I took the chair he indicated, across from him and between the King and Queen, and for a short time everyone spoke in generalities, as people do when they meet after having been years apart, questing to find topics that will neither strain nor test the relationship they had once known together. Finally, Queen Vivienne asked the bishop the question that turned the conversation toward me.
“What will you teach Clothar, up there in Auxerre, that he will not have touched upon here in Benwick?”
Germanus grinned. “Probably little, if not nothing. The concerns and the materials of education are unchanging—reading and writing, logic, debate, philosophy, science, polemic, and geography … but the focus of everything will be different, if you can understand what that means.”
The Queen smiled. “I understand completely. You are referring to the scope of things.”
“Exactly so, my Lady, simply because of the size of the school and the number of pupils. We have wonderful teachers, most of whom I hired myself after lengthy observation.” He turned to me. “I wonder … I had better make it clear to you from the outset, Clothar, that although you will be in my charge, I will not be your personal teacher. Did you know that, or did you think you would be under my constant attention?”
Still unwilling to trust my tongue, I merely shook my head again, and he grunted, deep in his throat. “Aye,” he said. “Well, that is the way of it. I’ll be your confessor, and I will keep a close eye on you and on all your activities, serving as your parents’ deputy in a double capacity—on behalf of your real parents, who were my friends, and of your foster parents here, who are no less parents and who remain my friends. You and I will meet privately at least once every week to discuss your progress and your life and anything else demanding our attention, but your actual teaching will be at the hands of others, all of them better tutors than I could ever be. I have my pastoral work, as Bishop of Auxerre, and that, I fear, often consumes more time than I have to spend.” He sniffed, thrusting out his lower lip again. “Do you know anything about our school?”
I knew a nod would not serve as a response this time and so I coughed to clear my throat. “No, sir.”
The bishop nodded and looked at King Ban and from him to the Lady Vivienne. “And what about you two?”
Ban slowly shook his head.
“There is no reason you should, I suppose. Auxerre is a long way from here … . But I confess I am disappointed that the fame of our school has failed to penetrate this far.”
“Enlighten us, then, dear Germanus—” The Queen stopped short. “Oh, forgive me. Should I be calling you by another name, now that you are a bishop?”
Germanus laughed. “Absolutely not! Call me Germanus as you always have. That’s who I am and nothing about me has changed simply because I am become a bishop. Titles are for others. Among friends as old as us, names never change.”
The Queen bowed her head, acknowledging the courtesy. “Thank you. Now tell us about this school of yours.”
The bishop’s face grew sober. “It is a school in the tradition of the ancients, where boys are taught the things they need to know in order to be good men, accepting duty and responsibility.”
“What kind of boys attend this school of yours? Are they all the sons of wealthy men?”
Germanus smiled at the Queen, but in answering her he spoke to both of them. “No, not at all, although many of them are. Ours is a school for boys, my Lady, not necessarily rich boys. The prime entrance requirement to our ranks is intellect. We are looking to train minds and encourage learning for learning’s sake. Our world is changing rapidly nowadays, my friends, and many of the old, time-honored ways of doing things are being forgotten and abandoned. And it pains me to say it, but high among those.things ranks the education of our children. Education has fallen out of favor, the need for it seemingly eclipsed by the catastrophes and cataclysms shaking the very foundations of the Empire. In a disintegrating world, people are thinking, there is little need for education.”
“Think you the world is coming to an end?” This question from King Ban made my eyes snap wide open. The notion of World’s End is a Christian one and Ban was no Christian, and yet here he was, asking the bishop for reassurance.
Germanus shook his head. “Are you referring to the return of the Christ in the Final Judgment? I think not. Not yet. The Scriptures tell us that the Second Coming lies ahead of us, but they also indicate that much requires to be done before it comes upon us. At least, that is what I believe. The Empire may be facing its end and that would not surprise me, but not the world, I think. Mind you, I may be wrong. No man may know the mind of God and it is blasphemous to presume to do so. But it is the possibility that the world might survive that causes me such great concern over the education of our children. And so we believe—we being the elders and bishops of the Church—that we court disaster if we allow our children to run wild. If we fail to teach them how to read and write and use their minds as God intended, then they and our entire world will fall back into Godless savagery. And so we maintain schools.”
“To train clerics for the Church.” The Queen’s voice was gentle, no hint of censure to be found in it, but Germanus caught the inference.
“Of course,” he agreed. “But not exclusively. The world needs more than clerics. It needs leaders—educated, Christian leaders.”
“And soldiers.” This was Ban.
“Aye, indeed, soldiers, too.” The bishop’s gaze returned to me. “The King tells me you have the makings of a cavalry soldier. We will build on that. Tiberias Cato, one of our brethren, served with me in the army and saved my life on numerous occasions simply because he is a magnificent horseman—the finest natural rider I have ever known. He, too, knew your father, although not, perhaps, your mother. Cato will supervise your training as a horseman and a cavalryman—I know you know the two are not necessarily the same.” His pause was barely perceptible. “You do know that, do you not?”
I swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“And do you know the difference?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. What is it?”
“You can be a horseman without being a cavalryman, but you cannot be a cavalryman without being a horseman.”
“Absolutely. Good lad. Anyway, Tiberias Cato was a doughty fighter in his time and now he is a marvelously gifted teacher and trainer, but he is more horse than human at times. He will be responsible for your overall development in military things. There will be others working with you, too, in the various disciplines, but Tiberias will be your primary trainer. He will take whatever talents you possess for horsemanship and polish them until they dazzle even you.
“Apart from that—and it is probably sinful of me to prioritize in such a manner, but the soldier in me frequently fights with the bishop—apart from that, you will study all the other subjects that a well-tutored young man should know. You will learn the rudiments of Greek, sufficient for some of your reading, but for the most part you will be taught in Latin. You will have training in logic, debate and polemics, philosophy, mathematics and geometry, geography, and the basic elements of imperial law. Also, you will be living among priests and clerics, and so you will behave for the most part as they do, adhering to the Order of Saint Benedict and observing the prayers and ceremonies he has decreed as being proper for a devout man of any age. You will eat well, three times a day, and in return for your food and lodgings, you will be expected to share the tasks of keeping the school clean and its students well fed. That means you will scrub floors, whitewash walls, wash clothes, grow and gather food, prepare it, and serve it to your fellows.”