By Schism Rent Asunder (71 page)

There were three other people in the royal box this day, however, and Adorai Dynnys and her sons stood as Cayleb and Sharleyan entered it. Archbishop Erayk's widow was more richly, though still somberly, dressed than on the night of her arrival in Tellesberg, and her sons seemed less frightened. There were shadows in the boys' eyes, however—shadows put there by their mother's confirmation of how their father had died. Nor were they the only ones who had heard that heart-wrenching tale. At Adorai's own request, Maikel Staynair had made the cathedral itself available to her, and it had been crowded to capacity while she described her husband's agonizing execution not simply to her sons, but to the entire Kingdom of Charis.

Erayk Dynnys had not been held in universal affection by Charisians, yet as they learned how he had died—and what his final words had been—many of his harshest critics had found themselves echoing their new archbishop's prayers for Dynnys' soul. And several members of the Charisian clergy whose support for their new archbishop and the newborn “Church of Charis” had been at best tepid had found themselves reconsidering their positions in the wake of the atrocity visited upon their
old
archbishop.

But the atmosphere in Tellesberg Cathedral was very different this day. As Cayleb and Sharleyan appeared at the front of the royal box, a torrent of cheers overpowered the rich-voiced organ and the choir. The mighty structure seemed to quiver on its foundation, and the tumult redoubled when the king and queen raised their hands in acknowledgment of the thunderous greeting.

It took quite a while for the cheering to subside. Then, finally, when the packed pews were calm once again, the organ launched into a soaring prelude which had been composed specifically for this wedding. The cathedral doors swung wide, and Archbishop Maikel Staynair and the assembled bishops of the Church of Charis entered through a storm of music.

If Staynair was troubled in the least by memories of what had almost happened to him in this cathedral, neither his expression nor his body language so much as hinted at it. His golden crown flashed in the stained-glass-filtered sunlight, the rubies glowing like small red suns in their own right. The richly embroidered and adorned robes of his high office (suitably modified by Owl, whether anyone knew it or not) gleamed with their own thread of gold and silver, their own pearls and gems. The other bishops' vestments were almost as richly embroidered and adorned as his, but as bishops visiting in another's cathedral, they wore their traditional priest caps rather than their own coronets. There was, however, an enormous difference between their normal priest caps and the jeweled and magnificently embroidered ones they wore today.

The choir's superb voices rose as the clerics processed down the cathedral's central aisle behind the scepter-bearers, the candle-bearers, and the thurifers. Despite Merlin's soul-deep hatred for the “religion” Langhorne and Bédard had foisted upon the inhabitants of Safehold, even he was forced to acknowledge the sheer beauty and majesty of its pageantry and liturgy as he watched Staynair, still reaching out to touch children's heads in brief blessing as he passed.

And the fact that all of these people truly
believe
in what they've been taught is part of it
, he thought.
There's power in faith, even when that faith is being used and abused, and I can't believe God doesn't listen to these people, however they may have been lied to. All of this faith, all of this belief … surely He has to recognize its strength, its passion. How could He condemn anyone for worshipping Him in the only way they've ever been taught?

The procession of bishops unraveled as the prelates took their positions, and Staynair turned to face the entire crowded cathedral from the foot of the steps leading to his archbishop's throne. He stood there, until the music finally swept away into silence. Still he said nothing, only smiling, while that silence stretched itself into a perfect and purified stillness. It was so quiet that it seemed as if no one in that entire vast cathedral dared to so much as breathe, and only then did he speak into the waiting hush.

“My children,” he said then, “this is a great and joyous day. It is always a source of joy for the people of a well-ruled kingdom when their monarch weds. Not only does that marriage become a promise and a guarantor of the future succession of the Kingdom, but any ruler—be it king or queen—who finds the spouse of his or her heart, so that they may stand side by side, united against all the world may send against them, is a stronger and a better monarch.

“King Haarahld, may God and the Archangels smile upon him, found exactly that bride in Queen Zhanayt, and now I may tell you that, of my own knowledge, King Cayleb has found that bride in Queen Sharleyan, as well. Marriages of state are all too seldom marriages of the heart, my children. Never doubt that
this
marriage is both.”

He smiled up at the royal box, where Cayleb and Sharleyan sat side by side, and Cayleb reached out—unconsciously, Merlin was almost certain—to take Sharleyan's hand in his own.

“This marriage, however, is more than simply the union of a young man and a young woman,” Staynair continued. “It is more even than the normal dynastic marriage which secures the inheritance of a title or a crown. In this marriage, we see the union not only of man and wife, but of Charis and Chisholm, of two realms which will become one. Of the commitment and fierce resolve of two peoples to stand for truth and to defend that which all men not blinded by avarice, greed, personal ambition, intolerance, or bigotry know to be worth dying to preserve. And so, we have much to be grateful for this day, much for which to return thanks to God. There will be days of darkness before us, my children, for the struggle to which we have set our hearts, our minds, and our hands will not be an easy one, nor will the battle be quickly won. But when those days of darkness come, when gloom lies all about you and you are most tempted to despair, remember this day. Remember this King and this Queen, who come before you now to consecrate their vows to one another in your sight, and in the sight of God. Remember that they have chosen to promise their lives to one another … and to
you
.”

The silence was even more absolute, if that were possible, and then the archbishop smiled once more—a huge and beaming smile, flooding the sober silence his words had created with a vast tide of joy and anticipation as he raised both hands and Cayleb and Sharleyan rose. They descended the carpeted steps from the royal box, between sweet-scented drifts of spike-thorn, to stand hand in hand before him. For all the importance of this wedding, all the hopes and fears and promises riding upon it, the ceremony they had chosen was very ancient, and very simple. Any young bride and groom, however humble their circumstances, might have chosen it, and there was a message in that, as well. They faced the primate of all Charis, and he looked beyond them to the waiting tide of faces.

“And now, dearly beloved,” he told the people behind those faces, “we have gathered together here in the sight of God and the Archangels, and in the face of this company, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God and the Archangels, signifying unto us the mystical union that is between God and His Church; which is a holy estate which the Archangel Langhorne adorned and beautified with his presence in his time here upon Safehold, and is commended of the Archangel Bédard to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

.III.

Tellesberg Palace,
City of Tellesberg,
Kingdom of Charis

“Your Majesties, Prince Nahrmahn and Princess Ohlyvya.”

Nahrmahn Baytz stepped past the bowing chamberlain with a lifetime's aplomb. From his expression, no one could have guessed that the rotund little prince wasn't walking into his
own
throne room. His wife was as tall as he was and far more slender, and she, too, had a lifetime's experience as a noblewoman and a princess consort, yet she couldn't match his apparent calm. No one could have called her overtly
nervous
; at the same time, no one could have doubted she would much have preferred to be somewhere else.

They crossed the same polished stone floor Baron Pine Hollow had crossed before them, and Nahrmahn considered how the throne room—or its inhabitants, at least—had changed as they halted before the same pair of thrones. Cayleb wore the Charisian Crown of State, which had recently become the imperial Crown of State, as well, while Sharleyan wore an only marginally smaller crown without the Crown of State's rubies. Despite the crowns, neither of them were in full court regalia, at least, for which Nahrmahn was profoundly—if privately—grateful. Ohlyvya looked stately and beautiful in full regalia; Nahrmahn looked like a round, fuzzy ball which had somehow acquired a head and feet.

Stubby little feet.

I suppose it's a good thing I decided to do this before I actually laid eyes on Cayleb in the flesh, as it were, for the first time,
the Emeraldian prince thought with a touch of whimsy.
If I'd had time to see how tall, broad-shouldered, and disgustingly handsome he is with my own eyes and work up a proper state of livid jealousy, I might not have been able to do it after all. Having your head chopped off is much less irritating than admitting that the man you're about to surrender to looks so much more like a king than you do
.

That thought carried him to the foot of the waiting thrones, and he bowed deeply while Ohlyvya curtsied.

“Your Majesties,” he murmured.

“Actually, Prince Nahrmahn,” Cayleb said dryly, “we've decided upon a slightly revised protocol. Since my wife and I”—Nahrmahn wondered if Cayleb himself heard the profound, proud satisfaction in the emphasis he placed upon the word “wife”—“are both reigning heads of state in our own rights, and since there's always the possibility of confusion, it's been decided that while it's correct and proper to address either of us individually as ‘Majesty' in the absence of the other, the proper protocol now is that in Charis, when both of us are present, I am properly addressed as ‘Your Majesty' while
she
is properly addressed as ‘Your Grace.' In Chisholm, where we'll also be spending approximately half the year,
she
will be properly addressed as ‘Your Majesty,' while I'll be properly addressed as ‘Your Grace.'”

“Ah, I see, Your Majesty.” Nahrmahn felt his lip trying to twitch in something he suspected would have been a smile if he'd allowed it to show itself. “I can readily understand where that might have created confusion. Of course, I'm quite sure that when word of your marriage—not to mention your coronation as Emperor—reaches Zion, the reaction will be substantially worse than ‘confusion.'”

“One can only hope,” Cayleb replied, then leaned back in his throne and cocked his head. “And while we're on the topic of news reaching Zion, I'm sure they'll be equally perturbed by the news of your arrival here, and the reason for your visit. May I suppose that your arrangements with Commodore Zhaztro and Duke Solomon have adequately … secured your rear, shall we say, against Bishop Executor Wyllys and
his
reaction to your decision?”

Nahrmahn managed not to blink any eyes or let his jaw drop in slack astonishment. And, he reminded himself a moment later, Cayleb's remark didn't necessarily imply any special knowledge about his own recent activities. He'd already had ample evidence that the Ahrmahks were a dismayingly intelligent and competent dynasty. It wouldn't have taken someone as bright as Cayleb very long to reason out what Nahrmahn must have done to protect himself against the Church's reaction. And having figured out
what
he'd done, it would have been only a single short, simple step to deducing who he'd selected to do the doing.

Still, it's an impressive conversational gambit
, he admitted to himself.

“I believe the good Bishop Executor is currently a guest in Eraystor Palace, Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “I'm sure my staff is providing for all of his needs, and he's entirely welcome to remain our guest until such time as we manage to resolve any … misunderstandings.”

“Perhaps we could send Bishop Zherald to help him reason his way to the truth,” Sharleyan suggested. Nahrmahn looked at her politely, and she shrugged. “Bishop Zherald has placed his services at Archbishop Maikel's disposal, following Archbishop Erayk's murder at the Inquisition's hands. It might be that his own experience in Bishop Executor Wyllys' role might enable him to lead the Bishop Executor to a more accurate understanding of what the schism between the Church of Charis and the Church of Zion truly means.”

“He might, indeed, be able to exert a beneficial influence, Your Grace.” Nahrmahn bowed to her once again. “At any rate, I don't see any way it could hurt.”

“Then, if the Archbishop is willing to dispatch him to Eraystor, we'll certainly do so,” Cayleb said. “In the meantime, however, there are certain formalities to be attended to.”

“Indeed there are, Your Majesty,” Nahrmahn acknowledged.

“In that case, I believe there's only one preliminary question which must be asked and answered under the eyes of our court and our advisers as well as the eye of God. And that question is whether or not you understand, fully accept, and enter without reservation upon the terms provisionally accepted upon your part by Baron Pine Hollow?”

“Your Majesty, I do.” Nahrmahn bowed again, more deeply. “And since, as you say, we stand currently under the eyes of your court and your advisers, I would also beg leave to say this. The terms which you and Her Grace have seen fit to offer to my subjects, to my House, and to me as an individual are far more generous than I ever anticipated or might reasonably have asked for. Because of that truth, and because of my awareness of it, I wish to express my deep and profound gratitude.”