There was once a student at the Bishop's School in Howlar named Loft. He devoted all his free time to witchcraft and surpassed everyone in this art. He loved to incite other students to do all sorts of tricks. One Christmas, Loft went home to his parents. On the way, he spent the night on some farm, and in the morning he shod the local maid, bridled her and rode home on her. After that
the maid was ill for a long time - Loft drove her almost to death - but while he was alive, she did not say a word about this incident. And Loft killed another maid, who became pregnant from him, with the help of witchcraft. Here's how he did it: a maid was carrying ashes from the kitchen in a trough, and suddenly a wall opened up in front of her. As soon as she stepped into this opening, Loft closed the wall again. Many years later, when the wall was being demolished, the skeleton of a woman with a trough in her hands was found in it, and in her skeleton were the bones of an unborn child.
Loft did not calm down until he had studied the entire “Grey Skin” to the smallest detail.
He met many sorcerers, and no one could surpass him in the art of sorcery. But he became so angry and gloomy that the other students feared and hated him.
One day at the beginning of winter, Loft asked the bravest of his students to help him call an ancient bishop from the grave. He began to refuse, but Loft threatened to kill him.
“It’s unlikely that I can be useful to you, because I’m ignorant of witchcraft,” the student said then.
However, Loft explained that he would only have to stand on the bell tower and hold the rope from the bell and, at Loft’s sign, start ringing.
“Now listen, I’ll tell you what I’m up to,” Loft said. - If a person owns witchcraft, like me, he can only use it for evil deeds, otherwise he will die. But if he manages to comprehend witchcraft wisdom to the end, the devil will lose power over him and will even begin to serve him, as he served Samund the Wise. He who has comprehended all the witchcraft wisdom becomes independent and can use his knowledge as he wishes. The trouble is that acquiring such knowledge has become difficult these days. Now there is no School of Warlock, and “Red Skin”, by order of Bishop Gokhtskaulk the Evil, is buried with him in the grave. So I decided to call the bishop from the grave and take “Red Skin” from him.
True, other ancient bishops will come out of their graves with him - they will not be able to resist all the spells that will be needed to summon Gokhtskaulk.
These spells will not work only on bishops who died very recently and are buried with the Bible on their chest. Just don’t try to call earlier than necessary, but don’t be late either, remember, both my earthly and my eternal bliss depend on this. And I, in turn, will thank you: you will always be the first in everything, and no one will surpass you in anything.
They made a deal and, when everyone went to bed, went to church. The moon was shining and it was light in the church. Loft's comrade took a place in the bell tower, and Loft ascended the pulpit and began to read spells. Soon a dead man with a kind, serious face and a crown on his head rose from the grave.
- Stop, unfortunate one, before it’s too late! - he said to Loft. “The curse of my brother Gwendur will be severe if you disturb his peace.”
But Loft ignored the words of this bishop and continued to conjure. Then the ancient bishops began to rise from their graves, one after another, with crosses on their chests and staves in their hands. They all addressed Loft with some words, but with what words is unknown. Three of them were wearing crowns, but there was nothing witchcraft in their appearance. However, Gokhtskaulk still did not rise. Loft began to conjure even more furiously, he turned to the devil himself and repented to him of all the good he had done. Then a terrible roar was heard, and a dead man stood up with a staff in his hand and a red book under his arm. There was no pectoral cross on him. He looked sternly at the bishops and directed a withering gaze at Loft. He began to spell even harder. Gokhtskaulk moved menacingly towards him.
“You sing well, son,” he said mockingly, “better than I thought, but you still won’t see my “Red Skin.” The loft went into a frenzy, and the blasphemies made the church crackle and shake. It seemed to his friend that
Gohtskaulk slowly approached Loft and reluctantly handed him the book. His comrade’s eyes darkened and he was overcome with horror. Seeing that Loft extended his hand to the book, he thought that he was making a sign to him, and he rang the bell. All the bishops fell into the ground with a roar. For one moment Loft stood motionless, covering his face with his hands, and then slowly, staggering, climbed up the bell tower.
“Everything turned out worse than I expected, but it’s not your fault,” he told his comrade. “I should have waited until dawn, then Gokhtskaulk himself would have given me the book.” But he turned out to be more persistent than me. When I saw the book and heard his ridicule, I lost control of myself. If only I had cast just one more spell, the church would have collapsed, and that’s all Gohtskaulk wanted. But, apparently, you can’t escape your fate. Now I have no hope of eternal bliss. But you will receive the promised reward, and let everything that happened remain between us.
From then on, Loft became silent and even seemed to be a little damaged in his mind: he was afraid of the dark and with the onset of dusk he hurried to light all the lamps.
“On Saturday, in the middle of Lent, I will already be in hell,” he often muttered.
He was advised to seek shelter from a pastor from Stadarstadir, who was very old, firm in his faith and considered the best priest in the area. He healed the insane and bewitched with one laying on of hands. The pastor took pity on Loft and allowed him to be with him all the time - day and night, at home and on the street. Loft recovered remarkably, but the pastor continued to fear for him because Loft never prayed with him. Loft invariably accompanied the pastor when he visited the sick and tempted by the devil, and was present at their conversation. The pastor did not leave the house without vestments and always took bread and wine with him for communion.
Saturday arrived in the middle of Lent. Loft was ill, the pastor sat at his bedside and kept his spirits up with Christian conversation. At about nine o'clock in the morning the pastor was informed that one of his friends was dying and asked the pastor to give him communion and prepare him for a pious death. The pastor could not refuse him. He asked Loft if he could accompany him, but Loft replied that pain and weakness prevented him from moving. The pastor told Loft that everything would be fine if he did not leave the house before he returned, and Loft promised not to get out of bed. Then the pastor blessed and kissed him. At the threshold, the pastor knelt down, read a prayer and made the sign of the cross at the door. People heard him mutter to himself:
“God alone knows whether this person will be saved.” I am afraid that I cannot overcome the force that is preventing his salvation.
When the pastor left, Loft suddenly felt completely healthy. It was a fine day, and he wanted to go out for a walk. The men had gone fishing, and there was no one at home except the cook and one worker, who did not stop him.
Loft went to a neighboring farm. There lived an old man, a man who was more evil than kind. He himself no longer fished. Loft asked the old man to launch a small boat for him - he supposedly wanted to go fishing near the shore. The old man complied with his request.
The weather remained calm all day, but no one saw this boat again. Even a piece of the oar was not found. Only one person saw from the shore how a gray furry paw stuck out of the water, grabbed the boat and, together with Loft, dragged it under the water.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru