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GNO Chapter Excerpts Page ~ B1C14 Quick-Browse
Chapter Quick-Browse For Graven's Grotesque: A Gothic Epic
Chapter 14 Excerpt Teaser
Description: The Fake Inquisition of Lazarus ~ 10 Paragraphs
“Do you have a name?” The scribe asked him.
“Lazarus. Lazarus Gogu.” The quill scribbled.
“What you now confess, Lazarus Gogu, shall be recorded as truth. Do you now swear to confess only the truth before God and His Holiness.”
“I speak the truth.”
“Very well, then. Whom do you serve; which Lord and King?”
He answered the scribe; “I serve my Lord God and King.” Doubting eyes darted about.
“Perhaps I might ask differently,” the scribe stated, “To whom do you pledge your allegiance—to which nobility and country?”
“I am a man of God. I pledge my allegiance to Him, His Holiness, and the Church.”
The bishop smiled and stepped forth, “Good. And do you believe in one Almighty God, who is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost?”
“I do.”
The scribe stopped writing and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “So you consider yourself a man—and of God?”
“I do.”
“Men do not have wings,” he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Nevertheless, tell me, can you actually fly?”
“Yes.”
The scribe questioned him again whilst writing, “And how far can you fly at once?”
Lazarus answered. “Half an eve, before I must rest.” Yet, the quill froze and the scribe leaned back with doubting eyes and pursed lips. Several wide-eyed guards mumbled.
“Silence, all.” The bishop corrected them. He turned to Lazarus. “Lazarus, do you believe in Christ born of the Virgin, suffered, risen, and who ascended to heaven?”
“I do.”
“Good.” The priest paced the floor, nodding. “This is good.”
The scribe inquired; “Tell me about your parents. Who are they and where are they now?”
Lazarus fidgeted, casting an uneasy eye at the bishop.
The bishop spun to the scribe, waving a beckoning hand. “Let us not linger on and on; ask another question of more importance.”
“Very well.” The scribe rolled his eyes and followed with the next question; “Have you ever killed or been in battle?”
“No.”
He dipped his quill, shook it, and studied Lazarus. “Never killed? Yet you have teeth as a dog. Tell me, do you eat meat?”
“I have. What I mean —”
The scribe interrupted him. “You say that you have never killed?” He grilled Lazarus, pretending a concoction of apprehension and confusion. “However, to eat meat, one must kill for it, yes?” And in subtle accusation, he pointed his quill at the Eljo. “Could it be that you now lie before this council?”
“Hear, hear.” The bishop waved a delicate hand and checked the scribe, “No need for confusion. Let him speak.”
Lazarus confessed. “I killed some wild animals, yet, God’s commandments do not apply to animals! I was hungry and I had no bread!”
The scribe raised an eyebrow. “No—bread?”
“None. I found no grains in the forest. I cannot make bread without grains.”
“So then you like to eat bread?” The scribe scribbled.
“No, I do not like bread.”
The scribe stopped and sighed. “Then why in His Holy Name were you looking to make bread when you do not like bread?”
The bishop cleared his throat and approached him with fingers clasped below a large belly. “Do you believe bread and wine, in the mass performed by Christian priests, to be changed, by divine virtue, into the body and blood of Christ?”
“I do.”
“Excellent reply.” The slyly-grinning bishop rubbed his hands together and turned to the scribe, who sat motionless. “You recorded his answer, yes?”
The scribe replied, “Yet, if it pleases you, I would like to ask him —”
“It would not please me,” the bishop leaned heavily on the table and scolded him, “Now record his answer.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the parchment.
“As you wish.” The scribe sulked, yet dipped his quill and obeyed. The bishop turned back to Lazarus with a pleased face.
The scribe stuttered, outwardly anxious, as he asked the next question. “And, how many more are there like your kind—um—flying men?”
“Oh, yes,” the pleasant bishop interjected, “There must certainly be more flying men. How many more and where might they now be?” He pursed his lips in eager anticipation.
“I do not know. I am alone.”
“There’s only one of you?”
“I have seen no another.”
“I see.” The priest frowned, caressing his largest chin whilst casting his disappointment to the floor.
From the parchment, the scribe read another question aloud, “Do you know how to use a blade, a bow, or a weapon of any kind?”
“I once made a knife from bone—for cutting skins and meat,” Lazarus offered.
The bishop approached Lazarus and searched his eyes. He spotted Lazarus’ prayer cross and pushed aside the overhanging chain links for its better inspection. “Where did you get this?” He leaned closer in continued examination, breathing heavily to himself as self-absorbed fat men often do.
“'Twas a gift from my—from a friar—his prayer cross.”
The obese priest rolled it in his pale and dainty sausage fingers, examining its worn corners. “Yes. Only a friar could wear down a prayer cross like so. I believe you, Lazarus.” The bishop cast him a subtle wink and turned to the guards, “I have seen enough. Remove them.”
The scribe stood and jabbed his quill in the inkwell. “Perhaps we ought not act in haste. How can you be certain that he did not steal it from a prisoner whilst in the pit?”
“Oh, I am quite certain that he did not,” the bishop replied. He tugged on the layers of chains that strapped the necklace tightly against Lazarus’ chest. “For the cross to lie beneath these chains, it could only mean that he was wearing it even before he was bound. Devil’s never carry crosses.” The priest then addressed the entire room whilst pointing to Lazarus. “’Tis no Devil spawn; ‘tis a flying man—a Christian flying man—and his gentle name is Lazarus. And as bishop of this province, I shall retain authority in this matter and shall hear no reference made of him to the contrary...”
[ End Excerpt Teaser Text ]
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