Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles (9 page)

“The Quinalt here is higher and
they
know she is Elwynim, but if
it
says there is no treaty, then we have no treaty. Or we have a dispute that will take two realms to war and bring down the king. I have sworn
that
to His Holiness, who has no wish to see the Marhanen kings fall, though gods know Murandys and Ryssand would step into the breach in an instant. — The plain solution is, settled five days ago, Her Grace will declare she has always had a faith, her father was her priest, and therefore His Holiness will accept the treaty.”

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

“How does one declare a faith?” A troubling thought came to him.

“I have sworn to you, and I have never—”

“Hush, hush,
hush
! never say so. The short of it is that the barons have demanded of
her
to declare a faith, thinking she cannot satisfy the demand… and then they would be rid of the treaty and the marriage except on
their
terms, which Her Grace would never accept. But the Bryalt faith such as they practice it in Amefel is
very
near the Elwynim practice. So I understand. So a Bryalt priest has now sworn, my lady has had him for a priest since she came to Amefel and from
before
the treaty. It is, of course, a lie, but necessary to protect the treaty. You must never say so.”

He understood that much very clearly. “Then you
have
told Her Grace about the barons.”

Cefwyn drew a breath. “Some days ago. And she agreed far more reasonably than I would have thought. She is so good a soul, Tristen. So brave.”

“I do admire her, sir. Very much.”

“She will accept the Bryalt priest to sign his name as her priest on the marriage documents. He will swear to continue to be her priest, that is, to stand at my lady’s elbow while she reigns in Elwynor, which he will, and meekly so, on his life. When he is there he is under her authority, and how much authority she accords him is by her will, not mine, and not the affair of His Holiness. His name is Benwyn, a man of little ambition, a scholar, a man who likes his table, a harmless sort. You have not met him. But you may.”

“The Quinalt accepts the Bryaltines as priests? I thought they Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles refused to do that.”

“The Quinalt detests them as half heretics. But it
is
a recognized faith and it makes her no heretic, which is what
His Holiness
wants, now, because
he
knows I will press this to the uttermost,
including
breaking from the Quinalt myself if he denies me in this. My grandfather made the Quinalt what it is, my
father
preferred them over the Teranthines, and by the gods I can do the same for the Teranthines over
them
if they cross me. —Which is neither here nor there with us—I see your frown. Say only that my lady has declared herself Bryalt, she has a priest who will disappear from significance once she stands on Elwynim soil, and she will, in that tangled understanding, pass under the Quinalt roof on penny day with no statement whether she is a priestly or unpriestly sovereign—

damnable nonsense, all. But such words entail power in
this
world.

The Holy Father must perform the marriage. This is the sticking point. This is the difficulty. I need the Quinalt’s goodwill, Tristen, or I must break the Quinaltine’s power, and I will,
if
I must. But I have a war to fight. And I had far rather the Holy Father’s goodwill.

We are
almost
to an understanding that will make the Holy Father
my
ally for benefits I can accord him, and if you could, by will or wish or whatever small, very small wizardry you or Emuin together might manage… keep the pigeons away from the Quinalt porch.”

“The
pigeons
, sir?”

“I know, I know ’t is such a small matter. But I need the Holy Father in a giving mood, and they have fouled his porch, they have continually fouled his porch, and they make him think of wizardry, and of you, in a most unfavorable light. His dignity is threatened.

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles Can you prevent them?”

He was utterly confused. “I can try. I shall try, sir.”

“I knew you would. I know you have a good heart.” Cefwyn after all seemed to have something more on his mind, and Tristen waited, silent, until Cefwyn plunged ahead. “Never let them
see
you work magic. Not with the pigeons. Not with anything. Ever.”

“It’s not a thing one could see, sir, will I or will I not. I will try.”

“If you could only observe the
forms
of orthodoxy, Tristen.” It was not at all about the pigeons, now, but all in a rush, the desire of Cefwyn’s heart, he thought. “If you could banish the pigeons, and come under the Quinalt roof, and make that offering, thus acknowledging the authority of the Quinalt…”

“Like Her Grace, do you mean? To tell a lie?”

Cefwyn looked confounded. And finally said, “Yes. A small, an accommodating lie. For appearances. To let an important old man feel that his
dignity
has been respected and will be respected in future before witnesses he wishes to impress. Do I offend you?“

“No, sir. You can never offend me.”

“I have given you the pennies. And best you send yours by some other hand if you cannot come under that roof without some…

without some manifestation. But I have seen you go into the shrine.

I know that you can do it. Can you do it safely? Or will the… will the candles go out, or mice and bats break out, or any such thing?”

“I don’t think so, sir. About the mice and bats, at least. And the candles. I can go in.”

“Can you give the penny? Can you walk in, the place deserted, and Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles drop a penny in the box? I do not ask you go in with the ceremony and the priests and all, in the morning, only to go alone in the afternoon, with your guard. And witnesses. Well that there be witnesses. I shall have to arrange someone to go in with you.”

“Witnesses.”

“In case they lie. The court goes in the morning, in a great ceremony, singing and trumpets, all of that…”

“As it did when the barons swore.”

“You were there.”

“I was there, sir. I watched from the door. I could attend with the court, if ’t would serve.”

“
Could
you do that?”

“I will.” He had attended in the shrine but he had not lingered. At summer’s end, Cefwyn had crowned
himself
, on the field, and that meant Cefwyn had not taken the Crown of Ylesuin from the hands of His Holiness. The Quinaltine Patriarch had wanted Cefwyn to come into the Quinaltine shrine and have the Patriarch set the crown on him all over again. But Cefwyn had not been willing to be crowned twice; so he had only taken the northern barons’ oaths of fealty in a Quinaltine ceremony, those who had not sworn already in the south. “Will it make the Patriarch happier?”

“If you could do that, if you could simply stand with the court, if we could quiet the general fears that the king and his house as well as his bride will go off to be Bryaltines or worse, that all the south will break out in magic like a pox, why, then, gods, yes, it would make him happier. If we win the Holy Father, then Murandys and Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles Nelefreíssan, and finally even Ryssand must fall in line. The lords break every law of the Quinalt themselves almost every day and twice on holidays, but they fear heresy. They do honestly fear it…

as if the gods being waked up by another man’s sins should then notice all that
they
do amiss. The Holy Father has his own methods, the Quinalt being the holder of all treaties, and if he approves, then he will bring the rest of them into order.” Cefwyn drew a great breath and gave him a long, solemn stare. “You are the most unskilled liar ever I knew. But if you could take only a little instruction, learn what will be done, stand quietly,
do
nothing wizardous…”

“I am no wizard, my lord. I am not.”

“No wizard as Emuin is no cleric. If someone were to show you what to do, and when to stand and when to appear to pray… make the gesture… make the people sure you are
not
of wizardous substance, that you will not burst into flame or break out in warts.

You don’t have to convince the Holy Father. The Holy Father well understands political religiosity. He respects it—he frankly prefers it to devout faith in those he supports. What will win him is your making the offering, showing respect for his authority—publicly bowing to him.”

“Ought I?”

“For me. For Her Grace.”

“Then easily. I might go to the Quinaltine and meet the Patriarch and swear to him if you wished.”

“No. No. No. Know this. His Holiness is Sulriggan’s cousin. He Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles will never be your friend. Never expect that. Say
nothing
but good day to His Holiness or any priest, on any occasion.”

Sulriggan again. He was a very troublesome man, the lord of Llymaryn, not attending court this winter, in Cefwyn’s extreme displeasure, after he had left the court of Amefel in disfavor. He was never guilty of treason. When Cefwyn had had great need of every man he could muster, Sulriggan had not been there, had suffered no wounds at Lewenbrook, where the southern barons had proven their courage; and in shame, Sulriggan had sat all autumn in Llymaryn, with even Efanor angry at him. That much was no inconvenience to anyone.

But that His Holiness the Patriarch of the Quinalt was Sulriggan’s cousin, and the king must court
him
, that was terrible news. No one had told him that. It made matters very much more difficult.

“I would become Bryalt like Her Grace. I could do that. I could say I was Quinalt. If I am to lie, had I not as well swear to the Quinalt?”

Cefwyn looked as if he had swallowed something startling and uncomfortable. Idrys had lingered at the doors, throughout, and looked askance when he said that.

“As well slip a raven in amongst the doves,” Idrys said. “
That
would be a sight.”

“That, from master crow,” Cefwyn said, in the way he and Idrys were accustomed to trade barbs. “I slip
your
black presence in amongst the pious priests and they bear it.“

“I am no wizard,” Idrys said, “nor reputed to be dead.”

“Mind your tongue!” Cefwyn’s order was not humorous, now.

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

“Reputed, I say, my lord king.
Reputed
is the simple truth, which the lord of Althalen would by no means deny.”

“Dead, sir, I am not sure of.”

“Gods.” Cefwyn’s hand rested on Tristan’s back. “My good friend.

My friend most innocent. And yet grown far more clever. Gods, if for fifteen days, a
gloss
of piety… an instruction. Merely an instruction in the ceremonies. It would tantalize the barons with doubts… distract all gossip from Ninévrisë…”

“My lord king,” Idrys objected.

“No, now, a
gloss
, is all. Efanor will always discuss religion…

would deliver him sermons for hours if Tristen were willing, at least to make him aware of the forms and the rites. If ’t would raise no apparitions, no blackening of the offerings, no souring of the wine…”

“No, my lord king,” Idrys said firmly. “No, no, and no.”

“The Patriarch is a practical man, a shrewd man. He knows what there is to gain and lose. A little gesture, no deception at all…

simply a due respect…”

“Much to lose,” Idrys said. “Do not trust His Holiness.”

“Oh, never. Never. He never deludes me. But he quite confessedly finds my brother’s honest devotion far more dangerous to him than a host of Emuins and the entire Teranthine brotherhood. Or the Bryaltine. Did you know my father tried to have me declared a bastard? And His Holiness would not. His Holiness does not want a truly religious man. He does not want my brother, and if he would understand that Tristen is doing this only to please the Quinalt, Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles gods,
flatter
the old fox…”

“Yet he must have appearances. By every tenet of the Quinaltine, he cannot countenance a Sihhë-lord beneath his roof!”

“Appearances indeed. His Holiness dares not disillusion Efanor, but no more dares he see Efanor on the throne; and he knows now he cannot cozen me, threaten my friends, and still maintain his income.

He damned well
will
find a niche in his piety for the Sihhë, such a fine niche it will cover and explain the Quinalt’s murder of them at Althalen and its approval of my grandfather while it explains its acceptance of Tristen of Ynefel whom—
whom
we have never proven is Sihhë. It may take Quinalt scholars a month and a wagonload of parchment, but when the Quinalt covers its own sins, it covers them in ink, in seas and oceans of ink, deep enough for fishes. So,
yes
, yes, Tristen, my dear friend, yes, if you could find it in you to listen to my brother’s pious instruction, learn the forms enough to go through them, gods! if you could publicly wear some trinket of a relic to prove it will not blast you, if you could attend in chapel and not provoke omens… a convert—gods, a Sihhë convert.

What would the Holy Father do?”

“One cannot imagine,” Idrys said dryly, and in no greater approval, so that Tristen himself had doubts.

But Cefwyn showed none at all. “A Sihhë convert, a donation, a royal abbey… that would salve the wound of the coronation I wouldn’t let the old fox do over. Gods, more than justify the Sihhë in the Quinaltine. If they make a way in for
Tristen
, the heresy of the whole of Elwynor becomes a trifle. We could see Ylesuin and Elwynor together accommodated in a doctrine that could admit
you
, Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles my friend. A month or two, a few donations, is all you would have to endure, attending ceremonies with the court, being punctilious in your observances—”

“Hazardous,” Idrys said.

“But filing in with the court, out with the court, bowing when the court bows, attached to my brother’s well-known, prickly piety…