Copyright ©1994 1995 David F. Norman
All Rights Reserved
Coward's Curse
The streets of Aragon were crowded. A carnival-like atmosphere belied the grim purpose of the gathering. Today sixteen unfortunate men and women were to die by burning at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition. There were few in the crowd who did not kn ow at least one of the damned and doomed tied to the stakes.
Fifty yards away from the huge unlit pyre, was a platform from which those in charge of the festivities could look down on the condemned. Seated or standing on this platform were both city and church officials including the fanatical Torquemada. Torqu emada droned on and on in a self-justifying prayer. The crowd dared not mumble aloud in impatience, but eventually one of the condemned men shouted his protest.
"Did you intend to pray us to death, murderer? Light your damned fires and be done with it!"
Deterred not at all by the outburst, the pious Torquemada continued his prayer. If one man had been eager to get on with the execution, at least one other was definitely not ready to meet his Maker.
Jaime Sanchez had been arrested on suspicion of heresy after drunken remarks denigrating the Inquisition had been reported by one of its many spies. In a craven attempt to save his own life, Sanchez had babbled everything he could think of that might be of interest to his examiners.
Ironically, had he kept his mouth shut and merely made abject apology for his intemperate remarks, Sanchez would likely have suffered no worse punishment than a public flogging. However, his inventiveness not only convinced his examiners of the probable guilt--all that was required at the time--of those he named, but of his own guilt because he appeared to know so much. His "confession" was responsible for six others of the condemned tied to the stakes embedded in the great woodpile.
Three of the six--two men and one woman--were totally innocent of any wrongdoing. Of deep faith, these three were quietly praying together waiting for the inevitable conclusion of their lives. Of the other three, two were guilty of heresy in both thoug ht and deed and would in all likelihood have eventually come to the stake with or without Sanchez. The last of the six victims of Sanchez's cowardice was something else altogether. His name was Carlos deCisso. He was called El Magnifico by all who knew him or knew of him.
El Magnifico was a powerful sorcerer. While this fact was known to Torquemada and his Inquisition, until Sanchez had sworn his statement, El Magnifico had been unmolested while many lesser witches had already met their doom at the hands of the Inquisiti on. El Magnifico was both respected and feared in fifteenth century Aragon. Believed by some to be a Saint, El Magnifico had always observed the religious forms in public; in private, he had quietly made many miraculous--or magic, depending on your poin t of view--cures of animals and people. The Inquisition found it impossible to get testimony against the man and more than one of the examiners feared the consequences of trying too hard to do so.
While they were only unsubstantiated tales, there were stories of disappearances of thieves who had attempted to ambush El Magnifico on one of his nightly walks. Other tales of El Magnifico bringing bizarre punishments on wealthy landlords who preyed on their tenants, were also whispered common knowledge. Many of the wealthy and powerful of the time used the Inquisition to eliminate their enemies; none dared this tactic with El Magnifico--until he was in custody.
The preponderance of testimony against El Magnifico would have convicted him even in a much more humane court. The only question of the townspeople--broached only behind closed doors in the presence of close friends--was why did El Magnifico submit to t he court and its condemnation. There was little doubt that El Magnifico could have simply left custody at any time. Many of the townspeople were here today to see if he would yet escape.
El Magnifico appeared calm and resigned to his fate. Sanchez was neither. Whether by purpose or design, Sanchez was tied to a stake facing El Magnifico.
Oblivious to the wrong he had done others, Sanchez was terrified into a near stupor. His bowels and bladder had already released in his fear, but he was barely aware even of that fact. He was sobbing with fear and his sobs broke into a wail as the cere monies on the platform ended and the fires around the pyre were lit. Finally giving into that despair which is far past fear, he fell silent and looked around.
As his eyes met those of El Magnifico, the latter actually smiled at Sanchez and spoke for the first time all day.
"You are a miserable little coward, Sanchez. See your handiwork. In your fear for your own sorry life, you brought others to this pass. From this time on, you shall suffer one death after another, each as violent and reprehensible as that you are abou t to suffer. We will meet again."
With this El Magnifico spat into the rising flames and turned his head away from Sanchez. The searing heat reached the now screaming Sanchez. As he lost consciousness, the last thing Sanchez saw was a brilliant flash of light from El Magnifico's direct ion.
Sanchez opened his eyes. The bright light dancing in his eyes was not from the flames whose heat he could still feel. His vision cleared and he discerned the light was from the sun's reflections off a small pond. Before he had time to collect his thou ghts, a wave of fear overwhelmed him. All at once, he understood that he, Sanchez, was in a body not his own.
Faced by strangers, he was seated on a horse. From the heavy noose at his neck, the rope rose up and over a tree limb above his head. In a flash of insight which moderated not at all his terror, Sanchez suddenly "knew" his name was John McGraw, althoug h he was called Kelly Boone, and he was about to die again--this time for murder in a botched robbery. He was someplace called Texas and the year was 1870.
When one of his captors asked in a strange language, whether he had any last words, Sanchez/McGraw was struck mute by the realization that he could understand the strange language. Before McGraw could get any words out of his mouth, the man who spoke no dded. Sanchez/McGraw heard a sudden noise behind him and the horse jumped away from the tree.
The rope had been taut and rather than feeling his neck snap, Sanchez merely felt the rope tighten suddenly around his neck. While he was not in any particular pain, the terror of death from strangulation caused McGraw to struggle wildly in his bonds, m erely speeding up the process. Just as everything turned red and then black, he swung around toward the leader of the men who had hanged him. El Magnifico smiled at him and spat into the dust of the Texas rangeland.
Sanchez could hear distant voices shouting in the same barbaric language his last executioners had used. Strangely, now he could not understand what they were saying. Other sounds penetrated his panicky mind as Sanchez realized he was in yet another pl ace and time and body.
Looking around, he discovered that his body which had belonged to a very scared Deutchlander officer named Willi Grauts appeared to be in no special danger at the moment. Although he could hear many loud explosions in the near distance, Sanchez/Grauts c almed a little. The part of him that was Sanchez seemed to be unnoticed by the part of him that was Grauts. As an unbidden guest in Grauts' body and mind, Sanchez knew everything his host did and even understood this knowledge. Sanchez also understood the young officer's fear.
Grauts had been ordered to hold a small hill at all costs. The cost had already been high. Of over one hundred men placed under his command, Grauts had fewer than twenty left. Fearful of his superiors, Grauts knew he would be condemned to death in abs entia if he surrendered to the Amis. The steady gains of the American soldiers during the last few hours made defeat inevitable. Grauts knew he had one weapon left that might save him until he could get reinforcement of his perilous position. Despite t he furor over their use, a few German units still had a few gas shells left. Grauts had three.
Most of his fellow officers refused to use the horrible devices, and had simply dropped them into a convenient river or fired them far downwind into unpopulated areas. Being the coward at heart he was, Grauts hung onto his and lied to his superiors abou t even having them. Rumored to cause instant death to large numbers of the enemy, Grauts passed the order to load the mustard gas shells into his remaining cannon. Sanchez watched as the young officer in his anxiety ordered the shells fired into the ene my positions.
When the gunner refused to fire, Sanchez was merely a curious observer as Grauts, drew his pistol and fired a bullet into the head of the gunner without giving the gunner a chance to explain his refusal. The relief gunner immediately took the hint and j umped to the gun.
The first shell fell far short of the enemy. Cursing and waving his pistol, Grauts shouted corrections to the frightened, rattled gunner. That shell also fell short. In panic, Grauts shoved the gunner aside and as soon as the last gas shell was loaded , Grauts pulled the lanyard himself.
Turning to survey the damage, Sanchez/Grauts realized in horror why the gunner had refused to fire when ordered to do so. Had Grauts permitted an explanation, the gunner would have told his officer that the wind was blowing from the enemy positions stra ight toward their own.
Had the shells landed where intended, Grauts and his men might have suffered no more than minor illness from the dispersed fumes. Unfortunately, Grauts desperate and pusillanimous efforts to save his life were futile and lethal.
Over the years, the powder charges had become contaminated by leakage of the poison from the warhead. When three duds had landed only a few hundred meters upwind, Grauts and his men were already dead men. Their ineffective gas masks had been discarded long ago. With the steep summit of the hill they defended at their backs, Grauts and his men could do no more than watch as the deadly cloud of gas swept toward their trenches.
At the first whiff of the fumes, Sanchez/Grauts held his breath. When reflex forced exhalation, the searing fumes caused him great agony. Through his tears of terror and violent irritation, Sanchez watched El Magnifico slowly climb the hill.
As his life choked away, Sanchez saw El Magnifico smile and solemnly bend over his tortured body. The last thing he saw was El Magnifico spitting onto the medals on his chest.
Jake Bowles was at the helm when Sanchez realized he was now somewhere and someone else again. As before, Sanchez instantly knew what his host knew without the host's knowledge of his presence. As Bowles followed a careful course on the compass, Sanche z attempted to make some order of what was happening to him.
Of course, he remembered El Magnifico's curse. But this couldn't be. He must be in Hell. And yet, he stood at the wheel of an island steamer in the body of an Englishman in the year of 1883 near Java. He had just died in the Year of Our Lord, 1485, t hen in 1870, and again in 1918. He looked around at the calm waters of the Pacific through Bowles eyes and saw nothing to fear.
Taking stock of his host, Sanchez knew he was a sorry specimen of humanity. Lingering guilt over the murders of a missionary and his wife haunted the burly seaman. However, that happened years and miles away, and couldn't quite explain the anxiety Sanc hez could feel emanating in the dull recesses of Bowles' brain. Just as Sanchez began to wonder if this one knew he was there, the Captain walked on deck. Bowles hated the Captain for his superiority and fastidiousness and made the absolute minimum ackn owledgement of the Captain's presence.
Suddenly the Captain gasped. "Come to port, man, quickly, quickly!"
Sanchez/Bowles followed the Captain's eyes. In the distance he could see a wall of water much higher than the stacks of the vessel. It was bearing down on them with an audible roar. For a moment, Bowles was paralyzed by fear. Then he suddenly began to turn the wheel.
"No," shouted the Captain. "For your life's sake turn into it. It's our only chance." The Captain began to struggle with Bowles for the wheel.
With one hand, Bowles struck the Captain in the side of his neck. Bones cracked and the Captain fell to the deck quivering in his death throes. Bowles ignored both the dying Captain and the excited shouting of his mates as they discovered what was happ ening to the small ship.
As the ship began to answer the helm and turn away from the growing mountain of water, Bowles rang the engine telegraph for flank speed. He looked over his shoulder just as the ship seemed to drop suddenly. The tidal wave--what the Japanese called a ts unami--picked up the ship and lifted it high above where it had been steaming placidly only moments before.
Bowles realized in his last stunned moments that the Captain had been right. If they had taken the tsunami head-on, they would have likely survived with no damage to the ship. When Bowles in his panic had tried to run ahead of the water, the ship was c aught sideways to the overwhelming current. Every seaman learns early on in his career to never get into a broaching situation. Bowles had killed them all.
As the ship spun in the air like a toy, Bowles clung desperately to the wheel.
Just before the inverted ship slammed into the dark sea below, Sanchez saw El Magnifico calmly sitting on the railing, smiling as he spat onto the deck. The water crushed both the life and the fear out of Sanchez/Bowles in the next moment.
Copyright ©1994 1995 David F. Norman