"Thus may we see," Magnus said at last, "how religion may twist and torture the soul of a man."
Rod stared straight ahead, astounded.
His son turned a dark and brooding gaze upon him. "Do I shock thee, then, my father?"
"No," Rod said slowly, "but you did kind of take me by surprise there."
"Wherefore?"
"Because," Rod said carefully, "I would have said that what you're looking at is a twisted version of a good religion, not a good religion twisting a man."
Magnus slowed to brooding. "Aye. This is not the same Faith that you and my mother taught me."
"Not at all-in several major particulars. Oh, the forms are the same, but Eleazar made several major changes in doctrine to increase his own power, and the spirit of this religion is diametrically opposed to the Faith of the good Friars of St. Vdicon. The Faith I learned says that Charity is the most important virtue, not obedience."
"Is't so?" Magnus demanded. "Hath not the Church ever insisted that. none diverge from its dogma? Hast thou forgot the persecutions of heretics, the wars 'twist different sects, the Inquisition?"
"That was long ago," Rod said, brooding. "I'd like to think the Church of Rome is above such hypocrisy now."
"Indeed! And how wouldst thou say this current bishop hath twisted that Faith?"
"By using it," Rod said simply. "Oh, I don't doubt that he believes what he was taught-but I do doubt the sincerity of that first bishop, Eleazar. We'll check the records at the monastery, and I'll bet we'll find absolutely no mention of this place, nor of him. He just left to put on a show, not to see the Abbot. Probably never got more than ten miles from the forest."
"Aye. His sole purpose was to gain power for himself, was it not?"
"Yes-and he used the Catholic religion for that purpose. In the process, he made a few significant changes, such as claiming he was only a man, not God. Anyone who's after power has to start with that-so that he can claim almost as much authority as Christ. Then, too, there's this business of requiring unquestioning obedience of every member of the parish, and giving himself the power to declare any behavior that he didn't happen to like, to be sinful, such as doing any thinking for yourself."
"Oh, aye." Magnus smiled. "The Church hath ever encouraged free thought, hath it not? So long as that thought hath freely agreed with all that the Church did teach."
"Touche," Rod said. "But at least the Church did encourage thinking of some sort-and the bishops were willing to explain errors and discuss ideas; they didn't automatically say every new thought was a sin."
"There is some truth to that," Magnus mused. "And the form of this community, my father, doth seem more that of a cult, than of a religion."
"I wouldn't disagree with that for a second-especially since it started out as an attempt to have religion without priests. Several cults, and even sects, have started out that way, but they always developed clergy of one sort or another. People try to live without priests, but always wind up reinventing them-they need them too much. And the priests are sometimes corrupted, either by power or by other lusts. But just because some people use religion to exploit other people doesn't mean that religion in itself is bad just the person who misuses it. There will always be people who will find a way to twist something good and use it for their own purposes."
"That may be so, my father, but it does not mean that religion in itself is right, either."
Rod looked up at him sharply. "You're seeing something I'm not--or that I wasn't saying, at least. What is it?"
"That 'tis not the priest alone who doth use the Faith," Magnus answered, "nor even his curate and his nuns. Nay, every single person in this village doth use this religion, to prop him up and to ease him of the burden of forming his or her own conscience, and of thinking matters through for himself or herself. They take Revealed Truth, dost thou see, and thereby have no need to seek Truth for themselves, nor to labor to understand the purpose of life, or what God may be-and thereby do not come closer to Him, as they should."
Rod frowned. "You're not infallible either, Son. Should you be delivering judgements like that on your fellow man?"
"I do not judge the people, but the structure they have built, that they call a church. I do not judge the people, but the beliefs that I may or may not espouse."
Rod eyed him askance, then turned away with a sigh. "Well, at least we can agree on one thing-theocracy is a very demeaning form of government."
"Not so," Magnus countered. "These folk are happy in it; it doth give them what they need-the means to cooperate with one another, to resolve disputes, and to comfort them in their strife." He shook his head. "I cannot say this form of government is evil, my father-not for them. For others, mayhap, and for Gramarye as a whole, it would be injurious-but not for these folk."
"So you still think this government-by-pulpit has a right to exist?"
Magnus turned to stare at him, taken aback. "Aye! For they to whom it gives what they need."
"Okay for those who like it, huh?"
"More than that-if they wish to live thus, it is their right!"
"How about those who don't wish to?"
"'Tis their right to leave!"
"Well, then." Rod gave him a brittle smile. "Let's set about enforcing a few rights, shall we?" He noticed movement beyond Magnus's shoulder. "Here comes another case."
Magnus turned about, and saw Hester hurrying up to him, cheeks rosy with exertion, eyes bright, bosom heaving. Magnus stood rigid, and Rod couldn't blame him-she was very pretty, to a callow youth.
"Praise Heaven!" she gasped, catching Magnus's arm. "I feared thou hadst left the village!"
Magnus held his face immobile, than let a small smile show. "Would that have distressed thee?"
"Aye, greatly!" she panted. "I most earnestly wish to know thee further!"
"I am pleased to hear my company is so pleasant," Magnus said gravely. "Or is't that thou dost wish to have me take thee away from the village?"
She stared at him, her expression fading, her face growing pale, and Rod just barely managed to keep his jaw from sagging. The boy didn't mind using the direct approach, did he? "How canst thou say such a thing?" she whispered.
"Because I have seen how unhappy thou art, here in thy village. Yet wherefore dost thou think I could loose thee from this bondage, when the village is so closely guarded?"
"Why, they would not dare to meddle with a stranger!"
"I think they would, if they could be sure he would not leave ever, to tell what he hath seen."
The blood drained out of her face. "Thou dost not speak of murder!"
"Nay-only a legal execution. I am certain thy priest will discover a way in which my soul can be saved only by killing my body."
Hester stepped back, one hand going to her bosom as she stared at him, appalled. Then she dropped her gaze. "I-1 could not ask thee to so risk thyself."
"Nay, thou couldst, and I will-for I think it wrong that folk not be able to leave if they wish. Yet there's another that I think would gladly go-thy schoolfellow Neil."
She glanced up, startled and astounded, then looked away, blushing furiously.
"Aye." Magnus's smile was sardonic. "Thou hadst meant to ask me to bring him also, hadst thou not?"
She turned on him, embarrassment transmuting to anger. "Thou dost think thou dost know me fully, dost thou not?"
"Not a whit," Magnus assured her. "I know only what thou dost wish of me. Nay, I will bring Neil too, and gladly-for thou dost love him, dost thou not?"
She seemed to loosen up a bit, growing thoughtful. "Aye," she admitted. After all, for Magnus to want to bring Neil along as a favor to Hester, that was all right.
Rod could understand-she'd feel much safer if she thought Magnus were doing it because he loved her. She didn't trust charity, having heard it preached too often and seen it practiced too rarely. Of course, that didn't mean Rod couldn't blame her for trying to use his son.