The Bishop’s Heir (33 page)

“And does Istelyn have time?” Bradene demanded. “How do you intend to answer that?”

As he gestured angrily toward the box across from him and Kelson, the king slapped his open palm against the table in consternation.

“Obviously I cannot answer it, Archbishop! I have already said that I can do nothing for Istelyn. I shall reiterate our demand that Caitrin and her son submit to me by Christmas.”

“And if she does not?”

Kelson sighed heavily, his momentary anger deflated.

“If she does not, then I shall take the Princess Sidana to wife at Twelfth Night and send out summons of array for a spring campaign.”

“Alas, I fear that will mean Istelyn's death,” Cardiel said, as murmurs of concurrence rippled around the table.

“We must count Istelyn as dead already, my lords,” Morgan said softly. “And if he dies, then we must make his death count for something. I know he would support the king's wish to settle all as bloodlessly as possible, but if necessary, the spring shall see his murderers confounded with the sword.”

“Very well,” Bradene replied. “I see that there is no appeal for that. Fortunately, the Church has weapons other than the sword with which to confound Loris and his would-be Mearan queen. Nor need we wait until the spring to use them.”

As Bradene swept his fellow bishops with his hard glance, almost in challenge, Kelson knew with a chill certainty what was coming next.

“I propose a rite of general excommunication,” Bradene went on. “That we formally strip Loris of his rank and priesthood—something we should have done two years ago—that we suspend the bishops who have taken his part, and that we excommunicate the lot of them, including the Mearan royal family.”

The other bishops nodded gravely, murmuring among themselves; but Kelson's stomach did a slow, queasy roll, even though he had been half-expecting someone to bring up the subject before they were done. Having been excommunicated himself at one time, if only for reason of Loris' spite, Kelson could not but feel pity for those about to incur the same fate. He glanced at Morgan and Duncan, who had felt the cold breath of excommunication even more directly than himself, and caught their similar recoil at the very notion; but it needed to be done. Excommunication was a language Loris would understand, though it would also enrage him.

“I agree,” Cardiel said quietly. “The measure comes after much provocation. Do you also recommend a general Interdict of Meara, my lord?”

As the others drew in breath—for Interdict would bar everyone in Meara from all sacraments and solace of the Church, even the innocent—Bradene shook his head.

“I would not place that burden upon the entire Mearan people at this time—though it may prove necessary in the future, if excommunication does not bring the principals to heel. No, what I have outlined is sufficient for the present, I think—unless you have some valid objection, Sire?”

Kelson bowed his head. “I would not presume to dictate the conscience of my bishops, Excellency,” he whispered. “If you feel this action warranted, then so be it.”

“It should be done as soon as possible, then,” Bradene said decisively. “Tonight, I think, after Compline—so that our response may go to Loris and the Lady Caitrin along with His Majesty's.”

Cardiel nodded. “The necessary documents can be drawn up by nightfall. My monks will assist us. Sire, we would count it a particular favor if you and the rest of these lords of state could lend us your support by your presence.”

“We shall attend you,” Kelson replied.

Bradene nodded, relieved. “Thank you, Sire. I should like your support in a happier matter as well. I have had no opportunity to consult with my brother Cardiel, but I feel certain he will concur with what I should like to propose.”

As he turned his glance across the table to Duncan and smiled, his intention immediately became clear.

“Father McLain, you know that I was in complete sympathy with your wish to delay your consecration until the spring, so that you might better prepare yourself for your increased responsibilities, but our changed circumstances are such that I feel we need you now. Confirmation of your rank will also underline the authority of the bishops who elected you and help to strengthen our present position regarding Loris' bid for power. Will you consent to be consecrated immediately? Or as soon as may conveniently be arranged?”

As Cardiel nodded agreement, Arilan and Hugh also turning expectant eyes on Duncan, Kelson allowed himself to relax just a little. This he could support without a qualm. He sensed Morgan's support as well, as he turned his keen Haldane gaze on Duncan. The Deryni priest folded his hands precisely on the table before him and let out a long, resigned sigh before looking up at his superior.

“I will consent, Excellency, but I would ask one indulgence on your part: I wish to be invested with Bishop Istelyn's ring.” He glanced around defensively. “It would mean a great deal to me. We may be helpless to save his physical body, but I would at least do honor to the courage and conviction of his soul.”

“Well said,” Kelson murmured, as Bradene and Cardiel exchanged approving glances.

“It shall be done as you have asked,” Bradene said. “We shall set your consecration for three days hence. But for now, Sire, by your leave, I think we must all retire to prepare our various answers to Loris and his cohorts.”

The bishops' answer was given substance later that night. Kelson did not relish his part in it, but he attended as he had promised. Kneeling in the front row of the south choir stalls, Dhugal and Morgan to either side of him and the rest of his council behind, he listened to Bradene sing the opening invocation, answered by the circle of cowled monks and priest-bishops around him. Duncan stood among them.

“
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti
.…”

“
Amen
.”

The cathedral was darkened save for the candles in the hands of the gathered clergy and the red glow of the Presence Lamp above the altar behind them. A draft curled down the nave and through the choir, making the candlelight dance fitful shadows on vestments, choir screens, and stalls. Bradene stood with Cardiel on the lowest altar step, both of them wearing black copes and mitres and also holding a candle apiece. A long strip of parchment trailed from Bradene's other hand, ragged at the bottom with heavy pendant seals.

“My lords and my brothers, it is my unpleasant duty to pronounce the following judgment, to which all of you have subscribed,” he said. “Be it duly witnessed, here before the altar of the Lord and in the Presence of the Hosts of Heaven, that we do what we do without malice, and for the good of the souls of those involved, in hopes that they may come to recognize the error of their ways and repent, returning at last to the loving bosom of Mother Church.”

Clearing his throat a little nervously, he handed his candle to Cardiel and brought the parchment within the range of its light, beginning to read in a voice which carried through the choir and all along the nave.

“Whereas Edmund Loris, priest and former archbishop, hath fled the just penance of a duly constituted synod of his equals and thus rejected the authority of those set above him; and whereas said Edmund Loris hath consorted with rebellious subjects of his lawful liege and king, forswearing his own sacred vows by such action, and exhorted them to treasonous acts; and whereas the said Edmund Loris hath resumed authority to which he no longer hath claim and hath used that authority illicitly to consecrate a bishop neither elected by a properly constituted synod nor approved by the king; and whereas said Edmund Loris hath usurped the authority of a brother bishop in his own diocese, and forced him to witness illicit acts, and caused him grievous physical harm, and used threats against his life in an attempt to sway others to his treasonous ways.

“So therefore do we, Bradene, by the Grace of God Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd, pronounce said Edmund Loris deprived of his episcopal rank and degraded from the fellowship and office of the priesthood throughout the land. We do further excommunicate the said Edmund Loris and suspend and excommunicate all bishops claiming to owe him obedience, especially Creoda of Carbury and Judhael of Meara. Likewise do we excommunicate Caitrin of Meara, Sicard MacArdry, and Ithel of Meara, and bar them from all solace of Mother Church. Let no church of God be open to them, but let every sacred temple and sanctuary be shut against them.…”

Squirming inwardly, Kelson sat back on his heels as the rite continued and made himself rest his chin quietly on his folded hands, unable to put from mind his own excommunication and the blind panic it had first evoked. He sensed a similar discomfiture in Morgan, kneeling motionless at his right, but outwardly the Deryni lord was as composed as always. He dared not try to read Dhugal. Behind, he was aware of Nigel and Conall, quiet and awed, and Jodrell and Saer de Traherne to their left, only a little less affected for never having been directly exposed to this aspect of the Church's power before. Ewan sat alone behind them all, indulgent, dozing a little; he had never been much for formal ceremonies. Out on the choir floor, Duncan seemed to be holding his own reactions in tight check; but Kelson had no doubt that he, too, was remembering a time, not so long ago, when it had been they, not Loris, who had been the subjects of anathema.

“.… We will neither give them the right hand of fellowship, nor eat at the same table with them, and much less will we communicate in sacred mysteries with those who choose to take part with Edmund Loris.…”

They were twenty-six gathered before the altar tonight, the black-coped archbishops set like twin stones in the ring of somber-garbed bishops, priests, and monks. Duncan was a vague, indefinite form between Arilan and Hugh de Berry, more evident by his psychic presence than by sight. Bradene's voice rose in volume as the words of condemnation rolled from his tongue, the tension of the ecclesiastical magic building as the rite neared its climax.

“.… And unless they speedily come to a better mind and make satisfaction to us, we confound them with eternal malediction and condemn with perpetual anathema. Curst be they in the house, curst in the field; curst be their food and drink and all that they possess. We declare them excommunicate and numbered among the thrice-damned. May they have their portion with Dathan and Abiram, whom hell swallowed up quick, and with Pilate, and Judas, who betrayed the Lord. So do we strike their names from the Book of Life. So may their light be quenched in the midst of darkness. Amen. So be it!”

And with his final words, and as the others responded, “So be it!” Bradene took back his candle and, with Cardiel, stepped down from the altar step and moved to the center of the circle, the others closing the gap behind them. In silence the two archbishops raised their candles aloft and held for several heartbeats, then reversed them end for end and snuffed the flames against the floor. The others followed suit, the hollow clatter of the falling candles echoing ominously in the darkening choir.

When the silence settled, no light shone save the Presence Lamp glowing above the high altar. Not a word was spoken as participants and witnesses filed slowly from the heavy dark.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

But now it is come upon thee, and thou faintest; it toucheth
thee,
and thou art troubled
.

Job 4:5

In the days that followed, the worsening political situation claimed increasing amounts of time and energy on the parts of everyone at court, forcing Kelson to shift his personal concerns for Dhugal into a place of secondary importance. Still, he worried. But the constant demands of his royal station left no opportunity to seek out the intimate counsel he might have asked of Morgan and Duncan in less harried times—and that seemed to content Dhugal very well. The young border lord carefully avoided any mention of what had happened in the cathedral, but his behavior made it clear that he was not yet ready to venture a repeat of his experience. Though Kelson tried to broach the subject several times, suggesting that Deryni ministrations might ease Dhugal's discomfort and perhaps even speed his recovery, Dhugal always managed to sidestep the issue without ever alluding to it specifically.

It was just as well, perhaps, for both Kelson and Morgan had spent nearly every waking hour bound up in meetings of one sort or another, first hammering out the terms of the royal reply to Caitrin and Loris and then cloistered with Nigel and the other commanders, preparing the writs of summons that must go out to all Kelson's liegemen if Meara could not be coaxed back into the fold by peaceable means. Duncan was predictably preoccupied with preparations for his suddenly imminent consecration. Even Morgan saw little of him during those two days.

The morning of the third day marked a temporary suspension of war preparations, however, for Duncan's consecration was to take place at noon. In honor of the occasion, Archbishop Cardiel announced a relaxation of the usual dietary restrictions of Advent, to which Kelson responded by declaring a celebration feast for that evening. The opportunity for respite from the past days' tensions lent the court a festive air to which even Morgan responded, putting aside the serviceable but plain leathers and homespuns of the past few days in favor of a rich court robe and cloak of fine sapphire blue wool. He had not been expecting a summons to attend the incipient Bishop Duncan before his consecration, however, and hurried to his cousin's quarters with some apprehension when a servant came to fetch him.

“Duncan?” he called, when he had dismissed the deacon who admitted him and glanced around the room.

“In here,” came the muffled reply.

A tremor was evident in hand as well as voice as Duncan emerged partway from behind a heavy curtain screening the oratory beyond. Freshly barbered and shaved, he was clad in the expected priestly vestments of alb, amice, and crossed stole over a purple cassock, wanting only the white cope on a nearby stand to complete his attire for the entrance procession not an hour away; but his face wore anything but the serenity and calm which should have been his when approaching episcopal consecration. He kept his eyes averted as he backed against the curtain to make the opening larger, flinching when Morgan brushed past him to enter.