The following Sunday, the air under the great oak was brittle with frost and anticipation. Raul stood among the roots, his breath a faint mist, speaking to a crowd that now numbered in the hundreds. Among the familiar faces of weary laborers and hopeful women stood a newcomer—a young woman draped in fine velvet of deep emerald, her carriage standing at a distance.
This was Lady Catherine, the daughter of Lord Sterling, the region's most influential magistrate. She had come out of a bored curiosity, but as she listened to the ten-year-old boy speak of a world where her sex did not dictate her soul's worth, her skepticism shattered.
"You are told your mind is a garden meant only for flowers," Raul said, his eyes meeting Catherine's. "But I tell you it is an empire. You have the right to seek the truth of the stars and the logic of the earth, for the Father gave you the light to see them."
Catherine felt a pull she could not explain—an obsession that sparked instantly. She stepped forward, ignoring the mud staining her silk hem, and knelt beside Sarah and Elena.
The peace was shattered by the rhythmic thud of heavy boots. The Bishop had returned, but he was not alone. Behind him marched four constables, their faces grim, carrying iron shackles.
"Raul of the Woods!" the Bishop shouted, his face a mask of righteous fury. "By the authority of the Ecclesiastical Court and the laws of this parish, you are under arrest for unlicensed preaching, sedition, and the corruption of the public mind. Constables, seize the boy!"
The crowd let out a collective gasp of horror. Sarah and Elena instantly lunged forward, their bodies forming a frantic, desperate wall in front of Raul.
"You shall not touch him!" Sarah screamed, her voice bordering on a wild, holy rage. "He is the Truth! He is the Son!"
"Let him go!" Elena sobbed, clutching at the first constable's sleeve. "He has done nothing but love us!"
The constables pushed the sisters aside with rough hands. Raul, however, remained perfectly still. He did not fight; he did not use his power to strike them. He looked at the men with a gaze so full of pity and respect that one of the constables hesitated, his hand hovering over the iron cuffs.
"Do not be afraid to do your duty," Raul said softly to the constable. "But know that you are shackling a body, not the truth I have planted."
"Enough talk!" the Bishop roared. "Take him!"
Just as the metal was about to snap shut around Raul's wrists, Lady Catherine stood up. Her voice, refined and sharp as a diamond, cut through the chaos.
"Stop!" she commanded.
The constables froze. Even the Bishop blinked in surprise at the sight of a Sterling standing in the mud.
"Lady Catherine," the Bishop stammered, smoothing his robes. "This is no place for a woman of your station. This boy is a dangerous heretic."
"This boy is the only person in this county who speaks with more wisdom than your entire vestry, My Lord Bishop," Catherine replied, her eyes flashing. She turned to the head constable. "Release him at once. If you take one step further with those chains, you will answer to my father, Lord Sterling, before the sun sets."
The constables looked at each other, paralyzed. Lord Sterling held the power of the purse and the local bench; the Bishop's influence was great, but the Magistrate's was immediate.
"He breaks the law, My Lady!" the Bishop protested.
"Then the law is in need of a conversation," Catherine snapped. She looked back at Raul, her obsession manifesting as a fierce, protective loyalty. "Wait here, Raul. My father is the Judge of this circuit. I will see to it that he understands the 'truth' you are teaching."
Catherine climbed into her carriage, ordering the driver to race for the Sterling manor. The crowd remained in a tense standoff for over an hour. The Bishop fumed, the sisters wept as they clung to Raul's knees, and Raul simply sat on the stone wall, comforting those around him.
Finally, the carriage returned. Not only was Catherine inside, but Lord Sterling himself—a man of stern face and graying hair—stepped out. He had listened to his daughter's frantic, obsessive praise of the "Boy-God" and had come to see the "miracle" for himself.
Lord Sterling walked up to Raul, peering at him with the cold eyes of a man who dealt in facts.
"My daughter claims you are a sage, boy," Sterling said. "The Bishop claims you are a devil. I see only a child who chops wood and speaks of circles."
"I am whatever the heart requires me to be, My Lord," Raul said, standing and bowing respectfully. "I seek only to tell your daughter and these people that they are free in their spirits. Is it a crime for a father to want his daughter to be his intellectual equal?"
Sterling glanced at Catherine, who was looking at Raul with a devotion that bordered on the divine. He then looked at the crowd—hundreds of peaceful, working-class people who were ready to riot for this child.
"Bishop," Sterling said, turning to Hezekiah. "There is no law against a child speaking in a field. Until he calls for a rebellion against the King, he is under my protection as a curiosity of the county. Disperse your men."
The Bishop turned a ghastly shade of white, but he could not overrule the Magistrate. He retreated in silence, his eyes promising a much darker vengeance.
As the crowd cheered, Catherine rushed to Raul's side, joining Sarah and Elena. The three women, from vastly different worlds, now stood united by a single, obsessive purpose: to protect the boy who had seen the godhood within them.