The Beating of His Wings by Paul Hoffman Page B

must be burnt alive. A Hanged Redeemer who said that if a man strikes you on the cheek you must turn the other and let him strike you a second time is not a God in favour of burning.’
    ‘I heard he said that from the Maid of Blackbird Leys – about turning the other cheek, I mean. But if you turn your cheek when people hit you they’ll keep hitting you until your head falls off.’
    She laughed. ‘I understand what you say.’
    ‘You can understand all you like – I’m right, whatever you think.’
    ‘We’ll agree to disagree.’
    ‘They burned her.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The Maid of Blackbird Leys.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘She was saying the kind of stuff you were saying. She’d got hold of a copy of the Testament too. No coffin and no salt though, she went straight to the fire.’
    ‘When you say she got hold of the Testament, you mean a secret copy.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Antagonists don’t have secret copies of the Hanged Redeemer’s Testament. It’s an obligation to read it – it’s translated into a dozen languages.’
    ‘P’raps,’ he said, ‘it’s a different Testament.’
    ‘Some things must be the same if they burned her for saying that the Hanged Redeemer is a God of love and not punishment.’
    ‘If it’s that obvious why did they punish you for saying the same thing?’
    ‘That’s the way mankind is.’
    ‘God’s greatest mistake.’
    ‘I don’t believe that.’
    ‘Me neither – it’s God who’s mankind’s greatest mistake.’
    ‘Wash your mouth out with soap, you impious sack of shit.’
    This time Sister Wray did not rebuke Poll.
    ‘Looks like,’ said Cale, triumphant, ‘you need to teach your little friend about forgiveness.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ replied Sister Wray, ‘you’ve exceeded your limit.’
    ‘Seventy times seven,’ Cale laughed. ‘I’ve got loads left. You won’t get off that easy.’
    ‘Possibly. It depends on how great the sins you committed are.’
    ‘Does he say that, the Hanged Redeemer?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘There you are then.’
    ‘You’re not telling me the truth.’
    ‘I never said I would. Who are you? I don’t have to tell you anything I don’t want to.’
    ‘About the Maid of Blackbird Leys, I mean.’
    ‘I did what I could to save her.’ He wasn’t feeling so triumphant now. ‘That’s all there is.’
    ‘I don’t think that can be true. Am I wrong to think there’s more to say?’
    ‘No, you’re not wrong.’
    ‘Then why not tell me?’
    ‘I’m not afraid to tell you.’
    ‘I didn’t say you were.’
    ‘Yes, you did.’
    ‘I agree. Yes, I did.’
    He stared at the grid of tiny holes that covered her eyes. Maybe she was blind, he thought, and this was a waste of time. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
    ‘I signed the licence for her to be justified.’
    ‘Justified?’
    ‘Burned on a pile of wood. Alive. You ever seen that?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘It’s worse than it sounds.’
    ‘I believe you.’
    ‘I oversaw her being burned.’
    ‘Was that necessary – to be so closely involved?’
    ‘Yes, it was necessary.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘None of your business.’
    ‘But it bothers you?’
    ‘Of course it fucking bothers me. She was a nice little girl. Brave. Very brave but stupid. There was nothing I could do.’
    ‘You’re sure?’
    ‘No, I’m not sure – maybe I could have jumped on a magic rope and swashbuckled my way out of a square of five thousand people and twenty-foot-high walls. Yeah, that’s what I should have done.’
    ‘Did you have to sign?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you have to be there?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you have to be there?’ she asked again.
    ‘I went because I thought I should suffer … for signing … even though there was nothing else to do.’
    ‘Then you did all you could. That’s my opinion.’
    ‘That’s a relief.’ Quiet but acid. ‘Do you think she would have thought so?’
    ‘I can’t say.’
    ‘That’s the problem, isn’t it? Do you forgive me for what I did to her?’
    ‘God forgives