“Ach, nay … not the old woman!”
“Aye, so it is.”
“Arnold, you put yer position with the monks at risk, methinks.”
“Ja? Then so be it!”
“Hear me, y’drunken fool. I’ve no part in it. I’ll not have my mill taken in penalty for some hex you bring upon us all.”
Insulted, Arnold pulled himself upright. “Then I shall settle the matter m’self, y’coward!” Arnold stumbled through the village but soon collapsed and fell asleep on the damp, cold ground about a quarter furlong from the village edge and within earshot of Emma’s quiet hut.
The November night grew raw and a light drizzle of rain fell through the leafless branches of the trees lining the Laubusbach. A few hours later, Arnold awakened, disoriented, shivering, and wet. He wrapped his woollen wrap tightly around his shoulders and looked about. Remembering his mission, he hurried closer to Emma’s hovel and positioned himself behind a tree trunk just fifteen paces from her door. Now he was certain he would learn the woman’s secret of All Souls’ Eve.
The dripping rain was the only sound to be heard as Arnold waited and waited, struggling aginst the effects of cold, hunger, and fear. Finally, he thought he heard a snap of twigs to his left. Arnold stiffened and tried to sharpen his senses. He trained his eyes on the muddy footpath leading to the woman’s home and held his breath. He heard another snap, then a sloshing noise. His skin tingled with sudden fright. A large, hooded figure then appeared, stoop-shouldered and hurried. In a moment, the silhouette slouched through the low gate and was at the woman’s door. In an instant it was ushered quickly within.
Arnold crept toward the fence edging the woman’s croft. Certain he had just beheld an incarnate demon, his heart pounded. His shaking fingers plucked a dagger from within his cloak. But is he made of flesh? Does a demon bleed? Indeed, can it even die? A shiver ran through his body. Arnold stared transfixed on the cottage for nearly an hour before Emma’s door creaked open. Arnold stood still as death as the figure filled the dimly lit doorway and lingered for a moment. The shadow turned and stepped toward the gate with a few long strides. Then, as it passed through the gate and onto the path, Arnold leapt from the darkness with a cry and a thrust of his blade.
The figure was quick to be sure, agile with catlike reflexes. It had sensed danger before Arnold had attacked and stepped deftly to one side. With a quick kick and grab the shadow felled Arnold into the mud.
“Aaahhh!” screamed Arnold. He begged and blubbered like a terrified child. “Please, demon … please I—”
“What?” The figure remained motionless for a second and then demanded, “What be your name?”
Arnold lay quaking. The demon’s voice sounded like that of a man. “I… I… it be Arnold of Weyer, sir.”
“Ah, Arnold, your soul will be mine and now I can toy with it as my plaything for all eternity,” hissed the figure.
“Nay … oh, nay … fearsome demon—”
“Shut your mouth, fool! Methinks your soul hardly worth the bother. Tell me why you are here.”
“I… I wanted to see about the woman’s visitor.”
The figure tightened his grip and Arnold writhed in pain.
“I shall release you on two conditions.”
Arnold trembled. “Aye … yes, of course, anything you ask … anything at all.”
“First, swear to me that you shall ne’er tell another of this night. Not of things you have seen or things you have heard.”
Arnold nodded. “S-su-surely … of course, aye, not a word, none, sir demon.”
“I’ve heard of your bag of ‘penny sins.’”
Arnold gulped. “Perhaps such a thing is pleasing to you?” he asked timidly.
The shadow paused. “Aye, as does all evil. Therefore … your second condition is to leave your bag in the monks’ herbarium by Martinmas.”
Arnold was confused and suddenly not very pleased. “Sir demon, I do not understand, I… I cannot…”
“Then I shall take your soul this very night!” shouted the figure. He raised his arm high above his head. Arnold was sure he saw the glint of a devil’s blade.
“Nay!” pleaded Arnold. “I shall do as you demand! Please spare me this night. I beg you release my soul!”
The figure jerked Arnold to his feet and peered at him from deep within a dark hood. Arnold’s legs bowed and shook; he clenched his hands at his breast and trembled as he heard the final words.
“Your soul is released upon news of the bag. First, swear your pledge to keep silence on these matters.”