lived in this glen since time immemorial.”
“Stop the witch!” someone cried.
“Burn her,” said another. And another and another.
And even as she continued to speak, there was whispering, and those going to prepare a stake in the stone circle.
All this I saw from the corner of my eye, and so did she, and still she kept her courage.
“I curse you, Ashlar. I curse you in the eyes of the Good God.”
I couldn’t speak, and yet I knew that I had to. I had to speak to save myself, the monks, my followers. I had to speak if I was to stop the death of Janet.
Wood had been dragged to the stake. Coal was being thrown down. Humans, some of whom had always feared Janet and every female Taltos whom they could not have, had brought torches.
“Speak,” whispered Ninian beside me. “For Christ, Ashlar.”
I closed my eyes, I prayed, I made the Sign of the Cross, and then I made my plea to all to listen.
“I see before me a chalice,” I declared, speaking softly but loud enough for all to hear. “I see the Chalice of Christ’s blood which Joseph of Arimathea brought to England. I see the blood of Christ emptied into the Well; I see the water run red, and I know its meaning.
“The blood of Christ is our sacrament and our nourishment. It shall forever replace the cursed milk we sought from our women in lust; it shall be our new sustenance and our portion.
“And in this awful slaughter today, may Christ receive our first great act of self-sacrifice. For we loathe this killing. We loathe it and we always have. And we do it only to the enemies of Christ, that His kingdom may come on earth, that he may rule forever.”
It was the Art of the Tongue as best I knew it, and it was said with eloquence and tears, and it left the entire mob of human and Taltos alike cheering and praising Christ and throwing their swords to the ground and tearing off their finery, their bracelets, their rings, and declaring themselves to be born again.
And at that moment, as they had come from my lips, I knew these words were lies. This religion was a deceiving thing, and the body and blood of Christ could kill as surely as poison.
But we were saved, we who stood there exposed as monsters. The crowd no longer wanted our death. We were safe—all except for Janet.
They dragged her now to the stake, and though I protested, weeping and begging, the priests said no, that Janet must die, that she might die as a lesson to all those who would refuse Christ.
The fire was lighted.
I threw myself to the ground. I couldn’t bear it. Then, leaping up, I ran at the slowly gathering blaze, only to be pulled back and held against my will.
“Ashlar, your people need you!”
“Ashlar, set an example!”
Janet fixed her eyes on me. The fire licked at her rose-colored gown, at her long yellow hair. She blinked to clear her eyes of the rising smoke, and then she cried out to me:
“Cursed, Ashlar, cursed for all time. May death elude you forever. May you wander—loveless, childless—your people gone, until our miraculous birth is your only dream in your isolation. I curse you, Ashlar. May the world around you crumble before your suffering is ended.”
The flames leapt up, obscuring her fair face, and a low roar came from the rapidly burning timbers. And then came her voice again, louder, full of agony and full of courage.
“A curse on Donnelaith, a curse on its people forever! A curse on the Clan of Donnelaith. A curse on Ashlar’s people.”
Something writhed within the flames. I did not know if it was Janet in her final pain, or some trick of light and shadow and flickering.
I had fallen to my knees. I couldn’t stop the tears and I couldn’t look away. It was as if I had to go as far as I could with her into her pain, and I prayed to Christ, “She knows not what she says, take her to heaven. For her kindnesses to others, for her goodness to her people, take her to heaven.”
The flames leapt heavenward, and then at once began to die away, revealing the stake, the smoldering heap of wood and burnt flesh and bone that had been this gracious creature, older and wiser than I was.
The glen was still. Nothing remained of my people now but five males who vowed