Gonji: Fortress of Lost Worlds Part 15

Gonji eyed him balefully, but inside he was warmed by a burst of perverse humor. Both his eyes must be blackened, like those of a scavenging animal he had heard of in the Americas. Thats what the guard had meant. His buried sense of humor emerged to rescue his sanity. They could not break his spirit with their taunts.

From that point on Gonji began to use the guards presence as a practice device for his own powers of concentration; he gradually blocked both their sight and sound from his consciousness, as surely as if they were walled away by successive layers of cotton batting.

In the early evening, Colonel Nunez arrived under heavy personal guard with the intention of questioning the samurai. Finding Gonji in a state of meditation, the impatient officer employed every device he knew, from coaxing to outrageous threat, to gain his attention. It was not until he c.o.c.ked his fist for a blow to the head that the colonel snapped Gonji from his reverie. He never delivered the intended blow: The samurais mask of sheer defiance warded him back, sending him off muttering words of impotent rage and promises of Inquisition terrors to come. Gonji felt a swell of pride over the small triumph.

As he sat in the enshrouding blackness of the second night, listening to the shouting and gunfire in the streets above, he intuited that he was somehow involved, but he felt less a princ.i.p.al than a detached observer, expecting nothing, whatever the meaning and outcome of the fighting. It was much later that he would hear of the action of Captain Salguero and his faithful command.

When the din had ended, Gonjis guard peered through the grating, strained face glowing redly beside the cresset torch. "Monster, devil-your witchery twists the senses of the kings own subjects!"

Gonji had mustered enough social grace to extend him the courtesy of an angry glower.

Not long after, Pablo Cardenas face had appeared at the portal, staring down for a long time with an expression that was unreadable. Gonji could only wonder what was on the mans mind, for the solicitor had said at length, "Im sorry, senor. I dont know why, but I am." And then he was gone.

At midnight, the maverick lancer Montoya was brought to Gonjis cell. He shuffled down the stairs sullenly, probing the floor-seated prisoner with surly glances. Evidently a prisoner, he was not bound as the samurai was, and Gonji found something suspicious in the look he exchanged with the harpy warden.

Gonji extended his legs flat on the floor and executed an easy series of rolling stretches to unkink his thews. Montoya snorted as he watched, then began to prattle insultingly, strutting around the cell like a wildcat spoiling for a fight.

Gonji ignored the boorish soldiers voice, concentrating instead on the pattern and sound of his movements as he settled in a crouch with eyes closed to slits and chin lolling on his chest, as if he would drift off to sleep in the manner of a crane.

When he heard the knife softly withdrawn from Montoyas boot, he did not react. Nor did he show any cognizance of the mans stealthy footfalls. It was when he felt the parting of air before the knifing lunge that he sprang to his feet and whirled out of the way. Urgency galvanized his aching body.

"Come on! Come on, you j.a.ppo devil!" Montoya snarled, circling warily, watching Gonjis deadly feet.

The samurai wasted no motion, and hard black eyes locked onto the Spaniards own gleaming orbs through the dim glow of the telltale portal torch. He could feel the guard watching above, the instigator of the attack.

Montoya feinted time and again, dropping his blade point in antic.i.p.ation of the blocking kick that never came.

Suddenly Gonji stamped forward, causing Montoya to backstep rapidly until he was almost against a wall. A diversionary high kick drew the blade up to eye level, then Gonjis darting side snap kick caught Montoya in the ankle, throwing him off balance. A swift crescent kick batted the knife out of his grasp. It clanked against the back wall. Montoya froze.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you," the soldier growled in a strained voice.

He brought up his hands, but Gonjis hard front kick to the groin brought him to his knees, moaning in pain. A left roundhouse cuffed him beside the ear, his jaws clacking. Gonji continued his rotation, a whopping right spinning-heel kick belting him slackly onto his side in the darkness.

The only sound was the creaking of the door hinges as the sentry descended with pistol half-hammered. Gonji met his mad gaze with the unleashed fury of the fight still reflecting from his own.

"You think manipulating my death can save your quivering soul?" the samurai bellowed, struggling for control of his radiating anger. "Finish it, then."

More guards appeared at the top of the stairs, weapons drawn. The warden looked to them, then back to Gonji.

"You-youre Satan himself!"

The warden motioned for Montoya to be carried off.

"Did you offer him his freedom?" Gonji asked icily.

"Silence, diablo!"

The warden backed up the stairs, still leveling his pistol. Gonji moved to the back wall and saw something.

"Muchacho," he called up to the departing soldier. Gonji toed the forgotten knife, grinning mirthlessly. He kicked it sharply to the base of the stairs.

The warden blanched at his oversight, warned Gonji back, and quickly retrieved the weapon. Col. Nunez arrived, then, amidst a flurry of harsh verbal exchanges, taking the warden to task for the execution attempt. Evidently, it had not been ordered by Nunez. So others must have taken it upon themselves to gild their souls by eliminating the "evil" of this mysterious oriental warrior.

Gonji began to apprehend the conflict in high places over how to deal with the problem of the legendary Red Blade from the East.

The detachment escorting Gonji to Toledo a.s.sembled early the next day.

The samurai was thrown roughly into a thick-barred ox-cart, bound hand and foot now, bundled in a cloak against the weathers ravages. He wrestled with the grimace that strove to twist his face at every movement, so fierce were his multiple pains now.

The column trundled him past the great siege cannon, past the mounted companies preparing to a.s.sault Castle Malaguer.

The rumbling carts jostling ride would do nothing to expedite his healing.

His last impression of Barbaso was of an outbreak of shouts and arguments in the street as he pa.s.sed by. He saw citizens at odds with soldiers over something. He cared not what. He heard shouting about "dignity-at least let him ride with dignity-hes no animal-"

Dignity.

Gonji earnestly longed for his swords again, feeling empty, devoid of his freedom of choice, without them. As the last buildings rolled past his view and the gates of Barbaso diminished behind him, Gonjis thoughts turned to death.

PART TWO.

Death Be Undone.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A strange, multifarious council a.s.sembled in Toledo to deal with the problem of the oriental barbarian. They met in austere lamplit chambers, debating deep into the night the disposition of the notorious warrior.

Prelates of the High Office occupied the table on the dais, presided over by the interim Grand Inquisitor, Bishop Ign.a.z.io Izquierdo. The remainder of the a.s.semblage was composed of a s.h.i.+fting members.h.i.+p from among the clergy, the military, and the n.o.bility. Toledo had become a hotbed of activity, daily arrivals and departures of notable figures now the norm, such that high protocol and guarded circ.u.mlocution were the standing orders of the day.

"This Wunderknecht movement, as theyve come to call it," General de la Vega was saying, "quietly, insidiously eats at the underside of the military power structure of Europe, in these threatening times. By their very name-Knights of Wonder-they proclaim themselves as elitist, lording over all other men, and militant in their att.i.tude-"

An elderly priest, a scholar of the Hall of Records, interrupted him: "Dispenseme usted, senor-excuse me, but I believe their use of the word wonder refers to their vague awe at the sublime wonders of creation. Their specific tenets bear careful study before a precise mandate-"

"Por favor, indulge me, Padre," another officer piped in, "but time is always an enemy. If youll forgive me, theological study has never been noted for its speed and efficiency of pursuit."

"Eternal concerns," the priest retorted, "are not bound by temporal considerations. This is a th.o.r.n.y issue."

"Th.o.r.n.y and urgent," the officer replied, annoyed, but backing off at once to see the eyebrows hed raised among the gathered august leaders.

The representative of the adelantado of Leon rose. "Your Eminence, holy friars, n.o.bles, and gentlemen-His Excellency the Governor appreciates the touchiness of this matter of the oriental barbarian and his misguided followers. But it must be pointed out that he is reputed to be the son of a powerful warlord in his homeland. j.a.pan has proven a rich source of new trade. Weve all, I think, benefitted by the inroads the Portuguese have made with this...regrettably pagan culture. And, I hasten to add, Holy Mother Church has seen considerable spread in her influence among the j.a.panese. They are becoming Catholicized in spite of themselves, one might say. And a nations strength grows by more than might of arms, if our valiant fighting men will forgive me."

The military contingent sputtered and fumed.

General de la Vega voiced their objection. "And so you suggest we let this...son of a monkey general roam free to erode our strength from within, with his ideas, eh?"

The representative from Leon turned to Bishop Izquierdo. "What does His Eminence the Grand Inquisitor find the more pressing issue-that of politics and economy or, with all due respect, the...well-founded alarm of the military establishment?"

Izquierdo cleared his throat. "Well, honored members, there is much to be said for both concerns. We must extend our commercial interests; the military must see to our defense. But this is the Office of Inquisition. The integrity of the faith must be our primary pursuit here."

His voice trailed off, and the bishop seemed to shrink behind the table in the uncomfortable silence that followed his noncommittal and pointless recapitulation of the debate.

The Duke of Lerma rose and leaned forward on the table. He seemed bored by the proceedings. A distinguished-looking man who exuded self-confidence, he was the chief secular authority behind the Inquisition. "Gentlemen," he began languidly, "I fail to understand the conflict here. This is our home territory. Here we are sovereign over any invading power, regardless of its origin. What is all this fuss over a simple warlock or witch or whatever he is? Just turn him over for auto-da-fe."

The man from Leon stood, shaking his head vigorously. "Milord, I repeat that we must be careful of the various factors attendant on this prisoners prosecution. You are aware, I trust, that Grand Duke Frederick of Austria, our beloved kings own cousin, has urged dignified treatment of this j.a.panese."

"Dignified treatment indeed!" someone blurted as the a.s.semblage gurgled with disbelief.

The Duke of Lerma sighed. "We are not in Austria," he reminded, enunciating each word forcefully. "The kings stand on heretics and blasphemers is clear, as I thought the High Offices to be." His glance withered the interim Grand Inquisitor.

Father Martin de la Cenza rose and, bowing to the a.s.semblage, came to the defense of his superior.

"It must be noted that the Oriental is not, strictly speaking, a heretic. A pagan, perhaps. An infidel. But even that has not been substantiated. His beliefs are unclear, though I understand the councils concern over the dangers of obscurantism, at least where theological thinking is concerned. But the corollary-the Wunderknechtens stated posture toward the world of nature: G.o.d-centered, as I read it-seems not so different from the statements of faith framed by the learned councils dealing with the problem of the physical scientists."

De la Cenza went on, seeming larger than his minuscule stature, his voice rising over the tide of grumbling dissent. "No one provides any evidence of the mans blaspheming. And we have heard that this oriental n.o.ble was-was he not?-once a confidant of our own late king!"

"That is open to question," the burly General de la Vega bl.u.s.tered. "But offhand it is hard to believe. Our present beloved Monarch denies it."

The general had never met Gonji when the latter had been in service to Philip II, but several officers in the gathering had known him, trained with him. Yet none rose to his defense now. The resentment of Gonjis former lofty position had run deep.

"Has he admitted to any crime punishable by auto-da-fe?" Father de la Cenza fairly pleaded.

"He hasnt said much of anything," an officer from the dungeons answered.

"Political interference," another added venomously, "seems to have softened the torturers hand. If wed been allowed to pursue this investigation using the full range of authorized persuasions, wed be reading his confession right now, and this honored council would not be wasting its precious time!"

There were sporadic cheers and outbursts of a.s.sent.

Father Martin shouted over the audiences heads: "What can be proven about him? That he holds ideas in his heart that are contrary to our own? He, a man from a far-off and unenlightened land. I have heard that he himself was educated from his youth by teachers of the Society of Jesus!"

There were gasps of shocked surprise to hear his name so boldly linked with that of the militant Jesuits.

"I myself have held converse with him in Latin."

"Si," a friar from the Office of Faith replied, "Im certain he knows it. Even demons, in their perversity, have embraced the language-saints preserve us!-in their effort to confound Holy Mother Church."

De la Cenza shook his head. "Granted, his influence seems to have caused some to betray nationalistic ideals, but that is a societal crime, a crime against-"

"Pardon me, Father," a prelate from the Hall of Records interjected, "but es lo mismo. It is all the same. Society cannot be separated from the Church. Your fervor in protecting this man confuses your own thinking."

Father Martins head jerked back as if hed been struck. He nodded penitently and sat slowly in his chair.

General de la Vega pushed up onto his feet again. "Perhaps the clergy wishes to pa.s.s the responsibility for this prosecution on to the military. Is the Inquisition becoming effete? If so, the army will handle the matter. We need only an order sanctioning the transfer." The general sat down, a smug look tugging at his stern features. Outbreaks of clapping accompanied his words, subsiding gradually in the tensely charged air.

Bishop Izquierdo flushed with embarra.s.sment and cast a withering glance at Father de la Cenza, as if to command him to extricate the Office from the compromising position hed placed it in.

Father Martin rose to the challenge, more restrained now as he spoke. "I merely point out that a combination of factors renders this cases prosecution complex. If you fear the Inquisition has lost touch with its fervent aims, you need only inspect the dungeons, the torture chambers. The Burning Court is aflame with heretics and demoniacs."

The interim Grand Inquisitor seemed mollified. He leaned back in his high-backed chair and fanned himself casually with a sheaf of papers.

The Papal Nuncio, Archbishop Roderigo Texeira, Spains resident representative of the Holy Father, now took the floor. Until now hed followed the proceedings in silence. He was a tall, scholarly man with sallow skin and the dour countenance of a judge.

"Brothers in Christ," he began in a voice that was low in volume but nonetheless riveting, "I have traveled from Madrid to join with this august body. Ive listened with patience to words tinged with confusion, to nebulous innuendo that further obscures the issues in this case. I must confess that my patience wears thin. In the faith that this prosecution has been prayerfully considered, I now ask the High Office to clarify its case against this j.a.panese. What, specifically, are the charges against him?"

As if the overture of the papal representative had been a signal, Anton Balaerik strode into the hall. Whispers followed his dignified, measured strides as he approached his a.s.signed place, near Texeira.

"Youll pardon me, Your Eminence, but weve not met," he told the Nuncio. "I am donado, Brother Anton Balaerik of Moldavia. My orders necessary low profile prohibits my saying more, but I trust you are aware of the Brotherhood of Holy Arms, recently founded by our late lamented vicar-may his soul rejoice in the company of angels."

Texeira nodded. It was not with warmth that he regarded Balaeriks strange smile. "The Knights of Somber Countenance, Ive heard you called. Your work has spread far in a short time, has it not?"

"As it must. Our late Holy Father saw the need for our order in view of the onslaught of supernatural evil in the world today. It was I who uncovered the fell work of this unspeakable oriental sorcerer. As for his crimes, they are manifold: witchcraft, zoanthropy, demonism; he commands monsters and evil spirits; he conspires with heretics and Jews to undermine the faith. Es la pura verdad-it is the absolute truth. But, then...you must have seen the unquestionable authorization under which I prosecute my case." Balaerik eyed the Papal Nuncio expectantly.

Texeira considered his words before responding. "I...have read the Papal missive, si."

Reproach crept into Balaeriks features. "More than a missive-surely you realize. This witch is the subject of a specific papal bull! You do not question, do you, the infallibility of the Vicar of Christ?"

Texeiras eyebrows arched. It was an unthinkable insult. But he remained calm in the tomblike silence. "No. And yet it must be taken under advis.e.m.e.nt, given the...turmoil of affairs in Roma in these times."

Balaerik eyed him with scornful disbelief, scanning the a.s.semblage with a look that courted their support. "Really! Whatever the tragic nature of recent events at the Holy See, this singular prosecution bears papal sanction. You, of all clergymen in Spain, must surely bend a knee to what that signifies."

Father de la Cenza bolted to his feet again and, eschewing protocol, audaciously intruded on their discussion.

"All these charges are still hearsay, if I may be so bold, honored donado. What evidence supports them?"

Outraged expressions greeted Father Martins temerity.

Balaerik cast him a baleful smile. "The destruction of the Carpathian city of Vedun, accomplished by monstrous beasts under the witchs direction. A town in France-burned to the ground, a holocaust that consumed its every man, woman, and child." He turned to the sergeant-at-arms. "Have his weapons brought before the council, por favor. He can transform himself into predatory animals-"

"Has this phenomenon been seen by reliable witnesses?" de la Cenza pressed.

"Most witnesses are dead, savaged by the witch, to protect his secrets. But I have seen it myself..."

This dramatic p.r.o.nouncement had a telling effect on the now rapt audience, and Balaerik went on: "There are many who will swear testimony to the Orientals undermining of the Inquisitions aims. He aligns hated heretics of the Reformation with Jews and with fallen Catholics-he threatens with impunity our right to settle our theocratic power struggle without pagan barbarian interference!" Balaerik pounded a fist on the table for emphasis, evoking a supportive emotional response, especially among the military men. He followed up his advantage by raising his voice and continuing with smoldering eyes. "Worst of all, he travels with a demon familiar-lobis homem-the werewolf! Si, my brothers, you thought lobis homem had been eradicated from Spain? So we thought in the Carpathians. He calls it Simon. And it cannot be far behind, nor will it abandon him. Simon-you will recall from Scripture the similarly named magician. It is to entrap this demonic being that we expose the witch atop the battlements so that the familiar might seek him out by his scent. The military officials are correct: He does erode Spanish authority. But he must be handled carefully. He is the bait for his still more deadly familiar. Since they are specifically linked in the papal bull, the Holy Fathers authority is necessary before this Gonji can be tried. I am a representative of that authority, and I hold in check my Corps dElite of demon hunters until such time as I deem them needed."

Archbishop Texeira spoke again. "I agree that papal clarification is necessary here. And thus Ive already sent a direct message to His Holiness-elect to pa.s.s judgment as to the prosecution."

Balaerik looked stung. There was less confidence in his voice as he went on. "Indeed? I did not know that. You are, of course, the Nuncio. I trust His new Holiness will act in prayerful concert, then, with his...tragic predecessor."