The Secular Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  "No," the spirit muttered, shaking its head in denial. "It is always right, always! And a king must always do what is right!"

  But Boncorro shook his head. "I think that there are times when a king must do what is prudent instead—and you must forgive me, my father, but on this Earth, I am called to be a king, not a saint."

  Matt and King Boncorro lingered unobtrusively in the doorway of the twenty-by-twenty studio, watching the sculptor at work in the light from the wide northern windows. After a little while, Matt moved onward, beckoning to the king, who nodded and followed. When they were away from the door, Boncorro said, low-voiced, "His progress is amazing! And you say Arouetto has given him only a very little criticism and suggestion this past fortnight?"

  "Only a little," Matt confirmed, "but the kid paid attention. He respects Arouetto, you see."

  "Even though our scholar admits he is no sculptor?"

  "No—because he admits he is no sculptor. But he does claim to be a connoisseur, and no one disputes it. At least, not twice—though whether that's because they're dazzled by his arguments, or just don't want to sit through another hour of his explaining the merits of various paintings and statues, I don't know."

  At another doorway, they paused to watch several painters at work; at a third to watch a string quartet practicing; and a fourth time to watch singers rehearsing an opera. As they went on, Matt said, "Arouetto even has hopes of persuading the actors from the marketplace to try performing a script one of his students is writing. It will take some doing, convincing them to memorize lines instead of making it up from a scenario as they go along, but I think he might manage it."

  "He is a most persuasive man," Boncorro admitted.

  "He is," Matt agreed. "I'm amazed that he manages to stop persuading when he's teaching... here."

  They paused in another doorway to see Arouetto sitting in a circle with the young men and women from Escribo's farm, discussing an issue with great earnestness.

  "But there is as much sense in seeing the world as divided into male and female principles, as in seeing it divided into Good and Evil!" Escribo maintained.

  "Nonsense!" cried Lelio. "There is good in the world, and there is evil! Our teacher's recent victory is reason enough to believe that!"

  "No one denies it," Berylla replied. "It is a question of which is greater, that is all."

  Lelio stared. "Do you say that the female principle can be greater than Good?"

  "No—that it can exist within the principle of Good!" She turned to Arouetto. "Could that not be valid?"

  "Perhaps," Arouetto said, "if you remember that, in the Far Eastern dualism, Good proceeds from male and female existing in balance, and Evil springs from one or the other being too prominent."

  "Evil being a lack of balance, and Good being balance?" One of the girls looked up sharply. "That has a familiar ring! The Greeks?"

  Arouetto nodded, visibly restraining his glee. "Flaminia, you seem to remember the quotation."

  " 'Moderation in all things,' " Flaminia said, eyes wide in sudden understanding, "including moderation!"

  "That is it," Arouetto said. "But tell me, could there be any connection between that principle and the motto, 'Know thyself'?"

  "Far more than a motto, teacher!" another youth objected.

  "It is indeed." Arouetto's eyes shone. "But how do you see that, Arno?"

  As Arno began to answer, Pascal's head suddenly snapped up, his eyes widening in amazement. He thrust himself to his feet and strode off to a writing desk in a corner, where he began to scribble furiously.

  "Thus the poet gains inspiration," Boncorro murmured, shaking his head in wonder. "This is something I can never truly understand, Lord Wizard!"

  "That's all right, your Majesty—for all their talk about it, none of them can really understand the ordering of a state." Matt turned away, beckoning Boncorro out of earshot. "A few other scholars have already begun to hear of this villa and have come to talk and teach—in just two weeks! One is teaching rhetoric, another is teaching logic, and a third is teaching mathematics and music."

  "An odd combination."

  "No, he's the Pythagorean in the bunch. I'm trying to get him to tell me about Pythagoras' ideas about magic, but he claims the mystic master didn't believe in the stuff—he just taught how the world worked and the parts interacted."

  "But if you understand that, you can work out ways to make wonders happen!"

  "He doesn't realize that, fortunately. The man's a genius, but I don't think he has very good judgment." He glanced back at Arouetto. "I don't think your new chancellor is doing a very good job in government."

  "He has already tried to resign, but I persuaded him to be chancellor only of this new center of study. He is ambitious; he hopes to build a community of scholars who will, together, pursue all human knowledge."

  "Is he going to call it a 'university'?"

  "If you mention the word, I am sure he will adopt it. Still, he is generous in his advice, when I ask it—and I have begun to select other men to do the work of the state. But I shall never again give any one man such broad powers as I entrusted to Rebozo—so Arouetto shall keep the title of chancellor, and I shall develop others for the men who do the work of government."

  "Wise policy. You have very good judgment, your Majesty."

  "I appreciate the praise, Lord Wizard." But Matt could see the young king brace himself against flattery.

  "Well, I'm glad you accepted my challenge and watched Arouetto teach, at least—and even gladder that you seized upon the idea of bringing them all into the castle without my having to mention it."

  "Which, I am sure, you would have—but there was so much value evident in the idea, that even I could not blind myself to it." Boncorro smiled. "Already, the noblemen have begun to take artists into their households, and their wives have begun to invite scholars to their social gatherings. There is a positive stampede to catch a tame poet!"

  "Which means there will be a lot of charlatans showing up, very fast. Might I encourage your Majesty to test very thoroughly anyone claiming to be cultured?"

  "Wise advice." Boncorro didn't say he had already thought of it—he only said, "I must become as much a connoisseur as Arouetto—but I think the becoming will be a joy, and an excellent means to rest and refresh my spirit after a day of intrigue and striving."

  "There is something to be said for night school," Matt admitted. "Uh, I've, uh, taken the liberty of strolling through the marketplace in my minstrel's costume, and out into the suburbs..."

  "Spying again, Lord Wizard?"

  "Yes, but for you this time."

  "And for Queen Alisande, of course."

  "Well, of course! And already I'm hearing peasants singing arias while they work, and seeing people really beginning to look at all those pieces of statues left over from the Caesars. People are even beginning to debate what is Right and Virtuous on the street corners. Of course, one of those corners is in the red-light district..."

  "But even there, the discussion should render some improvement in the way they treat one another." Boncorro nodded. "I can no longer deny it, Lord Wizard—my actions have been aimed at making people good, for my father was good, and that is the quality I will always admire secondmost."

  "Second? May I ask what the first is?"

  "Strength," said the king. "Survival. But come, Lord Wizard—we will be late in meeting the pope's ambassador."

  Matt exchanged glad greetings with Brother Thomas, then introduced him to the king, and right away the whole meeting had a much less formal tone. Before they could even mention any matters of state or the purpose of the visit, Matt told Boncorro, "Brother Thomas is studying the notion that magical power is not good or evil in itself, and doesn't come from either God or Satan—that only the knowledge of how to use it comes from Good or Evil, and makes the magic what it is."

  "Really!" said Boncorro with keen interest.

  "Ah—well, yes, but I may not speak of that, your Majesty,
" Brother Thomas said uncomfortably. "The pope has not given me leave and is not sure that what I say can be correct."

  "Correct?" Boncorro gave him a hard smile. "But surely, just between two men who pursue knowledge, we may speak of it! It is not as if you were going to preach it from the rooftops! Now tell me, if magic does not come from God, what are miracles?"

  "Oh, something else altogether!" Brother Thomas fell without even realizing it, and the two of them were off into an hour's conversation that had overtones of argument, but undertones of keen enjoyment. They finally got around to mentioning the pope's objectives over dinner.

  "His Holiness sends his thanks for freeing himself and his clergy, your Majesty, and allowing them to preach openly, without fear of persecution."

  "It is my pleasure." Boncorro smiled. "And quite possible, now that most of the leading sorcerers in the land have revealed themselves in trying to aid Rebozo, and have been dealt with. Tell his Holiness that I am pleased by his attentions."

  "I shall," said Brother Thomas. "He hopes that you will return this visit of courtesy and come to the Vatican to visit him."

  The room was silent. Finally, the king spoke. "I thank his Holiness, but I fear that matters of state are too demanding at this time. I will send my ambassador, however."

  "Ah," Brother Thomas said with regret. "You are still shy of religion, then?"

  "Let us say that I am not yet ready to become an ardent Catholic, Brother Thomas—but I have begun to see a great deal of merit in many of your Church's views and am beginning to think God may exist after all. However, I will invite his Holiness to appoint a chaplain to my court—provided he is yourself."

  "Your Majesty!" Brother Thomas said, dazed. "I am not worthy! I am not even a priest!"

  "Then perhaps you had better be ordained," King Boncorro said shortly. "Now, good friar—you were saying that mathematics is, in essence, only a language for describing how the universe works. Might it not, then, be a means of effecting magic?"

  And they were off again, with Brother Thomas explaining that trying to understand the universe was one more way of trying to understand its Creator, and that mathematics, therefore, could be another route to God.

  Matt leaned over to Saul and said, "Maybe we ought to introduce the printing press. After all, we want this learning to reach the masses, don't we?"

  "Maybe we shouldn't," Saul retorted. "Bring in the printing press, and your university will degenerate into 'publish or perish.' "

  Their last day began with an impressive ceremony in the throne room, at which Boncorro knighted Pascal. Then, while he was still dazed, he declared the poet and Flaminia to be man and wife. Dazzled even more, the poet left the king's presence to begin his honeymoon.

  Then they all went out of the castle into the bailey, where Alisande's knights stood bridled and ready, and Stegoman huffed beside Sir Guy, impatient to be off.

  But Manny lay purring, watching Pascal and Flaminia move toward the entrance tunnel. He rose to his feet. "I must follow where his spell leads me, Wizard."

  "Well, somebody's got to keep him out of trouble. His Majesty has sent word through all his reeves that any farmer who sells you a cow can just bill his Majesty. But don't stuff yourself, okay?"

  "I shall be circumspect," the manticore promised. "Farewell, Wizard! Summon me at need!" He bounded off after the young couple, who were too busy gazing into one another's eyes to notice him.

  Matt had to admit he wasn't entirely sorry to part company with the manticore. All those teeth made him nervous.

  Then he turned and felt the fire of instant jealousy. King Boncorro was paying entirely too much attention to his sister monarch—and the attentions were anything but brotherly.

  His eye gleamed as he bowed to the young queen, her habergeon again lashed behind her saddle, standing demurely clad in a gown that nonetheless should have been classified as a diplomatic weapon. Boncorro kissed her hand, and may be excused if he lingered, for Alisande was very beautiful.

  May be. Matt had to remind himself that the king wasn't really making advances—but his blood boiled anyway.

  "I regret that you could not accept my invitation to stay longer, your Majesty," King Boncorro said.

  "I am honored, your Majesty." Alisande gave the handsome young man a roguish smile, making Matt's blood boil. "But I must needs tend my own kingdom, and I have been absent too long."

  "Ah, well!" Boncorro sighed. "Perhaps I might return this visit?"

  "We will always be glad to welcome yourself and your knights at our court, your Majesty—my husband and I together."

  A flash of irritation crossed Boncorro's features, but he took it in good part, turning to Matt and saying, "I suppose I should count it a compliment, Lord Wizard, that you have never allowed me more than a minute's conversation alone with your enchanting wife."

  "A compliment...? Oh! Yes. Of course. Definitely," Matt said.

  "Well, I must despair of the opportunity, then," Boncorro sighed, "for I would not wish the early death of the Lord Wizard, when he has aided me so vastly—even though that may not have been his intention."

  "A live ally is always worth more than a dead rival," Sir Guy pointed out.

  "True, true," Boncorro admitted. "But if you should have a daughter, your Majesty, and if she is as beautiful as yourself, I will pray for an introduction."

  "For your son, perhaps, your Majesty." Alisande dimpled. "But first I must see to an heir."

  "Well, we're working on it," Matt reminded her.

  "No," said Alisande, looking directly into his eyes. "I am. Your part is done."

  "What do you mean?" Matt frowned, and the jealousy boiled over. "What is this? One look at a handsome king, and I'm suddenly redundant? I mean, I know he's—"

  Sir Guy coughed. "Lord Wizard," he said, "I think her Majesty's meaning has escaped you."

  "What do you mean? She was saying my part in it was—" Matt broke off as realization hit him, and stared at Alisande.

  She smiled, as much with relief as with joy.

  "Oh, darling!" Matt gathered her to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  "A wandering Catholic, aye,

  A thing of texts and catches."

  Early in life, Christopher Stasheff found a catch in almost every point of Catholic dogma except the main ones, and was been spiritually wandering ever since. He had a lot of doubts about the Church, but only questions about the faith.

  One day, he realized that most of the medieval fantasies he read seldom mentioned the Devil, and never God. He vehemently maintained that wasn't the way medieval Christians really saw the world—they saw God everywhere, in everything, and the Devil always lurking, looking for an opening—and that authors really ought to write their fantasies a little closer to reality. Then he realized that, being a fantasy author, he was stuck with writing his next story that way.

  Christopher Stasheff spent his early childhood in Mount Vernon, New York, but spent the rest of his formative years in Ann Arbor, Michigan. He always had difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality and tried to compensate by teaching college. When teaching proved too real, he gave it up in favor of writing full time. He tried to pre-script his life, but couldn't understand why other people never got their lines right. This caused a fair amount of misunderstanding with his wife and four children. He wrote novels because it was the only way he could be the director, the designer, and all the actors too.

  More Kobo eBooks by Christopher Stasheff...

  Escape Velocity

  The Warlock's Grandfather

  The Warlock in Spite of Himself

  King Kobold Revived

  The Warlock Unlocked

  The Warlock Enraged

  The Warlock Wandering

  The Warlock Is Missing

  The Warlock Heretical

  The Warlock's Companion

  The Warlock Insane

  The Warlock Rock

  Warlock and
Son

  The Warlock's Last Ride

  A Wizard in Absentia

  M'Lady Witch

  Here Be Monsters

  A Wizard in Absentia

  A Wizard in Mind

  A Wizard in Bedlam

  A Wizard in War

  A Wizard in Peace

  A Wizard in Chaos

  A Wizard in Midgard

  A Wizard and a Warlord

  A Wizard in the Way

  A Wizard in a Feud

  Her Majesty's Wizard

  The Oathbound Wizard

  The Witch Doctor

  The Secular Wizard

  My Son, the Wizard

  The Haunted Wizard

  The Crusading Wizard

  The Feline Wizard

  Saint Vidicon to the Rescue

  Mind Out of Time

  The Crafters (volume 1)

  The Crafters (volume 2)