Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 100, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 603 & 604, October 1992

“Permission? You have not only my permission but my injunction to get them. Bring them to me and we’ll put an end to this deviltry. Alas, I have no knights and I cannot personally accompany you, but you have my blessing.”

His object attained, Mandeville relaxed and began sparring with the bishop. “Why didn’t you get the count to take his knights out there and drive the witches away?”

The bishop, always on better terms with the nobility than the town government, looked at Alain and hesitated before replying. Finally his outrage overcame his caution. “The Count told me he wouldn’t waste his knights on witches. His knights will fight humans and the Church must fight spiritual dangers. Since I have no knights of my own, I must listen to stories of animals being dismembered and parts of their bodies left at the gates of the city, at crossroads, even on the steps of St. Denis.”

He looked at Alain and added, “I even spoke to the town and got the same answer I did from the count. So much for democracy.”

Alain, as an echevin, could understand the town’s reply. Under Charlemagne the counties had been jointly governed by a bishop and a count. But Liege had received a charter from the king and was governed by merchants. The Church had long ago come to terms with this arrangement, but few bishops liked it. Still, he refused to be drawn into the argument.

Mandeville had no such qualms. He almost purred, “But didn’t Aquinas say that the state is a kind of pact between the king and the people?”

The bishop snorted. “In De Regimine Principii

Thomas declared that monarchy is the best government. The body has one head, not many.”

When Mandeville replied with a quotation from the Summa Theologica Alain’s attention wandered. He wondered that Mandeville could deal with so many men, all on their own level. He himself had profited from Mandeville’s knowledge of trade, from how and where to get the best wool from England to where and how to find buyers in Italy. The only statement Alain knew from Aquinas, he had learned from Mandeville: Man does not sin in using moderate gains acquired in trade for the support of his household. Since he had a broad understanding of what was meant by support of his household, Alain felt no guilt as his wealth increased.

This was, to Alain’s surprise, one time when Mandeville was not disposed to debate at length. He had got the permission he wanted. Now he thanked the bishop and took Alain back into the dark, narrow streets of Liege to seek a few brave men to help them attack the coven.

Three hours later they had found no recruits. Everyone wanted the witches caught. No one wanted to catch them.

“There is no help in the town,” Mandeville said, “so let us turn to the castle.”

Alain was glad to do so.

As they left the city wall behind them and rode toward the castle, Alain’s thoughts were all on the count’s daughter. He had hoped for an excuse to see her again. None had presented itself until now. He felt lightheaded. His heart palpitated in a strange manner. He felt as if life could give him no greater gift than to see and perhaps speak with Louise de Broux.

Approaching the castle they passed two knights slowly riding their mounts around the exercise ground. They saluted them and entered. The gate leading to the lists was narrow and Mandeville preceded Alain. In this manner they crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle. In its bailey, beyond the stables and smithy, was the count’s chapel. The Count de Broux, his wife, daughter, and seneschal came out of the chapel before Mandeville and Alain reached the castle’s inner wall. The count hailed them. His marshal called several stable boys to tend their horses and the count invited his guests into the palace.

Alain, however, was claimed by Louise. The rat killer must help them, she said. Rats were threatening their stores of grain. She had her way, as she apparently usually did.

So, while Mandeville and the count went into the palace to talk, Alain, led by Louise and accompanied by the countess, the seneschal, the marshal, and several servants, set out to protect the castle food supply.

Across the bailey from the chapel was their bakehouse. This, Louise said, was the area infested by rats. The seneschal, a grizzled knight in his fifties, ordered the door thrown open. Two servants obeyed him and they all saw three rats scurrying about inside.

The marshal, oblivious to everyone around him, grabbed a club and charged in after the rats. With him rushing about in the bakehouse, Alain could not throw at the rats. The seneschal called to the marshal to get out of the way, but the marshal, a little man who scampered about like a dog chasing a rabbit in an open field, ignored the words. He seemed to be a person who could keep only one thing on his mind at a time, and killing rats was his fixed idea.