Kerentoth is a small village, barely of a suitable size to be called a village; technically, it's a hamlet. But the locals are proud of it and call it a village; they especially enjoy to show visitors - the "townies" which they so much like to pretend they dislike (I don't mean you, by the way; I can tell you've lived in the country) - the church. It is barely more than a strangely short building, not at all grand; it has long since fallen into disuse. No one except the townies and more adventurous youngsters even walk in the silent graveyard. Many of the older inhabitants of Kerentoth say that it is haunted by the ghosts of long-dead priests and parishioners; many of the visiting townies are curious about the place, and often claim afterwards to have experienced cold spots and distant voices crying out for release. On the whole, villagers avoid the ramshackle building, not really through fear but a deep respect for the past, and the history it holds.
Part of that history, a certain lady living almost in the grounds of the parish is fond of telling the townies, concerns a young man named Heinrich Tallander, who lived in the village in the early 1900s. But that isn't for me to tell. If you go right on toward the church....look, there it is; the little house right there, with the thatched roof and ivy round the door. Go on in and ask for old Ma Rathe. Her God-daughter will be there; the old lady's been confined to her bed for some years now. She'll be glad to have someone different to talk to. Go ahead, but don't tell her I sent you.
The little church of Kerentoth was as always quiet; out of reverence the small congregation hardly spoke throughout the services, except when their voices raised in prayer. The usual Sunday service was well in progress; standing in the pulpit, Father Heinrich Tallander. He was tall and commanding, though rather young to be a priest; one could almost take him for a choirboy if not for the strength and experience in his eyes.
"Men and women, children of the great Lord all." He intoned, his powerful, resonant voice echoing through to the vestry, where the verger waited in silence. "This is a joyous occasion. Here today we have a young child, preparing to enter the house of our Lord. Step forward, Maria Kroftenstein. On this day you will truly become one of His children." From her seat between two adults - her parents, smiling and proud - a young girl of seven stepped. She walked solemnly up to the alter, although as she reached it and knelt at the feet of the priest, a smile touched her rosy lips. Father Tallander slowly lifted from the altar a small goblet. In it, red wine glimmered. He held it up, watching as the light caught the pewter, and then quietly said:
"This wine - the blood of Jesus Christ the Son." In a swift movement he dashed the goblet to the floor. Wine spilled, running down the aisle, staining the wood. "No more," he whispered. Then, carefully, aware of the congregation's eyes upon him, Tallander lifted a small, jeweled dagger from the altar, and pressed it against his own pale wrist. As the cut deepened, blood began to seep, spreading across his sleeve, staining the white of the cassock. Raising a second goblet he allowed the blood to drip into it, and kneeling, pressed it to the child's lips.
"You are truly now a child of the Lord." He murmured, as she drank. Ceremoniously Tallander pressed the point of the dagger into his own chest; not hard enough to do any damage, the motion was purely symbolic. The young girl before him knelt up and raised her head, her eyes meeting his. He gazed at her; when she nodded in reverent acceptance, he plunged the blade deep into her heart. Maria's expression was blissful as she slipped into an everlasting sleep.
Her eyes were bright and sparkling, her hair soft and grey. She wore a pinafore over a plain frock. Alone now in the little house except for her God-daughter, Elvira Rathe was indeed delighted to have company. She perched in her little rocking chair and rocked, and smiled at her guest, who nervously sipped cognac while waiting for the old woman to continue her tale.
"Back in those days," she said, "I knew Father Tallander very well. He was a sweet and generous man." Her English hardly faltered. "But then, he changed - some said for the better, most, really. But I knew that it was not a holy cause in which he believed so devoutly." She paused, checking that her listener was concentrating, then went on: "Yes, he was a strange one. His forces were those of evil, and never believe otherwise, my boy. Always remember what I have told you of his ceremonies. There are many who come here for the tale - they go away thinking of it as a yarn, an old woman's meanderings. Beware such ignorance! For even those who did not believe my words had nightmares, boy. And they never visited that church again - as you shouldn't."
"But why, Ms. Rathe? He's dead and gone."
"True enough, they say. True enough for them. But we know better, don't we?" Her eyes shone, dancing in the half-light.
"What do you mean?"
"Boy, there are more things in this world than can be explained by anyone's philosophy, Horatio's or otherwise." She chuckled. "Shakespeare never said a truer word. As for Tallander - well, he met someone who was not of this village - someone not of his flock, who did not bleat his words for lack of opinions of their own. He was a young police officer from America, barely a year in the uniform, and he had heard from his aging mother of Heinrich Tallander. She - her name was Mrs. Reichlok - told her son of all the things she had seen here; she was witness to one of Tallander's rituals, and the only one I know of who ever lived to tell about it. A great and terrible battle ensued, my boy, and it goes on still....it goes on still." Fascinated now, her guest sat up in his chair. "Tell me, please. You can't just stop now - I want to know what happened."
The bells never tolled. That was something that Officer Paul Reichlok had noticed about the little church. For three weeks, and therefore three Sundays, he had been in Kerentoth, waiting. And in that time the bells had never tolled once, although faithfully each evening the entire village assembled there, and every Sunday for almost seven hours they congregated within the church. Reichlok had not yet stepped within its walls - which, if all those stories were true, must surely drip with blood, he thought. But he was beginning to disbelieve all that he'd heard. So far, all he could see was a small village with devoutly religious inhabitants and a rather elusive cleric. He had not yet so much as seen Father Tallander, and he was the reason the young officer had come to Kerentoth. He had met, however, many of the villagers; they seemed without exception to be friendly and welcoming people. And of course there was Elvira, the beautiful daughter of the village's quiet and gentle verger. Paul was becoming very fond of Elvira, although initially his friendship with her had been orchestrated to learn more about the mysterious Heinrich Tallander. Finally Reichlok decided to attend one of the Sunday services, out of a sense of curiosity, and so on a bright and sunny day he arrived at the church door, and hovered. There seemed to be no-one around. After ten minutes of patient waiting, Reichlok went to the small back door and tapped. The verger appeared.
"Yes?"
"It's me, Paul. When does the service start?"
"There is no service."
"But I thought...."
"You are wrong. Today, there is no service." The door closed, and Reichlok was left standing outside, somewhat puzzled by the man's manner. As he prepared to leave, the door unexpectedly opened again, and a slim young man stepped out.
"You must be Officer Reichlok. Elvira has told me much about you. Do come in." Paul was for a moment taken aback, partly by the apparent youth of the man and secondly by the fact that he had not introduced himself. But these things were easily explained; clearly, it was unnecessary for the only priest in the village to announce himself when his identity was clearly obvious.
"Yes....I'm staying here for a few weeks or so." Paul replied. "By the way, what exactly did Elvira say?"
"Why not come into the vestry and we can talk. There is a service today, although we're not certain yet when it will be held. There's some delay, I'm afraid.." He didn't seem willing to impart further information. Paul shrugged mentally. This was the first chance he'd had to speak directly to the mysterious Tallander, and he wasn't about to waste it.
They talked for some time of trivial things; the weather, the village and its inhabitants....general pleasant conversation. Paul Reichlok began to warm to Tallander, who was without doubt an amicable man. He was not at all evasive when Paul finally got around to questioning him about the church and its congregation, about the verger, about Tallander himself. He happily told the officer that he had been brought up in a big city some distance from Kerentoth, and after some years had felt the need for more peaceable surroundings. He had chosen the quiet village, and settled here. Paul was surprised; surely Tallander couldn't be older than twenty-five? Even if he looked extremely young for his age. He actually looked no more than twenty. But Paul was no real judge of ages and no one else seemed to find the man's youth unusual. Perhaps it was natural in Kerentoth for people to age slowly? Lost in thought, Paul jumped in surprise when Tallander addressed him.
"Where are you from, Officer?"
"Please, call me Paul. I'm from America, California to be precise. My mother came from this village....she said she knew you, isn't that odd?" He laughed softly, but was cautious, knowing that the barrier had bee reached and he could not go back on what he had said.
"That's impossible, of course." Reichlok added, when Tallander reacted with a curious silence. "She left here many years ago, and you wouldn't have been in Kerentoth then, surely."
"Perhaps not. Then again, I've been here longer than you may think, Paul. What, out of interest, is your mother's name?"
"Frances, Frances Reichlok."
"Frances." For a moment something flickered in his eyes; remembrance perhaps? Then it was gone, and he smiled pleasantly at Paul. "No, I don't recognise the name. She probably knew my grandfather who lived here; his name was Tallander, although his Christian name was not Heinrich. He was the village smith."
"It's possible, certainly."
"Indeed. Well, I don't wish to be rude, Paul, but the church needs to be prepared for the service, and I must prepare also. It will take place at three o' clock this afternoon, if you would like to attend."
"Yes, very much. Thank you for the conversation, Father. It's been very interesting." Politely Reichlok offered his hand; they shook, and the young police officer left through the back door of the church, and out into the bright sun.
"But you mentioned some kind of battle." The guest waited expectantly for Ma Rathe to continue the story, and was surprised when she merely smiled at him as if waiting for his opinion of the tale. "Surely that isn't it!"
"You truly want to know the fully story? If you insist, my boy. Sit quiet while I tell it to you, and don't interrupt me. The memories are growing dim...."
At three o'clock, as promised, Paul Reichlok made his way to the church. Stepping inside, he found the rest of the congregation already assembled, and was embarrassed. Surely he wasn't late? But all the village seemed to be there, though searching the faces he couldn't spot Elvira. That seemed unusual, considering she was the verger's daughter; but then again, perhaps she was helping with something in the vestry. Paul settled quietly into a pew near the back, and waited. Only a few moments passed before Tallander stepped up to the altar and from there addressed the villagers.
"Brothers and sisters, we have a guest here with us today. You all know him already - Paul Reichlok, whose mother was once a resident of this village." Paul had not mentioned his mother before, except to Tallander, and a little ripple of surprise passed through the group. He wondered what was odd about his mother's leaving; or was there something about her that he didn't know? For whatever the reason, the crows suddenly seemed to become more watchful. He noticed a few glances cast in his direction.
"Brothers and sisters, I hope that you will join me in welcoming Paul to the village. Long may he stay here." A few nods came Paul's way; the wariness of before apparently forgotten. He smiled back, relaxing. Perhaps he had simply imagined the reaction? Perhaps he was being paranoid because of what he had heard about Kerentoth. His mother was, after all, quite old, and her memory not as sharp as it had once been. All that she had told him could easily be partial fabrication, and Tallander could not have been a resident of this village all those years ago. She must have confused the priest with his grandfather. Paul paused in his ruminations as the mass began, and joined with his fellow men is praising God.
The congregation filed out slowly, expressing their thanks to Tallander as they did so for the very interesting service. It had seemed quite ordinary to Reichlok. As he made to leave, Tallander placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Paul, stay a moment. I would like to speak with you." Reichlok obediently remained seated while the last few churchgoers left, and rose to his feet as Tallander returned from the door.
"I know you find us a little odd here." Tallander said softly as Paul turned to him in curiosity. "We are different, as a village, to your modern cities. There is a great sense of community, of extended family, of mutual respect. Do not fear us, Paul, because we are not the same as you." Completely nonplused, Reichlok shook his head. "I don't know what you mean."
"You will, and soon. I want you to attend a special service tomorrow; I want you to see how differently we do things here." The police officer found himself hypnotised by the direct and piercing gaze, the youthful beauty, Tallander's almost ethereal smile.
"I'll be here."
"Thank you, Paul. That means a great deal to me....to all of us."
Ma Rathe stopped, look expectantly at her guest. As she had wanted his eyes were wide with fascination. "Please, go on." Notebook poised, he looked into her old, wise eyes, eyes that had seen so much, known so much. "This is wonderful."
"Young Reichlok attended Father Tallander's service, of course. He could not refuse, even if he had speculated on the darkness of Heinrich's intentions...."
The sun was setting as Paul headed towards the small, squat church. On his arm, the beautiful Elvira Rathe looked thoroughly enchanting in the fading light. She paused as they neared the churchyard.
"Will I see you tomorrow, Paul?"
"You aren't coming to the service? Father Tallander said that the entire village would be there."
"I have....other things to do. Heinrich understands." She smiled, a slightly strange expression, oddly knowing. "Tomorrow, we can talk more."
"All right....I'll see you, then."
"Goodbye." Without another word, Elvira turned and walked into the oncoming twilight. Reichlok shrugged, watched as she left, watched her hair moving in the breeze and her slim, firm body as she distanced herself from him and from his destination. But what of my destiny? Paul wondered. He was not an emotional man, and far from sentimental, but something about this woman entranced him. He dreamed of her....deep and meaningful dreams which he could never remember shortly after waking. But dreams were not all he had; he had the reality of Elvira Rathe, and of her fondness for him. Cheered by hopeful speculation for the future, Reichlok stepped into the church. He was surprised to find the rest of the congregation already assembled. Tallander stood before the altar, a faint smile on his lips as he regarded Paul slipping quietly into an available pew.
"Officer Reichlok, thank you for joining us. I would like you to know that this service has been called in your honour."
"I don't understand....there's no need."
"But there is. You have come to our village but have not accepted our way of life, Paul Reichlok. You are an aberration here, and until that changes, will never be truly welcomed by the children of Kerentoth." Utterly confused, and a little alarmed, Paul looked at the people around him. They showed no sign of finding Tallander's words odd.
"To rectify the disturbance you have caused, we wish you to accept our lifestyle as your own, to become one of the members of this parish."
"I am already a Catholic."
"Such blindness, Paul. Through your mother you know what goes on here, do not pretend your ignorance to one such as myself, or attempt to fool the good men and women of this village."
"I don't mean....I wasn't trying to fool anyone! It's you who's...."
"Silence, please." An eerie pause. Reichlok was vaguely aware of the wind, which seemed to have increased in strength dramatically, torturing the belfry with its agonised keening.
"To become initiated into our village, you must take communion with us."
"I have...."
"Paul. I asked for silence. Now I demand it." Unable to do anything but obey that voice, Reichlok sat still. Fear slowly crept through the deeper recesses of his mind.
"You do wish to stay among us, Paul?"
"Yes....of course."
"Excellent. Then come to the altar. The ceremony is brief." Quietly, still dazed, Paul stepped up to the altar.
"Kneel." Tallander whispered. Reichlok knelt before him. With a swift gesture, Tallander raise a pewter goblet which lay on the altar near a sharp, jewelled dagger, gave it to the man before him.
"Do you recognise this, Paul Reichlok?"
"Yes. It is the wine which symbolises the blood of Christ."
"Indeed. It also symbolises the end of your worship of God. It signifies your acceptance of the true faith."
"God is the true faith!" The blasphemy of Heinrich Tallander brought Paul to his senses. "You cannot coerce me into acting against Him."
"Your God asks much of you, Paul, and gives nothing in return."
"That isn't true."
"But it is. My Master gives everything and anything, all the desires you could dream of, all the knowledge and power which you deserve. And he asks only one thing."
"No!"
"That you give yourself to him, with mind, with soul, with body. Be with us, Paul. Dash the blood of your Lord to the ground and embrace the True Path."
"I have already accepted my faith. You can't turn me away from what I believe in!"
"Is to believe necessarily to worship, Paul? I do not ask you to give up your belief in God, only your foolhardy adoration of Him. Why should He be worthy of your love, your sacrifice?" With a graceful movement Tallander took the goblet from Paul's hands, threw it sharply to the ground. In the same fluid action he slashed into his own wrist with the jewelled dagger. Blood poured from the wound. Reichlok started to his feet, but not before Tallander pressed the severed vein against the officer's lips. "Drink of me," he whispered. "And be one with the True Master." Whirling, shoving Tallander away, Paul spun to face the congregation, to gain their help. Surely they must realise that the priest was insane? But gazing desperately among the faces, all Reichlok could see was a mass of rotted, withered bodies, slumped in pews. Bodies of men, women, children, some of them skeletal, some hideously bloody, all with hands raised, not in terror, but in horrific acceptance of their dark master. A congregation of the dead. In helpless horror, Paul returned his gaze to Tallander, and in doing so, his eyes fell upon on the large crucifix position above the altar. Looking into the face of the Saviour for some kind of aid, Reichlok withheld a scream.
Blood was seeping from the wounds of Jesus Christ, from the wrists and ankles where the nails had pierced the flesh. Tallander moved to face the cross, half kneeling in a cruel mockery of genuflection. As the disciple of darkness touched his fingers lightly to his forehead, the crucifix erupted in flame. Around Paul, the hitherto silent members of the congregation began chanting, chanting words which sounded Latin, which Reichlok half understood. With a howl of anguish the officer reached up to grasp the cross before fire could consume it. Holding the burning wood, heedless of the pain, Paul swung it in the direction of Tallander. The chanting grew louder, louder, louder still. Desperate, Reichlok flung the crucifix at the altar, which Tallander had been forced by the flames to vacate. The cloth was consumed almost instantly in fire, and Tallander laughed insanely, amused at Paul's terror, delighted by his agony. Reichlok could only stare in disbelief as the fire began to spread, touching the pews, the congregation, who seemed to exult in it. Unafraid, Tallander stepped sagely into the fire, his dark eyes reflecting it.
"Destroy us if you will, Paul Reichlok. You alone can do that. But you don't truly want to. There is another way....all you have to is take my hand." So sure, so certain that Paul could be subverted, that he must choose the dark path.
"No. In the name of God and all that is holy I banish you from this world!"
"In the name of Satan," Tallander replied quietly, "I banish you from yours." And the flame consumed him. Black ash lay before Reichlok, and that alone would serve as memoriam for the evil which had existed in the parish at Kerentoth. Turning more slowly, Paul saw that the inhabitants of the village lay mewling and writhing in twisted agony as the fire ate at what remained of their tainted flesh. The fire began to eat into the wood, softly, almost gently, a force not of cruel destruction but of cleansing. Elvira, Reichlok thought sadly, as the flame consumed him, as well.
"I've never heard....what an amazing story! It is true, isn't it, Ma Rathe?"
"Why would I tell untruths?" Her dark eyes met her guest's with a thoughtful expression in them. "Leave me now. There is no more to tell."
"But the village! If all its inhabitants were killed, from whom are today's villagers descended from? And what happened to you?"
"No more questions! I am tired, boy. Tell this story to whom you will. I shall never have the strength to tell it again." Seeing that it would be hopeless to attempt to get anything else out of the old woman, the guest sighed heavily, and collected his notebook.
"Well, goodbye, Ma. Thanks for your help. I won't forget this, I can tell you. I'll be in contact about the article...."
"Yes, yes. Farewell, boy." Nodding, the guest saw himself out, leaving the old woman seated by the fire, comfortably reclined in her favourite chair. After a moment, she withdrew a charred mess of wood from the flames, and gazed at it. A gentle smile came to her lips.
"You never knew, did you?" She murmured softly. "Just like Paul never knew. So confined, so restricted, they could never see how one could be two." Chuckling, she raised her old, wrinkled hand, and pressed it lightly against the smooth, youthful softness of her cheek.
Part of that history, a certain lady living almost in the grounds of the parish is fond of telling the townies, concerns a young man named Heinrich Tallander, who lived in the village in the early 1900s. But that isn't for me to tell. If you go right on toward the church....look, there it is; the little house right there, with the thatched roof and ivy round the door. Go on in and ask for old Ma Rathe. Her God-daughter will be there; the old lady's been confined to her bed for some years now. She'll be glad to have someone different to talk to. Go ahead, but don't tell her I sent you.
The little church of Kerentoth was as always quiet; out of reverence the small congregation hardly spoke throughout the services, except when their voices raised in prayer. The usual Sunday service was well in progress; standing in the pulpit, Father Heinrich Tallander. He was tall and commanding, though rather young to be a priest; one could almost take him for a choirboy if not for the strength and experience in his eyes.
"Men and women, children of the great Lord all." He intoned, his powerful, resonant voice echoing through to the vestry, where the verger waited in silence. "This is a joyous occasion. Here today we have a young child, preparing to enter the house of our Lord. Step forward, Maria Kroftenstein. On this day you will truly become one of His children." From her seat between two adults - her parents, smiling and proud - a young girl of seven stepped. She walked solemnly up to the alter, although as she reached it and knelt at the feet of the priest, a smile touched her rosy lips. Father Tallander slowly lifted from the altar a small goblet. In it, red wine glimmered. He held it up, watching as the light caught the pewter, and then quietly said:
"This wine - the blood of Jesus Christ the Son." In a swift movement he dashed the goblet to the floor. Wine spilled, running down the aisle, staining the wood. "No more," he whispered. Then, carefully, aware of the congregation's eyes upon him, Tallander lifted a small, jeweled dagger from the altar, and pressed it against his own pale wrist. As the cut deepened, blood began to seep, spreading across his sleeve, staining the white of the cassock. Raising a second goblet he allowed the blood to drip into it, and kneeling, pressed it to the child's lips.
"You are truly now a child of the Lord." He murmured, as she drank. Ceremoniously Tallander pressed the point of the dagger into his own chest; not hard enough to do any damage, the motion was purely symbolic. The young girl before him knelt up and raised her head, her eyes meeting his. He gazed at her; when she nodded in reverent acceptance, he plunged the blade deep into her heart. Maria's expression was blissful as she slipped into an everlasting sleep.
Her eyes were bright and sparkling, her hair soft and grey. She wore a pinafore over a plain frock. Alone now in the little house except for her God-daughter, Elvira Rathe was indeed delighted to have company. She perched in her little rocking chair and rocked, and smiled at her guest, who nervously sipped cognac while waiting for the old woman to continue her tale.
"Back in those days," she said, "I knew Father Tallander very well. He was a sweet and generous man." Her English hardly faltered. "But then, he changed - some said for the better, most, really. But I knew that it was not a holy cause in which he believed so devoutly." She paused, checking that her listener was concentrating, then went on: "Yes, he was a strange one. His forces were those of evil, and never believe otherwise, my boy. Always remember what I have told you of his ceremonies. There are many who come here for the tale - they go away thinking of it as a yarn, an old woman's meanderings. Beware such ignorance! For even those who did not believe my words had nightmares, boy. And they never visited that church again - as you shouldn't."
"But why, Ms. Rathe? He's dead and gone."
"True enough, they say. True enough for them. But we know better, don't we?" Her eyes shone, dancing in the half-light.
"What do you mean?"
"Boy, there are more things in this world than can be explained by anyone's philosophy, Horatio's or otherwise." She chuckled. "Shakespeare never said a truer word. As for Tallander - well, he met someone who was not of this village - someone not of his flock, who did not bleat his words for lack of opinions of their own. He was a young police officer from America, barely a year in the uniform, and he had heard from his aging mother of Heinrich Tallander. She - her name was Mrs. Reichlok - told her son of all the things she had seen here; she was witness to one of Tallander's rituals, and the only one I know of who ever lived to tell about it. A great and terrible battle ensued, my boy, and it goes on still....it goes on still." Fascinated now, her guest sat up in his chair. "Tell me, please. You can't just stop now - I want to know what happened."
The bells never tolled. That was something that Officer Paul Reichlok had noticed about the little church. For three weeks, and therefore three Sundays, he had been in Kerentoth, waiting. And in that time the bells had never tolled once, although faithfully each evening the entire village assembled there, and every Sunday for almost seven hours they congregated within the church. Reichlok had not yet stepped within its walls - which, if all those stories were true, must surely drip with blood, he thought. But he was beginning to disbelieve all that he'd heard. So far, all he could see was a small village with devoutly religious inhabitants and a rather elusive cleric. He had not yet so much as seen Father Tallander, and he was the reason the young officer had come to Kerentoth. He had met, however, many of the villagers; they seemed without exception to be friendly and welcoming people. And of course there was Elvira, the beautiful daughter of the village's quiet and gentle verger. Paul was becoming very fond of Elvira, although initially his friendship with her had been orchestrated to learn more about the mysterious Heinrich Tallander. Finally Reichlok decided to attend one of the Sunday services, out of a sense of curiosity, and so on a bright and sunny day he arrived at the church door, and hovered. There seemed to be no-one around. After ten minutes of patient waiting, Reichlok went to the small back door and tapped. The verger appeared.
"Yes?"
"It's me, Paul. When does the service start?"
"There is no service."
"But I thought...."
"You are wrong. Today, there is no service." The door closed, and Reichlok was left standing outside, somewhat puzzled by the man's manner. As he prepared to leave, the door unexpectedly opened again, and a slim young man stepped out.
"You must be Officer Reichlok. Elvira has told me much about you. Do come in." Paul was for a moment taken aback, partly by the apparent youth of the man and secondly by the fact that he had not introduced himself. But these things were easily explained; clearly, it was unnecessary for the only priest in the village to announce himself when his identity was clearly obvious.
"Yes....I'm staying here for a few weeks or so." Paul replied. "By the way, what exactly did Elvira say?"
"Why not come into the vestry and we can talk. There is a service today, although we're not certain yet when it will be held. There's some delay, I'm afraid.." He didn't seem willing to impart further information. Paul shrugged mentally. This was the first chance he'd had to speak directly to the mysterious Tallander, and he wasn't about to waste it.
They talked for some time of trivial things; the weather, the village and its inhabitants....general pleasant conversation. Paul Reichlok began to warm to Tallander, who was without doubt an amicable man. He was not at all evasive when Paul finally got around to questioning him about the church and its congregation, about the verger, about Tallander himself. He happily told the officer that he had been brought up in a big city some distance from Kerentoth, and after some years had felt the need for more peaceable surroundings. He had chosen the quiet village, and settled here. Paul was surprised; surely Tallander couldn't be older than twenty-five? Even if he looked extremely young for his age. He actually looked no more than twenty. But Paul was no real judge of ages and no one else seemed to find the man's youth unusual. Perhaps it was natural in Kerentoth for people to age slowly? Lost in thought, Paul jumped in surprise when Tallander addressed him.
"Where are you from, Officer?"
"Please, call me Paul. I'm from America, California to be precise. My mother came from this village....she said she knew you, isn't that odd?" He laughed softly, but was cautious, knowing that the barrier had bee reached and he could not go back on what he had said.
"That's impossible, of course." Reichlok added, when Tallander reacted with a curious silence. "She left here many years ago, and you wouldn't have been in Kerentoth then, surely."
"Perhaps not. Then again, I've been here longer than you may think, Paul. What, out of interest, is your mother's name?"
"Frances, Frances Reichlok."
"Frances." For a moment something flickered in his eyes; remembrance perhaps? Then it was gone, and he smiled pleasantly at Paul. "No, I don't recognise the name. She probably knew my grandfather who lived here; his name was Tallander, although his Christian name was not Heinrich. He was the village smith."
"It's possible, certainly."
"Indeed. Well, I don't wish to be rude, Paul, but the church needs to be prepared for the service, and I must prepare also. It will take place at three o' clock this afternoon, if you would like to attend."
"Yes, very much. Thank you for the conversation, Father. It's been very interesting." Politely Reichlok offered his hand; they shook, and the young police officer left through the back door of the church, and out into the bright sun.
"But you mentioned some kind of battle." The guest waited expectantly for Ma Rathe to continue the story, and was surprised when she merely smiled at him as if waiting for his opinion of the tale. "Surely that isn't it!"
"You truly want to know the fully story? If you insist, my boy. Sit quiet while I tell it to you, and don't interrupt me. The memories are growing dim...."
At three o'clock, as promised, Paul Reichlok made his way to the church. Stepping inside, he found the rest of the congregation already assembled, and was embarrassed. Surely he wasn't late? But all the village seemed to be there, though searching the faces he couldn't spot Elvira. That seemed unusual, considering she was the verger's daughter; but then again, perhaps she was helping with something in the vestry. Paul settled quietly into a pew near the back, and waited. Only a few moments passed before Tallander stepped up to the altar and from there addressed the villagers.
"Brothers and sisters, we have a guest here with us today. You all know him already - Paul Reichlok, whose mother was once a resident of this village." Paul had not mentioned his mother before, except to Tallander, and a little ripple of surprise passed through the group. He wondered what was odd about his mother's leaving; or was there something about her that he didn't know? For whatever the reason, the crows suddenly seemed to become more watchful. He noticed a few glances cast in his direction.
"Brothers and sisters, I hope that you will join me in welcoming Paul to the village. Long may he stay here." A few nods came Paul's way; the wariness of before apparently forgotten. He smiled back, relaxing. Perhaps he had simply imagined the reaction? Perhaps he was being paranoid because of what he had heard about Kerentoth. His mother was, after all, quite old, and her memory not as sharp as it had once been. All that she had told him could easily be partial fabrication, and Tallander could not have been a resident of this village all those years ago. She must have confused the priest with his grandfather. Paul paused in his ruminations as the mass began, and joined with his fellow men is praising God.
The congregation filed out slowly, expressing their thanks to Tallander as they did so for the very interesting service. It had seemed quite ordinary to Reichlok. As he made to leave, Tallander placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Paul, stay a moment. I would like to speak with you." Reichlok obediently remained seated while the last few churchgoers left, and rose to his feet as Tallander returned from the door.
"I know you find us a little odd here." Tallander said softly as Paul turned to him in curiosity. "We are different, as a village, to your modern cities. There is a great sense of community, of extended family, of mutual respect. Do not fear us, Paul, because we are not the same as you." Completely nonplused, Reichlok shook his head. "I don't know what you mean."
"You will, and soon. I want you to attend a special service tomorrow; I want you to see how differently we do things here." The police officer found himself hypnotised by the direct and piercing gaze, the youthful beauty, Tallander's almost ethereal smile.
"I'll be here."
"Thank you, Paul. That means a great deal to me....to all of us."
Ma Rathe stopped, look expectantly at her guest. As she had wanted his eyes were wide with fascination. "Please, go on." Notebook poised, he looked into her old, wise eyes, eyes that had seen so much, known so much. "This is wonderful."
"Young Reichlok attended Father Tallander's service, of course. He could not refuse, even if he had speculated on the darkness of Heinrich's intentions...."
The sun was setting as Paul headed towards the small, squat church. On his arm, the beautiful Elvira Rathe looked thoroughly enchanting in the fading light. She paused as they neared the churchyard.
"Will I see you tomorrow, Paul?"
"You aren't coming to the service? Father Tallander said that the entire village would be there."
"I have....other things to do. Heinrich understands." She smiled, a slightly strange expression, oddly knowing. "Tomorrow, we can talk more."
"All right....I'll see you, then."
"Goodbye." Without another word, Elvira turned and walked into the oncoming twilight. Reichlok shrugged, watched as she left, watched her hair moving in the breeze and her slim, firm body as she distanced herself from him and from his destination. But what of my destiny? Paul wondered. He was not an emotional man, and far from sentimental, but something about this woman entranced him. He dreamed of her....deep and meaningful dreams which he could never remember shortly after waking. But dreams were not all he had; he had the reality of Elvira Rathe, and of her fondness for him. Cheered by hopeful speculation for the future, Reichlok stepped into the church. He was surprised to find the rest of the congregation already assembled. Tallander stood before the altar, a faint smile on his lips as he regarded Paul slipping quietly into an available pew.
"Officer Reichlok, thank you for joining us. I would like you to know that this service has been called in your honour."
"I don't understand....there's no need."
"But there is. You have come to our village but have not accepted our way of life, Paul Reichlok. You are an aberration here, and until that changes, will never be truly welcomed by the children of Kerentoth." Utterly confused, and a little alarmed, Paul looked at the people around him. They showed no sign of finding Tallander's words odd.
"To rectify the disturbance you have caused, we wish you to accept our lifestyle as your own, to become one of the members of this parish."
"I am already a Catholic."
"Such blindness, Paul. Through your mother you know what goes on here, do not pretend your ignorance to one such as myself, or attempt to fool the good men and women of this village."
"I don't mean....I wasn't trying to fool anyone! It's you who's...."
"Silence, please." An eerie pause. Reichlok was vaguely aware of the wind, which seemed to have increased in strength dramatically, torturing the belfry with its agonised keening.
"To become initiated into our village, you must take communion with us."
"I have...."
"Paul. I asked for silence. Now I demand it." Unable to do anything but obey that voice, Reichlok sat still. Fear slowly crept through the deeper recesses of his mind.
"You do wish to stay among us, Paul?"
"Yes....of course."
"Excellent. Then come to the altar. The ceremony is brief." Quietly, still dazed, Paul stepped up to the altar.
"Kneel." Tallander whispered. Reichlok knelt before him. With a swift gesture, Tallander raise a pewter goblet which lay on the altar near a sharp, jewelled dagger, gave it to the man before him.
"Do you recognise this, Paul Reichlok?"
"Yes. It is the wine which symbolises the blood of Christ."
"Indeed. It also symbolises the end of your worship of God. It signifies your acceptance of the true faith."
"God is the true faith!" The blasphemy of Heinrich Tallander brought Paul to his senses. "You cannot coerce me into acting against Him."
"Your God asks much of you, Paul, and gives nothing in return."
"That isn't true."
"But it is. My Master gives everything and anything, all the desires you could dream of, all the knowledge and power which you deserve. And he asks only one thing."
"No!"
"That you give yourself to him, with mind, with soul, with body. Be with us, Paul. Dash the blood of your Lord to the ground and embrace the True Path."
"I have already accepted my faith. You can't turn me away from what I believe in!"
"Is to believe necessarily to worship, Paul? I do not ask you to give up your belief in God, only your foolhardy adoration of Him. Why should He be worthy of your love, your sacrifice?" With a graceful movement Tallander took the goblet from Paul's hands, threw it sharply to the ground. In the same fluid action he slashed into his own wrist with the jewelled dagger. Blood poured from the wound. Reichlok started to his feet, but not before Tallander pressed the severed vein against the officer's lips. "Drink of me," he whispered. "And be one with the True Master." Whirling, shoving Tallander away, Paul spun to face the congregation, to gain their help. Surely they must realise that the priest was insane? But gazing desperately among the faces, all Reichlok could see was a mass of rotted, withered bodies, slumped in pews. Bodies of men, women, children, some of them skeletal, some hideously bloody, all with hands raised, not in terror, but in horrific acceptance of their dark master. A congregation of the dead. In helpless horror, Paul returned his gaze to Tallander, and in doing so, his eyes fell upon on the large crucifix position above the altar. Looking into the face of the Saviour for some kind of aid, Reichlok withheld a scream.
Blood was seeping from the wounds of Jesus Christ, from the wrists and ankles where the nails had pierced the flesh. Tallander moved to face the cross, half kneeling in a cruel mockery of genuflection. As the disciple of darkness touched his fingers lightly to his forehead, the crucifix erupted in flame. Around Paul, the hitherto silent members of the congregation began chanting, chanting words which sounded Latin, which Reichlok half understood. With a howl of anguish the officer reached up to grasp the cross before fire could consume it. Holding the burning wood, heedless of the pain, Paul swung it in the direction of Tallander. The chanting grew louder, louder, louder still. Desperate, Reichlok flung the crucifix at the altar, which Tallander had been forced by the flames to vacate. The cloth was consumed almost instantly in fire, and Tallander laughed insanely, amused at Paul's terror, delighted by his agony. Reichlok could only stare in disbelief as the fire began to spread, touching the pews, the congregation, who seemed to exult in it. Unafraid, Tallander stepped sagely into the fire, his dark eyes reflecting it.
"Destroy us if you will, Paul Reichlok. You alone can do that. But you don't truly want to. There is another way....all you have to is take my hand." So sure, so certain that Paul could be subverted, that he must choose the dark path.
"No. In the name of God and all that is holy I banish you from this world!"
"In the name of Satan," Tallander replied quietly, "I banish you from yours." And the flame consumed him. Black ash lay before Reichlok, and that alone would serve as memoriam for the evil which had existed in the parish at Kerentoth. Turning more slowly, Paul saw that the inhabitants of the village lay mewling and writhing in twisted agony as the fire ate at what remained of their tainted flesh. The fire began to eat into the wood, softly, almost gently, a force not of cruel destruction but of cleansing. Elvira, Reichlok thought sadly, as the flame consumed him, as well.
"I've never heard....what an amazing story! It is true, isn't it, Ma Rathe?"
"Why would I tell untruths?" Her dark eyes met her guest's with a thoughtful expression in them. "Leave me now. There is no more to tell."
"But the village! If all its inhabitants were killed, from whom are today's villagers descended from? And what happened to you?"
"No more questions! I am tired, boy. Tell this story to whom you will. I shall never have the strength to tell it again." Seeing that it would be hopeless to attempt to get anything else out of the old woman, the guest sighed heavily, and collected his notebook.
"Well, goodbye, Ma. Thanks for your help. I won't forget this, I can tell you. I'll be in contact about the article...."
"Yes, yes. Farewell, boy." Nodding, the guest saw himself out, leaving the old woman seated by the fire, comfortably reclined in her favourite chair. After a moment, she withdrew a charred mess of wood from the flames, and gazed at it. A gentle smile came to her lips.
"You never knew, did you?" She murmured softly. "Just like Paul never knew. So confined, so restricted, they could never see how one could be two." Chuckling, she raised her old, wrinkled hand, and pressed it lightly against the smooth, youthful softness of her cheek.