Fortress of Mist (21 page)

T
homas and Robert of Uleran stood and waited at the end of the drawbridge.

At the other end of the narrow strip of land that reached the shore of the lake, the Earl of York and three soldiers began to move toward them.

“Are you sure they’ll not run us through with those great swords?” Robert asked.

“The earl will not risk losing honor by dealing treachery,” Thomas said.

Thomas and Robert of Uleran stared straight ahead. Each wore a long cloak of the finest material in Magnus—it was not a time to appear humble or afraid.

The Earl of York’s march across the land bridge seemed to take forever. When he was close enough, Thomas observed the anger set in the clenched muscles of his face.

He heard that anger moments later.

“What is it you want, you craven cur of yellow cowardice?” the earl snarled.

“An explanation perhaps, of this sudden hatred,” Thomas said shortly. “I understand—if you truly believe me guilty of those murders—that duty forces you to lay siege. But you once called me brother. Surely that—”

“Treacherous vulture. Waste no charm on me,” the earl said in thunderous tones. “Were it not for honor, I would cleave you in two where you stand. You called me here for discussion. Do it quickly, so that I may refuse your request and return to the important matter of bringing destruction to Magnus. After that, I shall serve you for dinner the ear you sent back to me.”

“Ear?” Thomas stiffened visibly, though he kept his voice level and polite.

“The one you cut off the head of my son. Don’t pretend innocence with me.”

“I promise,” Thomas said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

The earl threw down a piece of paper.

Robert picked it up and handed it to Thomas, who glanced at it and saw enough to begin to understand why the earl was outraged.

 … I will only agree to a pact of allegiance once I receive a payment of gold for my services during the march against the Scots. Ensure that it completely fills the chest I have sent back with your son. If it does not arrive within a fortnight, I will consider your inaction to be a declaration of war. As proof of the seriousness of my intent to wage battle against you if you do not send the gold, look no further than the ear I have taken from your son.

“That is not my handwriting,” Thomas said. “I would be happy to show you other correspondence from my quill.”

“It had your royal seal.”

“Fraud does happen. If someone wanted to set us against each other, it would be easy to arrange.”

“And my son would partake in this fraud?”

“I cannot speak for him.”

“And lose his ear?” the earl asked.

“I cannot speak for him,” Thomas repeated. “I can only tell you the truth that I know. I did not cut off his ear. He had escaped from Magnus shortly before I returned from war.”

Thomas gazed levelly at the earl. “Those of the symbol asked me to join them. I refused. Perhaps this is a result of that.”

The earl took a deep breath, as if seriously considering Thomas’s innocence for the first time.

“I cannot turn back,” the earl said. Almost regretfully. “In front of the world, I have committed to battle against you.”

“I ask, then, for a chance to prove my innocence.”

“Surrender the castle then. Submit to a trial. You have my word I will do my best to prove the message delivered to me did not come from your hand.”

Thomas shook his head. “I ask for trial by ordeal.”

The Earl of York gaped at him. “Ordeal!”

That, too, had been Thomas’s reaction to instructions placed beneath his pillow, ensuring that only he would discover them the evening before as he prepared for sleep in his bedchamber.

“Ordeal!” the Earl of York repeated, showing for the first time an emotion other than anger. “The church outlawed such trials more than a hundred years ago.”

“Nonetheless,” Thomas said, “I wish to prove to you, and to the people of Magnus, that I am innocent.”

The earl rubbed his chin in thought. “Tell me, shall we bind you and throw you into the lake?”

That had been, as Thomas knew, one of the most common ways of
establishing guilt. Bound, and often weighted with stones, a person was thrown into deep water. If he or she floated, it proved witchcraft. If the accused drowned, it proved innocence.

“Not by water,” Thomas said. “Nor by fire.”

Some chose the hot iron. The defendant was forced to pick up an iron weight, still glowing from the forge. If, after three days in bandages, the burns had healed, it was taken as a sign of innocence.

“What then?” the Earl of York demanded. “How are we to believe you are innocent? You are going to propose your own trial by ordeal? This isn’t done.”

“If you allow it, then it is done.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Tomorrow, I will stand alone on this narrow strip of land,” Thomas said. “Stampede toward me twenty of the strongest and largest bulls you can find. If I turn and run, or if I am crushed and trampled, then you may have Magnus.”

T
he wrinkles in Gervaise’s face—as for all people at a certain age—reflected the expression that had been dominant on his face over all the years. For Gervaise, the usual set of his face was a quizzical friendliness that gave him the look of a parent who was tolerant and pleased with a young child.

Now, however, his brows were furrowed with concern. He held a white cross made of painted wood, resting the base of it on the stone floor of the church. The top of the cross reached his chest.

To Thomas, this humble and gentle man far better represented the Christ of the gospels than any priest or monk he had known.

Thomas was all too aware of how some churches were huge and grandiose, built on the money taken from peasants who were starved and often in desperate need of comfort.

Thomas was aware that, because the church only allowed a Latin version of the Bible, a priest could twist any passage to suit his own goals and desires, while the sheep of the congregation had no way of knowing if the sermon reflected what was truly in the Bible.

Thomas was aware that men often joined the priesthood because it paid well, and more importantly, gave them immunity from prosecution for any number of crimes. Yes, a priest could literally get away with murder.

Thomas was aware of the abuses he’d faced in his own past from
men who claimed to be godly. He believed he had good reason to be suspicious of anything related to the church.

Thomas particularly liked something that Gervaise often said about the New Testament—all it took for a man or woman to be reconciled with God was to ask for forgiveness.

This was not what the priests taught. They claimed that a man or woman must earn a passage to heaven by donating money to the church. Indeed, the sale of indulgences was brisk business in the church across Europe; people could give money to the church to rescue dead loved ones from the clutches of hell, or purchase their own eternal salvation. Or worse, guarantee eternal damnation by not purchasing an indulgence.

Gervaise, on the other hand, was fond of quoting a passage from the gospel of John the apostle, telling his own flock that God so loved the world that He’d given His only Son, that whoever believed in this Son would be given eternal life.

Where then, the need to earn forgiveness or give money to the church for salvation? Such simplicity made Gervaise a threat to the church coffers. Thomas had earlier decided that if ever the priest tried to remove Gervaise, he would do everything in his power to protect the man.

Of course, it did not look as though Thomas would retain his power as lord of Magnus much longer.

“I wanted us to talk,” Gervaise said, lifting the cross and extending it to Thomas, “because I hope you will take this when you face the bulls.”

“In a sense I’m disappointed,” Thomas answered. “We both know it is a powerful symbol, and your motives are easy to guess. If I succeed, you want all of Magnus to believe it is because of the church.”

“Not the church,” Gervaise said. “Our heavenly Father. A church is only a building and a religious structure created by man to help bring all of us to our heavenly Father.”

“You know the people won’t see it that way. If I carry the cross, it will be a clear statement that my allegiance is to the church. I’m surprised that you would play politics like this. I would have expected the priest to ask of me such a favor, but not you, not after all you’ve done to lead me to faith in the Christ of the gospels.”

“Hardly,” Gervaise said without taking insult or showing irritation. “If I were a political man, the last thing I would want is for you to carry the cross. For a political man would be convinced that the bulls will trample you to death, and a political man would not want your foolish, horrible fate blamed on the cross. After all, if you hold the cross and you die, it will look like the cross was incapable of protecting you.”

Thomas was forced to agree, and he nodded before speaking again. “I am no longer disappointed, then, but curious. Why would you want to take this risk and have me carry the cross?”

“I don’t see it as a risk,” Gervaise said. “While I completely believe that our heavenly Father has the power to protect through miraculous means, I’m also convinced that you are not expecting to need His protection. After all, in all our discussions, you have expressed a degree of skepticism and a reluctance to share the faith. I suspect you have some earthly power you intend to use. I’m convinced you will survive trial by ordeal.”

“Is this all you wanted to ask me, whether I would carry the cross? If so, I must take leave.”

Gervaise laughed. “Your lack of trust is easy to see, Thomas. I understand it completely. After all, if you revealed to me what you have planned, and I in turn share it with others, then even if you survive the
running of the bulls, your bold gamble will fail. For none will believe it was a supernatural event.”

“As I said,” Thomas replied, “if this is all you intended to discuss, I must go and ready myself for what lies ahead.”

“Please listen,” Gervaise said. “I think it’s important that you take the cross. Not because of what the church might gain from your gamble, but because of what you will gain as lord of Magnus.”

“I’m listening.”

“It is clear that the people of Magnus ascribe the supernatural sign of the bats falling as dark forces gathered against you, and whispers of Druids are becoming louder and louder. It is obvious to me that you can only hold your kingdom by defeating or appearing to defeat these signs. In other words, if superstition among the people is leading dangerously close to the loss of your kingdom, then you have decided that superstition among the people is also a way to lead them back to you. It is a two-edged sword, is it not?”

“It is.”

“Lay down that sword, Thomas. Because in the end, you are simply giving more strength to superstition, and eventually, the other edge of the sword may triumph. Instead, you can use this opportunity to damage the power of superstition.”

“Ah,” Thomas said. “If it looks like the cross can defeat superstition, then the people will remain within the fold of the church and lose their fear of Druids.”

“In plain words, yes.”

“Isn’t that a dangerous game for you? After all, if I succeed through earthly powers, then the power of the cross is merely a sham.”

Gervaise spoke earnestly. “Thomas, there is nothing sham about faith in our heavenly Father. I believe He is protecting you by providing
what you need to succeed. I ask you to examine the teachings of the Son of the heavenly Father as shown in the four gospels. Wouldn’t it be much better for Magnus if its people followed His example, instead of fearing Druids? I ask of you, give careful consideration, for much is at stake here.”

“I need give it no further consideration,” Thomas said. He reached for the cross. “You have indeed given me wise advice.”

K
atherine stood among the great crowd at the base of the castle. For once, she was almost grateful for the bandages around her face. They hid her ironic smile to notice the stale sweat stench of the men and women hemmed against her—several days of castle living had spoiled her.