devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band by richard anderton Read Free Book Online

sin. Thomas listened with amusement as Bos admitted that, in his youth, he’d harboured ambitions to become a Catholic priest until his theological education had been interrupted by a rebellion against the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian of Hapsburg.
    Despite ruling an empire that stretched from the German Ocean to the Adriatic Sea, Maximilian had sought to add the tiny, independent Duchy of Friesland to his territories. Taking advantage of a local feud between claimants to the ducal coronet, the emperor had backed the pro-Hapsburg candidate, but the Frisians had refused to recognise the imperial puppet and had fought a long and bitter war, to depose him. To crush the rebellion once and for all, Maximillian had raised the infamous Black Band and these pitiless mercenaries had systematically laid waste to Friesland. Outraged by the bloody atrocities committed by the Black Band, Bos had left his seminary and joined the rebels.
    “In the end God deserted us and we were defeated,” he said sadly. “Most of my comrades were hanged but I escaped to England where I learned the truth about the pope and his heretical church. In my desire to save others from the errors of the Roman Rite, I preached Luther’s New Gospel until that poxed, papal poltroon Cardinal Wolsey had me arrested. Yet I forgive him because after Easter I shall be with Christ and wear the golden crown of martyrdom.”
    “If the angels can find a diadem big enough to fit your great fat Frisian head,” said Quintana prompting Bos to roar with anger and lunge at the Portugee but he came to the end of his iron tethers long before he could reach his target. Frustrated in his murderous ambition, Bos sank bank into the filthy straw and growled at Quintana like a whipped dog.
    “How about you African? You’re a long way from home so how did you come to be in a foul English prison?” saidThomas, “Have your heathen gods abandoned you just as our God has abandoned us?”
    “I am no heathen,” said the African quietly. “My home is the desert kingdom of Nubia, which lies to the south of Mahometan Egypt, yet my God is the Christian god. Indeed my people accepted Lord Jesus into their hearts at a time when you Englishmen were still worshipping stones and trees.”
    “You’re a Christian?” said Thomas in surprise.
    “For a thousand years all Nubia honoured the Lord Jesus until our land was conquered by the infidel Funj and now our people are the oppressed slaves of the Mahometan Caliphs,” replied the Nubian.
    Thomas had never heard of ‘The Funj’ so the Nubian told him that his enemies were a pagan tribe from beyond the marshes that marked the southern border of his kingdom. Twenty years ago, The Funj had overrun Christian Nubia, however their victory had been fleeting as they in turn had been invaded by Islamic Turkish armies, who were expanding south after their conquest of Egypt. In an attempt to preserve his independence, the Funj king Amara Dunqas had converted to Islam and forced his Nubian subjects, both pagan and Christian, to renounce the faiths of their ancestors.
    “This happened in my father’s time,” said the Nubian. “My Father was Djoel, King of Dotawo, last of the four Christian kingdoms of Nubia, and I’m his son, also called Djoel, rightful king of all the lands between the First and Sixth Cataracts of the Nile.”
    “He spins a good yarn but the truth is his name is Prometheus and he was a Southwark prizefighter until he was caught rigging crooked bouts,” sniffed Quintana. “Royal blood or not, he’ll be hanging from a gibbet by Pentecost, just like the rest of us.”
    “Only my poverty drove me to a life of sin,” said Prometheus angrily. “When my father died, I fled into the desert with a few loyal companions and we carried on the war against The Funj but I was betrayed and captured. I refused to renounce Jesus so my captors sold me to the Barbary corsairs and I was sent to suffer a living death chained to the oars of their