Rod felt his heart wrench within him, and felt a huge upwelling of gratitude that he had found Gwen-and his old abiding sense of guilt in that he had been so poor a husband. Magnus murmured, "And thy son questioned God's wisdom, in taking his mother when she was not yet aged?"

"Aye, and in his grief, he spoke of it aloud-nay, he ranted and demanded that the priests should explain how a good God could take a woman who was in the summer of life. The bishop thundered at him that he was a blasphemer and a lost soul, and that I had driven his mother to her death. God bless the lad, he would not believe it-and God pity him, for he said it aloud, and the bishop commanded his priests to beat the Devil out of him. He was pilloried and whipped, and I with him, then cut down to limp home as best we might, and do what we could to bind each other's wounds. 'Twas then he spoke of fleeing, and I, in fear of their dogs and whips, cautioned him against it; nay, pled with him. And at my asking, he bided, and tried to be good by the bishop's rules-but he had lost all faith in the priests by then, and saw them as villains."

"And therefore saw himself as evil," Rod murmured. Magnus looked up at him, startled, but Roble nodded. "Aye, for he had lost all faith in aught but God Himself, or so he told me. And so it befell that he sought to flee one night, without telling me. I knew naught of it till the small hours of the morning, when the hunters brought him back with a huge clamor, and waked the whole village to witness the shame of the apostate. They scourged him as they had me, and locked him in the hut, and preached at him mightily-but he was made of sterner stuff than I; he never wavered, and would not give in. At last, two nights agone, he hanged himself by the thongs of his shoon." His whole face squeezed shut; his shoulders trembled. Magnus put out a hand toward him, but Rod waved him back, and the younger man slowly withdrew his hand.

Finally, Roble opened his eyes with a gasp. "Thy pardon, strangers. I should not burden thee with a father's guilt."

"I wouldn't say the guilt was yours," Rod said, keeping his voice low. "This variety of religion you're taught here, goodman Roble, is not the Church as it exists in the outside world."

Roble turned to him, staring. "In truth? Is the Church outside this forest, then, possessed by demons, as our legends say?"

"Not a bit, though it has its share of weak and fallible mortals in it. It preaches Charity as the most important virtue, and its punishments are much gentler-so much so that if a really vile crime is committed, it hands the victim over to the King's men for punishment."

"We are of that Church," Magnus murmured. "We believe that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are each separate persons, but at the same time, each completely and fully God." Roble stared. "But how can that be?"

"How can a single triangle have three sides? Naetheless, that is too simple an example; true understanding is beyond our mortal minds." Magnus wondered if that was because human beings could only perceive three dimensions, but suspected it was only one among humanity's many limitations. He didn't cloud the issue, though.

"There are other differences," Rod said, "but the sum and substance is that, no matter what your priests and bishop tell you, the Church that rules you here is not the same as the real Roman Catholic Church. In fact, my son and I have been wondering how this cult could ever gotten started."

Roble lifted his head, gazing off into the distance. "There is a history, that we are each of us taught."

Rod glanced at Magnus. "I think we'd like to hear it." Magnus nodded; if nothing else, it would take the older man's mind off his grief.

"An thou dost wish it, then," Roble said slowly. Magnus reached over and refilled his tankard.

"I thank thee." Roble smiled, then began the tale that, in their village, passed for history.

"This village, strangers, was begun by a group who found summat in the Bible that made them believe the Church of the outer world was sinful."

Rod nodded. "I take it there was some kind of leader who pointed that out to everyone else?"

"Aye; he was the Eleazar whom these folk name a saint. He called upon all who believed in the pure Faith to follow him to the wildwood, and went off to the forest."

Probably with the sheriff one step behind him, Rod thought to Magnus. The young man's lips quirked, then smoothed; he kept his look of close attention to Roble's words.

"The folk struck off by themselves into the forest," the peasant told them. "Our legends say they had to slip away by twos and threes, for fear of the soldiers. They met Eleazar at his hermitage, a great rock in the forest, and all went together in search of a place where they might worship as they pleased."

"Or as Eleazar did," Rod murmured.

Roble gave him a bitter smile. "Aye. After some weeks' wandering, they did find this clearing in the forest-where the church and school now stand. They cleared the trees to make them fields, and proceeded to dwell in harmony."

Rod nodded. "I can believe that. After all, Eleazar had selected only those who agreed with him. They all believed the same things, so nobody was discontent."

"Not at first, mayhap," Roble said, "but they sought to live without priests, look you . . ."

"Aye." Magnus smiled. "Few clergymen would wish to company a troop that thought the Church was wrong."

"Even so. Yet after some ten years or so, the wives found the burden of rearing children without a priest to teach them right from wrong too heavy to bear. They felt the need so strongly that they besought Eleazar to go and find them a clergyman; some of them even began to mutter that their life in the forest was too hard, and their need of a church too great, so that they began to implore their husbands to take them back to the villages outside the forest."

"But the husbands were escaped serfs, and knew they'd be punished sorely," Rod interjected.

"Aye, or slain. To quiet them, Eleazar went back out from the forest, to find a priest who shared their views."

"Nice trick. . ." Rod said slowly. "Who'd he find?"

"Himself. He was gone several months, then came back wearing a cassock, and shared the glad tidings-that the Abbot of the Monastery had found him worthy to become a priest, and had sent him back to minister to them."

"Oh, did he truly?" Magnus said softly.

I doubt it. Suddenly, it all made sense to Rod. Of course, he truly said so-otherwise, he would have lost his power over these people.

Aye. That is all Eleazar truly wanted, is it not so? Power over his own small mud puddle.

"So the villagers dwelt content, and in harmony," Roble said, with a certain amount of irony, "for they had a priest to guide them toward Heaven."

"And to tell them what to do on Earth."

"Indeed. Yet as he became old, the blessed Eleazar became afraid for his flock; he did not wish them to be without a priest after his death."

"So he made another little trip to the outside world?"

"Aye, and came back still alone-but with a mitre, and bearing a crozier."

Rod stared. "Bishop's regalia?"

"Aye, for only an abbot or a bishop can ordain a priest. So the Abbot of the Monastery had appointed him to be Bishop of the Forest, that he might ordain new priests without the risk of the long and arduous journey to the outer world."

"How considerate of the Abbot," Magnus murmured. "He ordained a new priest, a curate. He chose him from the most zealous of the altar boys, taught him to read, and taught him the holy things a priest must know . . ." Translation, Rod noted: the people didn't know just what a priest needed to know.

". . . and founded a seminary," Roble went on, "a school for priests. He chose, as candidates, the boys who had the greatest zeal, who felt the pull to the priestly vocation. . . . "