Black Death Page #4

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No, I can't.

Pray to your God.

See what he can do.

She was dead.

There is nothing beautiful or uplifting in returning people to God.

There is no place in heaven for those who kill.

The pestilence claimed no higher purpose.

And those who had survived our swords that day soon fell foul of its sighs.

They were not protected by the witch.

They were simply remote.

And once the pestilence crossed their marsh...

it killed them too.

Osmund.

Osmund.

We're here.

Osmund.

That you've returned safe is a miracle.

Who is that?

- It's a necromancer that I'll be delivering to the bishop.

Here, thats...

How many of you are left.

Enough.

Look after him.

There's no need.

He is back with God.

I never saw him again.

I heard stories.

Dark stories.

That in the years that followed Osmunds heart turned cold.

That in the shadow of his grief he found a hate.

And that in God's name...

he took up the sword and vengeance became his creed.

Can I help you?

Please.

Please.

I've done nothing wrong.

Please.

Please.

You have the wrong woman.

I want a confession, and i want her alive.

Osmund.

She won't confess.

Are you sure she's a witch?

Where is she?

Some say he found the witch...

and that he tortured her and burned her.

Others say it was never her...

it was only her guilt he saw in the eyes of the accused.

I like to think that he found peace...

that he continued seeing beauty in the world...

goodness.

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