"Agricola and Fastidius were the champions of Pelagius in Verulamium, as Germanus himself and Lupus of Troyes, who accompanied him, were the champions of the Church. Both men agreed to abide by the decrees established at the Great Debate, and both indeed did so, overtly at least, for several years. In recent years, however, both have recanted and returned to their heretical ways.
"Your question was couched in disbelief that they could be so wilfully intransigent, and in conscience I must inform you that, in their own minds at least, they are guilty of no sin in their reversion. Arrogance may be reprehensible, but it is not a sin, save when it is viewed as pride. They choose to disbelieve in Adam's original sin, and in the divine grace that is the Church's vehicle to Heaven and salvation. They adhere, arrogantly, be it said, to the ancient wisdom of the Stoics of Greece, which avers that the moral strength of man's will, when reinforced by asceticism, is sufficient force to generate salvation. Hence the simplification of their creed: men have always had the will to chose between goodness and evil; those who choose goodness, so be it they deny their baser natures, eschew sinfulness, and aspire to God, may gain salvation on their own merits. It is a very seductive and sweet seeming path that beckons to the unwary. "
"Aye, " I said, speaking for the first time in what seemed like hours. "And particularly here in Britain, where men have always felt that moral rectitude and personal probity are admirable. "
"Quite so, indeed. " Enos glanced at me sharply, however, as he agreed with me, and I wondered whether he had thought to detect some irony in my last words. "But that has nothing to do with the recognition that the Fathers of the Church have spent long years and written many volumes concerning their analyses of all Pelagius taught, and have decided in their wisdom that, doctrinally, Pelagius is unacceptable. He is declared heretical, anathema, and all his works condemned. Agricola and Fastidius have made their choice, and stand condemned, but the danger they pose to others cannot be ignored, and so Germanus will return to Britain in the coming year.
"Forgive me, I may have spoiled your delight in my friend's letter. I had not wished to tell you anything of that before you read the tidings in his letter, but Germanus himself decided I should inform of you of his intent, since that would remove the need for him to spend long hours explaining it to you in his letter."
I sat stunned, so that all I could do was question what I had already been clearly told. "Germanus is returning? To where?"
'To Verulamium."
"That is impossible, Enos! Verulamium is in Saxon hands today. The entire east is overrun with Danes, Saxons, Anglians and others. These people are utterly savage and pagan, with no concept of love or tolerance or any other thing the sweet Christ teaches. They'll devour any Christian bishop fool enough to show his face there."
I saw him shake his head and tried to discern the expression in his eyes, but it seemed to me like pity. "Caius Merlyn," he said, quietly, "what is it that you think we do, we bishops? What tasks do we perform? Do you know?"
"I—" His question left me blinking, and I began again. "You minister to others, teaching them the way of God, and the way of the Church."
"That is correct, but who are these 'others' of whom you speak?"
"Why, your Christian flock."
"And whence came this flock?" He took pity upon me then, indeed. "I work among the Anglians of the eastern shores, the Saxon Shore, as you call it. So do my brethren here, all ten of them. We minister to the souls of those poor folk whom you scorn as 'invaders.' Not all of them, of course, for some are still... well, 'arriving' is a kinder word, I find, and the one that I prefer to use in speaking of diem. Many of the newcomers are fierce and warlike, there is no disputing that. But their belligerence is rooted deep in fear, for they are newcomers and have to win the land on which they will support and rear their families. When they are settled, secure and more content, their bellicose and hostile ways will settle into calm, and they will lend themselves to the teachings of the gentle Christus.
"Germanus will go into Verulamium in peace, and the Christian people there, Anglians all, will see to his protection. I have no fear for Germanus, nor does he. Our flocks in that region have held their land for years, some of them for generations. They are no longer pagan, and they are no longer dangerous to God's servants."
"But there are some who are." I could not bring myself to countenance what he was saying.
"Some, that is true. But in the fullness of God's time that, too, will change. God's Will will prevail over men's forever. The emperors of Rome, when Rome was at its peak, could not stifle His word, nor His love. Think you these unlettered Saxons will be stronger than imperial Rome?"
"So, are you saying that when you leave here you will go over to the Saxon Shore, to preach to these... pagan peoples?"
"I am, but I will also make shift to spread the word of Bishop Germanus's return next year, so that when he arrives, his coming will be awaited and his congregation gathered."
"And what about these heretics, Agricola and Fastidius? Do you expect them to attend, when all will know them as apostate?"
"I hope they will be there, but that will make little difference. Their persons are not in danger from the Church. It is their souls that should concern them more, and the matter of their teaching heresy to simple souls who take them at their word. That, above all, must be redressed. The last great meeting in Verulamium was a debate. The next one will be greatly different It will be an exposition of doctrine, a declaration of canon law, and a condemnation of this heresy and all who cleave to it."
The doors of the refectory swung open behind us and the sounds of laughter and noisy people spilled out into the chilly evening air. The old man stood up.
'I have detained you far longer than I wished, my friend. I trust you will apologize for me to all who have suffered for my laxity in that. The dinner is ended, and people are returning to their homes. I will have one of my bishops bring you the letter from Germanus."
I assured him that would be unnecessary—I would send a soldier to collect it for me later, within the hour. Then I led him back into the hall and delivered him to his brethren, who were preparing to leave.
As soon as I left Enos, I went to Rufio, who was Officer of the Guard that night, and asked him to send a trooper to escort the bishops to their quarters and then to collect the letter from Enos and bring it back to me. I walked back towards where Tressa sat between Connor and Brander. Arthur stood on the dais by her side, talking intently into her ear. She noticed me approaching and said something to the boy, and he straightened up to watch me coming. Even before I reached them, I knew something was amiss, but as I arrived, Brander stood up and clapped me on the shoulder, bidding me a good night and promising to see me in the morning before he and Connor left. As he began to usher his wife and the others in his party towards the door, I turned to face Arthur, whose eyes were wide, fixed upon mine.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
"Am I to go to Cambria with Llewellyn One-Eye?"
I glanced, surprised at Tressa, but she shrugged her shoulders eloquently, indicating that the knowledge had not come from her.
"Who told you that?"
"Is it true?"
"Yes, it is. Are you displeased?"
"You promised I would ride out with you when you returned. Now I am to go to Cambria with a man I do not know. A man who wears a mask. "
Llewellyn had worn a leather mask since reaching Camulod, ostensibly to spare our women the sight of his ravaged face. Nevertheless, something in the tone of the boy's voice, conveying a wordless slur upon a man whom I had come to think of as a friend, angered me.
"Have you asked yourself why he might choose to wear a mask, Arthur?" The boy stared at me, startled by the sudden acerbity in my tone. "Perhaps to set himself apart, so that people unknown to him might find scope for their cruelty in belittling him? Or could it be that perhaps he finds the insults he endures wearing that mask more acceptable than those he might have to face without it? They call him Llewellyn One-Eye for good reason. His is not a pretty face. It was ruined by molten metal when he was a lad younger than you, and the sight of him can frighten children. You're no such child, are you?"