“Why
has God forsaken us?” A large, stocky man with rosy cheeks, his
clothes singed at the edges, demands from the centre of the hall.
At
the far end a long table stands on the rostrum. Behind the table sit
a group of middle-aged men. One of then is obviously a priest of
some kind, dressed in brown habit, a crucifix hanging from his neck.
A large, heavy tome sits on the table before him.
“The
Devil walks among us!” several voices clamour together, their
location in the crowd unclear.
Beside
the priest, a fat man dressed in the finest cloth, an ornate gold
necklace decorating his neck and chest.
“Order!
Order!” he commands, banging a gavel repeatedly on the table
before him.
“What
are we to do?” A woman in burnt tatters demands, silver hair and
cheeks smeared with ashes. “Why is this happening to us?”
He
takes her question as his cue. Standing quickly, he claps his hands
above his head, a sharp sound that momentarily silences the room.
“Gentle
townsfolk,” he says loudly, before the clamour can return, “I
confess I know not the cause of these terrible circumstances, yet I
may be able to offer some assistance!”
