Julian took a deep breath. He gave a muscle-tensing jerk to test the strength and commitment of his captors, but they held on, screwing their eyes shut when the oaths and curses continued to spew out of his mouth in wailings and screechings. 'Julian, your brother lizard, comes before you, is on this Earth before you, predates you, slithers on the ground before God and Satan sit down to conjure you out of water and clay. Water and clay! But I am the fruit of the fire! The fiery demon!'
At last, Fra Johannes was handed the holy water. He took the silver chalice and splashed the purifying liquid over Julian.
'I am Hellfire!' he roared and spat into the priest's right eye. Instantly, blood dripped from his eye-socket, staining his white robes. There was a gasp from the crowd. The muscles in Julian's arms and neck hardened like the stone wall at his back. He writhed and twisted, throwing his captors in every direction, hissing, and lashing out with his sharp claws at anyone who tried to retake him. Leopold the Drunkard was a big man, but he stumbled around with lines of ripped skin across his face and chest. Then Julian leapt over Fra Johannes. He ran and tumbled through the vines. He didn't look back. If he had he would have seen that no one was in pursuit.
He skirted the banks of the Danube, past the monastery, increasing his speed until he was able to climb onto the back step of Toma's caravan. There he clung all night, dosing until the trundling rhythm of the wooden wheels stopped and the silhouettes of Birgitta and Holger appeared, their backs to the rising sun.
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