The pope smiled. “I knew you to be a man that has a great love for knowledge, Clovis. I call this room my personal archive, the works in here can only be viewed and studied by me. I have chosen the most important and mystifying from the great library and from my predecessor’s private collections and had them brought here. Some of the manuscripts and scrolls here are hundreds, even thousands, of years old, brought back to us over the years by many members of the Church. Priests on the pilgrimages, knights on quests, even our armies have carried some back from lands far away as spoils of war. These servants of God in their divine reclamation of these works have blessed us with the knowledge of the world, Clovis, and I have ascertained a great many things pondering over these old records. Things the likes of which you could not imagine. Information is a wisdom few take advantage of and a power that should not to be overlooked.
“I have always thought you to be a man with a sharp mind, my friend. That is why I asked you here, but it’s not the books alone that I wished you to see.” The Holy Father reached up and put his hands on the side of one of the bookcases. “Help me, my son.” Clovis aided the pope in pushing one of the heavy bookcases to the side, revealing a dimly lit staircase leading down. “Follow me,” the pope said, sounding almost giddy.
The stairway descended deep into the bowels of the Grand Cathedral. Clovis was shocked when they reached the bottom. There were several hallways and tunnels leading in every direction. He'd had no idea that the network of passages under the great church even existed.
Following the elderly pope and listening as he spoke, Clovis quickly became lost as they traversed the maze of hallways. “As you know, Clovis, the Grand Cathedral’s original construction was started by Pope Illias a little over seven hundred years ago. He must have been the one that ordered this secret monastery to be built beneath it, to what purpose or his reasoning for it, I could not say. I was unaware of its existence till after I became pope. I was reading some of the past pope’s commentaries and they made mention of a domicile under the cathedral. Well, I have a terrible curiosity for the unknown, so I decide to set about discovering the place. It took me two years to find all the ways in and another to completely search its deserted passageways and empty rooms.
“I did nothing with the knowledge at first, the business of establishing my papacy kept me quite busy. Then several years ago, I learned of the prophecy set down by Gregory, the mad hermit. It predicts that our beloved Church would one day be forced to face a great and ancient evil. It was then that I decided to put this colossal vault to use. I call it a monastery but it is much more. No one in the hierarchy of the Church knows of this location but me, and now you. I trust if something ever happens to me, you will continue the work I have started down here.”
Clovis was stunned by what the pope had told him. To his knowledge, no one had the faintest idea that the Holy Father was wandering around under the Grand Cathedral. What he was really interested in was what Pope Ammiel had been doing down here.
The pope stopped before an iron-bound door. “Before I show you what is behind here, I must stress to you the importance of secrecy. If any hint of the truth gets out, I will be very disappointed with you.”
The grand inquisitor nodded his understanding; he knew very well what would happen if he disappointed the pope. The threat was unnecessary, though. Clovis would never betray the Holy Father’s confidence under any circumstances.
The old man pushed the door open. It took Clovis a moment to take in the vast room. At least two hundred men sat in the pews of a very large chapel, and all were dressed in white hooded cassocks belted with a red cord. Hanging from the cord around each man’s waist was a dark-shafted wooden baton tipped with a small silver ball the size of a hen’s egg.
Standing at a podium addressing the strange congregation was old man in a blue robe; his hair and beard were snow white, as were his eyes. When the pope entered, the man stopped speaking and regarded the pontiff as if he was sighted.
“Is this some new order of monks?” Clovis stammered.
“In a sense, yes. I call them the “Blessed.” Each has been touched by God and imbued with his righteous power. Each and every one sanctified by God's own sacred word. At least that is how the world will come to know them.”
Clovis pulled at his ear, a habit he had when he was trying to think. “I don’t understand, Your Holiness?”
“It is a bit difficult to explain. Perhaps a demonstration is in order. I think it will be easier for you to comprehend if you see, that will be better than any clarification I could give you.” The pope motioned one of the white-garbed monks to him. “Would you be so kind as to step out in the hall a moment…Brother?”
“Joseph, Your Holiness,” the hooded monk muttered.
“Brother Joseph, please give the grand inquisitor a brief demonstration of some of the things you can do.”
“As you wish, Your Holiness.” The monk raised his silver-tipped rod. Fire spat forth from its end and filled the hallway with flame. The heat caused Clovis to shield his eyes with his hand and turn away. The monk lowered the rod and the fire dissipated. Clovis stared at the hooded man, his mouth hanging open. Brother Joseph pointed his finger at him and Clovis floated a few feet into the air as if he were as light as a feather. The strange priest lowered his arm and grand inquisitor dropped heavily, nearly landing on his backside.
“That will be all, Brother Joseph.” The monk bowed to the pope and walked back into the room. Pope Ammiel closed the door and looked at Clovis with a raised eyebrow.
“By all the saints and angels, Your Holiness, how is this possible?”
“It is God’s and my secret, and now it is yours.”
Clovis knew the power the monk used was not given to him by God. “Your Holiness, the Church has edicts against the use of magic; the Holy Tome calls it a temptation of the Beast. These “Blessed” of yours will never be accepted by the hierarchy of the Church, or any common priest, for that matter. They are wizards plan, and simple.”
The pope frowned. “How dare you call God’s own heavenly power magic. The Blessed have been chosen to wield their power by divine right. God’s gifts should never be questioned, only accepted and used in his mighty name.”
Clovis swallowed hard. “I humbly beg your forgiveness, Father, but I know magic when I see it.”
The pope grinned slyly. “Of course you do, Clovis, you are a wise and intelligent man. It is why I picked you, and I believe you will understand the reason I had to take this step. Now you know the secret God and I have been keeping.
“I plan to announce their existence to Holy Mother Church tomorrow. As far as anyone else is concerned, the Blessed have been given their power by God himself. Given time, I’m sure others will figure out our little ruse, but we will never confirm their suspicions. I plan for you to use some of the monks on your mission, so it is important that we make them known to the rest of the Church as soon as possible.”
The grand inquisitor nodded. “I understand, Your Holiness, but if I am to keep this secret, I would like to know its truth.”
“Ask any questions you have, my son. I will try and answer them as best I can.”
Clovis put a finger to his lips, deciding what to ask first. “Where do these monks come from?”
The pope spread his hands wide. “They are in abundant supply. My associates have found them all over the world, just poor young men born with magical abilities they didn’t know how to use. They were taken in and cared for and now they are all zealots sworn to do God’s will…and mine.
“The old blind man you saw is Hamerac Greyseer, a wizard I met in my youth long before I became a priest. He has been steadily instructing the Blessed for several years, teaching and training them. He has also been indispensable to me in the shaping of the brothers’ minds.”
“What do you mean by shaping?" Clovis asked apprehensively.
“A little bit of indoctrination. We must be sure of their devotion, after all,” the pope said, w
aving off the question. “Hamerac was also instrumental in creating the Rods of Absolution. Without him and a few of his colleagues, this endeavor of mine would have never been possible.”
Clovis squinted. “Rods of Absolution?”
“Yes, the batons they carry. Hamerac says they have something to do with focusing power, I don’t really know, I don’t get too involved in the details, but I assure you in the days to come, the world will learn to fear them.”
“So now the Church will wield its own magic?” Clovis said almost sorrowfully.
“Yes, it is unfortunate, but I told you, many years ago I read the mad hermit’s prophecy and I believed the day Gregory predicted would come to pass. That is why I long ago began to prepare. My dear Clovis, we have foes steeped in sorcery. If we don’t have a way to combat their power, the Church and all we hold dear will be destroyed. The enemies of God are coming and we must resist them on all fronts. I will do whatever I must to protect the Church, Clovis, even if it contradicts what the Tome teaches.”
Clovis tilted his head. “Of what enemies do you speak, Holiness?”
“The children of the Beast, those with blood as black as night. That is why I have begun hunting them. If that foul sore is allowed to fester, Saree itself may not survive.”
He felt a twinge of fear. The pope sounded frightened for the safety of the world itself. He had no idea the pagans that Dracen and the Hand had been hunting over the last few years posed such a great threat.
Reaching out, the pope squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my son, I have everything under control. Now let us go speak of your mission and the evil we are truly fighting. There are a great many things I have to explain to you, Clovis, and you may not like all of them.”
Pope Ammiel slowly paced back and forth in front of his desk, while Clovis sat in a comfortable chair attempting to listen to his instructions. Many of the things he had just been told were still swirling around in his mind. Some of what Pope Ammiel had conveyed was incredible and frightening to say the least.
He had calmed himself and was now trying to stay focused on the undertaking he had been tasked with. Now was not the time to reflect on the astonishing statements the Holy Father had made. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then fixed his attention on what the pope was saying.
“First, I want you to pay King Hugo of Quintar a visit, make sure he has done what I asked. I made him a fair bargain, so he should already have things in place. If he doesn’t or tries to make any excuses, assure him the full weight of God’s wrath will descend on him if he hasn’t complied with my demands. ”
“I can promise you, Hugo won’t be a problem, Your Holiness,” Clovis said, leaning forward in his chair. “He knows if Malric holds on to the throne, it will leave Quintar open to an invasion from Masaria. Malric will never be content to sit on the throne and just rule. The man is greedy. Sooner or later, he will set his sights on Quintar, so it’s in Hugo’s best interest to help see that Malric is deposed.”
Dropping his head and rubbing his eyes, the pope looked squarely at his grand inquisitor. “Haven’t you been listening? Why do you think any of this is about Malric? I could care less about that idiot upstart; he will easily be dealt with. I don’t need an army to take Masaria away from him. Malric will be unseated with guile. I have already set things in motion to see it done.”
“Then why send General Kattan or go to King Hugo for aid?”
“I like to hedge my bets when I can, Clovis. Kattan is a distraction, but in the off chance he is successful, so much the better. Malric will fall, of this there is no doubt, but it’s the black bloods that must be snared in our trap. The children of the Beast are the true enemy; it is they who must be destroyed. If all goes as planned, I will crush Malric and a good number of those demons in one fell swoop. So you see, if Kattan fails and by some miracle they elude my deception, I have Hugo and the Quintarns to fall back on. It never pays to bet all your gold on one horse, Clovis.”
“I thought Bennington and Milara were handling the children of the Beast?”
“One aspect of it, but they have had little success. I received word that they have returned to Tyro and should be arriving in Asqutania very soon. Their message said they allowed the demon half-breed to be taken from them by the Circle of Thirteen. From what I understand, all they managed to do was put one of the she-devil’s children to death.”
“If the Circle has this abomination you spoke of, he is as good as dead,” Clovis asserted.
The pope sighed. “One would think so, yes, but that monster is clever. I would have liked to have seen it die with my own two eyes, just to be sure.
“Never the less, Vanguard and the Circle will most likely dissect the creature to learn its secrets or extinguish it in some other fashion. There is little that can be done about that situation at the moment. Right now, I want to concentrate on Masaria.
“The Blessed will be invaluable to you, coordinating things with Bishop Carter. Now listen to me, Clovis, the timing will have to be just right. When we strike, it must be quick and lethal.”
***
The rhythmic cadence of the horse’s hooves sounded like a primitive melody as they cantered down the Gold Road. A few more days would find them back in Asqutania. Dracen had read the message Bennington sent ahead to the Holy Father. Oddly, he had made no mention of their prisoner. He had been expecting the Fist to make some lewd comment on why he had omitted Endra’s capture in the message, but so far Alfred had been silent on the subject. He knew Alfred Bennington well enough to know the man would not let an opportunity to extort him slip through his fingers. He would have to find out what the cunning priest’s intentions were before they reached the holy city.
Dracen had committed a terrible sin back in the village, and twice more as they had traveled south. The breach of his vows would cost him dearly if the pope found out. The Hands with them may suspect what he had done, but he wasn’t worried about any of them. Bennington was the only one who had seen, and his word would hold much more sway than some lowly Hand’s misgivings.
He needed to know what the Fist intended to do with that information or his homecoming could be very unpleasant. Dracen trotted up beside the priest. “We will be back in Asqutania soon, Lord Fist, do you have any plans upon our return?”
Bennington grinned. Giving his horse a kick in the side, he galloped ahead of his men. Dracen followed, knowing the Fist wanted their conversation to be private. When Bennington slowed, the lord justice guided his horse alongside the Fist’s mare. “Well, Alfred?”
“To answer your question, Lord Justice, what I do when we return depends on you.”
Dracen sighed. “I thought as much. What will your silence cost me?”
“A few favors here and there, you taking responsibility for our failure to kill the half-breed, and ten thousand in gold.”
Dracen shook his head and snorted. “That is absurd, a small fortune and to be forever in your debt. I think I will take my chances with the Holy Father.”
“You know what will happen if you confess. Besides, you’re not just buying my silence, give me what I want and I will let you have the woman as well.
“I know you have a country home here in northern Tyro. I will have a couple of my men escort her there and after we have made our report to Pope Ammiel, you can go rape her any time you like.”
A lump formed in Dracen’s throat. “I have not raped anyone, she was willing. You heard it yourself.”
Benington laughed at his denial. “She agreed because we threatened her child’s life, and she hasn’t spoken since. Is her silence what you call giving consent?”
“Shut up, you bastard. I will not hear any talk of rape. My behavior was clearly inappropriate and a violation of my vows, but I raped no one.”
“I meant no insult. I was just pointing out that the woman could be yours to do with what you willed if you agreed to my price,” Bennington said mockingly.
Dracen looked back at Endra. She was t
ied to a horse being led like a dog on a chain by one of the Hands. Even unwashed and foul-smelling, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The only marring she possessed was that her once lovely dark eyes were now lifeless and dull. The woman’s mind was gone.
The death of her child had broken her. Perhaps it was best for him that she was in this state. She would offer no resistance to his desires. Watching her son die had made the savage woman from the north very docile, and powerless to stop his carnal yearnings.
He could have her taken to his estate here in the north. His servants would bathe her in scented water and dress like a proper lady. Then when his duties allowed, he could go see her and take his pleasures any time and any way he wished. “I agree to your terms, Lord Fist,” he said, still staring at their prisoner.
Bennington leaned back in his saddle and stretched his back. “I had no doubt you would. There’s no shame in your cravings, Dracen. The Church wants us to hold to a vow that goes against our very nature as men. Besides, the woman is worthless now, any interrogation would prove useless. It’s clear she is unbalanced, her sanity drifted away in the smoke of that fire. I think even Clovis would find it impossible to get anything out of her. If we returned her to the Church in the end, she would just be put to death, and I think we’re both entitled to some kind of reward after all the trouble we went through to capture the bitch.”
Dracen leaned over and touched Bennington’s arm. “Then we are in agreement that the pope does not need to know anything about her capture.”
Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2) Page 22