"The Queen might, also, Papa!" Cordelia maintained, chin jutting a little.
Rod shook his head. "Not a chance. Catharine's the practical sort. You know—suspicious."
Chapter Eight
"Has the messenger been given refreshment?"
"Aye, Your Grace." Brother Alfonso closed the door of the Abbot's solar. "He dines in the kitchen, and will rest in the guest house. He is not so very wearied."
"Aye,, 'tis but a day's ride, from Medici." The Abbot looked down at the letter he was holding with a smile.
Brother Alfonso's eyes glowed. "The news is good, then?"
"Most excellent. See! His Grace the Duke di Medici doth declare his support for the Church of Gramarye, and his adherence to our cause." He spread the letter on his desk.
Brother Alfonso moved quickly to his side, gazing down at the letter. "Praise be!" He scanned it quickly and smiled, amused. "Ah! His words do sear the page! '… protection 'gainst the overweening arrogance of the powers of this land…' 'Powers' i' truth! And writ by one of the greatest of the lords of the land! Nay, who could these 'powers' be save the King and Queen! Ah, the ghost of caution that lingers on this parchment!"
"Tush, good Brother Alfonso. We could not ask His Grace to speak treason, could we?" The Abbot leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers across his stomach. "Thou dost know of whom he doth speak, as do I."
"Aye, and of whom three other great lords have spoken! They turn to us as their defense against the tyranny of the
Crown! When, Holy Abbot, wilt thou prove their faith in thee?"
The Abbot's good mood evaporated; he leaned forward, frowning. "Patience, Brother Alfonso. If a passage of arms may be avoided, it must be! Tis enough to know we've done rightly; we need not make a show of it!"
"How canst thou truly believe thus!" Brother Alfonso protested. "Thou canst not think Their Majesties will let thy challenge pass unheeded!"
"Nay, nor would I wish them to." The Abbot's frown deepened. " 'Tis for the Church to see to the welfare of the people, not for the Crown; they must cease alms-giving in their own names, and grant those monies to us for disbursement. Nor may they claim jurisdiction over clergy accused of wrongdoing."
"Have they made thee any answer in this regard?"
"Only as they did years ago—that there will be no harm in both Crown and Church caring for the common weal, and that they will gladly cease trying clergy when our justice is even as theirs."
"And Rome would have had thee yield to them! Hath the Pope not read his Bible? Hath he not conned the verse, 'Put not thy trust in princes'? Doth he not condone play and licentiousness on the sabbath? Nay, doth he not condone licentiousness in all things?"
"Even to women becoming priests, I doubt not, and wearing vain and frivolous garb, not sober habits." The Abbot nodded. "Aye, such have we heard."
"Nay, further! He doth allow all to garb themselves indecently; he doth permit commoners to wear clothing similar to that of great lords! I' truth, he doth claim to see naught of difference 'twixt prince and pauper, for, saith he, 'All are alike before the Lord!'"
"'Tis a vile and treacherous belief." The Abbot nodded heavily. Clergy or not, he had been born the second son of a minor nobleman.
"Yet his offenses mount! This 'Holy Father' doth allow the lending of money at usurious interest! He doth condone players and shows; he doth turn a blind eye to roistering and drunkenness! He will abide for his Christians to have converse with heathens—aye, even to wed them!"
"Abominations!" The Abbot shook his head, astounded at the impiety of the Holy See.
"Yet 'tis there for all to read, in the writings of our founder, Father Marco!"
"I have read them, Brother," the Abbot said. "In truth, he doth seek to explain why Rome doth allow such vice to flourish, and why it must content itself with counseling moderation in such!" He grasped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from trembling. "Almost I could doubt the holiness of my predecessor!"
"Do not, for 'tis only that he was blinded by his vow of obedience, and cozened by the Pope! 'Tis the See of Peter that is impious, not Blessed Marco! And are not then Their Majesties fully as impious as the Holy See, since they have not given thee their support in this?"
The Abbot nodded with the slow weight of judgment. "Aye. That they are. And they have willfully blinded themselves to morality in not seeing the offenses of which thou dost speak."
"Aye, and in not acknowledging that the good of their subjects' souls doth suffer in their hesitation! 'Tis open sin in them, that they have not declared the Church of Gramarye to be the only church legitimate, the Church of the State! For be assured, milord, that thy Church, having freed itself from the snares of Rome, can now redress such faults and condemn them for the vile vices they are! They must be made to see the rightness of thy claims, by force of arms if need be!"
"Be still!" The Abbot shoved himself to his feet and turned away from Brother Alfonso.
"Wherefore, my good lord? Is't not even as thou hast but said, even now? Can there be aught of wrong in it?"
"I have sworn not to bear a sword," the Abbot said, distressed. "In truth, our good Savior did say that 'He who doth live by the sword, shall die by the sword!'"
" 'Tis scarcely living by the sword to but take it up for a few days to school a wanton soul! And if 'tis wrong for thee, how is it not wrong for the great lords and their knights?"
"I am a priest anointed, Brother Alfonso, a minister of God!"
"As they are His knights! And bethink thee, milord, how long will they abide without sign of redress of their grievances?"
The Abbot was silent.
Brother Alfonso pressed his point. "They have declared their adherence, milord, yet how long will they maintain it? Nay, they must needs see some way in which thou dost strengthen their cause 'gainst the Crown, or they must, soon or late, withdraw their support."
"Thou dost counsel immorality!" The Abbot turned on Brother Alfonso. "A priest must not consider such worldly issues when he doth decide right from wrong!"
"Nor would I counsel that thou shouldst!" Brother Alfonso said quickly. "I' truth, there's no need—for assuredly, such principles must be clearly evident to a prelate."
The Abbot stared at him. Then, slowly, he said, "I am not a prelate."
"Art thou not? Nay, be assured, milord—if the Church of Gramarye is a church entire, sole and separate from Rome, it must needs have a bishop, a ghostly father—and who can fulfill that role, save thyself?"
The Abbot kept staring. Then, slowly, he turned toward the window, frowning.
"Nay, an Archbishop," Brother Alfonso murmured, "for there are so many souls in Gramarye that thou must needs name bishops to each province! A Prince of the Church—for one with so much authority must needs be a prince, with authority equal to that of the worldly Crown. Yet the common folk cannot comprehend such, unless this Prince of Souls doth show himself to them in all his power and glory—borne in a throne on the shoulders of monks, with heralds and trumpets going before, and a guard of honor coming behind! He must clothe himself in purple royal, bearing a crozier of gold, crowned with a gilded mitre! He must stand beside his Royal Majesty, appearing as his equal in every way!"
"Be still!" the Abbot thundered. "What I decide, Brother Alfonso, I will decide because it is right, not because it doth yield me advantage! Leave me, now! Go!"
"Why, so I shall," Brother Alfonso murmured, turning away, "for as Thy Lordship wills, so shall it be done. Yet I beg thee, milord, be mindful that even a prince should be subject to a prelate."
The door closed behind him, but a portal yawned within the Abbot's heart, disclosing a vista of power and glory that he had never conceived of, beckoning, tempting…