Saint Camber (36 page)

The consecrated hands descended gently on Camber's head, and Camber felt a faint tingling sensation, the building of a flow of pure energy against the outer edges of his mind. His immediate instinct was to withdraw, to shut down, to raise every defense and ward against the awesome Power whose potential he could already sense. But he dared not hold back—not if tonight was to have any meaning.

He felt another hand join Anscom's, gently touching the side of his head, and knew Joram's cool and gentle probe on his mind. Forcing himself to relax and remain open, and reassured by Joram's presence, he closed his eyes and let out another deep breath, surrendering to whatever might come. He sensed his control slipping as Anscom continued speaking.

“
Accipite Spiritum: quorum remiseritis
…” Receive thou the Holy Spirit. Whose sins thou shalt forgive …

There was more, but Camber swiftly lost the meaning of mere words as he concentrated instead upon the sensations he was beginning to experience at Anscom and Joram's hands. A subtle pressure grew inside his mind, a gradual filling and expanding with Something which was so powerful, so awesome, that no corner of his being escaped Its insistent touch.

His hearing went first, and he knew that his vision also was gone—though he could not, to save his mortal life, have opened his eyes to test that knowledge.

Then all awareness of having a body at all began to fade. He was pure consciousness and more, centered in a bright, shining point, bathed and immersed in a golden brilliance, cool and fascinating, which was unlike anything he had ever experienced or imagined experiencing.

He was no longer frightened; he was engulfed in an emotion of peace and joy and total oneness with all that was and would be and once had been. He stretched and soared on rainbow wings, exulting in the certainty that there was far more to being than a mere mortal body and lifetime—that even when this human body died, whatever guise it wore, he—the essence of him—would continue, would grow, would move on in the fullness of eternity.

In a sparkling instant, he saw his past, and other pasts, in shimmering, quicksilver glimpses, immediately lost to memory; and then his present experience, as though observing his own body from above, silver-gilt head bowed unflinching beneath consecrated hands whose touch was both delicate and relentless.

The thought whisked across his consciousness that perhaps he was fantasizing all of this; and a rational remnant of himself agreed. But another part of him banished that notion almost before it could take definite form.

What did it matter, at this point, whether he was experiencing true reality or one created, born of his own emotional need and reaching? No mere mortal could hope to experience the Godhead in
all
Its many facets. Man the finite could but glimpse the filmy shadow-trails of the Infinite, and that only if he were very fortunate.

But in his present mode, given all the weaknesses and strengths both of human and Deryni resources, was this not as close as he had ever brushed the Power which governed the wheeling of the universe?

He was marveling at what seemed to him an awesome piece of logic, part of him already wondering how much he would be able to retain when he returned to his normal state of awareness, when he sensed a drawing back, a lessening of the flow of power.

For the first time since Anscom's initial touch, he could sense the archbishop's own consciousness, warm and reassuring, respectfully curious as to what Camber had just been experiencing—for, truly, Anscom had been only what he had said he was: a channel for some greater Force.

Neither had Joram experienced exactly what Camber had. He, too, was but a channel, a conduit, however dear and beloved.

As the archbishop withdrew, first mind and then hand, and Joram also drew back, Camber settled gently back into his body and reluctantly let sensation sift back into its proper perspective. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and let his gaze rise to meet Anscom's, glanced briefly at his son standing awed before him.

But he knew instantly that there was no need to tell them what had happened—not the generalities, at any rate. They knew. They, too, were priests, touched by the same Forces as he in their own ordinations. Now the three of them shared that knowledge; Camber even understood a little of the frantic grief Cinhil must have experienced, to give this up. And Camber, like Anscom and Joram—and Cinhil—and all the others who had gone before, would never be quite the same.

He took a deep breath and sighed again, and Anscom, too, relaxed a little and smiled. Sitting down again, the archbishop untied the linen girdle around Camber's waist and brought the far end of the Michaeline stole across Camber's right shoulder so that the silken strip now lay about his neck. Crossing the ends of the stole on Camber's chest, he secured them under the cincture again as he spoke.

“
Accipe jugum Domini
…” Take thou the yoke of the Lord, for His yoke is sweet, and His burden light.

With a bow, he took the snow-white chasuble which Joram brought from the altar and pulled it over Camber's head, settling the folds gracefully around his body.

“
Accipe vestem sacerdotalem
…” Take thou the garment of the priesthood, which signifies charity; for God is able to advance you in charity and in perfection.

Another prayer was recited, with Joram making some of the responses as Anscom went briefly before the altar. Then the archbishop returned to sit and remove his gloves and bishop's ring. Camber remained kneeling before him, laying his open hands on Anscom's knees to receive the anointing with holy oil. The archbishop's thumb traced a cross on the upturned palms, right thumb to left index finger, left thumb to right index, as he intoned:

“
Consecrare et sanctificare digneris, Domine
…” Be pleased, O Lord, to consecrate and hallow these hands by this anointing and our blessing.

He made the sign of the cross above the hands. “That whatever they bless may be blessed, and whatever they consecrate may be consecrated and hallowed …
In nomine Domini Nostri Jesu Christe. Amen
.”

With that, Anscom closed Camber's hands and bound them, palm to palm, with a white linen cloth. Then, as Joram brought the new-made priest to kneel before the altar once more, Anscom approached the altar and took up a chalice. Joram poured wine and water into the chalice, then placed the paten with its Host on top of the chalice. Anscom descended the three steps to Camber and extended the symbols of priesthood to the new priest.

“Receive the power to offer sacrifice to God, and to celebrate Masses for the living and the dead, in the name of the Lord. Amen.”

Camber touched chalice and paten with the fingertips of his bound hands, then bowed his head as Anscom returned them to the altar and Joram removed the bonds and wiped away the holy oil. When Joram had finished, he raised up his father and led him to kneel before the archbishop on his faldstool once more. Camber bowed his head as he placed his hands between Anscom's to pledge his obedience.

“
Promittis michi et successoribus meis obedientiam et reverentiam?”
Anscom asked. Do you promise obedience and reverence to me and my successors?

“Promitto.”
I promise.

“Pax Domini sit semper tecum.”

“Et cum spiritu tuo.”

“Ora pro me, Frater,”
Anscom whispered, with a tiny smile.

Camber returned the smile.
“Dominus vobis retribuat.”
May the Lord reward you.

Anscom glanced up at the others, Joram and Evaine and Rhys, watching so proudly, then glanced down at Camber once more with affection.

“The rubric indicates that here I am to warn you of the potential danger of that upon which you are about to embark. However, I think you know that, and that you will exercise prudence. You will find, if you have not already guessed, that the rituals authorized by the conferring of the priesthood are no whit less powerful than any of our strictly secular Deryni operations, ‘secular,' in the Deryni sense, being a somewhat nebulous term. Perhaps that is why, even in our ‘secular' affairs, we are careful to perform our works according to specified and formal procedures. We know, or at least suspect, the length and breadth and height and depth of the Forces we draw upon.”

He glanced up at the other three again, then returned his attention to Camber.

“And so, my dearly beloved son, I will not admonish you as I would any common priest—for you are one of the most uncommon men I know. I will simply wish you all fulfillment in the new responsibilities which you have undertaken here tonight, and will ask you to bear with me as we complete the last portion of your priestly investiture before allowing you to celebrate your first Mass. Joram, will you please bring the Book?”

As Joram brought the Gospel from the altar, Anscom stood and signaled Camber also to rise. Taking Camber's right hand, the archbishop turned him to face his daughter and son-in-law.

“Hear ye, all present: Camber Kyriell has been set apart, consecrated, and perfected for the work of the Lord, and for the office of the Aaronic and Deryni priesthood.
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritui Sancti, Amen
.”

Joram bowed and gave the Gospel to Anscom, his eyes never leaving his father's face as Anscom placed the book in Camber's hands.

“‘The Lord hath sworn, and will not repent. Thou art a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek,'” Anscom announced. “‘The Lord at thy right hand shall strike through kings in the day of His wrath.'”

With the words graven upon his soul, Camber kissed the book and gave it back to Anscom with a bow.

“And now, let us make a joyful noise unto the Lord!” Anscom said, breaking into an enormous grin and taking Camber in an enthusiastic embrace. “Joram, come and embrace your father, who is also a Father and your brother now.”

He relinquished his hold on the new-made priest as Joram took his place. Soon Joram was supplanted by Evaine, whose tears of joy dampened his shoulder, and then by Rhys, whose Healer's hands he took in quiet affection.

“All happiness and honor, Father Camber.” Rhys smiled. The merry, sun-gold eyes danced in the fair, freckled face. “And now, if you're quite finished taking in all this congratulation, we've been waiting quite long enough to receive a special gift from your hands. May we assist you to celebrate your first Mass?”

With the help of those he loved, Camber celebrated that first Mass. Joram and Anscom gave their calm assurance as support during the ritual, reinforcing an office they both had performed countless times before, while Evaine and Rhys watched with wonder.

Camber even felt they understood, in part, what it meant to him; and what they could not understand, they took on faith. He could sense that faith in their response as they knelt to receive Communion from his newly consecrated hands; and he could see it in his daughter's joy as she and her husband embraced him a final time before going back through the Transfer Portal to their own quarters.

Of Joram, of course, there was no question. He understood perfectly. Camber knew that without even asking, from the glow in Joram's eyes and the new way he looked at his father now that they shared this common bond.

But they did not speak of it until Anscom had also gone and the two of them were packing up the vestments and altar furnishings, preparing to leave the little chapel as they had found it. Joram finished folding the vestments he and Camber had been wearing, laying them carefully into a leather travel satchel, then looked across at his father with a relaxed smile.

“Well, Father, how does it feel?”

Camber, kneeling to scrape up congealed wax from around the base of the western ward candle, glanced up with a wide grin.

“Do you realize how different your voice is, when you say that word now?”

“Father?” Joram chuckled and came to take the candle and put it with the others beside the door.

“Well, aren't
you
different?”

“I hope you don't really expect an answer to that.” Camber laughed. “Joram, I haven't been this happy in years.”

Picking up the last of the wax from the floor, Camber compressed it in his hand and watched it vaporize in a sparkle of sputtering fire. A wistful smile was still on his face as he dusted his hands against the blue of his cassock and joined Joram in the stripping of the altar.

“You know,” he continued, as he shook out an embroidered linen cloth, “it's something that I don't think I'll ever be able to explain in words, even to someone like yourself, who knows exactly what I'm talking about. Does that make any sense at all?”

“Oh, yes.” Joram put aside a cloth he had already folded and took the other end of Camber's, smiling warmly across the folds of linen as he met his father's eyes.

“Well, I'm glad it does to you,” Camber replied, “because I'm not sure
I
understand. It was awesome, wondrous, weighty—and, frankly, a little frightening, in the beginning.”

“Frightening? Yes, I suppose it is, in a way,” Joram agreed. “We take on quite a responsibility when we enter into this kind of commitment.” He stacked their folded cloth on top of the one he had already folded and leaned both elbows on them as he gazed across at Camber.

“It's worth it, though. And the scary part recedes after a while, I've found—at least most of the time. The awesomeness never does, though. Nor am I sure I'd ever want it to.”

Camber nodded. “Perhaps even the fear is important, in the long run. A recurring reminder of the weight of responsibility, to keep us humble. That's surely as it should be.”

“True.”

With a sigh, Joram glanced around the chapel in survey a final time, then gathered up the altar cloths and vestment satchel and headed toward the door.

“Well, I'll take these and leave you now. I suspect you'll want a few minutes alone, before you go back. I'll collect the candlesticks in the morning.”