Wolves Among Us(72)

He motioned to the altar. “Fetch the Host and wine. We will give them the Sacrament.”

Stefan fetched a clean white linen and laid it across the altar, waiting for Erick to bring the bread. He opened the wine, inhaling the aroma of earth and grapes and sun.

The women smelled the bread as it went past, reaching for it, groaning in pangs of hunger. Stefan watched Erick pick his way through the women, gently removing the grasping fingers that caught him by his shirt hem.

“Almighty God,” Stefan began, “the body of Christ, broken for our sins.”

He motioned for Erick to begin tearing the bread. There was not enough to feed these starving women. Stefan had counted eight when he left the jail, and until their faces had been washed, he had struggled to remember each as she truly was. Now with the others, he saw they were all his women, the women who had sat through many Masses and sermons and lectures, the women who probably knew his words by heart and had profited none.

“Divide it between them,” he whispered. “The body of our Lord Jesus Christ, given for thee,” he said for the women to hear.

Erick began circulating the bread among the women, trying to hold his legs steady as they reached for bread. Dame Alice took a larger share but dumped it in her lap and began feeding it to Mia. Mia only took one bite, turning her head to resist more.

“Feed Alma first,” she whispered.

Stefan knelt in front of her. “Alma has been well fed by Erick. Do not worry any longer about her. It is time for you to regain your strength.” He took a piece of bread from Dame Alice’s hand and pressed it to Mia’s mouth. She did not raise her eyes to look at him, so he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand as he spoke. She looked exhausted, and he worried she had no more strength to eat.

“Eat, Mia.”

He fed her, then stroked Dame Alice’s arm before he stood to attend to the others.

All the other women ate with ferocity. They kept reaching for more, making the panic rise in Stefan’s belly. He had nothing else to feed them. With nothing else to do, he moved on to the cup.

“The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, shed for thee.”

Erick offered the cup to each woman, running back to Stefan for it to be refilled. Stefan prayed the wine would hold out. The women gulped, wine running down their chins, drinking and gasping for air, not enough wine in the world to satisfy their thirst. Erick ran back one last time to have the cup refilled, and Stefan obliged.

Stefan heard people gathering outside for the burning. Stefan looked down at his altar, crumbs of bread and drops of wine making it an improper mess. He once would have been ashamed to let the bishop see his altar like this. He looked out at the women, who were rubbing their stomachs in awe, having been filled beyond measure after their great hunger. Stefan looked down at the mess and understood.

It was enough. God had always been enough to satisfy all their hungers and all their questions. He had been enough, even when prayers seemed unanswered and lies grew in power.

He nodded, chuckling in reply. Little arms wrapped around his legs. He bent down and hugged Alma back as she kissed his cheek.

“I must do something for you now,” he told her. “Whatever happens, take good care of your mother for me.”

Alma stood, walking to the picture of Jesus, her upraised face illuminated in the flickering torchlight. She looked as if she belonged to another world. Love radiated from her face as she took in the image of her Lord.

Stefan smiled as he watched her, washing his hands and face in the water bowl behind him, straightening his robe. He took off his belt and bag and laid them on the steps beneath the altar. More torchlights floated into view, fuzzy yellow orbs illuminating the windows. The crowd outside grew.

He went to Erick’s side, whispering in his ear so none of the women would hear. “I am going out there. Lock the door behind me. Let no one in until it is over. Do you understand?”

“You can’t go out there.”

“Do not unlock the doors until it is safe. No matter what happens. Do you understand?”

“Burn the witches!” came a cry. “Let the burnings begin with Mia and her cursed child!”

The women inside did not move. Stefan watched their terrified faces, like foxes caught in a trap at the sound of a hunter’s footfall. He could not make them understand, not with their fear. He did not even try to speak. He walked to the church doors and threw them open to wild cheers from the people, the crowd of a size he would expect for an Easter Mass. They were hungry, their lean faces menacing in the torchlight.

“Come on, then,” someone called.

Stefan walked down two steps, holding his palms out, motioning for patience. He heard the doors slam behind him, the heavy bolts sliding into place. Good boy.

“Do you want a death?” he called, and they answered with screams of encouragement. “Do you want curses broken? Debts settled? Justice paid in blood?”

“Yes!” the people yelled, their torches dripping, their eyes dark pools.

“Sin demands blood; in this you are right. But you are wrong to demand it of those poor women. God has already given you the blood that washes away all sins.”

“Come down here, Father.” Bastion lurched through the crowd, still drunk from the sleeping tincture Stefan had given him, his eyelids swollen and half lowered, pushing aside the people in his way. “Come and join your people, you frightened little worm.” Stefan marveled at the man’s strength to overcome the tincture Stefan had given him. Bastion was here for blood, and Stefan had nothing else to stop him.