spears and shields. Lieutenant Cooper and Choke were both with their men, helping their sergeants with the training exercises.
When the Knights of the Holy Sword were through the gates, Choke hurried over to hold Father Morrenthall’s horse as he dismounted.
“Well, Lieutenant Pekot, I heard you have had even more excitement! Crossbowed and stabbed last night, were you?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Yes, Father. But thanks to Sergeant Nikolas, I was able to survive so that Father Gerban could heal me.”
“Praise Altas for that. And a good job all around! You have flushed out even more rapscallions. Three dead, I heard reported this morning. With one wounded in custody. And another run off?” Father Morrenthall asked, leaning in close to ask the question quietly.
“Yes, sir. Corporal Butters,” Choke said, meeting Father Morrenthall’s eye significantly.
“Yes, indeed. My tracker, Michal, and Otilla, are presently out working on tracking him down. However that goes, it seems promising that you will have a reckoning with him at some point in the future.”
“Do you think Butters was my shooter, Father?” Choke asked. “It is possible that the shooter is still here in the fort, isn’t it? The prisoner has not been interrogated. So we have no way of knowing for sure, do we?”
“Well, the soldier who brought me the message reported that someone from within the keep first shot you, and then shot and wounded one of his own people attempting to reach him in escape. Yes? That is correct?” Father Morrenthall asked.
“Yes, Father.”
“Well, Lieutenant Pekot, that act shows some very cold, calculated thinking. Such a man would know that the prisoner would surely implicate him as soon as I got my hands on him. Yes? So he would hardly remain here. No, Corporal Butters is your shooter. He is Sergeant-Major Orel’s right-hand man. That is confirmed. That means he was, for all intents and purposes, the number three Outfit man here in Spitzer. Had he delegated any intermediaries between himself and the men that attacked you, he surely would have murdered them before leaving the fort. If he didn’t bring them along, of course. There are no other soldiers missing, are there?”
“No, Father,” answered Choke.
“Well, there you have it then. And that means we should be just about finished with cleaning up this fort,” Father Morrenthall said with a satisfied smile.
“I am sure you know what you are doing, Father, but I fear that there is no bottom to the corruption here,” Choke whispered.
Father Morrenthall laughed.
“You are correct, of course, Lieutenant Pekot. They have all been corrupted. To a man. But, what I mean is, that with the active agents of that corruption contained or chased out of the chicken coop, we shall be able to get the hens back into order shortly, I am sure. I shall explain all later, Lieutenant. Now, I really must get on with it, before matters get complicated even further.”
Father Morrenthall clapped Choke on the shoulder and began striding Lieutenant Cooper’s way. Choke handed off the Father’s reins to the stable lads who were taking the Holy Sword men’s steeds to the hitching posts in front of the stable.
“Lieutenant Cooper!” Father Morrenthall called cheerfully. “Bless you for your help and good work this last night. Bless you, indeed!”
“Thank you, Father,” Lieutenant Cooper said, squaring up smartly to dip his head in a deep nod.
“Now, Lieutenant, I have further need of your assistance. And time is of the essence. The man you dispatched to report to me said he was next heading to Pinewhispers to report to the Baron. Those were his orders, yes?”
“Yes, Father.”
“So, assuming the Baron responds with all alacrity, of course, we can expect him to return to the fort in about ninety minutes. Would you say that is correct, Lieutenant?” Father Morrenthall asked Lieutenant Cooper.
“Yes, I should think it is, Father.”
“Excellent. Excellent. So, we really must act quickly to get everything into proper order for the Baron’s return. Everything just so. Yes?”
“Yes! Certainly, Father! Whatever you need,” Lieutenant Cooper exclaimed.
“Excellent. So, I am going to go to the dungeon with Lieutenant Pekot to interrogate your prisoner. And I would like you to escort my three men to collect Captain Edison. Tell him it is time for his interview with me at the church.”
“Captain Edison, sir? At the church? You want me to tell the Captain that?” Lieutenant Cooper said, looking extremely hesitant.
“Well, you can tell him I said so. Or, if you prefer, you can just escort my men up to him and Sergeant Baylor here can tell him,” Father Morrenthall said pleasantly, gesturing to his terrifying sergeant.
“Ahh… Yes, Father. Of course. But if the Captain refuses? What then?”
“Then Sergeant Baylor and my men have my order to bring him forcibly. I do not think that Captain Edison will present much of a problem for them. I do ask, though, that if such unfortunate circumstances do arise, that you do not interfere with my men in their lawful duties. Any further questions, Lieutenant Cooper?” Father Morrenthall asked mildly.
“No, Father.”
“Good. Tell the Captain that I would like to be on our way within half an hour. I also suggest that he brings any papers that he feels will help shed light on what has been transpiring here. Alright? Yes? Well, then, off you go!”
Father Morrenthall waved Lieutenant Cooper towards the keep. Cooper turned smartly and went inside, followed closely by Sergeant Baylor and the other two Holy Sword men. Father Morrenthall waited just a little before following them with Choke.
It was obvious that Father Morrenthall knew exactly where the dungeon was as he strode purposefully through the keep, heading for the lower levels. Choke hurried to keep up with him on his much shorter legs. At the access to the lower stairs, there was a soldier guarding the door, who opened it for them immediately. Then, Father Morrenthall and Choke were heading down the tight spiral staircase dimly lit by oil lamps. It was here that Father Morrenthall halted, and raised up his hand towards Choke.
“Now, Bartholomew, before we proceed,” Father Morrenthall whispered, “is there anything you think I should know now that we are alone?”
“Well…” Choke paused as he thought earnestly on this. “Yes, probably. Sergeant Euan, Lieutenant Hamon’s man? He was the one that provided the man to go on watch. The man who instigated the attempt on my life. So, surely Sergeant Euan is implicated as well, isn’t he?”
“Well, Bartholomew, I think it is certain he was culpable. Implicated is not the word I would choose to use, though. I think I would prefer to avoid implicating him, to be honest. Anything else.”
“Ah… yes, well…” Choke stammered, rather shocked at what seemed a flippant dismissal of the man who had likely helped conspire on his murder. “I think that’s probably everything, then. But, if you don’t mind my asking, Father, you are arresting Captain Edison now? Because, as you said, the Baron is going to be here right away.”
“Yes, what a coincidence that is, isn’t it, my lad? So we should hurry up. Now, this prisoner. He is the one that was shot from the same location as you were. No doubt by the same shooter. Yes?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And this was the particular fellow that stabbed you during the attack. Was it not?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Very good. Well, then, let’s get on with this farce. Time is wasting!” Father Morrenthall exclaimed loudly as he started on down the stairs again.
At the first landing down, there was a barred iron gate, behind which was the access to the first level of the dungeon. Behind that was another soldier, who stood ready to unlock the gate and let the Father and Choke in. Here was a small guardroom, with a large, caged cell in an alcove to one side, and another barred door leading to a hallway with access to more cells.
The prisoner, Trooper Horace, was sitting on the floor with his back to the large cell’s bars. There was an iron ring around his neck securing it to the bars behind him, and his arms were stretched out, with his wrists shackled to the bars as well.
Horace appeared to be unconscious. The crossbow quarrel was still imbedded deeply into his shoulder. His tunic was fairly soaked with blood, but it did not seem he was bleeding too badly. However, he clearly was not doing well at all. His face was flushed and he was sweating. His breathing was shallow.
“Soldier,” Father Morrenthall addressed the guard, “is there anyone else in any of these cells? Anyone further down?”
“No, Father.”
“Good. You may go up. Take fifteen minutes and get something to refresh yourself. When you return wait upstairs, unless your fellow tells you we have left already. Give me the gate key and go now,” Father Morrenthall said in a friendly tone as he gestured to the gate and then held his hand out.
The soldier did not hesitate. He put the key into Father Morrenthall’s palm and left upstairs. Father Morrenthall shut and locked the gate behind him. He then lit a lantern from one of the lamps and brought it over to kneel down next to Horace, looking him over carefully. The Father touched the man’s brow and clucked his tongue.
“He is feverish. His wound turns septic. Nothing extreme now, but his condition will quickly worsen,” Father Morrenthall said to Choke.
At his touch and words, Horace began to stir. Father Morrenthall looked up at Choke.
“What is his name?”
“Horace, Father.”
Father Morrenthall nodded and patted Horace’s face gently to wake him further.
“Horace… Horace… wake up. Wake up!” Father Morrenthall said loudly, as he gave the man’s ear a twist.
“Ah!” Horace jerked awake. In doing so he seemed to wrench his wound and he gave a sharp cry of agony.
Father Morrenthall stood up and set the lantern down on a nearby stool. He then dragged over a light wooden chair to sit down near Horace. He waited until the whimpering man had settled down a little before speaking to him:
“Horace. Can you see me? Do you know who I am?” Father Morrenthall asked in a loud, clear voice.
Horace forced himself to look up at Father Morrenthall. With dread in his eyes, he nodded.
“Good. And do you remember why you are here?”
Again, Horace nodded.
“Good. Now, as you no doubt know, I have been charged with rooting out the Outfit and their agents from within the military here in Spitzer. And you, Horace, definitely qualify as a target.”
“Please, Father. Please… I’ll tell ye whatever ye want… please… I need healing. It hurts, Father. It hurts so bad.”
“Hush. Hush, now, Horace,” Father Morrenthall said, not unkindly. “I have no need for you to tell me anything. Of what you might tell me, I know everything I need to know. But I appreciate the offer.”
“What? But… but… Father, I can—” Horace started.
“I do not care what you think you can do for me,” Father Morrenthall interrupted. “You have chosen your course, and now you must see it through. I am not here to alter that. But, that is not to say I do not appreciate your offer. So, what I can do for you, if you want, is heal you of your wound. If you so wish me to.”
“What, Father? You’ll heal me?”
“Yes, Horace. That I will. Completely. Right as rain. And then…” Father Morrenthall paused for a long moment as he dropped his face down close to Horace’s to stare mercilessly into his eyes, “I will leave you here and allow things to run their course.”
Father Morrenthall and Horace stared into each other’s eyes for a while more. Horace began to cry.
“Do you understand, Horace? It is your choice. But, I do not think healing you will be any sort of mercy. For if I do not heal you, this wound,” Father Morrenthall reached out to poke the end of the quarrel with the tip of his index finger, causing Horace to gasp in agony, “will continue to fester. And your fever will deepen. And you will most likely be insensible by the time your execution commences. Indeed, you will likely be so weak that the flogging will kill you long before they hang your carcass.”
Father Morrenthall raised himself up and eased back into his chair, pausing a while before continuing:
“Now, you might think to accept the healing, and then bargain with the Baron Hart, your Colonel, for an easier go of it with your punishment. Perhaps you think that if you turn traitor to your fellows and give him someone, he will agree to just hang you without the hundred lashes. Is that what you are contemplating, Horace?”
“No. I’m… I didn’t… I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t,” Horace wept.
“Oh, but you did, Horace. You engaged in a plot to murder an officer of the Royal Bitina Army. And you stabbed him yourself. You, Horace, a lowly trooper, stabbed an officer with intent to kill.”
Father Morrenthall clucked his tongue as though scolding a schoolboy.
“And who do you think to offer to mitigate this? Who do you have to give? I have Sheriff Waters in custody, trussed up like a swine to slaughter. Likewise, Sergeant-Major Orel. And Lieutenant Hamon. Further, Corporal Butters has implicated himself by running off. So who else can you offer? Sergeant Euan? We have him if we want him, and I should very much think that the Baron will not want to pluck him for the pot.
“No, the Baron will have no interest in hearing your tales, lest they incriminate even more of his people. He will dispose of you just as quickly as he can. You will be dragged out in front of everyone, flogged down to bone, and strung up by your neck to throttle whatever life is left in you.”
Once again, Father Morrenthall leaned down low in his chair to stare deep into Horace’s eyes.
“Trooper Horace, the question you now need to ask yourself is… do you want to be hale and healthy when all that starts? You have been flogged before, haven’t you? I think you have some notion of how it will be. So, now, Horace, you must make your choice. To be healed, or not? If you want me to heal you, say the word, and I shall.” Father Morrenthall finished, sitting back to watch the chained, bloody man sitting on the floor in front of him.
Horace took a few shuddering breaths as he contemplated his choice. Then there was a clear moment where he accepted his fate. He firmed up to meet Father Morrenthall’s eye squarely, looking up at him with eerie calm.
“No. I’ll ride this out by myself, then. Ye can fuck off, Father,” Horace said.
Father Morrenthall smiled and nodded.
“Good for you, man. You are brave, at least. You will need to be. Goodbye.”
Father Morrenthall stood up and gestured for Choke to follow him. Father Morrenthall unlocked the gate for them to leave and then locked it behind them. They were almost all the way up the stairs when Father Morrenthall chuckled to himself and turned back to Choke to say very quietly:
“You know, the funny thing about that wretch is that Baron Hart is sure to have him healed by Father Gerban before his punishment. So all the man did, really, is give himself even more pain by refusing my healing now. Fool.”
“Father?” Choke asked quietly, “You think Baron Hart will heal him up just to flog him to death?”
“My dear lad, what is the point of flogging a half-dead man? Both the punishment and the spectacle of it are diminished. Of course he will have him healed. Just as he should.”
Choke gaped like a fish out of water at Father Morrenthall. “But, but, Father,” he stammered, “if that is so, then why did you offer him that choice?”
“Why? Because it amused me, that’s why. The decisions men make in the extremes of their life interest me. We could see what sort of man he really is. Just as the choice I offered gave him a chance to come to some sort of reckoning within himself. Interesting, yes? And I needed to spend the time with him anyways. So why not?” said Father Morrenthall.
“But, what do you mean? Why did you need to spend the time with him? You didn’t even try to get anything out of him.”
“Well of course not. It is just as I told him: I have no need of him or anything he knows. But it would look strange to everyone if I were not to interrogate him. He did, after all, stab you. Now, whoever else around here he has done dirt with is on edge about what I may know. And coming down here gave me the pretext to avoid going up to collect Captain Edison. I want to affront his sense of authority by having my subordinates collect him. Rattle his cage a little more, yes? And, finally, when I eventually face the Baron with all that I have gathered, I shall be able to reference this interrogation to assuage him that I have let some matters slide in the interest of not decimating his force.”
“I see, Father,” Choke said curtly. “So we shall be letting Sergeant Euan slide, then? The man who has used his position to enslave innocent women, and who helped organize the murder plot on me.”
“Yes. Exactly so, Lieutenant. Sergeant Euan is Lieutenant Hamon’s man. And Lieutenant Hamon is to be redeemed. As is Sergeant-Major Orel, as well as Captain Edison. They shall all be returning to duty, having dutifully completed their special assignment to the church. I shall recommend to the Baron that we not prosecute the evidence I have gathered against them. Rather, we shall use it to keep them on a tight leash going forward. And I shall be the one holding that leash,” Father Morrenthall said, allowing himself to look just a little smug as he did.
“Pardon me, Father. But, you are sure the Baron will go along with that?”
“Of course he will. How could he not? I have incontrovertible proof that his entire Barony has been riddled with corruption, from top to bottom. The King’s taxes, to be spent on his military here and at the Alquinian front, have been systematically robbed. To have these facts be widely known would ruin the Baron’s reputation.”
“So, Father, it is not just Captain Edison and the others you expect to have on a leash going forward,” Choke said.
“Just so,” Father Morrenthall said with his little, predatory smile.
“So the Baron has been stealing his own taxes, then?” Choke asked.
“You, lad, are too bold by half to ask that question.”
“I’m sorry, Father. Forgive me.”
“I do. I do not mind your boldness. In this exact context, mind. You are on our side of things in this, yes? And by that I mean, the Church. But I shall not answer you. The Baron is a nobleman. It is not for us to accuse him of anything. Yes?”
“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father. But…” Choke drifted off.
“Yes, Bartholomew?”
“I am sorry, Father. I ask too many questions.”
“Yes you do. But here and now, that is okay. I have, after all, just required you to set aside your attempted murder for the sake of my machinations. So I will allow you some latitude,” Father Morrenthall said.
“Thank you, Father. It’s just I don’t understand why, if all this is true, then why did Baron Hart allow you to investigate everything? It surely would have been in his best interests to shut you out, wouldn’t it?”
“Ah. Clever boy. Of course, you are correct. But you forget to consider one important fact,” Father Morrenthall asked with the leading tone of a teacher to a pupil.
“What is that, Father?”
“That I am a Knight of the Holy Sword. That I answer to my abbot in Strana alone. And the abbot answers only to the head of our order, in Ban Altas. The Baron could have shut me out for a short time, yes. But why would an innocent man do that? We already had damning evidence of corruption in his ranks. Yes? He knew that if he denied me, my next move would be to take that evidence to his superiors in Strana. No. His only move was to allow me access, and hope that I didn’t find out too much.”
“But you have found out very much, Father.”
“Oh yes, I have. So now he must hope that I shall be reasonable about it. And now, Bartholomew, I think we have finished talking about this. Yes?”
“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father.”
“No problem. And thank you, again, for all your cooperation in these matters. I understand how stressful it must be to be here, surrounded by vipers at every turn. So keep your trusted men close and your back to the wall, yes? And we shall have you on your way to Bristlehump soon enough, where you may get back to you proper work. Any questions?”
“Just one, Father. You have interviewed Lieutenant Cooper. Would you say I can trust him with my back?”
“Ah. Good question, Bartholomew. I would say you can trust him well enough. At very least, he shall not be conspiring to have you killed. He admires you. He told me so. And as far as his involvement in this whole mess, it did not go beyond accepting the slight bump in pay that all the officers received to turn a blind eye to the basic corruption going on. He confessed and has been redeemed.”
“Good. Thank you, Father,” Choke said, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
“You are very welcome, Bartholomew,” Father Morrenthall said, giving Choke a friendly clap on the shoulder. “And now, I think, we really must get on with our duties. We both have much to do today, I think!”
Muse Vassal 