Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank (25 page)

Germanus grew to be a constant in my life, the dominating force behind my mental and physical growth for the seven years that followed Chulderic's single day of tuition and enlightenment, and as in the lives of all growing boys, the majority of the mundane events and ordinary, undistinguished times in those seven years have long since been forgotten, leaving only the high points and grand events to be remembered.

As King Ban had told me he would, Germanus arrived at our gates within the month, accompanied by a small retinue, and on the night of his arrival, before dinner, King Ban summoned me to his private quarters to meet my new guardian. As I made my way to the King's chambers, I visualized some kind of wizened cleric, stooped with piety and learning, long-bearded and wearing a high, pointed hat. It was only long months later that I realized I had been visualizing a sorcerer, the image dredged up from some half-forgotten memory of someone else's story told over a fire on a winter's night. The reality was radically different.

The Lady Vivienne emerged from her own chamber to meet me as I entered the long suite of rooms she shared with the King, and she immediately stopped me and took my hands, holding me out at arm's length as she examined my appearance. She turned my hands over and inspected my palms, then turned them back and peered closely at my fingernails, and only when she had satisfied herself that I had bathed that day and was fit to present to an important guest did she nod and ruffle my hair before leading me into the room where King Ban sat talking with Bishop Germanus.

I knew this had to be Germanus the moment I set eyes on him because there was no one else in the room, and that was very unusual. Whenever King Ban entertained guests there were always other people around—advisers and military personnel and other dignitaries—to share the burden of amusing and engaging the visitor and to act as cushions between King and guests on those few occasions when the situation grew strained, difficult or tiresome. No such situation, I knew, could possibly arise with Germanus, an old and much-loved friend.

Ban heard us as soon as the doors swung open and he rose to his feet to greet us. His guest rose at the same time, and my first impressions of him were confusing. He was nowhere near as tall as Ban, nor was he quite as broad across the shoulders, and he was far, far older than the King, yet he struck me immediately as being by far the larger of the two men. It would be years before I encountered the concept of
presence
as it applied to some people, but even although I had no notion of what it was when I first saw Germanus of Auxerre, I was awestruck by my immediate awareness that here was someone larger than life. Rising to his feet beside the King, he seemed to
loom
over Ban, though he was neither as large as Ban was nor as magnificently dressed. He simply radiated appeal, filling the room with it and demanding the attention of anyone and everyone who entered.

He certainly claimed all my attention from the moment I set eyes on him, and I watched in open-mouthed admiration as he strode across the room to greet the Lady Vivienne, his face beaming in a wide-mouthed grin of sheer pleasure. He had no time for me at that moment; all his attention was focused tightly upon his hostess, whom he had not seen, I gathered, since his arrival. As I stared, amazed, he threw his arms about her and hugged her in a very
unbishoply
manner—that word, which sprang newborn into my mind as I watched him, has remained in my vocabulary ever since. Effortlessly, and despite his advanced age, he lifted her clear of the ground and spun her around, kissing her soundly on both cheeks as he told her how happy he was to see her again after so long a time. He then placed her firmly back on her feet and did much the same thing to her as she had done to me mere moments earlier: he held her out at arm's length, her fingertips in his, in order to examine her from head to toe, and then proceeded to heap compliments and blandishments upon every aspect of her appearance, from her gown and veil to her complexion and her hair. The Queen preened with pleasure and her husband the King stood smiling like a man besotted.

But then it was over, suddenly, before I was ready, and he had somehow guided Queen Vivienne into a deep chair and turned the full force of his gaze upon me. I can still recall the sensation of falling that filled me as those eyes met mine; it was akin to the sensation you experience when swinging widely on a hanging rope, far out over water that is deep and still beneath you. Germanus looked at me, and all the gaiety and humor faded from his face to be replaced by an expression I could not decipher. I could almost feel the weight of his scrutiny as his eyes moved up and down and across my body, and in a vain attempt to disguise the effect it was having on me I busied myself in looking back at him, absorbing the details of his appearance.

He was dressed completely in white, which did not surprise me, white being the color of purity and sanctity, according to my stepmother, the Queen. It seemed appropriate to me, in my ten-year-old wisdom, that God's bishop should be dressed in white. The high, pointed hat I had expected was nowhere to be seen, however, and I was observant enough to be able to tell from the condition of the bishop's hair that he had not been wearing a hat at all: it was thick and curly, on the white edge of silvery gray, and he wore it cropped short in the military fashion. He was clean shaven that particular day, although I was to see him bearded as often as not in the years that lay ahead, and his skin was darkened to the color of old bronze by the summer sun. He wore some kind of heavy woolen stole across his shoulders, its ends trailing in front of him and held loosely in place by the bend of his elbows, and beneath that his body was encased from neck to ankles in a long, plain robe of heavy white cloth, belted at the waist with a thick length of white silken rope and otherwise unadorned. Beneath the hem of that long white garment, however, revealed as he spun around holding the Queen, I had seen heavy, black, thick-soled military boots.

"So," he said finally, his eyes fixed now on mine. "You are Clothar, son of Childebertus and Elaine." I waited, not knowing how to respond and not quite daring to glance at my foster parents for guidance. Then slowly Germanus held out his right hand, palm up and fingers extended, and I stepped forward and stretched out my own, palm downward. His long fingers closed around mine, warm and supple, yet callused as though from long, hard work. Still looking deep into my eyes, he smiled and nodded. "I knew your grandfather Jacob, you know, in Constantinople. He was a friend of mine, a very good friend, although he was far more than twice my age. He came from Britain. Jacobus was his Roman name, but everyone called him Jacob. He was a lawyer, and so was I, although he was a famous arbitrator with a lifetime of triumphs behind him by then and I was just starting my career. This was long before I met your father—almost a full decade earlier, as a matter of fact. I was honored that he chose to befriend me, for his own reasons, and I still am." He nodded again, still smiling. "I didn't meet your father until we were both in the army. Your father was a junior officer, and I was his commanding legate, so had I not known Jacob as well as I did, and then discovered almost by accident that your father was his son, the two of us might never have met, let alone become close friends."

He stared at me steadily for a time, then rested an elbow on the back of his left fist and ran the tip of an index finger down the length of his cheek, a gesture with which I was to become familiar over the next decade, knowing it as an indicator that the bishop was thinking deeply, remembering or considering. "I never knew your father when he was your age, but I can see him in you, as you are. Your grandfather Jacob would have been proud to see you standing there, the image of his own son." He was silent then, looking at me still, pouting slightly so that his lower lip protruded against the tip of his finger. It was clear that he was thinking, but still I could not judge from his expression what kind of thoughts were going through his head.

"You are to come with me when I leave here," he said then, "to be a student in my school in Auxerre. Does that cause you concern?" I managed to shake my head, but could not have spoken had my life depended on it. "You are sure about that, are you not?" I nodded. He turned back to my parents, cocking his head. "You didn't tell me he is mute."

Ban laughed aloud, and even Vivienne smiled. "Oh, he's no mute, believe me," Ban said. "He may be awed by you, for the time being, but that will wear off, and when he finds his tongue again you may end up wishing he were mute indeed."

The bishop turned to me again, an expression in his eyes that might have contained a hint of humor. "Will I?" he asked me. "Are you really that loud? I find that hard to credit. Mind you, your father was known to raise his voice from time to time. Come, sit with us. We have things to talk about before we go down to dine, and once there, there will be too many others talking for us to hear ourselves. Sit, and let me tell you what lies in store for you at Auxerre."

I took the chair he indicated, across from him and between the King and Queen, and for a short time everyone spoke in generalities, as people do when they meet after having been years apart, questing to find topics that will neither strain nor test the relationship they had once known together. Finally, Queen Vivienne asked the bishop the question that turned the conversation towards me.

"What will you teach Clothar, up there in Auxerre, that he will not have touched upon here in Benwick?"

Germanus grinned. "Probably little, if not nothing. The concerns and the materials of education are unchanging—reading and writing, logic, debate, philosophy, science, polemic and geography . . . but the focus of everything will be different, if you can understand what that means?"

The Queen smiled. "I understand completely. You are referring to the scope of things."

"Exactly so, my Lady, simply because of the size of the school and the number of pupils. We have wonderful teachers, most of whom I hired myself after lengthy observation." He turned to me. "I wonder . . . I had better make it clear to you from the outset, Clothar, that although you will be in my charge, I will not be your personal teacher. Did you know that, or did you think you would be under my constant attention?"

Still unwilling to trust my tongue, I merely shook my head again, and he grunted, deep in his throat. "Aye," he said. "Well, that is the way of it. I'll be your confessor, and I will keep a close eye on you and on all your activities, serving as your parents' deputy in a double capacity—on behalf of your real parents, who were my friends, and of your foster parents here, who are no less parents and who remain my friends. You and I will meet privately at least once every week to discuss your progress and your life and anything else demanding our attention, but your actual teaching will be at the hands of others, all of them better tutors than I could ever be. I have my pastoral work, as Bishop of Auxerre, and that, I fear, often consumes more time than I have to spend." He sniffed, thrusting out his lower lip again. "Do you know anything about our school?"

I knew a nod would not serve as a response this time and so I coughed to clear my throat. "No, sir."

The bishop nodded and looked at King Ban and from him to the Lady Vivienne. "And what about you two?"

Ban slowly shook his head.

"There is no reason you should, I suppose. Auxerre is a long way from here . . . But I confess I am disappointed that the fame of our school has failed to penetrate this far."

"Enlighten us, then, dear Germanus—" The Queen stopped short. "Oh, forgive me. Should I be calling you by another name, now that you are a bishop?"

Germanus laughed. "Absolutely not! Call me Germanus as you always have. That's who I am and nothing about me has changed simply because I am become a bishop. Titles are for others. Among friends as old as us, names never change."

The Queen bowed her head, acknowledging the courtesy. "Thank you. Now tell us about this school of yours."

The bishop's face grew sober. "It is a school in the tradition of the ancients, where boys are taught the things they need to know in order to be good men, accepting duty and responsibility."

"What kind of boys attend this school of yours? Are they all the sons of wealthy men?"

Germanus smiled at the Queen, but in answering her he spoke to both of them. "No, not at all, although many of them are. Ours is a school for
boys,
my Lady, not necessarily rich boys. The prime entrance requirement to our ranks is intellect. We are looking to train minds and encourage learning for learning's sake. Our world is changing rapidly nowadays, my friends, and many of the old, time-honored ways of doing things are being forgotten and abandoned. And it pains me to say it, but high among those things ranks the education of our children. Education has fallen out of favour, the need for it seemingly eclipsed by the catastrophes and cataclysms shaking the very foundations of the Empire. In a disintegrating world, people are thinking, there is little need for education."

"Think you the world is coming to an end?" This question from King Ban made my eyes snap wide open. The notion of World's End is a Christian one and Ban was no Christian, and yet here he was, asking the bishop for reassurance.

Germanus shook his head. "Are you referring to the return of the Christ in the Final Judgment? I think not. Not yet. The Scriptures tell us that the Second Coming lies ahead of us, but they also indicate that much requires to be done before it comes upon us. At least, that is what I believe. The Empire may be facing its end and that would not surprise me, but not the world, I think. Mind you, I may be wrong. No man may know the mind of God and it is blasphemous to presume to do so. But it is the possibility that the world might survive that causes me such great concern over the education of our children. And so we believe—we being the elders and bishops of the Church—that we court disaster if we allow our children to run wild. If we fail to teach them how to read and write and use their minds as God intended, then they and our entire world will fall back into Godless savagery. And so we maintain schools."