The Warlock Heretical by Christopher Stasheff Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantastic fiction, Gallowglass; Rod (Fictitious character)
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work."
"Why do they say that 'tis 'good'?" Gregory asked.
"Because they think it helps keep sinful impulses away. I think it mainly keeps them worn out." Gregory nodded. "Well, weariness would keep flesh from temptation." Rod stared at the boy, amazed (as he always was) to find that children could understand so much. Probably right,
too—after ten hours of pulling a plow, the monks couldn't very well have enough energy left for sinning.
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The lead monk in the team looked up, saw them, and held up a hand. His mates stopped, and he disengaged
himself from the harness, then strode over the furrows to meet them. As he came close enough, he called out,
"Greetings . . . Why, 'tis the Lord Warlock! And his youngest."
"Well met, Father." Rod was startled to see it was Father Boquilva.
"And well come." The priest came up to them, dusting off his hands. "What matter brings thee, Lord Warlock?
Have my brethren bred trouble again?"
"No . . . well, yes, but nothing we weren't expecting. Really nothing to do with the trip." He clapped a hand on
Gregory's shoulder. "But this is."
"Thy lad?" Father Boquilva registered surprise for only a fleeting second; then he smiled and turned away toward
the house. "Well, 'twill be more than a passing word or two. Come, sit and sip!" Rod followed, squeezing Gregory's shoulder for reassurance—Gregory's reassurance, that is.
"Brother Clyde!" Father Boquilva called as they neared the house. A big monk looked up in surprise, then laid down his trowel and mortar board and came toward them.
"This is Brother Clyde," Father Boquilva said to Gregory. "As thou seest, he doth labor with his hands, as do all
of us— and if his task seems lighter than mine, be assured that yesterday he did labor in my place." The big monk smiled and held out a hand that fairly swallowed Gregory's. The little boy looked up at him, wide eyed.
"And this nobleman is Rod Gallowglass, the Lord Warlock." Father Boquilva looked up at Brother Clyde again.
"I must speak with these good folk awhile; wilt thou join Brother Neder and Father Mersey in my place?"
"Aye, and cheerfully." Brother Clyde sighed. "Is not that mine office? Good day, good folk!" He bobbed his head
to them, and walked on toward the plow.
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"This is a monk's life," Father Boquilva explained as they went in, "prayer at morning and night, and hard work
between, then rising to pray in the midnight also. Yet that thou hast already seen, when thou didst watch us
aforetime."
Gregory looked up, startled. "How didst thou know we did watch?"
"Why, for that thou didst come to aid us in fighting," Father Boquilva said easily, sitting at a long table made of
rough-hewn boards. " 'Ware splinters, now . . . and how couldst thou have come, then, if thou hadst not been
watching, hm? Yet this thou hast not seen—the inside of the chapter house. Regard how monks live." Gregory looked about him. "'Tis clean and clear."
Perception was amazing. Rod would have said it was empty and sterile.
"Clean indeed, and 'tis monks' labor keeps it so. 'Tis we ourselves who spread the whitewash, and we who crafted
the tables and benches—as well as the wooden cups." Father Boquilva poured from a pitcher and set a mug in
front of Gregory. "There will be ale in the fall, and wine in the spring—yet for now, 'tis water. And even with ale
and wine, 'tis clear water for the greater part. Our food is bread, greens, and fruits, with meat on feast days."
"•'Tis a hard life," Gregory said, eyes wide.
"Aye, and thou wilt therefore understand the strong call it doth need, to do God's work." Father Boquilva took a
long, thirsty drink, then looked up at Rod. "Now, Lord Warlock! In what matter may I aid thee?"
"You already have." Rod smiled, amused. "My boy has a notion that he may want to be a monk when he
"Why do they say that 'tis 'good'?" Gregory asked.
"Because they think it helps keep sinful impulses away. I think it mainly keeps them worn out." Gregory nodded. "Well, weariness would keep flesh from temptation." Rod stared at the boy, amazed (as he always was) to find that children could understand so much. Probably right,
too—after ten hours of pulling a plow, the monks couldn't very well have enough energy left for sinning.
Page 83
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The lead monk in the team looked up, saw them, and held up a hand. His mates stopped, and he disengaged
himself from the harness, then strode over the furrows to meet them. As he came close enough, he called out,
"Greetings . . . Why, 'tis the Lord Warlock! And his youngest."
"Well met, Father." Rod was startled to see it was Father Boquilva.
"And well come." The priest came up to them, dusting off his hands. "What matter brings thee, Lord Warlock?
Have my brethren bred trouble again?"
"No . . . well, yes, but nothing we weren't expecting. Really nothing to do with the trip." He clapped a hand on
Gregory's shoulder. "But this is."
"Thy lad?" Father Boquilva registered surprise for only a fleeting second; then he smiled and turned away toward
the house. "Well, 'twill be more than a passing word or two. Come, sit and sip!" Rod followed, squeezing Gregory's shoulder for reassurance—Gregory's reassurance, that is.
"Brother Clyde!" Father Boquilva called as they neared the house. A big monk looked up in surprise, then laid down his trowel and mortar board and came toward them.
"This is Brother Clyde," Father Boquilva said to Gregory. "As thou seest, he doth labor with his hands, as do all
of us— and if his task seems lighter than mine, be assured that yesterday he did labor in my place." The big monk smiled and held out a hand that fairly swallowed Gregory's. The little boy looked up at him, wide eyed.
"And this nobleman is Rod Gallowglass, the Lord Warlock." Father Boquilva looked up at Brother Clyde again.
"I must speak with these good folk awhile; wilt thou join Brother Neder and Father Mersey in my place?"
"Aye, and cheerfully." Brother Clyde sighed. "Is not that mine office? Good day, good folk!" He bobbed his head
to them, and walked on toward the plow.
Page 84
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"This is a monk's life," Father Boquilva explained as they went in, "prayer at morning and night, and hard work
between, then rising to pray in the midnight also. Yet that thou hast already seen, when thou didst watch us
aforetime."
Gregory looked up, startled. "How didst thou know we did watch?"
"Why, for that thou didst come to aid us in fighting," Father Boquilva said easily, sitting at a long table made of
rough-hewn boards. " 'Ware splinters, now . . . and how couldst thou have come, then, if thou hadst not been
watching, hm? Yet this thou hast not seen—the inside of the chapter house. Regard how monks live." Gregory looked about him. "'Tis clean and clear."
Perception was amazing. Rod would have said it was empty and sterile.
"Clean indeed, and 'tis monks' labor keeps it so. 'Tis we ourselves who spread the whitewash, and we who crafted
the tables and benches—as well as the wooden cups." Father Boquilva poured from a pitcher and set a mug in
front of Gregory. "There will be ale in the fall, and wine in the spring—yet for now, 'tis water. And even with ale
and wine, 'tis clear water for the greater part. Our food is bread, greens, and fruits, with meat on feast days."
"•'Tis a hard life," Gregory said, eyes wide.
"Aye, and thou wilt therefore understand the strong call it doth need, to do God's work." Father Boquilva took a
long, thirsty drink, then looked up at Rod. "Now, Lord Warlock! In what matter may I aid thee?"
"You already have." Rod smiled, amused. "My boy has a notion that he may want to be a monk when he
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