With her pregnancy in full glorious fecundity, the opportunity to use it at a meeting of the Confraternity was too much for the Abbot to ignore. His access to Dominique was strictly limited to those times when Henri was on duty and travelling with the guard. He was not brave or stupid enough to insinuate himself in their lives when Henri was around.
Venturing to her cottage, he walked around to the back and looking over her fence caught Dominique’s attention. “Good afternoon, lovely lady!” he began ingratiatingly. Dominique knew he wanted something, so she cocked her head to one side and waited for the favor to be asked. “You look extraordinarily radiant at this point in your pregnancy. Dominique, you fairly glow. It is good to see you finally content once more. It has been a long time.” He actually sounded sincere for once.
“Thank you so much, Ian. I am gloriously happy. This baby is the answer to my prayers, a true gift from God. I feel so very blessed.” Dominique was less than a month away from the arrival of the child she had been promised by the angel in her visitation. She was desperately missing her beloved Henri, but hopefully he would be home in time for the birth of their son.
“I have planned a meeting of the brotherhood to celebrate the beginning of the year and what better way to herald in all the blessings of the New Year than with a visit from our High Priestess in all her fertile glory?” He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, Dominique thought wryly. Feeling particularly generous, she acquiesced. “Fine, I don’t mind playing in your little game with the boys. Men are such children. But this is the last time—you’ll have to find yourself a new Priestess.” Rolling her eyes, she hoped it was not obvious how flattering she found the invitation.
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As the chill night air of the evening descended, Dominique readied herself for the performance in which was to participate. She had been clear with the Abbot that this was to be her final exhibition as High Priestess of the Confraternity. The arrival of this child was to be the focal point of her life and she wanted nothing that would upset Henri or get in the way of her anticipated future with her baby boy.
But, truth be told, she was looking forward to her final performance. The Abbot certainly knew drama and could be depended on for a good show. She laughed to herself, remembering her first time as High Priestess. While the ensuing night was just as well forgotten, the show itself had been full of drama and intrigue. Dominique thought that the whole thing was rather ridiculous, but, she also understood that the group put a number of influential men in the Abbot’s sphere so she gave him the benefit of the doubt. In exchange for her help with this group over the years, he truly had given her the gift of his unrelenting protection along with the support of the Catholic Church. She was grateful to him for that. Her life, even with Henri, might have proven quite difficult without his help. She owed him this final evening, as it was one of the only things she could do for him.
Entering the now familiar vestry of the small chapel, she waited for the well-rehearsed drum beats to begin. As she stepped from behind the red curtain, she was faced with the mask-clad members of the society. They no longer frightened her. At this point, she knew all the faces behind the masks. Her years in the community allowed her into their lives on a very personal level; providing her healing teas, helping their loved ones meet their deaths with peace and the surety of heaven, and bringing them healing energy when they grew ill.
As the Abbot took the stage to begin his drama, the door to the chapel swung open bringing with it a gust of cold air. The candles flickered erratically, threatening to be extinguished. Dafne stood in the center of the proceeding with eyes blazing.
“What in God’s name is going on in this chapel?” Dafne entered and genuflected to protect herself as if the Devil himself was in attendance. “This is nothing but witchcraft—pure and simple!” She spat the word witchcraft with all the outrage she could muster. “How dare you bring this evil worship to this House of God? And you,” she said pointing her finger at a shivering, barely dressed Dominique. “You are the ringleader of all this, you are a demon, a witch and I, for one, will not sit idly by while you claim the souls of these men. You are a temptress, Dominique, I have always suspected as much! And the whole world will know it now—especially the Inquisitor! We will see how he chooses to deal with you!”
Spinning on her heel, Dafne left the chapel cloaked in shocked silence. Masks removed, the members moved to disperse instantly, concerned about the potential implication of the Inquisitor meddling in their affairs. The Abbot called for calm and quiet and turned to address a shaken Dominique. “What can you do, Ian? Surely you will not allow her to level these charges against me with the Inquisitor?”
The Inquisitor’s reputation preceded him and it was an ominous reputation, at that. Dominique was truly frightened by Dafne’s threat. “There is little I can do if he is called to investigate, Dominique.” The Abbot explained, “While I have quite a bit of sway with the Catholic Church as Abbot, it is nothing compared to that of the Inquisitor. I am afraid there would be nothing I could do to protect you, my dear.” To add some clarity, he continued, “I and the other members would be forced to disavow any knowledge of the proceedings, as we might be held culpable also. While my involvement could be surmised, the masks have allowed us all some deniability. Unfortunately, you have not enjoyed the same protection.”
Throwing on a thin robe, Dominique ran from the chapel in hopes of catching up to Dafne. This woman had been her friend, surely she could be reasoned with. Running as fast as her swollen belly would allow, Dominique caught up to Dafne and grabbed her shoulder to swing her around. Surely she was mistaken about the smug smile she saw lurking on Dafne’s lips—this was no joke.
“Dafne, you cannot possibly mean those horrible accusations you made back there?” An astonished Dominique began, “I am no witch and you know it! Their little game is just for show and is really just a way for the Abbot to conduct some political maneuvering. You cannot be serious about witchcraft or unholy practices!” She shook her head at the thought that Dafne considered her a witch.
“Oh, my old friend,” Dafne began without having to dig too deeply to bring up her disdain to her voice. “I am dead serious. You have enjoyed far too much freedom in your little fiefdom and I mean to end it here and now. I am going to the Inquisitor, who is actually just a matter of miles away from Loudun as we speak. Your days of lording yourself around this town are over.”
Shocked at the depth of Dafne’s hatred for her, Dominique asked her, “Why would you hate me so? What could I have done to warrant such venom from you? Do you hate my unborn child as much? Because that’s who you will be truly punishing.” She laid her hand on her round belly, trying desperately to reach some vestige of the person she had once believed Dafne to be. “Do you want me to beg? I will happily beg for the life of my child.” Tears streaming down her face, Dominique started to drop to her knees.
“Do not bother to beg, Madame High Priestess. It will do you no good, save it for your trial.”
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Giving Dafne time to make good on her promise to lodge her complaint with the Inquisitor, the Emissary stepped in to play his part. The Inquisitor was in an encampment only a few miles from Loudun. From his command post, he had already sent an advance group of soldiers into Loudun to prepare for his arrival.
Upon finding the Inquisitor, the Emissary asked politely for an audience with him. The night was dark and the cold moisture in the air spoke of the metaphoric and literal storm that was approaching. The Inquisitor invited the stranger into his tent but despite the damp cold, the Emissary insisted on speaking by the campfire. A formal greeting was presented by way of a letter from the Cardinal in Paris. Although soft-spoken, the Emissary had a commanding presence which the letter supported. The sealed document from the Inquisitor’s superior asked for his absolute cooperation with the desires of the bearer.
“You have presented a powerfully worded document, sir.” The Inquisitor began.
“Why, my good sir, it is you who holds the power. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.” The Emissary began, “I understand that a man of your position must preserve and uphold Catholic Law, given such unstable times, it is imperative. Order must be upheld, after all. These people must be made aware of the consequences of heresy. You are preparing to arrest a young woman, by the name of Dominique Collier, in Loudun, am I correct?”
The Inquisitor paused, staring into the campfire as he gathered his thoughts. “You seem to know a great deal of what I’m doing here, will you please enlighten me as to why you are here?” The Inquisitor replied as he affixed his eyes directly upon him. He was choosing his words carefully as he continued to size up this unwanted, yet well-connected guest.
“I would ask that you escort the woman, who is with child, to Paris whereupon, I will be allowed to oversee her care until such time as the child is born, before proceeding with any form of justice being meted. After all, interrogating a woman with child is a rather unsavory business. After the child is born, you can do what you will, however given the situation, I don’t believe you will find much to investigate. The circumstances, which involve one of our very own, Abbot Ian Hargrove, might prove quite embarrassing for the Church. But that will be for you to decide.”
The Inquisitor began to smile a bit and become more relaxed. Whatever this Emissary wanted was obviously out of the purview of the Church, so it didn’t seem to threaten the Inquisitor, or his task at hand. This child seemed to be the object of his intentions. I want nothing to do with the child, he thought. This actually takes many of the complications away from the sordid mess of arresting a pregnant women and was a relief to him. It now seemed that what was being asked of him could provide him some benefit. They continued in the conversation for a short time longer and the Inquisitor seemed quite pleased with the outcome. Everyone wins, he thought to himself.
The moist air of the night was taking its toll and wiping the end of his cold nose, the Inquisitor ended the conversation and retreated to the warmth of his quarters. The balance of power firmly in the Emissary’s court by his insistence on speaking by the campfire was a detail not lost on the Inquisitor. It was a power play not unfamiliar to him. And yet…? I did quite well.