"Power?" Tuan frowned. "How could preaching Holy Truth grant them dominion?"
"Because even you, with all the King's horses and all the King's men, can't control a man's thoughts—but a priest can, simply by telling him it's a sin to think about certain things. What's worse is that they tell him what's right to think about— and if people start thinking about something, they're apt to do it. Such as having a Holy War against the ungodly—to which position I think you have just been elected."
Catharine stared, appalled.
Tuan saw, and gave her a sad smile. "Thou didst not see, my sweet? If we oppose Holy Mother the Church, we must needs be most ungrateful children."
"Assuredly our people would not believe such of us," Catharine whispered.
"Oh, but they will," Rod assured her. "A religious man never has to worry about what his opinion should be—he just asks his minister."
"But they can then make the people do whatever the priests do wish!"
"And the priests will obey the Archbishop." Rod nodded. "You want to really rule effectively? Take holy vows and proclaim yourself Archbishop."
"Yet the priests do say the Word of God shall make all folk free!"
"It makes them free, all right. But the peasants? No more than they ever were. In fact, it's the perfect tool for keeping the masses in their places. You just tell them that it's right to stay in the class they were born into, and wrong to try to move up the social ladder, and the vast majority of 'em will stay put. They won't even fuss too much when food is short or they don't get new clothes, because you tell 'em that their suffering now means less suffering after they die. 'Pie in the sky, by and by'—but never pie here on earth, right now. So the priests may try to alleviate human misery, but they also keep people from trying to help themselves."
"Yet that is a central cause of the Abbot's quarrel." Tuan interrupted. "He doth wish to see to the distribution of all alms, that he may ease the suffering of the poor."
"Yes, and make them totally dependent on him. Then he'll have the rabble at his command."
Tuan winced; he had managed to weld the beggars of Runnymede into an army once, himself. "Thou dost not say the Church gives only to get!"
"Oh, I'm sure that's not how it starts, but after a while even the most spiritual priest has to realize that he has an awful lot of grateful people who will do whatever he tells them to. That's when he starts to become worldly."
"Nay, Lord Warlock!" Catharine held up a hand. "Thou dost exceed even my spleen! Dost say the Church ought have no power?"
"Well, I hadn't wanted to be so blunt about it, but now that you ask, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Yet the Church cannot do God's work if it hath no power in the world," Tuan objected.
"Sure it can—by praying and teaching. It's supposed to persuade its congregations to behave rightly, not force them to." Rod shook his head. "It's bad for the Church to have worldly power, Tuan. Power corrupts, and the Abbot, now the Archbishop, is aiming for absolute power. The priests are the ones who invented the term 'hierarchy'—it means 'sacred government." Or 'government by the holy.' But when they start governing, they stop being holy. Absolute power corrupts the priest absolutely, just as surely as it corrupts a knight or a merchant."
"Or a king?" Tuan demanded.
Rod shook his head. "Your power isn't absolute, Your
Majesty—your barons see to that. And the Abbot has always done his share. In fact, if your power was absolute, the Abbot couldn't have gathered an army the last time he challenged you!"
Tuan turned away, gazing about him at the garden. Then he nodded. "Thou hast the right of it, Lord Gallowglass. In this we must oppose the Church outright."
Rod breathed a huge sigh of relief; Tuan had come out of his religious miasma. He exchanged a quick look with Catharine and saw the same relief in her face, coupled with gratitude. He smiled back, staggered at the realization that for the first time he finally felt he was really her ally.
"Still, you should be tactful," he said, turning back to Tuan. "Don't give the people any reason to believe you're a demon; the new Archbishop will give them all they need for that."
Tuan gave him a sardonic smile. "Well said, Lord Warlock. In this 'tis only needful to deny his claim."
Catharine frowned. "Must we not do more than that?"
"I am sure that we shall," Tuan returned, "yet 'tis poor tactics to begin a battle with a melee. 'Tis enough for him to see our pickets."
"And exactly what 'its' are you planning to pick?" Rod watched him out of the corner of his eye.
"Naught but a mild rebuke, should he wish to construe it so. Our heralds shall proclaim that, though the Queen and I govern in all worldly matters, we acknowledge the right of the Abbot of the order to govern his monks and rule on all matters of faith as are open to question."
"Uh…" Rod bowed his head, rubbing his chin. "I think you might want to be a little more, uh, forceful."
"Nay." Catharine stepped to Tuan's side, taking his hand. "He hath chosen well, Lord Warlock, for by referring to 'the Abbot of the Order,' he doth refuse to acknowledge him as Archbishop, or as having any authority over Gramarye; and by acknowledging his right to judgment in all matters that are 'open to question,' he doth refuse to recognize any breach with Rome."
Rod lifted his head slowly. "Very delicately done; it's as much what you don't say as what you do. But maybe too delicately; do you really think anybody will understand the significance of it?"
"Oh, you may be sure that the lords will," Tuan replied, "and the Abbot. Be sure."
"Which they will, of course," Rod told Fess as they galloped home through the dusk. "And so will all their descendants. I'm so glad Tuan's going to put it in writing."
"He must, so that it may be copied for heralds to read throughout the land," Fess answered. "It will thus become a part of the common law."
"Yes, whether Tuan realizes it or not—and will no doubt be incorporated into whatever constitution eventually gets written or compiled."
"Separation of Church and State," Fess mused, "a point vital to democracy. You could not have arranged it better yourself."
"And the fact that I didn't only makes it better." Rod grinned. "Remind me to keep a copy."
"'… in all matters spiritual, or relating to the ghostly world.' " The scribe set down the parchment and looked up at Their Majesties in expectation.
Tuan gave a slow nod, and Catharine pronounced it "Excellent. Each word is in its place, and not a one is spared."
"Even so; it saith neither more nor less than we do wish." Tuan looked up at the scribe. "Copy that as thou hast read it, and give it to thine apprentices to make a score ere morn. I shall direct the master-at-arms to take them from thee."
The scribe bowed. "Even as thou hast said, Majesties." He stepped backwards through the door, then closed it.
Tuan rose with a sigh, setting his hands against his back and leaning backwards to stretch. "Well, 'tis done, and mine heart is lightened thereby. Come, let us to our bed."
The hardness of her anger softened into a smile, and she came to him, taking his hand. He returned her smile as they turned toward the door.
Sir Maris stood in the doorway.
Catharine and Tuan stopped, their smiles fading. Then Tuan squared his shoulders against the weight of responsibility settling back onto them. "What matter is so urgent, Seneschal, that thou must needs come to our solar at so late an hour?"
" 'Tis a peasant frighted, Majesty."
"Only frighted?" Tuan frowned. "Come, Sir Maris! There must needs be more, or thou hadst no need to come to us."