Considerably startled by the Holy Father's apparent deformity, his seven assaliants carried him, unconscious, to an apartment where he was locked in. Seven keys were shared out.
The fiend awakened to find he was cold and and in utter darkness. Presently he also became hungry and thirsty, and they too were unpleasant. So he was not displeased when a key turned in the lock and a Cardinal entered bearing a lamp and fine dinner, complete with wine. The cleric apologized and removed the gag which had silenced the Devil. The Cardinal courteously upbraided him for not revealing his true identity, which he has served zealously for many years, and inquired why he had not done so.
"Reasons of state?" offered the Devil.
The Cardinal had a propostion. It being apt to capture the attention of the faithful should the fiend remain Pope for much longer than the usual span, the cleric offered himself as a candidate when the position should become vacant and gave a resume of why he was especially suited to do the type of work that the Devil would wish. Another key turned in the lock, and the Cardinal hid under the table.
One by one his captors appeared to argue their credentials and cases to him, but when the seventh entered, the twelve hours was up, and the fiend resumed his true form. He departed through the ceiling without causing it lasting damage. The seven became exceedingly polite to one another, possibly thinking this was the only course of action left to them.
Meanwhile the Devil visited the Pope, who he found had resumed his robes of office. The fiend, despite a bad night, expressed satisfaction at how his cause was being advanced within the Church. The Pope was somewhat disappointed that the Devil did not wish to collect his own, the Father of Lies feeling it was, for him, better they remain where they were.
And there the matter remained, with the seven somewhat surprised, when the Holy Father judged it wise to quash certain rumors by creating the ceremony of kissing the Pope's feet, to find that—whoever sat in Saint Peter's Chair—he appeared to be in all respects human.
We can, I suppose, rejoice in the fact that while God may know His own, apparently the Devil does not, always.
Next on Tales Before Tolkien, Andrew Lang's "The Story of Sigurd," a tale Tolkien knew well.
(to be continued)