Exile's Return (Book 1) (28 page)

‘Well, what?’

‘Don’t be an ass, man. How does the count go?’

Godfrey folded his arms across his chest. ‘But the election is not for some hours yet, brother. How would I know how the count is? The gods do not favour me with that kind of foresight.’

Lifting his cup to his mouth, Hilderic frowned. ‘Are you trying to annoy me – or are you just doing it from habit?’

‘Funny thing to ask a priest.’

Hilderic drained his cup and placed it carefully back on the table. He turned a solemn gaze on Godfrey, then nodded slowly. ‘Then it’s not good, I take it?’

Godfrey lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. ‘It depends on what you define as good. On the one hand we have the old school, the abbots and monks who were never really happy with the changes Domnhall made and would only be too pleased to revert back to their former order. Then there are those who consider themselves moderates and would like to see further but small improvements to our structure – nothing, of course, that would take away any of their autonomy. Then there are the few zealots who believe we should embrace the new order and rejoin our brothers within the Guilde in support of the King. They are happy for the Guilde to take over the hospice work, believing it to be in the best interests of the Church as well as the people. That way they can return to the more contemplative life.’

‘And the rest?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘Fortunately, I think you’ve only scratched the surface.’

Godfrey did smile then, though belatedly. ‘I only wish I could. Actually, the vast majority don’t seem to have made up their minds yet. We’ve failed to stop the hospice take-over and few of them have even considered the situation with the raiders. We don’t know what Selar plans and so we can’t tell them. They’re aware of what’s been happening since Domnhall died, they just don’t appear convinced of anything in particular.’

Hilderic stared in distaste at the remains of his meal then pushed the plate away. Glancing up at Godfrey, he said, ‘Our opinions differ, brother. I don’t count that as a bad thing. If, by this point, they were already persuaded towards Selar’s thinking, then I believe all would surely be lost. That they are still open to argument is at least a point in our favour.’

As Godfrey raised his eyebrows, Hilderic conceded, ‘All right, a small point, I admit.’

Standing, Godfrey stretched out his long frame. He laced his hands together and clasped the small wooden trium which hung around his neck from a silver chain his father had given him. ‘Actually, my thoughts are less on the election itself and more on what happens afterwards. Suppose we do get our way and neither Brome nor Quinn are elected. What happens then?’

‘Not much, I should imagine. Oh, I’m sure Selar will fume and make mighty noises, but what can he do – in reality, I mean? He can’t exactly bring the Church down and have us all executed, can he? He’s no fool. He knows he’d have a civil war on his hands in no time. There is no way he can afford a direct move against the Church.’ Hilderic must have read the sour expression on Godfrey’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know. I just don’t like the feel of this. I don’t think Selar would take defeat lying down. He waited a long time for Domnhall to die. It’s no coincidence he chose this moment to give the hospices to the Guilde. He knew Domnhall was too weak to thwart him. It’s obvious Brome and Quinn are essential to his plans. Somehow I just can’t see him being philosophical about being beaten again.’

‘Surely you’re not about to suggest we support the King in the election? For the sake of our own skins?’

Godfrey glanced at the old man, then at the trium in his hand. He shook his head slowly. ‘Never that. I just can’t help wondering if there is another way out of this. Remember the story about that hermit? About some dark angel tearing the Church apart?’

Hilderic laughed. ‘You listen to gossip too much, brother. Besides, Selar has nothing to do with it. He has fair hair, not dark – and before you mention it, Vaughn’s is almost white, what there is left of it. I fear that little vision must concern some other dark angel, of which I am sure there are many. Come, let us make our way to the Chapter House.’

Godfrey moved to the door and put his hand on the latch.
‘We’ll be a little early, but I don’t mind. I do want to get a good seat.’

*

The cold morning air hit Nash’s face like a slap and he sucked in a deep breath. A timid sprinkle of rain drifted down, but barely touched him. The atmosphere within the Chapter House had been stifling and more than once he’d had trouble staying awake. The debates had gone on for hours, but Nash, in disguise, had not even been able to get up and walk around for fear of being discovered. As his feet now hit the cobblestones of the small courtyard, he spread his arms and stretched. Vaughn would be breathless to know the outcome of the election, but Nash was in no hurry to tell him.

How much longer would this go on? How many more months was he to abase himself before the Proctor? Oh, Osbert trusted him completely and even Selar had noticed him, requested his attendance at court functions. But Vaughn?

Damn it all! If only he didn’t need that pompous idiot -if only he didn’t need any of them!

But he did. He needed Vaughn’s support, and more especially, his library. Most of all, however, he needed Selar. And he had to be so careful. He could not afford to fail again. He wouldn’t have the energy left to try a third time. He must succeed. He would succeed where his father had failed. Five generations was enough to sacrifice on the altar of any ambition, no matter how great the goal.

And he had already come so far. Further than any before him. This time he’d planned properly, taken care of both the Enemy and the Ally. The dangers now were few: all that remained was for him to be patient.

Nash sighed and stilled the warring factions in his mind. There would be time, time to achieve it all, to regain what was lost so long ago.

At the moment, however, it was time to go and tell Vaughn the news.

Nash yawned again and ran his hands through his thick
black hair. Then with a smile, he began walking across the courtyard.

*

Father John tucked the package of letters under his arm and thanked the courier. Then he turned and made his way quickly across the cloister, trying to dodge the rain. He ducked through the doorway to his master’s chambers and scurried along the corridor, wiping a hand over his damp hair as he went. He arrived before the door and pushed it open.

Hilderic stood by the washstand rubbing a linen towel over his face. He glanced up as John entered.

‘Archdeacon! The synod is over?’

‘As you can see. We’ve just come out. It’s all over. Now I must dress and go and see the King.’

‘I will help you, of course. But, surely you must rest first. You’ve been in there for almost twelve hours. You must be exhausted.’

Hilderic only nodded wearily and let John help him.

‘There’re letters for you, but they can wait. The courier must have arrived moments before you came out of the synod. He was from my own part of the country and I couldn’t help talking to him for a bit.’

‘And?’

‘Archdeacon?’

‘You’ve obviously got something to tell me.’

John paused and swallowed. Should he tell Hilderic? Would he want to know? Probably. ‘Well, the man just told me the most extraordinary story.’

Hilderic raised an eyebrow. ‘It didn’t concern some dark angel, did it?’

‘No, Archdeacon! Actually, it’s about a girl – a child, really. You know the Earl of Elita?’

‘Before the war, yes. I haven’t seen him for years. A good man.’

‘Do you remember his daughter? The younger one? I believe he had two.’

‘Yes, Bella was the older. She married young Lawrence
Maitland a few years ago. Well, get on with it, boy. The King will want to see me some time this year.’

With a chuckle, John placed the cope over his master’s shoulders. ‘You won’t believe this, but the younger daughter was thought to have drowned in a river when she was about three or four. But apparently she survived. She never drowned at all, but was in fact abducted during the Troubles!’

‘The Troubles? How do they know that?’

‘Because someone found her – living way on the other side of Lusara. They found her and took her back to her father! Isn’t that a miracle, Archdeacon?’

Hilderic paused and pinned John with a steady gaze. ‘Do you mean that literally, my son?’

John began to shrug, then stopped himself, ‘Well … er, I don’t know. I suppose it could be.’

Hilderic smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose it could almost qualify. And how wonderful for Jacob to have his lost daughter returned – though I suspect it opens up a few questions as to where she’s been all this time, and, for that matter, where those other children are. Still, at least one returned is better than none.’

‘It certainly is, Archdeacon. But that’s not all.’

Pausing by the door, Hilderic turned. ‘More?’

John moved around him and opened the door to let him through. ‘I thought you might want to know. It’s something else the courier told me. Something important. It’s only hearsay, of course, but somehow I don’t think this is only a rumour.’

*

‘They did what?’ Vaughn slammed his hand down on the table and whirled around to face Nash, his dark robes floating after him. The fire chose that moment to spit and crackle. Vaughn took the goblet he held and threw it at the flames, making them sputter and turn bright blue. With two strides he crossed the room and yanked the door handle.

‘Lewis! Osbert!’ he yelled, then turned back to Nash.
‘What the hell does Hilderic think he’s playing at, eh? Does he think this is a game?’

Nash kept still, lacing his hands beneath the folds of his robe. ‘The Archdeacon had very little to do with it – at least directly. What had been said and done beforehand, however, is anyone’s guess.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Vaughn snapped, ‘and I think I can guess very well what that old fool is up to. He thinks we’ll all just sit back and take no notice. Does the King know?’

‘Archdeacon Hilderic is very probably preparing to go and tell him as we speak.’

‘Well, good luck to him!’

Taking a breath, Nash ventured, ‘My lord, surely we cannot lose the hospices now?’

Vaughn stood by the door, an inward look on his face. His gaze narrowed for a moment as though he had forgotten Nash was there. Then he looked up and, with a frown, said, ‘The hospices have nothing to do with it. No, this is about something far more important. Blast and damnation, but I’ll make them pay for this!’

At that moment, Lewis and Osbert appeared at the door, their faces betraying their curiosity, but Vaughn couldn’t wait to tell the story. He jerked his hand towards Nash, then reached for his cloak.

‘Go ahead, ask him,’ he growled. ‘Ask him where he thinks we’ll all be in a year from now. I’m off to see the King.’ He threw his cloak around his shoulders and headed for the door, then paused. ‘On second thoughts, Nash, come with me. The King may want to ask you a few questions.’

*

Nash shook the rain off his cloak and helped the Proctor remove his own. Vaughn had raged and fumed all the way to the castle, but Nash had kept silent, despising the man’s inability to control his temper. A pair of guards showed them through the castle and into one antechamber after another. By now, Nash noted, Vaughn had calmed himself considerably and managed to set his expression as though in stone.

They emerged into a round chamber within the great keep itself. To the left a fireplace big enough to roast an ox hosted flames of furnace proportions. Before it was a long ebony table, around which were scattered a number of chairs. There were no tapestries on the walls and only a single window opposite the fireplace, draped with fine Esterian velvet.

Nash took this all in at a glance, then turned his attention to the men within the room. Before him, his back to the door, was Archdeacon Hilderic, Deacon Godfrey at his side. At one end of the table by the fire stood the Earl of Kandar and by him, Duke Tiege Eachern, his kinsman. Duke Donal McGlashen stood on the opposite side of the table with Selar’s chancellor, Dai Ingram, together with Earl Payne. At the other end, close by the window, stood the King.

Vaughn and Nash bowed, but Selar barely glanced in their direction. ‘Well, Vaughn, I see I don’t need to send for you. Was it chance that brought you here so quickly after the Archdeacon – or were you waiting for him to leave the Chapter House before coming?’

‘Sire, I was merely curious to know if there had been any word on the election as yet.’

‘Yes,’ Selar drew the word out, ‘I’m sure you were. As it happens, the Archdeacon was just about to tell me the outcome. You were saying, Father?’

Hilderic inclined his head gracefully, ‘I was saying, Sire, the synod debated long and hard. I am happy to say we finally lighted upon a man whom we believe to possess the qualities necessary for the Primate of all Lusara.’

‘And he is?’ Selar prompted softly.

‘Aiden McCauly.’ Hilderic said the words without expression and they fell flat into the room, like a thunderclap.

Selar raised his eyebrows so slightly the movement was almost lost. For a moment, he said nothing, then he left the window and placed his hands on the back of his chair. ‘Aiden McCauly, eh? An interesting choice. A unanimous one?’

‘Almost, Sire.’

‘I see.’ Selar dropped his gaze and nodded. ‘And when will his anointing be?’

There was just the slightest hesitation in Hilderic’s voice. ‘We performed the ceremony immediately after the election. Bishop McCauly is already installed.’

‘Already?’ Vaughn sputtered. ‘No preparations?’

Godfrey murmured, ‘We thought it best under the circumstances.’

‘And what circumstances were those?’

But Selar raised a hand to silence Vaughn. ‘McCauly is already installed as Bishop?’

‘Yes, Sire,’ Hilderic nodded.

Selar dropped the hand, leaving his eyes on the Archdeacon. After a moment, he nodded again and moved to turn away. ‘Very well, you have our leave to go. I’m sure your new Bishop requires your attendance.’

The priests bowed and backed towards the door, making Nash step aside to get out of their way. The doors opened, but Selar stopped them.