Inquisitor Dreams. Phyllis Ann Karr

at last, complete with the names of Estevan’s older brothers. Neither of them, however, had confessed to anything. Seeing his friends’ resolve, Pedro had refused to ratify his admission. Without public confession, there could be little use in so much as offering the young killers to the law’s secular arm. Nor, to Felipe’s secret relief, would Fra Guillaume even hear of holding a consultation on resorting to any degree in more regular fashion, let alone of attempting to find a laborer for the manual work attendant on exercising the long-disused inquisitorial privilege here in Aragon.

      The ecclesiastical arm still had power to judge guilt and assign some penalty, even without confession. All three boys had been sentenced to make the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, the last mile on their knees, as soon as they should either find sponsors to accompany them, or be old enough to go by themselves. In addition, Pedro Choved’s mother had disowned and turned him out by her own act. Don Felipe hoped that their souls, at least, might be saved.

      Blinking tears from his eyes, the Ordinary turned Castaña—his favorite little mule of the bishop’s stables—motioned to his attendants, and started back toward Daroca.