Shadow of the Hawk (Master of War) by David Gilman

Author:David Gilman [Gilman, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2021-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

PART FOUR

THE DEVIL’S MISTRESS

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The devil fell in love with Velasquita Alcón de Lugo when she was fourteen years old. The girl was everything he desired. Her heart was imbued with the love of God, her knees raw from prayer, her soul pure, her life one of devotion. She served pilgrims who stayed at her father’s inn on their way to find redemption at Santiago de Compostela where the apostle St James was buried. Ten years ago, when the devil, disguised as a pilgrim, pushed open the door of the inn, the girl’s radiance smote him. The innkeeper spoke proudly of his only child’s spirituality. It was common knowledge in the town that she was so blessed God whispered to her during her prayers.

That night the innocent girl, unable to resist the pull of the devil’s desire, took her bedside candle and made her way to the hayloft where he seduced her. When she awoke she was alone: her virginity stolen, his seed planted, her soul led into temptation, her pure heart smothered by the dark veil of passion. There was no longer the need for candlelight. Darkness became her friend. It held no fears. She breathed its blackness deeply into her.

The devout parents witnessed the change. Her mother saw it in her eyes. They flickered with fire. Her father whipped the girl and spent good money on salt, sprinkling it on the coarse wooden floor, forcing her to kneel and pray for ever longer periods. But no prayer came from her lips. When the truth of the union showed itself, the innkeeper once again spilled hard-earned coins from his purse, this time into the hand of an old crone who knew how to rid the body of an unwanted child. They purged the girl and the devil’s offspring was flushed from her body.

The girl lay ill for days, tormented with something more than fever. The priest refused to enter her room. The stench of evil was more pungent than that of her stale sweat and soiled bedding. Her parents begged and paid the last of their money for him to rid her of whatever foulness had entered her soul. Fearful but emboldened by the weight of the purse at his belt, the priest knelt at the door and offered prayers of redemption. After five days her torment eased. By the seventh day, she was calm and the priest found his courage and knelt at the child’s bedside. She slept free of fever. It was a miracle that showed the power of prayer and the grace of the Almighty. The priest’s work was done. The parents embraced their smiling child, bathed and fed her and retired for the night, humbled by the power of good over evil.

Before the cock crowed the fourteen-year-old Velasquita Alcón stepped lightly up the scuffed wooden steps to her parents’ bedchamber and cut their throats. Villagers found the priest slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb on his own altar.

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