DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (97 page)

“I assume that you could make her desire it,” Bou-raiy corrected. “If you present it to her as an opportunity to better the cause of Avelyn, she will likely accept. If you then elaborate it into the realm of her responsibility, out of common goals and her friendship with you, then she will embrace it wholeheartedly.”

“You do not know that,” Braumin calmly replied. “Nor do you truly understand Jilseponie.”

“Nor do you know,” Bou-raiy was quick to respond. “But we can find out, long before we approach King Danube with the offer. Consider it, brother, I pray you. You would be free to preside over the Chapel of Avelyn during this most important time, to oversee the chapel’s growth to abbey, to assign the architects and the masons, even as you guide the elevation of Brother Avelyn to his rightful position of saint.”

“You were never an admirer of Avelyn Desbris,” Braumin reminded. “You stood with Father Abbot Markwart when he branded Avelyn a heretic, when he burned Master Jojonah at the stake.” Despite his intended forceful countenance, Braumin’s voice cracked as he finished the sentence, as his words brought forth images of that horrible injustice enacted upon his mentor and dearest friend, Master Jojonah of St.-Mere-Abelle. He had watched helplessly as Markwart and his cronies had condemned and then executed the man. And though many of those perpetrators, Fio Bou-raiy included, now disavowed the action and admitted their errors, images of that terrible day could not be erased from Abbot Braumin Herde’s mind.

“I cannot deny or discourage Brother Avelyn’s ascension,” Bou-raiy admitted, “not after the revelations of his glory during the dark days of the rosy plague. I am neither the fool you think me nor so prideful that I cannot admit an error in judgment. We have come to learn that Father Abbot Markwart, and those who followed him, were in error—though whether that error was one of conscience and rightful, though errant, intentions is a debate that will linger for many decades to come,” he quickly added, for Bou-raiy might admit a mistake of judgment but not one of open sin.

“It seems more than fitting that Abbot Braumin, who stood behind the followers of Avelyn at risk of his own life and who rode that victory to power …” Bou-raiy began.

Braumin bristled at the words.

“You cannot deny it,” said Bou-raiy. “Nor should you. You chose your side correctly, and at great personal risk, and it is only fitting that you found reward for your judgment and your bravery. I do not deny you that. Nay, not for one moment, and now I offer you the chance to see your true calling—that of herald for Avelyn Desbris, and for Master Jojonah in the near future—through to completion.”

That last tempting crumb, the possibility of further exonerating and glorifying Master Jojonah, was not lost on Abbot Braumin. Indeed, more than anything else in the world—more even than the canonization of Avelyn, whom Braumin did not really know—the abbot of St. Precious wanted to see his former mentor elevated to the status he so surely deserved. Given the chance to pick one or the other, Braumin Herde would pass over Avelyn for sainthood and grant it instead to Master Jojonah.

And Fio Bou-raiy obviously knew that.

“And why you would fear the ascension of Jilseponie, a woman you speak of in nothing short of reverent tones, to the position of bishop of Palmaris escapes me, dear abbot,” Fio Bou-raiy went on.

“What escapes me is your reason for wishing her ascension,” Braumin bluntly admitted.

“It seems prudent,” Bou-raiy replied. “An opportunity we should not let pass us by. For King Danube is too smitten with the woman to deny her this, and while he might believe that he will thus be expanding his secular rule into the ranks of the Church by bringing a baroness into our ranks, in truth, both you and I know that appointing Jilseponie will have the exactly opposite effect. She is a baroness by title but an abbess at heart, as was shown by her work during the years of plague and by the simple fact that God and Avelyn chose her as the messenger of the covenant.

“King Danube will agree to it,” Bou-raiy went on, “but bishop is no title that Jilseponie will hold for long, for when she at last decides upon the court of Ursal as her home, she will become queen, and her successor will be ours to approve or reject.”

Braumin’s face screwed up with curiosity as he tried to keep up with Fio Bou-raiy’s plotting. The mere fact that this man could so readily place layers upon layers of intrigue together in such a seemingly simple manner raised more than a few hairs on the back of Braumin Herde’s neck. Still, the logic of it all seemed irrefutable. Danube would likely agree to Jilseponie’s rise to the position of bishop, and if she then went to Ursal to become his queen, the precedent for bishop would remain, and Danube might well agree to continue it. With Jilseponie’s support, the next bishop would likely come from the Church instead of the secular realm.

“Bishop Braumin of Palmaris has a wonderful ring, does it not?” Fio Bou-raiy asked, his grin understated in that typically controlled manner of his. “Jilseponie will likely support it, even press for it, and King Danube, in his bliss over his impending marriage, will likely go along.”

Abbot Braumin stared at the man for a long while, studying his every movement,
trying hard to decipher all of this surprising information. “You believe that you tempt me, but in truth, you do not understand that which is in my heart,” he said. “I care not for my personal gain above the well-being of my dearest friend, and I’ll not submit her to any plotting that goes against that which is good for her.”

“How can you believe that such an ascension will not prove beneficial to Jilseponie?” Fio Bou-raiy asked incredulously. “She has decided upon a life of service now, by her own words, and we might be able to bring her into a position to strengthen that potential immeasurably. You do not believe that she will see the benefit?”

“The benefit to Jilseponie or to the Abellican Church?” asked Braumin.

“To both,” Bou-raiy answered, waving his arm in exasperation. “Though if the gain was only to the Church, then she should still be pleased to go along. As should you, and without this questioning! Your duty to the Abellican Church is clear, Abbot Braumin. Convince the woman to go along with this, to accept both titles unified into the position of bishop, until such time as she is betrothed to King Danube, should that come to be. That union will then bind Church and State more completely than they have ever been and will allow the good work of the Abellican Church to strengthen throughout the land.”

“You will make of her a figurehead, at least on the side of the Church, with no real power within our patriarchal structure,” Braumin accused. “You use her popularity for our gain and not her own. King Danube will indeed likely go along with your designs, for I, too, doubt that he will deny Jilseponie this opportunity; and playing on that goodwill might buy us a permanent position of bishop in Palmaris. Indeed, even without that continuance, the Church’s gain will be great, for the mere association with Jilseponie will elevate the love of the common man for the Church greatly. And, no, Master Bou-raiy, I do not think that an evil thing. Yet I do fear so using my friends for gains to others. For Jilseponie, despite what you say, there will be little realized advantage. The Church side of the position of bishop, that as abbess of St. Precious, will afford her little real power, and none at all as soon as she relinquishes the position to go to the court at Ursal. No, for Jilseponie, bishop will prove an empty title, one bereft of any real power as soon as she leaves Palmaris.”

Fio Bou-raiy was laughing loudly before Braumin even finished. “She will leave to become queen!” he argued, as if that alone should silence the abbot. “And you misweigh the situation. Popularity is power, my friend, and that is the simplest truth of existence, the one that those who are not popular try very hard, and very futilely, to disparage. Within Palmaris and without, Jilseponie will be able to exert great power and influence with her mere words, with hardly an effort. She will possibly one day be queen, and if we are wise and cunning, she will continue to hold a voice in the Church even then. I do not wish to use her popularity and her favor with King Danube and then discard her—far from it; for the loss then will be ours alone! No, my friend, I have come to believe that Jilseponie Wyndon has earned a voice in the Church, as bishop if we can effect that, and then beyond. Perhaps
her role as queen will involve a position of power within St. Honce in Ursal. A sovereign sister appointment, perhaps even an appointment there as abbess, for surely there is no bounty of qualified brethren in that troubled southern abbey!”

Master Bou-raiy could have then pushed Abbot Braumin over with a feather, so stunned was he. His mind whirled and stumbled repeatedly over Bou-raiy’s plans, for they made little sense to him. Even after the revelations of the covenant of Avelyn, even after the Church began to see Avelyn Desbris and his followers as true Abellicans, Fio Bou-raiy had done little to effect any real change within the entrenched power structure. Whenever Jilseponie’s name had come up as a potential candidate to be lured into the Church—with the exception of bringing her in to head St. Gwendolyn Abbey, which was traditionally led by a woman—Bou-raiy had reacted with a scowl. And now here he was, pressing to bind her tightly to the Church’s side.

“It will be unprecedented,” Bou-raiy went on, “to have the reigning Queen of Honce-the-Bear hold a voice in the next College of Abbots, which, I assure you, will soon enough be convened, given Father Abbot Agronguerre’s advanced age and ill health.”

A voice in the College?
Abbot Braumin silently asked himself.
Or a vote in the College?
Was that the true prize Fio Bou-raiy had traveled to Palmaris to secure? Did he think to mend old wounds in an effort to gather allies for himself in the next election for father abbot? But if that was the case, then why would he wish a voice for Jilseponie?

“Would not Master Fio Bou-raiy, who desires an election to father abbot, be better served without Jilseponie at the College?” Braumin asked bluntly. “It is well known that she favors others in the Church.”

Fio Bou-raiy, always so in control, showed very little emotion at the blunt question, but revealed enough, a flash in his gray eyes, that Abbot Braumin knew that his straightforwardness had surprised the ever-plotting man somewhat.

“She favors others who are not yet ready to ascend to the position,” the master from St.-Mere-Abelle answered with equal bluntness.

“You speak as if Father Abbot Agronguerre is already in his grave,” said Braumin distastefully.

“Father Abbot Agronguerre is dead in every way but the physical,” said Bou-raiy. Though his words were callous, Abbot Braumin found it hard to fault him, for there was—quite unexpectedly—a hint of sympathy and compassion in his often cold voice. Perhaps the years with Agronguerre, a gentle man by all accounts, had rubbed off well on Fio Bou-raiy.

“He remembers little, sometimes not even his own name,” Bou-raiy went on quietly. “He has been an exemplary father abbot—better by far than I would ever have believed possible, for I was no supporter of his election those years ago—but his time with us is not long, I am sure. A few months, a year or two, and no more. I say that not from eagerness to ascend, though I do believe myself the best qualified to succeed Father Abbot Agronguerre, but merely because it is the truth, one
well known among the brethren of St.-Mere-Abelle, who witness the man’s decline every day.”

Abbot Braumin sat back in his chair and began tapping the ends of his fingers together, studying Fio Bou-raiy, trying to sort through it all. Was he trying to persuade Braumin, hoping to win the voting bloc that would likely include Viscenti, Castinagis, Talumus, and Master Dellman of St. Belfour, and might perhaps even take in Abbot Haney of that northern abbey? Though he had been in St. Belfour for several years, Dellman remained loyal to Braumin Herde and the friends he had left behind at St. Precious. Haney, a young abbot who had succeeded Agronguerre in St. Belfour, might well look to the more worldly Dellman as a guide for his vote.

But where did Fio Bou-raiy think Jilseponie might fit in? Was he merely hoping to win over Braumin by seemingly favoring her? Or did he truly wish to have her voice heard at the College?

Then it hit Braumin completely, as he considered Fio Bou-raiy’s only real competition for the highest office. For Bou-raiy was correct, of course, in saying that Braumin Herde was too young and inexperienced to ascend. And given the swift decline of Marcalo De’Unnero; the tumult within St. Honce, with a new abbot yet again; the extreme weakness within St. Gwendolyn after the depredations of the plague in that particular abbey; and the fact that both St. Precious and St. Belfour were now headed by abbots—Braumin and Haney—much too young to try for the position of father abbot, only one of the older masters and abbots stood out for his accomplishments and leadership: Abbot Olin of St. Bondabruce in Entel. Olin had been a serious rival of Agronguerre’s for the title at the College of Abbots a decade before, and in recent years the southern abbot’s position had only strengthened and solidified. But Olin had one weakness, one dark mark to hinder his ascension, one that the supporters of Abbot Agronguerre had used to great effect against him in the last election: he was tied to the southern kingdom of Behren more intimately than any Abellican abbot had been in centuries. Honce-the-Bear and Behren weren’t at war, certainly, but neither were they the best of neighbors. Furthermore, the Abellican Church and the yatol priests of the southern kingdom had never been on friendly terms. Olin presided over his abbey in Entel, the southernmost Honce-the-Bear city, a thriving port only a short boat ride around the Belt-and-Buckle mountain range from Jacintha, the capital city of Behren, the seat of the Chezru chieftain who led the yatols. Olin’s ties to the strange customs of Entel had always been uncomfortable for the Abellican Order, but his closeness to Behren had often been the source of absolute distress for King Danube Brock Ursal.

Jilseponie would be queen, Master Bou-raiy was obviously thinking, as were most observers, and as such, she would be sensitive to King Danube’s desires and political needs. Having Olin as father abbot of the Abellican Church would not sit comfortably with King Danube, no doubt; and so Jilseponie would be pushed into the voting bloc of Master Bou-raiy.