0 comments/ 2718 views/ 2 favorites The Balance Ch. 13-18 By: Glaze72 Chapter 13 "Love" Abiron looked for the source of the word, and fell in love. This had never happened before. He loved his mother-wife, of course, but he had loved her since before he was born. He had never fallen in love before. And this, said the small, rational part of his brain that remained functioning, was someone worth falling in love with indeed. She stood slightly behind Brother Ulf, and outshone him as the summer sun outshines a sullen fire. She wore a wool habit, severe in shape, belted at the waist. Her feet were unshod, and her white feet whispered across the stone flags of the floor as she made her way towards the two contestants. Her hair, hacked severely short about her shoulders, gleamed with fallow gold. Her body was hidden by her habit, but her upright carriage and confident stride made him confident it was as lovely as her face, which, although set in determined lines, lost none of its sweet beauty to his gaze. Behind her stood two others. One plainly dressed in the fashion of Ulf, one in the finery of Rome. He paid them no mind. His eyes were locked on her. "My lady Angela," said Hannah, acknowledging her with a nod. "Be welcome. I wondered when I would find a sparring partner," she said, with a withering glance at Ulf, "more worthy of my skill." "I am only a servant of my Lord," said Angela, and Abiron's knees nearly buckled with the force of his desire, "but I am here to defend Him nonetheless. Not that He needs defending from the likes of you." she said bitterly. "You speak of love, Sister Angela. Tell me. What love can your Christ offer that is greater than that of the Deity I worship?" "Love beyond death." At this, Hannah faltered. For the first time, doubt entered her gaze. Sister Angela saw this, and pressed her attack. "He loved you, He loved me, He loved all of us so much, that He not only took on your sins and allowed His earthly form to die, but He came back to us. Did your Deity, can any other god claim this? He let himself to be put to death, and returned to those who did not halt it, forgiving their cowardice and assuring them they they still rested secure in His divine love. And He allows us to worship him and promises a place at His table when we die. "Come, my brothers. We have nothing more to say here. Let us take up this debate again, when there are more willing ears to hear." With this, Angela waked away. Casting a malevolent gaze at Hannah, Ulf followed her. The two other men paused for a moment. One approached their group. "My lady Queen,". It was the elder, a man of some fifty years, garbed in the finery of the Roman hierarchy, with a gaze at once shrewd and kind. "My lord Lambert. How fortuitous that you arrive. You missed out on all the fun." "Indeed." Lambert's gaze took in all of them. Cassiopeia, Ariana, Abiron, and Hannah, who had left her circle of admirers and had moved to her mother's side. "A pity I could not have put out this little conflagration before it began. But with a lady of such skill," he said with a slight bow towards Hannah, "I think the result would not have differed." He turned and walked away. "Paul, to me," he snapped. The final member of the Christian's party started and hurried after the bishop. But not without one final glance at Ariana, at whom he had been gazing as if star-struck. "Come, children," said Cassiopeia with a long sigh. "My lord husband will need to hear of this, and what we decide this evening may eventually decide the fates of us all." ***** "She did what?" Benedictos, king and ruler of their nation, looked nothing more than a peasant dressed up in his lord's finery. Short, squat, with a tanned face and thinning blond hair, he seemed as if he would be more comfortable repairing tack in a stable or counting loaves in a bakery than sitting in the most finely appointed room Abiron had ever seen. "She took on Ulf in the lesser gallery, in front of half the titled nobility of the country. And beat him, hands down," said Ariana. Benedictos looked at Cassiopeia. "What say you, my lady wife?" "Benedictos, we are all family here. One way or another. The least you can do is abandon the dreadful formalities." "Fine. How badly did she kick his ass, Cassie?" Cassiopeia grinned. "You know how much I love it when you talk dirty, Bennie." Her expression sobered. "She won on points, but I am glad that Lambert and I were there to keep things from escalating. Sister Angela showed up, and she fights dirty. With that milkmaid face and those eyes of hers. By the Deity! She could tempt me to believe in their Christ, and I can barely stomach Paul and Lambert, let alone Ulf." Benedictos looked at the two other men in the room. "What do you think, lads?" Prince Alan spoke first. "I only saw the end. I had been delayed by...erm...a prior engagement." Cassiopeia looked sharply at him. "I didn't see most of the punches, as it were, but Sister Angela seemed to make some strong points at the end. I am glad she wasn't there for the entire debate. She may have taken the day. She has the strength of her belief. That counts for a lot." "No, she doesn't." All heads turned to Abiron. "She doesn't believe a thing that she says. Or if she does, much of what she believes is caught up in anger." He looked at Ariana. "Do you remember when you were teaching me debate and elocution, mother?" He heard a gasp from Hannah, as he confirmed their relationship, and Alan drew in his breath with a hiss. "You made me defend impossible positions to strengthen my skills." "I remember," Ariana smiled. "You made a very convincing argument that blue was green, once upon a time." "But I hated it. I couldn't stand taking a position I didn't truly believe in. When I spoke, my voice sounded exactly like Sister Angela's did today. Her anger wasn't at Hannah. It was at her circumstances. She isn't saying what she believes. She is saying what she has been taught." "Well, isn't that interesting," said Benedictos. A light had entered his eyes. "You are sure of this, lad?" he asked Abiron. Abiron shrugged, uncomfortably caught in the gaze of many. "As sure as I can be, sire. I have never spoken to the lady. But I do not think her faith is as strong as many here suppose. I think that her teachers fell into the same trap. Her beauty so captivated them they chose to believe her faith was real. The more attractive a lady is, the more inclined we are to ascribe to her our own beliefs." "Well do I know it," sighed Benedictos. Abiron looked at him, and whether it was by the grace of the Deity, or by some insight heretofore unknown to him, he saw that the piercing wit that was so prevalent in Prince Alan and Princess Hannah came not only, nor even primarily, from Queen Cassiopeia, but from this simple stumpy man who looked like nothing more than a turnip-farming peasant. The king smiled at him sadly. "I asked her, you know. I asked her twice. But she would not have me." Abiron stared at the king, confused, until he saw that his gaze was directed at Ariana. Then he understood. "You knew I was meant for another, Benedictos." Ariana's voice was gentle. "Yes, I know," said the king. "For two others, as it seems. That doesn't mean a foolish young man can't dream. After the second time, the Deity Herself came to visit me. She was rather put out about the entire affair. She told me in no uncertain terms that I should pull my head out of my ass and marry the woman that was the best for me. And she was," he looked fondly at his queen. "but that didn't make things any easier at the time." "But what does this mean for us?" asked Hannah plaintively. She had been sitting out of the way, but now she moved forward. "What are we going to do? The worshipers of Christ are no worse off today than they were yesterday, and every day's delay means we are another day closer to our country being brought under Rome's heel." "Dissension among ones' enemies is always useful, princess," said Abiron. "It is helpful to know that the Christians are not one monolithic block, but four people, with agendas all their own. Think you on it." He held up a finger. "One. Brother Ulf. Passionate, zealous, but utterly vulnerable to, and infuriated by, logical attacks on his position. Not skilled in debate." "He is more like the drunk at a tavern who thinks that if he shouts his argument louder than his opponent, he is the victor," put in Prince Alan. "Actively disliked by both Bishop Lambert and Sister Angela." said the queen. Abiron held up his second finger. "Two. Bishop Lambert. Ambitious. Intelligent. A diplomat who finds his progress impeded by the rage of Ulf. Ulf probably dislikes him for being patient, and Angela almost certainly resents him if she is a weak in her faith as I suppose." "She may be vulnerable to a kind ear," said the prince, with a sideways look at Ariana. "And Lambert may be made vulnerable if he is led to believe that the king's position is weak and that he may give in to the demands of the Christians. Make him overextend," said Ariana. "Third. Sister Angela. Intelligent. Skilled in debate. She has the wit to know that if she is not strong in her faith, she must learn to fake it, lest others see it and she be cast out." "Beautiful, as well," said Cassieopeia. "I wonder. Did you see what the poor dear had done to her hair? Was that her doing, or the work of someone else? And if someone else, how much does she resent it?" "Last. Brother...Paul, isn't it? What can you tell me about him? I only saw him for a moment at the end of the debate this afternoon." Cassieopeia glanced around the room. "Anyone?" She smiled and looked back at Abiron. "He doesn't say much. I don't think anyone here has had much to do with him so far. Most of us have stayed away from their group on general principles. The King and I have dealt with Lambert as the head of their delegation, and everyone has had to deal with Ulf in one form or another. Until today, Angela and Paul have been in the background, as it were." "The young novice who came to the high temple had a strong opinion about his religious fervor," said Ariana. "I don't think either Angela or Paul would have been chosen without for this diplomatic mission without something to commend them," said the king. "Angela is intelligent and skilled in debate. We would be fools to think that Paul does not have similar qualities." "He is enamored of Lady Ariana," said the prince. They all turned to look at him. "You didn't see it?" said Alan. "He looked at her the way a man dying of thirst looks at a mug of water. She has but to crook her finger at him, and he will come running." "Well," said Ariana. "Well well well. Isn't that interesting." Her lips quirked. "He is a comely youth, I'll give him that," Abiron's eyebrows rose. Ariana seemed to come to a decision. "I think I have a solution for our dilemma. Your Highness," she said to Benedictos, "May the High Priest and myself impose upon you and the queen for a few minutes in private? I would like to discuss our plans for the morrow." "Why can't we stay?" asked Princess Hannah. "Because, my child, you should have been in bed two hours past," said the queen. "And you, my son,"she said, bending her gaze to Prince Alan, "will learn one of the secrets of ruling. The fewer that know of a plan, the better chance of keeping it secret." The prince sighed, "Very well, Mother. Come on, Pookie," he said, jerking his head at Princess Hannah. "Don't call me Pookie!" she said, and bickering, the two exited the room. Their voice faded as the guards outside closed the doors behind them. "My heir and the spare," the king sighed. He looked at Ariana. "My dear, one of the reasons I asked for your hand was that, beside your physical charms, which are considerable, I know that you have a first-rate mind. What devious plan is sitting there in your pretty little head?" Ariana smiled. Chapter 14 The next day, the throne room was crowded. Peers, members of the army, and anyone who could beg, sneak, or bribe their way past the guards had jammed every inch of available space. Word had leaked from the palace late the night before that the king had decided to answer the petition of the Christians, and was prepared to give an answer to their embassy. Ariana and Abiron stood to the left of the twin thrones of Benedictos and Cassieopeia. Alan and Hannah, dressed in court finery and subdued, stood to the right. At length, the captain of the guard approached the thrones. "Your Majesty, the christian delegation is here, in answer to your summons." "Very good," said Benedictos. "Please, show them in." The embassy filed into the throne room. Bishop Lambert led, with the others behind with eyes downcast. They halted a few steps away from the thrones. Abiron studied them. Lambert's face was an inscrutable mask, hiding both the intelligence that lay within and whatever nervousness he might be feeling. Ulf's face shifted between rage at the infidels that surrounded him and glee at the prospect of grinding them beneath him. Paul and Angela kept their eyes lowered, though Abiron caught Paul trying to steal glances at Ariana. Angela never looked up at all, and Abiron could not tell if this was due to hostility, boredom, or some other emotion. "Bishop Lambert," said the king, "I thank you for joining us this afternoon." "My pleasure, your majesty," replied Lambert. "And I thank you for receiving us. May I hope that this reception today is a sign that you look favorably on our embassy, and that I may tell my superiors that our church will be welcomed in your lands?" Benedictos frowned. "Not entirely, my lord bishop. As you know, our worship of the Deity has a long history in our lands. Though you do not share our faith, I am sure you are aware that this cannot be overthrown or set aside at a whim, no matter how persuasive the ambassador, or how strong the forces that may be arrayed against us should we refuse. "Therefore, I have devised a test, both of our faith and of yours. Accept it, and I swear by the Deity itself that I will hold true, else my immortal soul be forfeit. Refuse it, and I will expel you and your embassy, and will deny entry to my lands to all who profess your faith." Lambert's eyes grew wide, though he made no other sign of surprise. "And what is your test, your majesty?" "Simply this. You see before you the High Priestess and High Priest of the Deity. They will be the flag-bearers of our faith. Two of your embassy will be chosen to contest against them. At the end of a fortnight's time, we will bring all four before us. If either High Priestess Ariana or High Priest Abiron have had their faith weaken, or will attest to the divinity of your God, I will accept your terms and will allow those of your faith entry to these lands. If either of your party have their faith weakened, it shall be a sign that your God does not hold sway here, and you will sign a treaty that your church, and the nations that hold to it, will not assail our lands or our people by any means, spiritual or corporeal." Behind Lambert, Ulf stirred, "Foolishness!" he spat, "My lord," he said, addressing Lambert, "This is folly. All these supposed priests have to do is deny our lord for two weeks' time, come to their king, and claim that they saw no sign of divinity. Then their king will sigh, plead circumstance, and tell us to leave, since our faith was not able to overcome theirs." "What say you to that, your majesty?" asked Lambert. "It seems that Brother Ulf has a point. What possible benefit can we gain by accepting a challenge where a draw means we lose?" Benedictos smiled. "I have not finished, my lord bishop. Your error is in assuming that a tie would benefit us rather than yourselves. My lords, my ladies!" he cried, standing up and addressing all in the hall. "Hear my oath! So firm are Ariana and Abiron, so sure are they in their faith, that they bid me say this! If they cannot sway one of the two christians to our faith in a period of two weeks, they will accept their entry into our lands. The christians will be free to enter, to preach, to build centers of worship and to convert our people to their faith. This I swear, Benedictos, husband of Cassiopeia, second of that name." A gasp at the king's audacity echoed through the hall. Alan and Hannah went white. Ulf's face held a look of rapacious glee. Lambert wore a look of restrained joy. "Allow me to make sure that I understand you clearly, your majesty," he said, "only if either of the two chosen representatives of our faith turn to the worship of yours will we be forced to exit these lands?" "Exactly," said the king. "Very well, I accept. Brother Ulf and I will be our rep..." "Oh no, my lord," said the King. "As this is a matter of faith, we will not allow you to choose who will represent you. This is a matter for the gods themselves, and will be drawn by lot." He reached into his robe and drew forth several scraps of parchment. "Here I have written the names of all four members of your party, along with the members our faith with whom they will contest," he said, showing them to both Ariana and Lambert, who nodded acceptance, "Let fate and the gods choose the ones who will defend your faith," he scanned the hall with his eyes. "Will someone aid me in the choosing, so it cannot be said that the drawing was unfair?" "Me! I'll do it!" a little boy, no more than seven years old, ran to the king. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and wore a simple tunic, finely woven and belted around the waist. He came up to the king and stood in front of him, as eager as a puppy to go for a walk. The king smiled, "Very well, my lad," He checked his hands. "First draw one name from my left hand." The child did so. "Can you read it for us?" "Of course I can read. It says 'High Priestess Ariana'". "Now draw from this hand," the king said, holding out his right hand. "Brother Paul" "High Priest Abiron" "Sister Angela" Abiron smiled inwardly. He remembered the conversation from the night before, where the queen had expressed doubt about the draw coming out the way they wished. "Cassieopeia, I am a high priestess. If you think that I can't jigger a simple two-hand draw to come out the way I want to, I may as well take off my chain of office and retire." ***** "Very well," said the king. "Brother Paul and High Priestess Angela will engage in a contest of faith, as will High Priest Abiron and Sister Angela. Two hours each will be set aside in morning and evening for them to speak with each other. We will meet in this place a fortnight hence to hear the outcome of this contest. Will each of you please come forward?" Ariana and Abiron left their places and stood in front of the throne. After a confused look at each other, Angela and Paul did the same. The king looked at Angela and Paul. "As you are guests in our land, it may have occurred to you that we may try to intimidate you, by word or deed, into renouncing your faith. Have no fear on those grounds. If our faith is not strong enough to win on its own merits, it is not worth defending. Neither the high priest or priestess will seek to sway your faith through force. If you feel in any way threatened by them, you have only to report it to the least of my guardsmen, and the trial will be over, and our trial will have failed. You shall be left alone and unmolested each day as the contest takes place." "My lord king. " objected the bishop, "You mean to leave our brethren alone with these people? Unattended and unprotected? You know that we are sworn to a life of chastity, while your..." " 'These people', my lord bishop? 'While your...', what? Are not sworn to a life of chastity? Tread carefully, Lambert. Do not denigrate the highest representatives of my faith within my hearing." His face grew stern. "What say you? That the lord High Priest Abiron will ravish Sister Angela? That he has so little control over his carnal lust? What are you implying?" The Balance Ch. 13-18 "I do not seek to impugn the High Priest, my lord king," said the bishop, nervousness making his voice unsteady, "but I am sure that you know that there are...rumors...about members of your faith." The king sighed. "They are not rumors, Lambert. They are fact. Those called to serve the Deity do not chain their desires when they enter Her service. Neither, however, are they permitted to force their desires on the unwilling. To do so is the blackest heresy our religion recognizes, and the act is punishable by expulsion, castration, or death, depending on the severity of the crime. Sister Angela, and Brother Paul, for that matter, are safe from the unwanted attentions of the high priest and priestess." At this, Sister Angela looked up, and Abiron caught her glance. A long look passed between them, but he could not tell what it meant. Lambert backed a step, and his face had regained its usual diplomatic passivity. "Of course, your highness. Please excuse my words. I had forgotten that our ways are not yours. Yet." "Never," came a clear voice, and Abiron did not even have to look to know that it came from Hannah. "Never," she said again, and in her eyes was a challenge as she looked at the entire delegation. "I have heard tales, my lord Lambert, of soldiers who have fought in battle, and who have taken their death-wound, and fought on all unknowing. You have lost, and do not even know it yet. Take care not to fight too long." "Silence," said the king, with a quelling look at the princess. "My lord Lambert, two hours shall be set aside in the morning and the evening for these four to become acquainted one with the other. To converse, to contest, and to determine the fate of this land. My guards shall protect their conferences, so that they shall not be unduly influenced by outside forces. If any shall feel that they are in danger, all that need be done will be to report this to the least of my men, and on hearing of this, I shall declare a forfeit. Is this clear?" he asked, with a look at Brother Ulf. "It is, my lord," said the bishop. "Then I declare this audience over. The contest will commence tomorrow. May blessings fall upon those who are in the right." ***** The next morning found Abiron walking through one of the smaller gardens in the complex, looking for Sister Angela. The day was cool, but a bright sun and little wind made it seem warmer than it was. Abiron's mind was busy. Two weeks to convince one dedicated to her god to renounce her faith. How could he do it? Even though he believed, as he had said the night before, that Sister Angela was not firm in her faith, the magnitude of what he and Ariana were attempting overwhelmed him. And the stakes of this game were enormous. If he or Ariana failed, the consequences would be terrible. In the last several days, he had acquainted himself more thoroughly with the teachings of his opponents, and the parts that did not terrify him repulsed him. The thought that any assembly of people would choose to live under the moral code that these did chilled him to his core. Contemplating the challenge before him, he passed a turn on the pathway on the garden and saw Sister Angela. Her beauty, as before, struck him senseless. Hers was different from the beauty of Ariana. His mother-wife had an attraction that was rooted to the earth that all people sprang from. With her dark hair and full breasts, she could have been an earth goddess of old days come to life in a later era. Angela was otherwise. Her pale hair and blue eyes, coupled with her fair skin, made her seem transient and ethereal, a being born of air and sunlight. Until she turned her face to him, and he could see the scorn in her eyes. ***** "Well, priest, it seems that I have no choice but to spend a goodly portion of my day with you for the foreseeable future." He words could have been ice, for all the warmth they contained. Gently, he thought. This one has not had a chance to learn gentle speech from my lady mother. And you know how well she likes men. Treat her kindly and she may give you a chance. Meet despite with despite and you will lose her forever. "Truth indeed, my lady. But to me it will seem no hardship. Please, may I join you here?" he gestured to the wooden bench that she sat on, overlooking a small formal garden, brown now with winter's frost. "Do as you will. I care not. But be warned. If you think to woo me to the side of your pagan deity, I will not yield. Beyond my disinterest in your impossible faith, I have been promised the ability to choose my own path following this embassy. I doubt that you can say the same." And now the game begins, though Abiron. Angela, unknowing or not, had given him a valuable bargaining chip mere moments after the contest had begun. The power to choose her own path was undoubtedly of importance to her. If he could bore through her steely exterior, the knowledge that the women of this land had far more control of their lives than did the women of her own country might have a profound effect on her. "Very well, my lady. At least let me look upon you. I must own, coloring of your sort is very rare in my world. May I ask where you first hail from?" Angela sighed, as if a tribute to her looks had been made so often that it had passed beyond the merely trite and into the tiresome. "My father farms the land near Tuckborough." In response to Abiron's blank look she said, "In Suffolk." To Abiron's continued confusion she said, "In England. Are you dense? Did the lady priestess choose a pretty face to be her paramour? She did not seem a fool, but I have been wrong before." "No my lady. I know where the Angla-land lies. And you are abnormally perceptive. Not many know of the relationship between the lady High Priestess and myself." "Any one who is not a fool could see it. But we seem to have a surfeit of fools these days." She muttered some more words under her breath that Abiron could not catch. "That must be the language of your own land. It is like unto you, my lady. Beautiful in places, but hard as stones underneath. I will own that I was mistaken when I first saw you. I see know that you are not an angel..." "...But an Angle," Angela's voice was sardonic, "Thank you. I have heard this joke before. Please stop before you prove yourself tiresome." Abiron spread his hands. "What will you then, my lady?" Angela's voice rose and she clenched her fists. "STOP CALLING ME THAT!" A silence fell. Angela's head was bowed. Abiron waited for a few moments, and when Angela said nothing more, he spoke in a soft voice. "Forgive me, my...," Angela's head rose and there was murder in her eyes. "Forgive me, Sister. I did not mean to offend. I have little liking for titles myself, only having been addressed as 'Abiron' until these few weeks past, and only becoming a high priest recently. Let us make a bargain together. I will call you 'Sister' or 'Angela', and you will call me 'Abiron', and we will both be comfortable, and I will not call down your wrath upon my head." Abiron saw her take a deep breath,and the golden head rose from where it had been bowed over her lap, "A bargain then," and for the first time that morning, something approaching a smile graced Angela's face. "I apologize for my show of temper. I do not like being addressed by a title which I do not hold." But one you once had, perhaps? Abiron did not let his suspicions show. "Since we have agreed on courtesy, Sister, what knowledge of me and my folk will you have? We have some hours together today, and unless you wish to sit in companionable silence, I think the time would pass quicker if we shared our thoughts." Angela let out a sigh, "Until a few months ago, I had never been more than thirty miles away from my home. I was picked for this embassy by virtue of my wits and because I had caused more trouble in my cloister than my continued presence was worth. I had never heard of your faith before. I would like to know more of it, if we are to contest with each other." Abiron smiled to himself. Now we come to it. Despite her protestations, Angela was curious about his land, its people, and the Deity who protected them. This was his chance to begin to win her to his side. "Well, to begin with, I suppose I should tell you a story about a young girl named Margaret..." ***** Elsewhere... Brother Paul, escorted by two members of the palace guard, waited outside the rooms given over to the priests of the Deity. Despite the coolness of the air, he sweated inside of his monk's robe. He was terribly nervous about the idea of being left alone with a lady of such singular beauty. Tales of the perfidious lusts of the priests and priestesses of this land had been hammered into his head by Ulf and Lambert, and while his faith was strong and his vows new-minted, he still feared, as all men fear, the beautiful woman beyond the door. When the portal opened, he was comforted. Rather than the scene of debauchery he feared, the High Priestess was dressed as any well-to-do matron of his acquaintance might be. She wore a sensible woolen dress, somewhat finer than the norm, but warm against the chill that no amount of fireplaces could drive from the palace in winter. Only the necklace around her throat distinguished her from any once of a hundred ladies of middle years. That, and her beauty, which could not have been disguised were she wearing burlap and sackcloth. "Please, enter." Her voice was as lovely as her body, and he would have happily opened his veins to hear her say more. "May I offer you refreshment? Food? Wine?" She gestured to a nearby table, where a laden tray was waiting. "No, thank you," Paul said. Then reflecting that it may be discourteous to refuse the High Priestess' generosity, "Perhaps some water?" "Of course," Ariana said, moving to a side table and filling a glass from a pitcher there. She handed it to Paul with a smile. "Please, sit." She took a seat on a couch several feet away. "Well, here we are. Two people of opposing faiths, and a land hangs in the balance," she smiled sadly. "Before we go hacking at each other with the unsheathed swords of our wits, perhaps you can tell me about yourself." Paul paused, nonplussed. He had thought that he was going to have to defend his church and his faith. He was not prepared for a gentle inquiry into his past. "I am a foundling. I was left at the gates of an abbey near Edinburgh in Scotland nearly twenty years ago. No one knows who my parents are. They could have been nearby, or they could have been travelers with no time or ability to care for another child. As happens with most foundlings, I was raised by the brothers at the abbey. We are not required to take vows, but I found a vocation and happily chose to do so." "No dreams of a wife and children? You seem a likely enough lad. Did none of the girls near your abbey set their eye on you?" "The presence of women was not encouraged," Paul said stiffly. "I have had little time with them, and for a woman to interfere with the calling of a man to serve in the church would result in the highest possible disapproval." "Hmmm. Very well." Her look was unsettling. "Since you value scholarship so highly, and since we are to strive against each other, what can I tell you of our faith? You will need to know what we believe," she said with a smile, "before you can tell us why we are so terribly wrong, and doomed to eternal damnation." "Start at the beginning," and now Ariana saw that his diffident exterior was a mere mask for the ravening scholar underneath. She saw what she sometimes saw in Abiron, or, more rarely, herself. The desire to know. "The beginning," she mused. "Well, and why not? We can at least begin there, and if our talk grows too tedious, we can always move onward. "Like most stories that are worth listening too," she said with a smile, "even yours, it begins with a child. "Tell me, Paul. When you were a little boy, did you ever have an imaginary friend?" ***** "...she was a small girl whose family lived in the north of this land, or so our oldest tales say," said Abiron to Angela, "and like many children, both before and since, she told her parents and older siblings about a playmate only she could see and talk to. Another little girl she called 'Deety...'" "...who knows how many gods and goddesses begin this way, in the imagination of a child," continued Ariana. "But her parents took little note, being full of business of their own. Sowing and reaping, waking and sleeping, eating and drinking and loving and living. Until they noticed something odd." "...the things that this child wished for came true. Not once or twice, but repeatedly. So often so that the mother noticed and remarked upon it. And then one autumn, the father grew ill. Desperately ill, and no one, not the mother, who could only bathe her husband's fevered brow with water, not the various neighbors with their folk-cures, or even the wise-woman from the next village, could do anything to help him. "Finally, in desperation and grief and terror with what her life would be like if her mate should die, she did what seemed to her to be the pinnacle of foolishness. She offered a prayer, heartfelt and pure, to her daughter's imaginary friend." "...and her husband recovered. Miraculously, some might say," said Ariana. "It was the beginnings of faith. Our theologians have long disagreed whether the faith created the Deity, and if the miracles which are sometimes performed in His name are an outward manifestation of our faith, or if the Deity existed beforehand, but needed a child's faith to be able to take a hand in the material world. To me it is one and the same. I care little for the hair-splitting. I know that the Deity is real." "And you believe that your god came into the world in this fashion?" asked Paul. "I don't believe that the Deity came into the world in one way or the other," said Ariana. "I don't even particularly care. I only know that He is. "So when the mother told her acquaintances of how her husband had been cured, something curious happened. Or perhaps not, when you consider the vagaries of human nature. Other people of that village also began to pray. Sometimes the prayers were answered. Eventually, word began to spread. Passing merchants told the tale as an amusing anecdote to villages up and down the road. And as people will do, some chose to believe and pray. "And after a great many years, the worship of this one Deity, which had begun with a small girl in a village which no longer exists, had spread to every corner of this land, crowding out the faiths of whatever gods had been there before. After a somewhat longer time, the land itself had been unified under one ruler. And the Deity has guarded the land and His faith ever since." "Until very recently. When your king chose to risk all on the negligible chance that either Sister Angela or myself will abandon our faith for your Deity," his voice was hard. "I have to wonder if he is as good a steward of his people as he pretends to be, if he is willing to gamble this with their futures." Ariana leaned back on her couch, completely unfazed by his tone and words. "I have known the king most of my days. He does not make bets he does not expect to win." "Everyone expects to win when they gamble, my lady priestess. Otherwise, why would anyone do so? Not every wager is a wise one. To expect that either myself or Sister Angela, whose faith is as strong as mine, would willingly throw over our Lord for this false godling of yours is laughable." Again, Ariana did not rise to the bait. "False? Whoever gave you that idea? Who decides what gods are real and which are not? Is there a review board for deities which I was not made aware of?" Her smile was wicked. "Dear me. I hope that we are not in arrears on our yearly dues. Otherwise there might be some penalty." "You know what I mean, my lady. I know you are complemented with a full set of wits. Please do not try to appear foolish. Our texts state that thou shalt have no other gods before the One God." "But your texts do not state that no other gods exist," Her voice and her eyes were now as sharp as knives. "Your god did not deny that other gods existed. He merely forbade their worship. Do you not remember the story of Baal? What you call false we call other." Paul faltered for a moment, racking his brain. Was what the High Priestess said true? He recalled the story of Baal and of Moses coming down with the commandments in his hand. He knew he had the words of the commandment right. But could the conclusion he drew from them be wrong? "Remember the words of scripture, dear boy," her look was half pitying, half mocking, " 'I, the Lord your God, am a jealous god'. What need to be jealous if you are the only god? The command to worship no other gods only makes sense if there are other gods." Outflanked and rattled, Paul decided that the only alternative now was a strategic retreat. "I should go," he said, hating the fact that he was beaten before he had begun. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," said Ariana, walking him to the door. He turned to wish her farewell, and found her hand on his cheek. She rose up and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. "Until next time, dear boy." ***** "A pleasant story," said Angela, "It has all the charm of a fairy-tale, with none of the pain of reality. Good and decency triumph, evil is defeated, and everyone goes home happy." "No one said anything about evil being defeated," said Abiron comfortably. "We know that evil is only driven back at great cost, and grows again whenever decent people are content to do nothing. This is merely our own tale about how our Deity came to be. It is, if you will forgive me, more logical that how your god was in place before the world began, created it, made humanity and all the flora and fauna that exists, and then destroyed it like a child throwing a tantrum." Angela ignored the jibe. "Is that how you see our people, as evil?" Abiron began to give a glib answer, then paused, considering the look in her eyes. This was a question that meant much to her. To answer it with mockery would do damage here. She was listening to him. And though she had dismissed the story as a fairy-tale, she had not stormed off, shouting of heresy as Ulf would have done. Or simply ignored it as the superstition of unlettered peasants, as Lambert would have. "Not evil, no," he said slowly. "Not in and of yourselves. I see no evil in you or in Brother Paul, little though I know him. Bishop Lambert though, could allow evil to be done, if it advanced what he saw as the greater good, though he would not dirty his hands directly. He is ambitious, that one, and if you were allowed into our country, and if someone resisted the raising of one of your churches, and if that person was killed as an example, I do not think his conscience would be overly exercised. "Ulf, though," he paused. "Ulf frightens me. Not in the manner you think," he said, catching her look. "I do not fear for myself or for my own safety. When my time comes, it will come. And I do not fear that he would attack me openly, before witnesses, or even covertly, for fear of his own skin. "I fear what he might do in the name of his church if he had power of his own. He is like a vicious dog on a short leash. He is always pulling on the chain and gnawing on the stake. Lambert keeps him under control, for now. But what if the chain should break or the stake snap? And what if the leash itself was taken away? What if he was under no one's direct control, and no one to answer to between here and Rome? He would do ill. Especially if challenged. He is the sort of man who would wreak vengeance tenfold for every slight done to him. I fear that the Old Testament is far more to his liking than the New. He may very well throw a tantrum. Rather than destroying a world, he would destroy a nation. That would suit him well, I think." The Balance Ch. 13-18 His eyes sought hers. "I would be careful, Angela, if I were you. I would be very careful. Before this contest is over, he will come to you. And there will be questions about our time together. And sooner or later, there will be a threat made. About how ill things could go for you if it seems you are favoring our cause..." Angela laughed in disdain, "You flatter yourself overmuch, Abiron. Just because you have told a pleasant story and are not unpleasant to look at, you think you have me under your spell. And now you think to protect me from a member of my own faith! While Ulf is not the companion I would have chosen for this journey, I have nothing to fear from him." She stood, "I must thank you for a diverting time, Abiron, but I think that is enough for one day. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow." her voice was light, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes. Abiron rose as well and bowed slightly. "I look forward to it as well, Sister." He watched as she walked quickly away and back to her lodgings. Chapter 15 "Well, how did it go?" Ariana asked, as Abiron entered their suite. "Not badly. I told the Origin Myth, and did it rather well, I think. She was interested, at least, though she dismissed it as a fairy tale. I managed to get in a dig at Ulf, in the form of a warning about her safety. With any luck, that will help to divide them. Ulf is not the sort to keep his mouth shut about us, and when he opens it, it will reinforce what I have said." "And if he does keep his mouth shut?" "Then we haven't lost a thing. We're playing long odds, Mother. We will have to take risks." "Don't I know it. I kissed our gentle Brother Paul today." "What?" "Don't look so shocked. You know that he is half-besotted with me already. And I did it as a farewell gesture. Right now he is so confused that he won't say a word about it, and will spend all night hoping that it happens again tomorrow." Ariana smiled slightly, "I told the Origin Myth as well. He dealt with it somewhat better than Angela did, I think. He looked at it as an intellectual exercise. However, when I pointed out that even his holy books did not discount the possibility of other gods, he was surprised. That is going to put a dint in his armor." #### In the halls of the palace, Paul walked in a daze. She had kissed him! Of course, he said to himself, it was not as if she had torn his clothes off and ravaged him then and there, but still! Have done, he thought, pausing at an intersection of two corridors. It was a simple gesture farewell. Any mother saying good-bye to her son would do the same. And it probably means as much, he thought bitterly. If he knew then the relationship between Ariana and her son, he would have been both immeasurably cheered and incredibly terrified by this thought. A scrape behind him drew his attention back to his immediate surroundings. One of the two guardsmen who had been assigned to him for the duration of the contest smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Not used to being on my feet this long." Alan smiled, recognizing the accent of his own homeland. He looked at the guard, a man of middle years and height, with graying brown hair and a little too much weight around his middle. "What in the world is a Scot doing in this place?" "The same thing you are. Trying to convert the heathen to the everlasting glory of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ." "Really?" Alan's eyes shone. "No. Not really," the guards eyes gleamed in amusement. Beside him, the other guard snickered, then drew himself up to something approaching a military stance. "You will have to forgive the Corporal here, Brother. He has a regrettable lack of discipline, even for a Scot." Alan smiled, "No offense taken. I know that my faith is not popular here. May I at least have your names?" "I am called John," said the first guard. "And I am Kristopher," said the second, who Alan now noticed, was wearing a sergeant's plume. He was taller and thinner than John, but had the same brown hair and blue eyes as the other. "At the risk of seeming repetitive, can you tell me what a guard from Scotland is doing in this country?" "Thrown out," said John. And he was not smiling now. "Your own damn fault," said the sergeant. "Keep pushing my buttons, sarge. Maybe I'll tell a certain lady on Carpenter's Street that you are not as available as you would like her to think," he sighed and turned back to Alan. "He's telling the truth, in his own aggravating way," he said, "I'm a free thinker. I liked to sleep late in the morning and not spend Sundays and feast days and holy days and saint's days on my knees in a cold damn drafty church, giving thanks that I hadn't died in a plague, or being told how I was going to burn for eternity if I didn't give my lord and the church my labor three days out of every seven. So I quit." "Quit? Quit what?" "I quit going to church. And I quit working my lords' land. And then my lord and the church saw fit to throw me out of my shire. Which was fine with me, since I had no family and no desire to stay." "And you call yourself a free thinker?" "Yes." "And what is that, exactly?" "Here we go," groaned the sergeant, leaning against the wall. He turned up his eyes as one who has heard it all before, and has no desire to hear it again. "A free thinker," said John, "Is someone who is not trapped by ancient superstition. He believes only in evidence supported by what he can observe with his waking mind. He is not tied to the past, but works toward a brighter future..." "...and is terribly smug about it," interrupted Kristopher, "Your pardon, Brother," he said, with a significant look at John, "he did not mean to impugn your religion. John is, when all is said and done, an atheist. He does not believe in anything he can't see for himself. And because of his expulsion from his own land, he has some unpleasant things to say about Christianity." "Wait a minute," said John, "I have always said that I admire the Judeo-Christian ethic as a working foundation..." "And then you always find a way to insult Christians. Will you just shut up? We are trying to be polite to our guests, not antagonize them. The fact that you find most religion offensive is not helping here." Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking, Alan turned his attention to the sergeant, "And you my lord, do you hail from outside this land as well?" The sergeant laughed, "No lord, me. But my family is somewhat higher born than my sacreligious friend, here," he smiled at John, and Alan could see there was true friendship there, despite the sniping between them."And yes, I am not a native of this place. My homeland is to the north and east of here." "And how did you come here?" asked Alan, hoping that the tale would be somewhat more cheerful than John's story of rebellion and exile. Sergeant Kristopher's face clouded. John looked grim and turned away. "I was young. And made a marriage that I thought would be pleasing. Both my parents and hers were in favor of the match. But I found that while my wife was pleasant with others around, she became less so when it was only the two of us alone. And in the bedchamber..." he reddened and became silent. "She turned him away from the act of love," John said. His voice was soft and sympathetic, and Paul could now see plainly the deep friendship he bore the other. "I tried to get a divorce. An annulment. Neither of the two of us were happy, and what point a marriage if both are miserable? Or even one? But the priest," and here his voice was full of choked fury, "and his bishop both demanded far more money for the annulment than I was able to pay. I had two choices. Live a life with a woman who could not stand my touch, or sell my land to get an annulment. I took the third. I left my wife, let her keep the land, and left the country entirely. She will be well. She has a couple of cousins who can help her work the farm. She may even be happier without me. I know I am happier without her. I eventually made my way here, enlisted as a private, and have worked my way to sergeant. "But I can't get married again. Not legally. John was right a few minutes ago. I can't promise a woman anything longer than a nights' pleasure. Thanks to the greed of a priest and the teachings of my church." "You've done well, here, though, Kris. You're the best man I know." "Oh, shut up, will you? Before you know it we'll be getting drunk again and singing those terrible Scots border ballads you love so much. You could be captain, you know, if you weren't so damn happy being a corporal." "I know," John said agreeably, "but then I couldn't be in your squad, and who else would put up with me? Besides," he said, "I am terminally unambitious and don't get along well with others. And have you forgotten that you had to take me off the morning watch because I would never get up on time for muster? I'd be a rotten captain." Paul looked at this interplay in amazement. An atheist and a man running away from a failed marriage, both in positions of responsibility, one of them a sergeant in the palace guard? Little though he knew of the setup of castles in his own country, he could not imagine such a thing taking place. "But tell us of yourself, young Brother," said Kristopher, "Before this reprobate got your attention, you were standing there in the hallway like you had been pole-axed. I am sure the High Priestess did not treat you badly, did she?" "No indeed," said Paul with a uncomfortable smile, "She was courtesy itself. But you have to admit that she is somewhat of an imposing lady." "That she is. I have heard rumors that the king himself asked for her hand, when they were both younger. She has a sharp wit and a kind heart, if all I hear is true. And she is very comely, is she not?" and here the sergeant reddened slightly. "And you call me out for teasing the poor lad!" said John. "Your pardon, Brother. But it is said here that the priests and priestesses of the Deity take on some of the aspects of the Divine. And truth be told, I have never seen an ugly priestess during all my time here." "She kissed me," Paul blurted. Then he wished he could sink into the ground, never to be heard from again. He waited for the raillery he was sure would come, or the smirks as the soldiers made mock of him. "As I said, a touch of the divine," said John. "I shouldn't give any credence to it, not being given to believing in that sort of thing, but I have seen it myself. Look at you. Shiny faced and eager to convert the heathen, and sad and lonely and longing for home. And herself a priestess in the service of a deity that gives comfort in all its forms? Of course she kissed you. And if you had bad news from home, if a good friend or family member had died, she would listen while you told her and she would hold you while you wept. "Enough of this standing around. We are off duty now that your time with our lady is over. What say you come with us for a bite and a sup? We know a good place that serves a good meal." Paul considered the offer. He knew he probably shouldn't. Lambert would disapprove, Ulf would foam at the mouth, And Angela? What would Angela think? For the first time, the opinion of his third companion rose in his mind. I should speak with her, thought. I should see how her time went with the other, this Abiron. He smiled at his two new friends. "Let's go. I'm starving." Chapter 16 Paul was beginning to wonder if he had made a serious mistake. John and Kris were good companions, but a small voice which had started in the back of his mind had begun making itself heard in the front. Speaking with the common folk was all very well and good, this voice claimed, but only so far as it pertained to actually converting them to his faith. A chance meeting in a hallway, followed by a trip to the barracks while his new friends changed into off-duty attire, and then a hike into town and a shared table in a tap-room might be taking the affair a little too far. Paul frowned and told the voice to shut up. The room was loud, though not uncomfortably so. He was sitting beside Kristopher in a booth, while John somehow managed to take up a whole side on his own, shoulders wedged into one corner and his legs splayed along the bench. "Damned winter," he groused. "Thank god we are out of the armor, or we would have frostbite on places we can't even reach." "You don't believe in god," Kristopher pointed out, having just returned from the bar. "Piss off," John said happily. "You don't point out the untenable points in my own philosophy, and I won't mock you for being a sheep-humping barbarian. Where's the food?" "On the way," he looked at Paul. "Hope you don't mind that I ordered for you. This place has a limited menu, but what they have is good. It doesn't look like you were prepared to pay for a meal anyway. Don't worry," he said, catching Paul's look of alarm, "I'll cover for you. Or he will, provided he has saved enough out of his pay this month." John's rejoinder was lost in the arrival of plates and trays from the bar. Paul looked hungrily at what was put on the table. His monastery had not overfed its tenants, and although his inclusion in this embassy should have resulted in a nominal improvement in his diet, the servants detailed to provide him with his daily meals had not seemed over-enthusiastic about their tasks. Correspondingly, this looked to be his best meal in several months. There was bread, butter, cheese, fried fish, and a heaping plate of mushrooms and onions. John came out of his half-snooze in the corner, and immediately set to work. In a trice he had hacked off two slices of bread, anointed them in a sauce strange to Paul, and placed a portion of fish between them. Taking a huge bite he sighed, and then washed it down with gulp of ale from the mug set before him. "Now I can die a happy man." "Not yet," Kristopher replied, "We have duty tomorrow. Have to make sure this boy here doesn't get into any mischief," he said with a glance at Paul. Paul, who was working on a piece of fish of his own, along with a goodly helping of mushrooms, was startled. "What do you mean? How would I get into mischief?" "Don't worry yourself, boy," said John. "What Kris here is saying is that we seem to have been assigned to your meetings with the High Priestess, for the time being. We're to make sure that no one disturbs the two of you, or attempts to influence you while you are on your own." Paul relaxed, then tensed, looking at the doorway. "By all the saints, how did he find me here?" The sergeant followed his glance and cursed softly. "John, are you still sober?" "Sober enough. Why?" "Because we are about to have company, and I want you to make sure I don't run this bastard through." "What with?" John asked calmly, "Your sword is in the barracks, and you'll pardon me for saying so, but I don't think your other sword is long or sharp enough to do what you have in mind. "Also," he said, as Brother Ulf stalked up to the table, "You'll probably catch something unpleasant." Ulf stood, glaring down at the three of them. They looked back up. Kristopher in active dislike, John in amusement, Paul in apprehension. "Paul, you will come with me," Ulf said. "Now." Paul hesitated. "See, this is exactly what I was talking about when we were having our argument last week," John said to Kristopher. "Put sixpence of black wool on a man and mumble some Latin over him and he thinks he owns you, body and soul. Put a quarter-pound of gold around his finger and he thinks he owns a town. Give him a little more gold and a stupid hat and he thinks he owns a country. Give me an honest pirate any time. At least he doesn't tell you that god made him do it while he is fucking you." Paul gasped, Kristopher smiled bitterly, and Ulf turned white. "How dare you mock the Lord?" he thundered. "Piss off. No one was mocking your god. We were mocking you. Do try to remember the difference," Kris said. "Paul, do you want to go anywhere with this ass-napkin?" Paul stuttered, "Well, I hadn't finished eating yet..." "Right," Kris said. He looked at Ulf. "Listen. I don't like you. My friend here despises you and everything you stand for. Most of the people in this room would happily tie a rock to your ankles, row you into the harbor, and see if you could breathe water. I know you think you were terribly clever by following us down here so you could squeal to Lambert about how we were threatening Brother Paul with death and mayhem unless he recanted his faith. But by now you know that nothing of the sort is taking place. My advice? Leave. We'll make sure Brother Paul gets back to his rooms. And no one," he said significantly, "is going to threaten him while we are around. Got it?" Ulf paused, then nodded. His face twisted in a smile that, for once, seemed more respectful than feral. "I will remember," he said, "Paul, I will see you in the morning." He turned and stalked out of the tavern. "What an amazingly dull fellow," John remarked. "Who wants another beer?" Chapter 17 "...but surely you'll admit, Abiron, that for one god to take on the aspects of a dozen different...avatars...strains credulity. Why have a dozen to worship when one will do?" "And has not your god appeared in different ways to different men? Let us not forget Moses and the burning bush, or the various times your god appeared as a voice from the clouds or the wind. Even your holy trinity has many of the same characteristics. And may I be forgiven for saying it, Angela, but your god seems to me to be one wholly unworthy of worship in the first place. How can you honor a deity who is so lacking in moral fiber?" "Moral fiber? The commandments which he has given to us are..." "Nothing more than an attempt to shackle a willingly oppressed people," Abiron's face was grim. Angela was surprised. In her first few meetings with the priest, she had been sure that he was nothing more than an amusing plaything which the High Priestess had chosen for his good looks and his prowess in the bedchamber. His amiable attitude during their first debate had done nothing to disabuse her of this notion. However, she was finding this morning, the second day of the contest, that his pleasant face masked a mind which was at least the match of her own. And now she was finding out just how repugnant he found her faith. "Let's take a look at these commandments, can we? The first four are nothing more than keeping those in power in power. Primarily, the priesthood. They state," Abiron said, ticking the points off on his fingers, "First: 'I'm God. Do what I say'. Second: 'No other Gods allowed, or you are in BIG trouble.' Third: 'I get one day a week, so you can worship me.' And fourth: 'By the way, if you feel like getting uppity, listen to your father and mother, because they are on my side'." Angela fought off a distressing urge to smile. "That's the first four. The rest are a little more tolerable. But not much. No murder. No adultery. No stealing. No false witness. And to emphasize the ban against stealing, we get two commandments about not coveting other people's belongings." "Well, what in the world is wrong with a ban on murder? Or theft?" said Angela. "Nothing is wrong with a ban on those. But Angela, haven't you thought about how your god wraps the few decent pieces of philosophy he has with so much pain and suffering? Look at the 10th commandment. Men are banned from coveting their neighbor's wife. But nothing is said about women coveting a neighbor's husband. Why? Because the god, or men, who wrote that commandment could not conceive of a world where their wives would not be satisfied with them. Women were to be tame, placid creatures, while it was the men who had to be restrained from the sinful effects of a woman's nefarious wiles, sent to tempt them."