The abbot's eyes were blue like those of his guest, but paler. They had a net of fine lines by their corners, and suddenly he was convinced that the man had come late to a cleric's calling; those were marksman's eyes. Nigel judged him to be around forty, or perhaps a little older if the tonsure in his coal-black hair was part-natural. A strong, close-shaved jowl was turned blue by a dense beard of the same color.
"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Nigel. I hope your needs were seen to?"
"Very well indeed, Father," Nigel said. "In fact, better than at many a five-star hotel I've checked into after a hard trip-less fuss, less babble and more real comfort."
The abbot's square, pug-nosed face split in a chuckle. "Ah, Sir Nigel, there you hit upon one of the worst temptations of the monastic life."
"Temptations?" Nigel said, surprised and interested.
"To men of discernment, my son, a mild and disciplined asceticism is far more comfortable than a surfeit of luxuries, which are a mere vexation to the spirit," he said. "As a soldier, I expect you understand; a monastic order and a military unit have that in common."
Nigel's eyebrows rose. "I do indeed, Father Dmwoski. And you seem to have combined the two rather effectively here."
This time the smile was a little grim. "Needs must. The Rule of St. Benedict and of course ordinary duty both enjoin us to take extraordinary measures for our flock in times of trouble. We had this position-secure even before the walls-nearly two hundred strong young men at our seminary here, the good Sisters in town, everything was falling apart and what needed to be done to preserve something from the wreck was obvious, if terrible: And there are precedents-the Templars and Hospitalers, the orders that ruled Rhodes and Malta, the Teutonic Knights: "
"No criticism implied!" Nigel said, recognizing a defensive tone when he heard it, and a little surprised to hear it from a man who struck him on short acquaintance as stolidly self-sufficient.
But at least he isn't a burning-eyed fanatic for the Church Militant. I don't know what sort of commander he makes, but I think I like him as a man.
"Your pardon," the abbot said, with a self-deprecating gesture. "I'm afraid it's a slightly sensitive subject. I was a soldier myself, before I made my profession as a monk here. Not that long before the Change, as it happens."
Nigel grinned. "I suspected as much. But after alclass="underline" Think of Bishop Odo on the field of Hastings-as it happens, some of my ancestors were there with him. And doesn't the Bible say: Benedictus dominus deus meus qui docet manus meas ad proelium et digitos meos ad bellum!"
The abbot laughed wholeheartedly, yet with a rueful note below it. "Be careful, Sir Nigel, or I'll start suspecting you're the devil who can quote Scripture! Yet I became a monk and a priest to pray, and to seek God, to find forgiveness for my sins, and to serve His servants, not to wage war, and certainly not to exercise secular authority. Priests advising and criticizing politicians is one thing, priests becoming rulers themselves is altogether another. There may be a worse form of government than theocracy in the long run, but offhand I can't think of any. Even the greatest popes of the Middle Ages weren't up to governing laymen with any credit to themselves or the Church, and I most certainly am not."
The older monk shook his head at his superior. "I'm afraid our holy abbot is still a little resentful that we propelled him into that chair after the Change; and he bellowed like a bull when we insisted on his elevation to a bishopric. We had to nearly drag him to his consecration as bishop."
"There's the example of St. Martin of Tours," Dmwoski said dryly.
"And as his spiritual counselor I've told him several times not to confuse the virtue of humility with a sinful reluctance to take up one's cross. God obviously sent him to us just before the Change for a reason."
The abbot shrugged. "Hopefully someday we can return to a life of prayer and labor: ordinary labor, that is. Now, with regard to your plan, Sir Nigel, we have the general outline-"
"It's actually the Clan Mackenzie's plan, Father," Nigel corrected politely. "I'm one of the Chief's military advisors, no more. And of course the CORA contingent has agreed as well, and the Dunedain Rangers."
The abbot nodded. "I have every confidence in Lady Juniper's abilities: and in her advisors, and in Lady Astrid and in: what do they call them these days? The Cora-boys?" A broader smile. "Sam Aylward and I have gotten on very well over the years. We have some things in common."
Nigel felt a small knot of tension relax in his chest; this was a man he could talk to, and probably persuade. "I realize this is a great risk to ask of you."
Dmwoski spread his hands. "Much must be risked in war. Yes, we have an impregnable fortress here, but if the Protector's men conquer everything outside, we will eventually starve. Not soon, we've been storing up supplies since we started building the walls, but eventually. And precisely because these walls are impregnable, they can be held by a small force. Allowing all our troops to be pinned down here waiting would be foolish: if there are allies sufficient to give us some chance of using them decisively outside."
"And if the Protector is very foolish, Father," Astrid Larsson said unexpectedly.
The abbot's slightly shaggy eyebrows rose. "You think he will be, my child?"
"He's a wicked man, and an arrogant one," Astrid said. "The two often make a smart man do stupid things. Oft evil will will evil mar."
"True." Dmwoski sighed. "But I have my flock to think of, their children, their lives, their homes and farms, all of which I risk by defying the Protectorate. For that reason, I considered taking his offer of full internal autonomy under his suzerainty, with only a modest tribute to pay-a generous offer, on the face of it."
The outsiders tensed slightly. Dmwoski's lips quirked. "But only considered, and not very seriously. I decided to decline it for two reasons: first, the man's word is not good. Even if I could stomach sending back runaways from his justice, so-called, once he was supreme in these territories, how could I hold him to any of it? Second, I have the souls as well as the bodies of my people to consider; the offer included recognizing his puppet Pope. Bishop Rule was once a good man, and I would have sworn a holy one-"
Father Plank cut in, seeing Nigel's question: "Arminger's antipope. Bishop Landon Rule. Quite legitimately a bishop, and since he collected two more, some of their acts are canonically valid, even legal-bishops can ordain priests, and three bishops can licitly consecrate another, particularly in emergencies and in partibus infidelorum when contact with the larger Church is cut off. Claiming the Throne of St. Peter is of course vain and blasphemous presumption, not to mention the atrocities of his Inquisitors and his support of a brutal secular tyranny."
Dmwoski nodded. "And to think that twelve years ago he ordained me : The most charitable interpretation of his actions over the last decade is that he was driven mad by what he suffered after the Change. So many were, of course: I understand that he was captured by Eaters, and freed by Protectorate soldiers. Norman Arminger is deeply wicked, a monster of lust and cruelty and power-hunger, yet his own selfishness and corruption put limits to the damage he can do. But when a good man turns with all his heart to evil, that is truly the nightmare of God. Rule has led many others astray, others who wished sincerely to return to the Faith, by falling in with Arminger's medievalist fantasies and resurrecting the worst evils to which the Church was prey before the modern era."
Nigel kept his face carefully neutral, a mask of polite interest. He felt an impulse to kick his son in the shin when he heard a slight muffled snort from the younger man's chair.
The abbot shrugged. "Yes, I see your point, Mr. Loring, though your father is too polite to speak. There is an element of the kettle calling the pot black there. We have been deprived of certain things by what I believe to be veritable divine intervention, like that which halted the sun over Joshua or sent the Flood in Noah's time; accordingly we must conclude that those things were vanities, leading us astray, or that they threatened worse consequences than the Change itself."