Chapitre Trente-Neuf

Mort du Premier-Né

Jehan

Jehan could barely look upon the face of his God in the stained-glass windows as he entered the church. The horrible things that he had said when he'd lost Mallory and their son still haunted him.

For the past few days he'd been weeping almost constantly, but as terrible as the pain of loss was, knowing it was all his fault that made it all the worse. On that horrible day, when the funeral boat carried his wife and son off to Lyr's paradise, Jehan had considered standing in the boat, placing his pistol in his mouth, and pulling the trigger.

Purpose. Your life has purpose. He wasn't entirely sure whether the voice in his head that kept telling him this was his own, Lyr's, or some memory from his father. Nevertheless, he believed them. He had so much to do yet to secure a holy future for the Empire.

Bishop Obert approached to greet him as he paced the back of the sanctuary. The old bishop's face revealed his deep and sincere sympathies. "Jehan, my old friend... I was so sorry to hear about Mallory!"

Jehan sniffed and straightened his shoulders. "To weep too long for the dead is selfish, sinful, your Excellency. It assumes that Lyr has no plan for their souls, and places our own needs above theirs."

The Bishop patted Jehan on the shoulder. "My son, no one blames you for shedding tears over such a tragedy."

"It is exactly that tolerance for sin which has made the Church weak these days," hissed Jehan.

The Bishop gasped and stepped back from Jehan. "Well..."

"Do not coddle me," said Jehan, adjusting his coat-sleeves. "I have no excuses for my sin."

After so many years studying the Hymns one would think I would have learned. There is a day for mourning, but after that we must rejoice for those who enter into Lyr's Paradise. To fail to do so is to forsake one's faith.

"Have you come to visit?" asked the Bishop.

"Yes, yes I have," said Jehan.

The Bishop nodded and started toward the spiral staircase. "Please, follow me."

Jehan did as he was bid, feeling a slight pang of guilt as he ascended the staircase behind the old bishop. He stopped for a moment, touched his left breast pocket, winced, and then continued up the stairs.

The Bishop closed the door behind them.

"How is he doing?" asked Jehan, as he always did when he came to see Demitri.

"After your last visit he was melancholy for a while," said the Bishop, "But since then his mood has improved."

"Hmm..." Jehan nodded, biting hard the inside of his lip. "He's been behaving?"

"He has," said the Bishop. "Haven't had any trouble with him at all."

"Good to hear," said Jehan. He reached up, grabbed the cord, and pulled down the ladder leading up into the attic. "I need to speak to him privately. He... he needs to know about... about his brother..." Jehan bit his lip even harder, until he tasted his own blood. He would not cry. He was done weeping over this.

The Bishop gave a reassuring nod. "I understand."

Jehan ascended the ladder and closed the trapdoor behind him.

Demitri lay asleep on his cot, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Jehan clenched his fists, bracing himself for the heartache to come, and then gently placed a hand on Demitri's shoulder.

"My boy..." he said.

Demitri's red eyes pierced the darkness as he awoke and looked up at Jehan. "Papa!"

"Yes..." said Jehan.

Demitri sprung up from his bed and threw his arms around his father. Jehan ruffled his hair and closed his eyes tight to hold back the tears which so threatened to pour forth.

Stay strong...

"I'm afraid I have terrible news yet again, Demitri..." Jehan pushed Demitri back and gestured to his cot. "Please, have a seat."

Demitri flopped down on his cot, dust rising into the air between the two of them, illuminated by the three rays of light from the window slits. Jehan pulled up one of Demitri's stools and sat across the room from him.

On the table sat Demitri's tiny sculptures, some of people he'd seen, others of people he'd had described to him.

"I made a new one." Demitri pointed to one of the figures. "I saw him out the window. He had a funny hat with a feather in it."

Sure enough, there was a figure that appeared to be a man wearing a large turban, with a crudely-crafted plume sticking out of it.

Jehan searched the table until he found the one Demitri had shaped to look like Mallory. He took it in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

Demitri proved to be far more perceptive than Jehan had anticipated; he stared at Jehan's fist with tears in his eyes.

Mere sorrow? Or is it guilt?

"You already know what I have to say," Jehan croaked.

Apparently, Demitri did, as he burst into sobs and tears, just as he had when he'd heard the news about Corina.

Jehan started to reach out to him, but retracted his hand and tightened his fist around the clay figure. "It's my fault, Demitri" he said. Demitri looked up at him with confusion and wiped his eyes. "My sins have brought this down on our family. You remember how I told you about sin? Every bad thing we ever do... Lyr sees it, and because he is a just God he cannot allow any sin to go unpunished."

Demitri stared up at him with tear-filled eyes, then everything became blurry as tears poured from Jehan's own eyes. He wiped his face on his sleeve, and weakly continued his speech. "You remember what I told you about repentance and contrition?" his voice wavered with every word, and it became harder and harder to breathe. "Repentance means to turn away from one's sins, and contrition means... to make things right again... I know, it's hard to understand... but I can't..." Jehan placed his hand over his left breast pocket again and bit his upper lip. "I can't expect Lyr to forgive me until... until I've made amends..."

"Amends for what, Papa?" Demitri tilted his head to one side, giving his father a confused expression.

Jehan looked up at Demitri's confused face. "Well... that is... I'm a liar, a fornicator, and a blasphemer. My sin is the reason for all the... the suffering my family has had to endure... even you. I'm so sorry... I should have put things right long ago."

"I have sins too," said Demitri. "What must I do to make contrition with you?"

"Nothing," Jehan said. "This is my burden to bear."

Jehan reached into his pocket and drew the stiletto dagger he'd been keeping there.

When Jehan descended the ladder again he still held the stiletto dagger in his blood-soaked hand. Bishop Obert turned to face him and, upon seeing the blood, yelped and threw himself back, away from Jehan.

"By Lyr and all that is holy! What have you done?"

Jehan pointed the dagger at the Bishop as he crossed the room. Obert kept his distance, moving along the walls with a horrified expression on his face.

"I did what we should have done long ago," Jehan said, as flatly as he could manage.

"No!" the Bishop yelled. "No! No! How could you do that! He was your son, Jehan! Your only son!"

"My son is dead. And now, so is my sin," said Jehan, placing a hand on the door handle and pulling it open. "It's time!" he shouted down the spiral staircase.

The sound of half a dozen pairs of boots stomping up the steps followed his words, and soon witch hunters filled the room, followed by a man in a red cassock and hat.

The witch hunters surrounded the Bishop and pointed their crossbows and swords at him. The Bishop raised his hands in surrender, but his eyes were drawn to the man in red. "Cardinal Bardin! Jehan, you told the Cardinal about this?"

Jehan snorted. Of course he brought the Cardinal, only the Cardinal could act on accusations against a bishop.

"Oui," said the Cardinal. "Jehan Armand confessed his sins and agreed to make amends by slaying the witch-born and helping us catch his partner in this crime. I must say..." The Cardinal peered up into the attic as blood dripped down the steps of the ladder. "I was shocked to hear that the virtuous Jehan Armand had such a transgression weighing down his soul, but I suppose it's true that those who are the most virtuous have the most troubled pasts."

"What should we do with Obert?" one of the witch hunters asked.

"He'll be put on trial for heresy," said the Cardinal, pulling on the end of his beard. "If he relents, confesses his sins, and agrees to make penance then he'll be released under watchful eyes. If not... Well, we all know the cost of heresy."

"Don't do this!" The Bishop called out as the witch hunters dragged him out of the room and down the spiral staircase. "Your holiness! Mercy, please!"

Jehan and Cardinal Bardin watched the doorway as the Bishop disappeared from view. When they could no longer hear his cries, the Cardinal turned to Jehan. "This does not fully absolve you, you understand?"

"I do, your holiness," said Jehan, bowing his head. "I have a much larger act of contrition already underway."

The Cardinal pointed an accusing finger in Jehan's face. "Despite your confession and your small penance, you kept this secret from the Church for years. Worse yet, you did so on holy ground. Your penance will need to be great."

"It will be, I swear it," said Jehan.

"Were it not for your long patronage and friendship to the Church I would think you a heretic of the highest order."

Jehan dropped to his knees before the Cardinal and kissed the ring on his hand. "I am so sorry, your holiness."

"Apologize not to me, but to God, and to any who may have suffered because of that creature's foul magic." The Cardinal folded his arms. "The beast may have seemed innocent because you could not see its crimes, but I am certain that many a plague, storm, miscarriage, and calamity were its doing."

"I long for the day," said Jehan, "When the Church will have the power to right all the wrongs in the Empire. Bishop Obert wasn't the only one hiding a witch-born. My spies believe that several noble families are hiding these abominations. The Corbeau's, the Levasseur's, the Roche's, the Renart's... even the Empress' own family is likely hiding witch-born in their midst.

The Cardinal snorted. "If only we had the power to search their homes."

"I swear," said Jehan, gripping the hem of the Cardinal's red robe, "That I will get you that power, and make up for my past sins. The whole Empire is filled with the same sort of wickedness that long survived in this Church's attic. I will eradicate that wickedness from Salia, and bring to justice all who sought to perpetuate it."