[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
even disgruntled.
I cannot let go any more of the Knights, Betanza said with the weary air of a man repeating himself.
They are needed where they are.
You have thousands of them on the hill, sitting on their hands, Heyn of Torunna said. He was a thin,
black-bearded man. He looked ill, so dark were the circles under his eyes and the hollows at his temples.
They are our only reserve. Charibon cannot be left defenceless. What if the tribes grow restive?
The tribes! Heyn scoffed. They did not stop you sending two thousand men to Hebrion to do Brother
Himerius s policing for him. Are there tribes in Hebrion, or Merduks at the gate?
The Hebrian Prelate raised his eyebrows slightly at that, but otherwise maintained an aloof, patrician air
that irritated his colleagues intensely.
Lofantyr needs men, needs them desperately. Even five thousand would be a boon at this time, Heyn
went on doggedly.
And yet he is withdrawing troops from Ormann Dyke, Himerius said mildly. Is he so confident in the
dyke s impregnability?
Torunn must be adequately garrisoned in case the dyke falls, Heyn said.
God forbid! said Marat of Almark.
Really, Brothers, Betanza said. We are not here to argue politics, but to debate the spiritual needs of
the time that is upon us. It is for the kings of the world to be the buckler of the faith. We are merely
guides.
But Heyn began.
And the resources of the Church surely should be reserved for the needs of the Church. We have been
free enough with our help so far. How many thousands of the Knights perished in Aekir? No, there are
other issues at hand here which are every bit as important as the defence of the western fortresses.
Escriban of Perigraine, a long, languid man who would have looked more at home in court brocade than
a monk s habit, laughed shortly.
My dear Betanza, if you are referring to the High Pontiffship, then surely there is nothing to decide. If the
acclaim of your own monks is anything to go by, then our esteemed Brother Himerius already has the
position in his lap.
The men around the table scowled. Even Himerius had the grace to look embarrassed.
The High Pontiffship is decided by the votes of the five Prelates of the Ramusian monarchies and the
Colleges of Bishops under them. Nothing else, Betanza said, his red face growing redder. We will
discuss it at the proper time, and pray for God s guidance in this, the most important of decisions.
Besides, our number is not complete. Brother Merion of Astarac has yet to join us.
Your countryman, the Antillian of course. I meant no offence, Escriban said smoothly. What way
will he vote, do you think?
Betanza glowered. Brother Escriban, as referee and overseer of these proceedings I advise you to take
a more responsible tone.
What proceedings? My dear friend, we are only colleagues in the Church talking over dinner. The
Synod is not even convened as yet.
The men around the table knew that. They also knew that the real business of the Synod would probably
be resolved before it even began. Merion was a nonentity, a non-Inceptine, but if the Prelates were
evenly divided his vote would be decisive. He could not be ignored.
How did he ever become a Prelate anyway? Marat muttered. A man of no family and from another
order.
King Mark thinks the world of him. He was the only Astaran candidate put forward, Betanza said.
The College of Bishops had little choice.
They order these things better in Almark, Marat said. He was stockily built, with a huge white beard
that coursed down over his broad chest and belly. His homeland, Almark, had been the last land to be
conquered by the Fimbrians before their Hegemony ended, yet it was widely seen as the most
conservative of the Five Kingdoms.
What of these purges our learned colleague has instigated in Hebrion? Heyn asked, rubbing his sunken
temples with bone-white fingers. Are we to make them a continent-wide phenomenon, or are they
merely a local problem?
Himerius was studying his crystal goblet, his bird-of-prey features revealing nothing. He knew they were
waiting for his word. For all their bluster and confidence, he realized that they looked to him at the
moment; he was the only one among them who had dared to cross the wishes of his king.
He put down the glass and paused to make sure he had their attention.
The situation in Hebrion is grave, Brothers. In its way it is every bit as grave as the crisis in the east.
The firelight flickered off his wonderfully aquiline nose. He had the features of a Fimbrian emperor, and
knew it.
Abrusio is a colourful city, perched as it is on the edge of the Western Ocean. Ships call there from
every part of Normannia, both Ramusian and Merduk. The population of the place is a hybrid, a
conglomeration of the dregs of a hundred other cities. And in such a soil, Brothers, heresy takes root
easily.
The King of Hebrion is a young man. He had a great father, Bleyn the Pious whose name you all know, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
even disgruntled.
I cannot let go any more of the Knights, Betanza said with the weary air of a man repeating himself.
They are needed where they are.
You have thousands of them on the hill, sitting on their hands, Heyn of Torunna said. He was a thin,
black-bearded man. He looked ill, so dark were the circles under his eyes and the hollows at his temples.
They are our only reserve. Charibon cannot be left defenceless. What if the tribes grow restive?
The tribes! Heyn scoffed. They did not stop you sending two thousand men to Hebrion to do Brother
Himerius s policing for him. Are there tribes in Hebrion, or Merduks at the gate?
The Hebrian Prelate raised his eyebrows slightly at that, but otherwise maintained an aloof, patrician air
that irritated his colleagues intensely.
Lofantyr needs men, needs them desperately. Even five thousand would be a boon at this time, Heyn
went on doggedly.
And yet he is withdrawing troops from Ormann Dyke, Himerius said mildly. Is he so confident in the
dyke s impregnability?
Torunn must be adequately garrisoned in case the dyke falls, Heyn said.
God forbid! said Marat of Almark.
Really, Brothers, Betanza said. We are not here to argue politics, but to debate the spiritual needs of
the time that is upon us. It is for the kings of the world to be the buckler of the faith. We are merely
guides.
But Heyn began.
And the resources of the Church surely should be reserved for the needs of the Church. We have been
free enough with our help so far. How many thousands of the Knights perished in Aekir? No, there are
other issues at hand here which are every bit as important as the defence of the western fortresses.
Escriban of Perigraine, a long, languid man who would have looked more at home in court brocade than
a monk s habit, laughed shortly.
My dear Betanza, if you are referring to the High Pontiffship, then surely there is nothing to decide. If the
acclaim of your own monks is anything to go by, then our esteemed Brother Himerius already has the
position in his lap.
The men around the table scowled. Even Himerius had the grace to look embarrassed.
The High Pontiffship is decided by the votes of the five Prelates of the Ramusian monarchies and the
Colleges of Bishops under them. Nothing else, Betanza said, his red face growing redder. We will
discuss it at the proper time, and pray for God s guidance in this, the most important of decisions.
Besides, our number is not complete. Brother Merion of Astarac has yet to join us.
Your countryman, the Antillian of course. I meant no offence, Escriban said smoothly. What way
will he vote, do you think?
Betanza glowered. Brother Escriban, as referee and overseer of these proceedings I advise you to take
a more responsible tone.
What proceedings? My dear friend, we are only colleagues in the Church talking over dinner. The
Synod is not even convened as yet.
The men around the table knew that. They also knew that the real business of the Synod would probably
be resolved before it even began. Merion was a nonentity, a non-Inceptine, but if the Prelates were
evenly divided his vote would be decisive. He could not be ignored.
How did he ever become a Prelate anyway? Marat muttered. A man of no family and from another
order.
King Mark thinks the world of him. He was the only Astaran candidate put forward, Betanza said.
The College of Bishops had little choice.
They order these things better in Almark, Marat said. He was stockily built, with a huge white beard
that coursed down over his broad chest and belly. His homeland, Almark, had been the last land to be
conquered by the Fimbrians before their Hegemony ended, yet it was widely seen as the most
conservative of the Five Kingdoms.
What of these purges our learned colleague has instigated in Hebrion? Heyn asked, rubbing his sunken
temples with bone-white fingers. Are we to make them a continent-wide phenomenon, or are they
merely a local problem?
Himerius was studying his crystal goblet, his bird-of-prey features revealing nothing. He knew they were
waiting for his word. For all their bluster and confidence, he realized that they looked to him at the
moment; he was the only one among them who had dared to cross the wishes of his king.
He put down the glass and paused to make sure he had their attention.
The situation in Hebrion is grave, Brothers. In its way it is every bit as grave as the crisis in the east.
The firelight flickered off his wonderfully aquiline nose. He had the features of a Fimbrian emperor, and
knew it.
Abrusio is a colourful city, perched as it is on the edge of the Western Ocean. Ships call there from
every part of Normannia, both Ramusian and Merduk. The population of the place is a hybrid, a
conglomeration of the dregs of a hundred other cities. And in such a soil, Brothers, heresy takes root
easily.
The King of Hebrion is a young man. He had a great father, Bleyn the Pious whose name you all know, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]