“Ah,” Kleinst said. Everyone turned to look at the thin-faced scholar, who appeared nearly normal for the first time since going aboard the ship. “Of course. The orbit of Makassar is highly eccentric, and its axial tilt is also high. The two have produced reasonable weather in the Southern Hemisphere for generations, but now they are getting slowly out of phase with each other. The winters will be worse and worse here, until it is the northern part which is inhabitable. Naturally the barbarians flock toward the equator.”
“And of course as they move into the more temperate areas, they destroy the civilizations there,” Longway added. “But this often produces an internal strengthening of the ruling church. Yet I have heard of cases where when there was already schism, the eroding of the civilization would cause many to turn away from the churches, or look to new ones for salvation. Yes.” They stood silently for a moment and watched the guard ship take convicts aboard.
Mary Graham brought wine and chickeest. One of the guardsmen carried the heavy tray for her. During the voyage she had developed amazing skill at producing hot meals, even when the ship was running before gales which MacLean estimated to be over sixty kilometers an hour in strength. She had trained several of the young Makassar guards to assist her, and quickly became absolute mistress of the commissary department of Subao.
“Is that the Temple?” she asked, pointing to the huge structure dominating the city.
“Yes, my lady,” Brett answered. “Five hundred priests and deacons, and two thousand guards are all quartered in the cells carved in that building. Not that their army has done them any good against the plainsmen.”
“But what can the barbarians do against Temple guards?” Mary asked. “You tell me they have no equipment, and the Temple must be wealthy if it has so many soldiers.”
“They will not fight the way the Temple wishes,” Brett answered. “The plainsmen run before the heavy-armored men, and when the Temple horses tire, the chiefs bring their clans back with ropes and many of them ride around the iron men, lacing them to their steeds, pulling them to the ground. Or the plainsmen move aside and let the iron chargers thunder past, then attack from behind.”
“Mobility against heavy cavalry,” MacKinnie muttered. “And the Temple guards are drawn away from the walls so they have no place to rest and re-form their troops.” He nodded. “But, Academician, I am concerned about the Temple. Can the priests hold this city and their relics against the enemy?”
“Not for long,” Longway answered. “If my experience on South Continent is useful, the people of the city will be weary of the fighting, now that their church is no longer thought to be the voice of God. The priests will never be able to rally enough men to hold those walls if the enemy stays at the gates.”
MacKinnie nodded. “I’ve seen the will to fight collapse before. They become concerned with their comforts and neglect their lives, and soon they will lose both. We may have arrived at a critical time.”
“But how dreadful,” Mary said. “All these people. What will happen to them?”
Brett drew a long breath before he answered. “The men will be killed. The prettier of the women will be carried off and if they are fortunate will find places in the herds of one of the warriors. The youngest boys may be taken in by a clan to be raised as plainsmen. The rest, those who would not fight when the walls were taken, will die to amuse the women of the tribes.”
Mary shuddered. “Trader, is there nothing we can do here?” she asked MacKinnie.
“I would not weep for all of the city people, my lady, Brett said. “You have not seen what they do when they find a small band of plainsmen. Life is hard out there, and men do what they have to do.”
They were interrupted by Stark and two guardsmen who had been posted at the end of the pier. “Company coming, sir,” Hal said. “Not what I expected, not those deacons you told me to look out for. Civilians, I’d say.” He pointed to the end of the pier, where two obvious magnates approached. They were guarded by half a dozen well-armed me. “Should I turn out the guard, sir?”
“No, but get as many men as you have ready at the hatches and keep these here on deck. Then come back up when you get the troops posted. Quietly; I don’t want to start trouble if there’s none coming.” MacKinnie watched the group move slowly down the stone pier.
The leader of the group was tall and thin, like a cadaver. He raised his hand, palm toward MacKinnie. “Greetings,” he said. “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”
MacKinnie frowned. He knew what the man was saying, but — suddenly he realized what he had heard. Thestranger was speaking the Imperial language. “Are there any here who understand me?” He switched quickly to a local dialect. “Peace and greetings.”
“Welcome aboard,” MacKinnie answered in what he hoped was the Imperial speech. “And what may I do for Your Honor?”
The man turned to his companion and said something quickly, then looked to MacKinnie in obvious relief. “Thank the Savior, the Navy has come to find us. Our prayers have been answered. When we heard there was a ship from Jikar, we hardly dared hope.”
MacKinnie stared at the small party. The two leaders were both tall and dark, looking nothing like the locals MacKinnie had seen. Their guards, by contrast, were all obviously natives, probably hired swordsmen.
“Come aboard, please,” MacKinnie said. “May we make your guards comfortable with wine and something to eat?”
“Thank you.”
MacKinnie nodded to Todd, sending him scurrying below to find Hal and arrange for refreshments for the guards. The two star men were helped aboard and led to the owner’s cabin below. When they were seated and wine brought, they introduced themselves.
“I am Father Deluca, and this is His Lordship Auxiliary Bishop Laraine. We are representatives of His Eminence the Archbishop Casteliano, Missionary ruler of the Church on this forsaken planet. It is a miracle you have found us.”
“I do not understand, Your Reverence,” Nathan said. “Surely you have means to call the Navy whenever you wish?”
“No, my son,” Bishop Laraine said sadly. “The barbarians have destroyed our transmitter. Brother LeMoyne might have repaired it had they not been so thorough, but in fact we were fortunate to escape with our lives. Two other members of our mission, a brother and a priest, were not so favored, God rest their souls. We made our way to this city, and here we stay, besieged by barbarians, with little gold, no communicator, and afraid even to allow these heathen to know our true mission. They burn heretics here, and they believe us to be such. Not that martyrdom is so frightening, but it would hardly accomplish anything for the faith under the circumstances.”
“I would not contradict His Reverence,” Deluca said, “but in reality these are not heathen. They believe all of the doctrines of the Church except submission to the authority of New Rome. But they also believe they have a divine inspiration, holy relics, enclosed in that Temple of theirs, and that God speaks to them from their Temple. They even have records showing that their bishops have a direct continuity with the first bishops of Makassar. I believe New Rome might rule that they could be accepted in the Church without new ordinations would their hierarchy only submit to authority.”
The bishop shook his head sadly. “What Father Deluca says is true enough, but there is no way to dispel them of their illusions. They truly believe these artifacts of theirs contain Holy Writ, which no doubt they do, there being copies of the Bible in the library, I am sure, but they believe their Temple to be a source of continuing and everlasting revelation.”