by Karen Miller
All his life he’d been a light sleeper. During his novitiate it had earned him an unwarranted reputation for piety; driven to distraction by the dreaming snores and snorts of fourteen other boys he’d often be found studying his Admonitions by candlelight. It never occurred to the venerables it was because the novices were permitted nothing else to read.
Wrapped in a silk robe, the servant dismissed, he sat pooled in lamplight and stared at the folded message. He didn’t need to open it to know it was from Ven’Martin. The swift, spiky penstrokes directing the letter to Prolate Marlan’s attention belonged to no other man and the outside of the paper, spoiled a little from its journey by carrier pigeon, was imprinted with the Linfoi venerable house’s mark, a salmon leaping over the Living Flame.
He broke the letter’s cracked wax seal.
Eminence, you are betrayed. Helfred has released Eberg’s brat from her wardship and married her to Alasdair Linfoi. She styles herself queen and is claiming miracles in God’s name. The dukes of Hartshorn and Meercheq stand strong for God, the others are corrupted. I will do whatever you command. Advise me, I beg you, that I might serve God and you. Martin.
He watched as his fingers crushed the letter to ruin. Red spots of rage danced before his eyes. He felt empty, light-headed, his bones made friable and his blood turned to acid.
I will destroy Helfred for this. I will destroy them both.
He wrote a reply to Ven’Martin.
She will attempt a return to Kingseat. Finance yourself from the Linfoi house Treasury and follow her. Inform me daily of her progress. Do not alert her to your presence—and leave Helfred to me. He shall be chastised. What do you mean, she is claiming miracles?
Next he wrote instructions to the Most Venerable Artemis, then summoned his chamber-servant with a shout.
“Have these letters dispatched immediately to the Linfoi venerable house. And send for Ven’Barto. I would see him at once.”
The chamber-servant bowed and took the letters. “Yes, Your Eminence.”
While he waited for Martin’s barely adequate replacement to arrive, he dressed himself in his most severely sumptuous vestments. These heinous crimes were not mere personal attacks. Helfred and Rhian had assaulted the Church … and the Church’s physical embodiment would meet their perfidy dressed in splendour from head to toe. Silk and pearls and gold and rubies: this was the armour of God’s chosen Prolate.
A bleary Ven’Barto arrived in due course and was sent smartly on his way to rouse the sleeping members of the Court Ecclesiastica. Helfred must be judged and tried and condemned. Then would come Rhian’s turn, in the Court Ecclesiastica and the King’s Council chamber.
Challenge me, would you? Think to strike me down? Fools. You shall not escape me. There is no corner of Ethrea that will hide you from my wrath.
The Court Ecclesiastica comprised the kingdom’s prolate and ten learned Most Venerables. The venerables’ outcry when he sorrowfully informed them of Helfred and Rhian’s blasphemy was something of a balm to his lacerated pride. Standing in the court’s chamber on the highest floor of his palace, surrounded by oak and velvet and gilt, he waited for their shocked protests to subside.
“Imagine my dismay, brothers,” he said, and let his voice tremble. “My nephew, my own flesh and blood, corrupted in this hideous fashion. Indeed I must wonder if I am still fit to lead you, so deceived as I am. My judgement must be suspect.”
Most Venerable Thomas creaked to his feet. An old man, and doddering, with a touching faith in his prolate’s unimpeachable pronouncements. “God forbid such words on your lips again, Eminence! You are our prolate, the Father of our Church. Was not Rollin himself deceived by wicked men? The fault lies not in you but in the perfidy of Helfred’s stained soul, and in the wretched arrogance of a girl ruined in her childhood.”
Fervent murmurings as the other most venerables agreed.
Marlan pressed his hand to his heart. “Brothers, you move me to displays of unseemly emotion. Can I take it we are agreed: there is no question of innocence in this? Helfred is guilty beyond shadow of doubt?”
“Yes! He is guilty!” said Thomas, resuming his seat. Nods and echoing voices greeted his declaration.
He clasped his hands lightly before him, bowing his head lest the light of vengeful triumph burn too brightly in his eyes. “Then it is the will and pronouncement of this holy court that Helfred, a chaplain, be stripped of his divinity. He is cast down from God’s sight and lies naked and sinful in the mud. He is banned from Church office. He is denied the Living Flame. Let no man’s hand be stretched towards him. Let no man’s smile be seen on his approach. He is anathema … and so he is declared.”
“And so he is declared,” echoed the Court Ecclesiastica.
“Now …” said Marlan, rage partly assuaged. “With regards to our wayward princess …”
Rhian was just as easily dealt with, although, since she was of the blood royal, different rules applied. The Court Ecclesiastica reproved her rash actions. It did not recognise her marriage. It reinstated her wardship and called upon her immediate presence that she might answer for her sins.
The duchy of Linfoi was placed under interdict.
“And also the duchies of Morvell and Arbat, by reason of their dukes’ grave misconduct,” Marlan added. “So shall fall all persons, parishes, districts and duchies to dire interdiction, should any support this disobedient child Rhian. Support for the princess is anathema … and so it is declared.”
“And so it is declared,” echoed the Court Ecclesiastica.
“Finally there remains the matter of the King’s Council,” he said. “And the supporters of the malfeasant dukes. I shall deal with that business myself, come morning. You, my brothers, I leave to the business of spreading word of interdict and anathema to our brethren throughout Ethrea. The smallest parish can be left in no doubt. This blasphemy must be nipped in the bud lest chaos wreak calamity and see us forever lost to God’s mercy. When the proclamations are ready bring them to me for my signature and seal. I want them nailed to every chapel door and shouted from every pulpit within the week. Is that clear?”
The venerables nodded, muttering and kissing their thumbs. Satisfied, he left them and returned to his rooms.
After an austere breakfast of bread and figs he sent word to his fellow councillors, calling for an urgent meeting in one hour’s time. They wouldn’t refuse him, they clamoured daily for Rhian’s return with a decision on her marriage. He neglected to inform Secretary Lord Dester of the summons, however. Some meetings were better recorded in hindsight. Then he ordered Idson to his study.
“Commander,” he said, his fingers steepled before him. “As the man in charge of Kingseat’s peace you will be grieved to learn of great imminent unrest.”
Idson tensed. “Your Eminence?”
“Your men must be placed on the highest alert. I want soldiers throughout the duchy riding day and night. In the capital your men will proceed on horseback, no more foot patrols. They must make it clear, Idson, that civil disobedience will not be tolerated. Nor will we tolerate the unruliness of foreigners. In fact …” He pretended to be struck by a new thought. “Arrange for the immediate withdrawal of shore passes to all visiting ships in the harbour. I fear it likely we will need to keep foreigners from our streets until the crisis is passed.”
“Eminence …” Idson frowned. “What crisis?”
“The crisis you allowed to fester by failing to apprehend Princess Rhian!”
Idson stepped back, his face losing colour. “Your Eminence, I—”
“It is too late for apologies!” he snapped. “The damage is done. However …” He gentled his voice. First the stick, then the carrot. “I have faith in your determination to expunge your failure, Commander. Indeed it’s in your best interests that you do.”
Sweat stippled the man’s brow. “Eminence.”
“It grieves me to tell you, Idson, that Princess Rhian has acted disgracefully. Unlawfully. With the connivanc
e of certain members of the King’s Council she seeks to undermine the stability of the kingdom. She must be stopped. She will be stopped. But I fear for the people until that is accomplished. That is why we must take control before panic sets in and there are … unfortunate consequences.”
“Eminence, I assure you, I will not fail a second time,” said Idson. His voice was unsteady.
Marlan smiled. “Be sure you don’t.”
“Eminence,” said Idson, bowing. “Was there anything else?”
“Indeed. You will report to the council chamber with a skein of guards—” he glanced at his clock “—half an hour from now. Wait outside. Do not enter until I summon you. Understood?”
“Understood, Your Eminence.”
“Then you are dismissed.”
Alone again he let himself sit, just sit, and wait for his freshly stirred rage to subside before making his way to the castle and the council chamber.
That bitch and my whey-faced nephew and the rabble from Linfoi. That they would dare to thwart me …
They had dared and they would fail. And soon would pay … and pay … and pay.
“Married?” said Henrik Linfoi, blankly. “You claim Rhian and my nephew Alasdair are married ? How can they be married? She’s in the clerica and he’s in duchy Linfoi.”
Marlan, on his feet, favoured duchy Linfoi’s representative with his coldest stare. “My source of information is beyond question, Henrik. Ven’Martin, my assistant. He stumbled across this gross deception while attending your brother’s funeral. Rhian is with your nephew on the ducal estate.”
Uproar in the chamber. Marlan let it run, unchecked, watching the faces of the dukes’ men for signs of complicity. He didn’t see any but that did not mean complicity was absent. He would trust not a one of them.
“How is this possible, Marlan?” Porpont shouted, fist pounding the table. “She was in your care, she was under your protection! How in God’s name did she—”
“We contend with enough blasphemy already without you adding to the tally, Porpont! Hold your tongue. All of you, be silent! I have not finished speaking!”
They stammered to silence.
“Rhian escaped the clerica with help from agents outside,” he said, chilling them with his voice and eyes. “Employed by men seeking to advance themselves at the expense of Ethrea’s best interests.”
“Ridiculous,” said Niall, faintly. “Why would we—or our dukes—connive to put a turd like Linfoi on the throne?”
Before Henrik could respond, Marlan bared his teeth in a smile. “Linfoi isn’t on the throne. Rhian styles herself queen.”
More uproar. He silenced it with a single word.
“Enough!”
“I tell you, all of you,” said Henrik Linfoi, vehemently, “I had no knowledge of any such plan!” He swept his fellow councillors with a hot, frightened stare. “If someone helped Her Highness escape the clerica it was one of you, my lords, or one of your dukes. It was not me . I am innocent of—”
“Why should we believe you?” sneered Volant, his fists clenched. “When you stand to benefit from—”
“And why should we believe you’re not involved, Volant?” said Marlan. “When your duke aligns himself with the princess and her turd?”
“My duke?” Volant goggled. “ Rudi supports this? It’s a lie, Marlan. I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”
Marlan sat back. “Don’t compound calumny with blasphemy, my lord. That cannot end well. Rudi of Arbat and Edward of Morvell have declared themselves for this traitorous queen and the disloyal upstart she married against our will. That makes them traitors. Their duchies are interdicted until they repent.”
Harley leapt to his feet. “Edward is no traitor! My brother is a true and loyal servant of the Crown! If the little bitch has married let that be upon her own head. I’ll not stand by while you destroy my family!”
“Or mine!” added Volant. “Rudi’s married to my sister. What touches her touches me! If you think I’ll let you tear us down in your attempt to rule by default you’re mistaken, Marlan!”
“How did she marry Linfoi, anyway?” demanded Harley. “She’d need a Church dispensation. Who would—” And then he stopped, mingled understanding and delight dawning in his piggy eyes. “ Helfred? Her chaplain ? Your nephew, Marlan? Your own flesh and blood thwarted your ambitions and wed Rhian to Linfoi? Ha! ”
He could not deny it and did not try. “My nephew is not your concern, Lord Harley. He has been dealt with by the Court Ecclesiastica. Now you must be dealt with by secular means.”
The malicious delight in Harley’s face extinguished. “Dealt with? What are you saying, dealt with ? I’m innocent of this debacle, Marlan. This is your calamity! You and your nephew’s! I’ve nothing to gain from Rhian’s disastrous marriage and neither has Edward. Find your scapegoats somewhere else.”
“Nothing to gain?” said Niall, glaring. “Are you a fool, Harley, or do you take Porpont and me for lackwits? Nothing to gain . You seek influence in a new court, you seek royal largesse. Your brother fawns at the feet of this girl, at the feet of the nobody she’s chosen to marry, hoping to see Ethrea rewrit in his favour! And what then the fate of my duchy? What do you plan for Hartshorn and Kyrin? Do you intend to see him thrown down and his lands plundered for your gain?” He swung about. “For I’ll wager my estates my wife’s father does not support Rhian!”
“Duke Kyrin is loyal,” said Marlan. “And so is Damwin of Meercheq. As for the others …” He spread his hands wide.
Henrik Linfoi shoved his chair back, his face the colour of cold ash. “Before God and his Living Flame I swear to you, I swear, I had no knowledge of this matter! Alasdair has said nothing to me. Send to my home, search all my correspondence! You’ll find no evidence of treachery there.”
That much was true. The clerk he’d insinuated into Linfoi’s residence had already confirmed it. “Of course not,” Marlan said smoothly. “You are many things, Henrik, but a fool is not among them. Whatever plans you hatched with usurping Alasdair you hatched in direst secrecy.”
“I hatched no plans!” Linfoi shouted. “And you will never prove I did. From the outset I accepted Linfoi would not be considered for the crown. My dying brother accepted it, God rest his departed soul, and so did my nephew.”
Marlan smiled, sorrowful. “Yes, that is the complaisant face you showed to this council. You told us your brother and nephew were reconciled to their irrelevance. But the moment your brother died your nephew wed with Rhian, thus betraying his true heart. And so Ethrea is betrayed—by you and your fellow conspirators.”
“I’ve betrayed no-one!” said Linfoi. Sweat trickled down his face. “I am ignorant of this marriage. If Alasdair had told me his intention I’d have discouraged him, heartily. This kingdom cannot be torn apart by dissension. At the first hint of instability we are laid open to the attentions of those nations who would seek to exploit our unique standing. I would never put us in such an invidious position!”
“Nor would I!” protested Harley.
“Nor I!” added Volant.
“And yet,” said Marlan, dulcet, “it is your dukes who support this insupportable marriage. Curious, is it not, to consider your duchies share common borders with each other and Linfoi?”
A heartbeat of staring then the chamber filled with shouting. Marlan raised his voice above it. “Commander Idson! To me!”
The uproar fell into silence as though cleaved with an axe. The chamber door opened and Idson entered with his armed guards.
“Commander, escort lords Linfoi, Harley and Volant to a castle cell,” Marlan instructed. “There to await a more leisurely interrogation.”
“A cell ?” said Linfoi, as the commander advanced. “Marlan, are you addled ? You have no standing to order any such thing, we are council representatives, you are—”
“Prolate of Ethrea,” said Marlan. “The only uncorrupted power in the land, given what has happened to the King’s Council. Go with the guards
quietly, Linfoi … or we shall read resistance as your confession. We will take it as a declaration it was always your plan to put Rhian on the throne.”
Linfoi’s face blanched from grey to white. “No. I do not support Rhian ruling in her own right. She’s not even a woman, she’s still a child. You must not forget that. Whatever she’s done, Marlan, she’s acted out of grief and a misguided fear she had no-one else to turn to.”
He smiled. Thank you, Henrik . “So you defend her wicked actions. At least we now know for certain where you stand.”
“I stand for the rule of law!” retorted Linfoi. “There is no law placing you at Ethrea’s head!”
“Lord Linfoi, we are in crisis. When this news reaches the foreign ambassadors, can you not imagine their consternation? If they for one moment fear Ethrea is ungoverned what will they tell their eager masters, do you think? What do you suppose will happen next?”
There were agitated mutterings as Niall and Porpont considered the unwholesome future.
Marlan clasped his hands before him, presenting the perfect image of calm control, and swept Idson and his guards and the councillors with his coldest, clearest gaze. “It is shown to us without a doubt this kingdom cannot proceed rudderless any longer. Not without inviting the kind of interference we have sought to prevent since Eberg’s demise. Only the Church, with its divine protections, its infallible teachings, its God-inspired network of ordained divines, can keep us afloat now. Our times have become turbulent, gentlemen. Or would you disagree?”
His audience said nothing. Even Linfoi was silent. Even Harley and Volant.
“Take them, Idson,” he commanded, wielding his voice like a penitent’s friend. “But do not think to accost them save they give you strict cause.”
“No, Your Eminence,” said Idson. A curt nod to his guards saw Linfoi, Harley and Volant taken in hand.
Marlan smiled to see it. “And when these parlous men are disposed of, as their conduct dictates, see to the securing of this castle,” he added. “Nobility related to these miserable miscreants shall be held in comfortable but close confinement. So too the servants. All others to be dismissed from the grounds but not permitted to leave the capital. Is that clear?”