“I’d say happy, actually,” Scharley said gravely. “Verily, happy. Find your sandals among the weeds and hasten to the monastery. Announce the good news to the abbot that the Lord’s grace is shining on your monastery. That on the causeway you encountered Master Benignus, the veteran exorcist, whom an angel assuredly sent this way.”

“Is that you, good sir? You are—”

“I said hasten to the abbot as quickly as possible. Inform him that I approach.”

“Tell me I misheard you, Scharley. Tell me it was a slip of the tongue. That you didn’t say what I think you just said.”

“Meaning what? That I’ll exorcise Brother Deodatus? But of course I shall. With your help, laddie.”

“Oh, no. Don’t drag me into this. I have enough problems already. I don’t need any new ones.”

“Neither do I. But I do need luncheon and money. And luncheon as soon as possible.”

“That’s the stupidest idea of all possible stupid ideas,” judged Reynevan, looking around the sunlit cloister. “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know what you risk by impersonating a priest? An exorcist? Posing as some bloody Master Benignus?”

“Impersonating? I am a priest. And an exorcist. It’s a matter of faith and I have faith. That I’ll succeed.”

“I believe you’re mocking me.”

“Not in the slightest. Start preparing spiritually for the task.”

“I won’t take part in anything of the kind.”

“And why not? You’re supposed to be a doctor. It’s your duty to help the suffering.”

“He,” said Reynevan, pointing towards the infirmary, which they had just left and where Brother Deodatus was lying, “he cannot be helped. The monk is in lethargy. In a coma. You heard the monks say they tried to rouse him by pricking his heels with a hot knife, to no avail? Thus it’s an affliction of the brain, the spiritus animalis. Some sort of grand mal or ‘great malady.’ I’ve read about it in Avicenna’s Canon medicinae, also in the works of Razes and Averroes, and I know it’s incurable. One can only wait—”

“Indeed, one can wait,” interrupted Scharley. “But why wait with one’s arms folded? Particularly if one can act? And make money from it? Without harming anyone?”

“Without harming anyone? What about ethics?”

“I don’t usually discuss philosophy on an empty belly.” Scharley shrugged. “But later, belly full of food and beer, I’ll lay out the principia of my ethics and astonish you with their simplicity.”

“I dread to imagine it.”

“Reynevan.” Scharley whirled around. “For God’s sake, think positively.”

“I am thinking—and I think this could end badly.”

“Oh, think what you want. But for now, be so kind as to shut up, because they’re coming.”