The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography (8 page)

Still, the bishopa was concerned at the accusations, for, with her gentle and trusting nature, she put much faith in the Archbishop of Ulph. Therefore she asked me to commence construction of the
Grief
without delay, so all might see the value of my presence in
Quebec.

“Your Excellency,” I said, “though it is my one desire to serve your every want, in this case I regret to say I cannot. The climate of the season (it was now midwinter) makes soil hard and difficult to excavate. Also, and more importantly, enchantments placed by cold hands are more liable to be faulty than those placed in warm weather. No, I fear we must wait until the spring before construction can begin.”

On hearing this, I could see the archbishop was pleased, though he feigned concern, while my dear bishopa was distressed.

“I shall accede to your expertise in these matters,” she said. “Tell me though, Archbishop Yreth, are there any other skills you possess with which you might usefully and visibly employ yourself in the months before the thaw?”

“Your Worship, I have many skills,” I said, and here we exchanged smiles, and a minute pursing and licking of the lips, though in a subtle way, so it might not be detected by those others present. “As well as being a stonemage without equal, I am an accomplished painter and a passable cook. In addition, I have experience as a commander of myrmidons.”

“Ah!” she said. “In that capacity I can well use you. I hereby make you
Commander of the Northern Guard, and with the post you shall receive a further sixty arrans per month.”

Ha! So, the Archbishop of Ulph, who had tried to deprive me of my posts, merely succeeded in winning for me another post, a still greater salary, and a great increase in my powers, for now I had myrmidons in my command.

Let me tell you something of the
Northern Guard. The body numbered eight hundred and thirty myrmidons and ninety-three slaves. These latter, while they were called merely “slaves” were equal to all the tasks of a head slave, and would have gone by this description in the east. In ancient times, the Northern Guard patrolled the lands far to the north of Quebec, providing the first line of defence against the
Eager Tribes who once ranged the area.

Of course, at the time of which I speak, the Eager Tribes were long dead and buried, and the main function of the Northern Guard was now to seek out spies and heretics and enemies of the church. I undertook this mission with great zeal, reading many books on the methods whereby spies and heretics and enemies of the church might be discovered. If you read on, you will learn my method, which I devised by taking those elements of the other methods I had studied which seemed to me the most prudent, and combining them with my own insights into the nature of the human animal.

When my studies were complete, I gathered together sixty myrmidons and went marching into Quebec, following the
Cathedral Road, past the foul-smelling fields used by the leather workers, and through the market, which is in the centre of the town, close to the abbey. I ordered the myrmidons to march slowly, making a great stamping sound, so all might be aware of our approach.

When we were into the market, I bade the myrmidons stop, then narrowed my eyes and fixed my gaze upon various people, observing their reaction to my observation. There was one man, a fishmonger, who looked nervously about and refused to meet my gaze, whereupon I pointed at him, and upon this signal several myrmidons ran at the fellow. He took to his heels, his attempted escape merely assuring me my suspicions of his guilt were correct. Of course, my myrmidons were very much swifter than he, and they soon overtook him and brought him back to me as a prisoner.

We marched on for a short way, along a narrow street, where many people sat outside their houses, wrapped in warm furs, and playing dice in the snow. Here we stopped, and once again I narrowed my eyes and examined every face. Two people, a young woman and a boy with spotted skin, seemed to me the most suspicious, so once more I sent the myrmidons after them, and they took flight. The woman ran here and there, screaming, and was quickly caught. The boy, though, was much faster, and might have escaped if, by God’s grace, he had not slipped on the ice and broken one of his legs. So, in short order, the guilty pair were my prisoners.

Travelling on, we arrived at the harbour. I fixed many people with my gaze here, but none showed guilt. Yet two of these people were monks, and suddenly my powers of reason raised a suspicion where my intuition had shown none, for why should two monks have come to the harbour? Should they not be in the abbey, praying? Or in the market, buying goods or begging? It was very dubious, so I sent the myrmidons to seize the monks, and the men did not even bother to run—for doubtless they realized the futility of denying their guilt—and were brought back to me. After this, I returned, with my prisoners, to the cathedral.

Now, when I recount this story, I am often asked whether the behaviour of these people might not have arisen purely out of a fear of wrongful arrest. Well, it is true I quickly became widely feared in Quebec—although I was respected too, for my former critics soon saw I was no caged bird, but a hard-working man of honour, and one to be reckoned with. However, it is not fear that identifies an enemy of the church, but another, less tangible property. Therefore, while many of the townspeople I encountered would indeed show great fear, and might quickly make themselves scarce, or hide their heads when I was near, this was no proof of guilt, just as a lack of fear was no proof of innocence. Rather, I looked for a certain, subtle difference between the behaviour of a guilty person and an innocent, which one may recognize with the passage of time, and which is impossible to describe, but equally impossible to mistake.

And if you doubt the accuracy of my methods, hear what we discovered when we interrogated the prisoners upon the wire.

The old fishmonger confessed he hated God and all His works, and had plotted to overthrow the church, and had conspired with others to kill the
bishopa and myself and many other good and charitable people. Also he confessed to consorting with demons and goblins. Here he lied, for educated persons know that goblins are mythical, but he clung to his story despite my protests, and so, in lying he committed perjury, which is another very grave offence.

The woman confessed she hated God and all His works, and had plotted to overthrow the church, and had seduced virtuous men, and virtuous women too, and had conspired to create war, and had placed noxious fluids from diseased animals into wells, and had, on many occasions, eaten human flesh.

The boy confessed he hated God and all His works, and had plotted to overthrow the church, and had committed many sins so terrible he did not know the names for them and was incapable of describing them with a mortal tongue. Also he confessed to the sin of stupidity, and to the sin of sloth.

The first monk confessed he hated God and all His works, and had plotted to overthrow the church, and had plotted to burn the abbey and the cathedral, and then to set ablaze the whole town, intending to dance naked amidst the flames, while eating human flesh. I interrogated him no further, for it was clear he was not only dangerous but also completely insane.

The second monk was very stubborn and initially confessed only to desiring bony old women. This, I knew, was a vicious insult directed at me and my love of the bishopa, yet I did not let my anger affect my duties as interrogator. Therefore I proceeded slowly and patiently, returning to him every day, until at last, after ten days upon the wire, he confessed he hated many of God’s works, and planned, if he escaped, to overthrow the church and to kill certain archbishops. This was all I needed to hear, and you may rest assured the fellow did not survive to achieve his fearsome ambition.

Now, these five were merely my prisoners from one afternoon of searching. During the following months, I would go into the town every day or two. I always returned with prisoners, and, upon interrogation, there was not one of these who had been falsely arrested. Indeed, so proficient was I at seeking out the enemies of the church that I became popularly known as the Bloody Archbishop, and
Yreth the Bloody, because those who watched my infallible instinct at work thought it was Christ’s own blood that flowed within my veins, giving me my perception and my wisdom.

There were others interrogators too, mostly bishops, who sought out enemies of the church, but I did not care to associate with them or to watch them at work, for they were bloodthirsty and cruel, using blades and coals—and worse—to torture their prisoners. One of them said to me once, “You are too slow about your interrogations, and the wires are always taken up by your prisoners, leaving little room for ours.”

I said, “I take exactly the time required for each interrogation. I do not accept the first words from the lips of the prisoner, but rather I continue until I hear confessions which are the truth.”

Then this fellow said to me, “What does it matter whether the confession is true, as long as a confession comes?”

“A false confession taken to be true,” I replied, “could lead to the death of an innocent, and it our duty to persecute the guilty for the sake of the innocent. As I interrogate my prisoners, I do so with the constant hope in my heart that my first suspicions might have been mistaken and they might prove innocent after all.”

“You deceive yourself,” he said. “Once a person is upon the wire, he will confess to anything, true or not, and he will keep confessing until he is believed.” And then he laughed a vile laugh.

Although I turned my back on him and left, still his words disturbed me greatly, for I could not carry out my duties in good conscience if I thought I was making the innocent suffer. Therefore, I decided to test the properties of the wire, to see if it would make an innocent man admit to crimes he did not commit; and, two days afterwards, I ordered the strong priests who assisted me with my interrogations to place
me
upon the wire. This command horrified them, and at first they refused to do it, but I was adamant, ordering them a second time, and also explaining my reasons for the request. Astonished by my great virtue, they obeyed.

The procedure by which a person is placed upon the wire is painful. My robes were removed, and the tip of the wire, which is very sharp, was inserted into the skin of my left arm, just above the wrist. It was then pushed along a few inches under the skin, then back out to the surface. A few inches further along the arm, the wire was pushed under the skin once more, proceeding, above and below, like a thread through cloth. The wire went across the left arm, then across the shoulders and the back, across the right arm, and finally emerged at my right wrist. At this point, it was pulled tight, so several feet of wire extended beyond each arm.

When this was done, I had the priests suspend the wire across the beams, so I was hanging like a prisoner, with my feet dangling above the ground and my arms outstretched. I ordered them to interrogate me, as they had seen me do to others. First they asked me whether I hated God and all His works. I answered that I did not. Then they asked me again, but I remained firm. Then they asked me whether I had plotted to overthrow the church.

“Yes,” I said. “I have done so on many occasions.”

“Is this truly so?” they said. “We do not believe you.”

I was pleased at this, and I admitted I had merely been testing them, and that, in truth, I had never plotted to overthrow the church.

“Let us take you down now,” said the priests. “There is blood dripping from your heels, and we cannot bear to watch it.”

But I told them to continue, for I was suffering only as much as any other prisoner. So they asked me whether I sought to make men suffer. I said no. Then they asked me whether I taught heresies to the gullible. I said no. Then they asked me whether I had ever committed a sin.

“Yes,” I said. “But what sins I have committed, I have repented of.”

By now, I was well satisfied that the wire did not produce lies, and besides I was growing uncomfortable up there, so I commanded them to let me down, which they did. Then the wire was carefully removed, and surgeons were called to place soothing unguents upon my wounds.

I told the surgeons and the priests not to tell anyone of what had happened, but they disobeyed me, and soon the whole town knew of my virtuous act. Then the townspeople came to love me dearly, for they saw I would not inflict on others any punishment which I had not first tested upon myself. And you may be sure that when the
bishopa heard of my act, her admiration for me was heightened still further, and she gave me rewards in private which only a woman can give, and only to a man.

The bishops and the monks, though, now hated me more than ever, for they were jealous of my excellence and my rectitude, as well as of my intimacy with the bishopa.

The bishops continued to look for ways to bring about my downfall, hoping I would perform some shameful act, bringing disgrace upon my position. So they laid traps for me, sending whoreboys to my room, or giving me gifts of strong wine. But I kept my honour: I gave arrans to the whoreboys, then sent them away without accepting their services; the wine I gave to the beggars of
Quebec, who love such drinks. Then the whores and the beggars came to love me, and so, once again, in setting out to degrade me, my enemies merely made my virtue still more famous.

Their next trap took a different direction. As an archbishop, it fell upon me to be present at certain religious assemblies, and here I learned much of the One Religion, as I sat at the back behind the pulpit of the cathedral dressed in my archbishop’s robes. These garments—for suddenly I realize I have not yet described them, yet they were extraordinarily beautiful—were made of a strong, yet delicate purple fabric, lined at the cuff and collars with ermine. The lining was not so wide, however, as that upon the bishopa’s robes, nor was the stuff so thick, for her garb comprised numerous layers, giving the impression of tremendous bulk and solidity, although the bishopa was actually a very thin woman, and her ribs and hips jutted out against her skin.