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.I saw the Lord Florian in a rich red chasuble as if he were the bishop of Florence himself,only this garment bore the Cross of Christ impudently upside down in honor of theDamned One, and on his untonsured head of dark blond hair he wore a gilded jeweledcrown as if he were both Prankish monarch and servant of the Dark Lord.The strong piercing notes of the horns dominated the song.A march had begun.Thedrums rumbled beneath, hushed and steadyFlorian had taken his place before the altar with his face to the congregation, and on oneside of him stood the fragile Ursula, her hair full and loose and down on her shoulders,though shrouded like a Mary Magdalene in a scarlet veil which hung to the very edge ofthe hem of her tapering gown.Her upturned face was directed to me, and I could see even from this great airy span thather hands, shaped as a steeple, with fingers pressed together, trembled.On the other side of this high priest Florian stood his bald Elder, in his own chasuble andthick embroidered lace sleeves, another priestly assistant.Acolytes came from either side, tallish young demons with faces of the usual chiseledivory, and the simple surplices of those who attend the Mass.They took their positionsranked down the long marble Communion Rail.Once again, there rose the magnificent chorus of voices around me, falsettos minglingwith true sopranos and the throbbing basses of the males, as redolent of the woodlands asthe wooden horns, and beneath it all the heavy driving brass declaration.What did they mean to do? What was this hymn which now the tenors sang, and whatwas the answer that came from all the voices so close to me, the words in Latin unstrungand only incoherently enveloping me:"Lord, I am come into the Valley of Death; Lord, I am come to the end of my Sorrow;Lord, in thy deliverance I give life to those who would be idle in Hell were it not for thydivine plan."My soul rebelled.I loathed it, and yet I could not look away from the spectacle below.My eyes swept the church.I saw for the first time the gaunt, demonic fanged demons on their pedestals risingbetween the narrow windows, and everywhere the glint of racks upon racks of tinycandles.The music broke again for the solemn declaration of the tenors:"Let the fount be brought forward, that those who are our sacrifices should be washedclean."And it was done.Ranks of young demons in their guise as Altar Boys came forward, carrying with them intheir preternaturally strong hands a magnificent baptismal fount of deep-pink Carraramarble.This they set some ten feet before the Communion Rail."Oh, abominations, to make it so beautiful," I whispered."Quiet now, my young one," said the regal guard beside me."Watch, for what you seehere you will never see between Heaven and Earth again, and as you will go unconfessedto God, you will burn in darkness forever."He sounded as if he believed it. "You have no power to damn my soul," I whispered, trying in vain to clear my eyes, notto so love the weakness that still caused me to depend upon their clamping hands."Ursula, farewell," I whispered, making of my lips a kiss.But in this miraculous and private little moment, seemingly unnoticed by the wholecongregation, I saw her head shake in a small secretive negation.No one saw because all eyes were now on another spectacle, far more tragic than any ofthe controlled and modulated ritual we had beheld.Up the aisle, driven by acolyte demons in tunics of red and lace sleeves trimmed in redand gold, there came a poor wretched sampling of the lost ones of the coop, shuffling oldwomen, drunken men and little boys, mere children, clinging to the very demons whoescorted them to their deaths, like piteous victims of some horrid old trial where theoffspring of the condemned are led to execution with their parents.Horror."I curse you all.I damn you.God, bring down your justice on this," I whispered."God,bring down your tears.Weep for us, Christ, that this is happening."My eyes turned up in my head.It seemed I dreamed, and once again came the brightgreen limitless meadow to my eyes, and once again, as Ursula ran from me, as herspirited young form rushed across the high breaking field of grass and lilies, there roseanother figure, another familiar figure -."Yes, I see you!" I cried out to this vision in my half rescued dream.But no sooner had I recognized it, locked to it, than it vanished; it was gone, and with itwas gone all comprehension of it, all memory of its exquisite face and form and itsmeaning, its pure and powerful meaning.Words fled from me.From below I saw the Lord Florian look up, angered, silent.The hands beside me duginto my flesh."Silence," said the guards next to me, their commands overlapping one another.The lovely music rose higher and higher, as though the climbing soprano voices and thethrobbing, winding horns would hush me now and pay tribute only to the unholy baptism.The baptism had begun.The first victim, an ancient woman of bent and bony back, hadbeen stripped of her poor garments and washed with handfuls of water in the fount, andnow was led to the Communion Rail, oh, so frail, so unprotected by her kith and kin andher guardian angels!Oh, and now to see the children stripped, to see their tiny little legs and buttocks bare, tosee their bony shoulders, those tiny parts where it seemed the winglets of baby angelsonce sprouted from their backs, to see them washed and then delivered to stand tremblingalong the stretch of marble balustrade.It happened very fast."Cursed animals, for that is what you are, not airy demons, no!" I muttered, struggling inthe grasp of the two loathsome minions."Yes, cowardly minions, both of you, to be aparty to this evil."The music drowned out my prayers."Dear God, send my angels to me," I said to myheart, my secret heart, "send my wrathful angels, send them with your fiery sword.God,this cannot be borne."The Communion Rail now had its full complement of victims, naked and trembling all,and blazing with carnal human color against the luminous marble and the colorlesspriests. The candles flickered on the giant Lucifer, with its great webbed wings, who presidedover all.The Lord Florian now stepped down to take the first Communicant in his hands, andlowered his lips to drink.The drums beat fierce and sweet, and the voices twined and reached to Heaven.But therewas no Heaven here beneath these branching white columns, these groined arches.Therewas nothing but death.All the Court had begun to make two streams along the sides of the chapel marchingsilently up to come behind the Communion Rail, where each might take a victim fromthose who stood helpless and ready, and now Lord and Lady chose which they wanted,and some shared, and one victim was passed from one to another, and so on it went, thismockery, this lurid, predatory Communion.Only Ursula did not move.The Communicants were dying.Some were already dead.None struck the floor.Their pliant dried-up limbs were captured silently and deftly by theattendant demons, and bodies were whisked away.More victims were still being bathed.Others were taken to the Rail.On it went.The Lord Florian drank again and again, one child after another put before him, hisslender fingers capturing the small neck and holding it as he bent his lips.I wonder what Latin words he dared to speak.Slowly the members of the Court slipped out of the Sanctuary, moving down the sideaisles again to pivot and take their old stance.They had had their fill.All through the room the color of blood infused once pallid faces, and it seemed to mymisted vision, to my head so full of the loveliness of song, that they all were human now,human for this little while."Yes," said Florian, his voice arching out soft and sure to my ears over the length of thenave
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