TheSwordoftheLady

?It was so good to receive the Sacraments again,? Mathilda said. ?It always makes me feel less… less muddled. Like looking from the top of a castle tower, after you?ve been in a crowded street.? ?I agree,? Odard replied; sincerely, she thought.

Though I was never really sure, before.

After all, an Association nobleman more or less had to be respectably pious in public at least, or face serious political problems; so did most at court who wanted the Princess Mathilda?s favor, as opposed to her mother?s.

But I think this trip has been good for Odard. A sigh. I wish mother would take more care for her soul… and I like Lady Delia, but… no, think about that later. ?And it was homelike, in a way, even if they don?t use as much Latin here,? he said musingly.?I never thought I could be so homesick. I?ll never call Castle Gervais dull again, if you know what I mean, your Highness.? ?I do, Odard.? She put a hand on his shoulder for a moment.?I asked Lady Sandra to be merciful, for my sake.? ?Thank you,? he said, and wretchedness broke through his composure.?I told Mother… but she?s actually guilty. And intriguing with the CUT isn?t just politics, even treasonous politics. I know that now.?

She gave the shoulder a squeeze and then turned her attention aside for a moment to let him gather himself; Odard would be bitterly ashamed of losing self-control.

They walked together through the drowsy evening warmth of the grounds, amid a sweet smell of cut grass and roses and a faint trace of incense that was still stronger than the city scents from beyond the low perimeter wall. The air lacked much of the heavy coal-smoke stink of Des Moines, at least; they burned the stuff here, but there were far fewer factories and foundries.

The State Police were discreetly spaced around the outer edge of the cathedral grounds; beyond them were the low hills of the city proper, with few buildings of any height-there evidently hadn?t been many high-rises, and those few had long since been torn down for their metal. The low buildings of honest brick gave Dubuque an oddly modern look, like a post-Change settlement.

The cathedral itself reminded her of some back home; not the flamboyant Cypriot Gothic traceries that were so fashionable now that there were resources to spare for such work, but pre-Change types. It was a solid redbrick cruciform structure with a white stone front and square tower and plain windows. And the seat of an archbishopric, but the service had been modest, with only two parish priests officiating.

She felt a little guilty at effectively commandeering the place, but not much; she did have an extraordinary need. Confessing to a stranger who didn?t know the context of her life had been a bit of a trial after having her own chaplain for so long, and then Father Ignatius, but…

Helpful, in a way. I had to organize my thoughts. And He is no respecter of persons; it?s probably good for me. And it was a relief to light a candle in thanks. Rudi made it! And Edain too, of course.

Sometimes, not very often but sometimes, receiving the Host was like opening herself to all creation in a blaze of fire that consumed and warmed at the same time. At others, she had to make herself properly reverent by an act of will. Today had been neither.

It was more like being a soldier in the garrison of a besieged castle, and getting a clap on the shoulder from his liege-lord as he walked the battlements. She struggled to control a smile. And I?ll be seeing Rudi again soon, soon!

A white marble statue of the Virgin stood nearby, beneath a willow tree. A Benedictine in the simple belted black robe and scapular of that Order was there, kneeling; he rose and turned his hooded head towards them. ?I?m sorry, brother, we didn?t mean to interrupt your-?

She stopped abruptly. A jolt ran through her, and she forced back an exclamation of joy as she recognized the dark face and slightly tilted eyes. ?Softly, my children,? Father Ignatius said; his smile was warm beneath the shadow of the cloth, but brief.?Walk with me.?

The two Associates were in local costume, bib overalls for Odard and a simple dress for her; there was nothing strange about two gentlefolk talking with a religious. The Church was very strong in this city, apparently an old tradition reinforced since the Change. Ignatius told his rosary with his left hand as they walked… possibly because he didn?t have a sword hilt there right now, though he did have a dagger; that was formally part of the ordinary Benedictine habit anyway. ?You and the others can come out of hiding now, Father,? Mathilda said happily.?Rudi has the wagons! They?re almost here-just across the river. He found some tribe of wild-men and convinced them to help him. God and His mother witness, nobody else could have done it!? ?Certainly I couldn?t,? Odard said ruefully.?You know, he makes one feel… inadequate, sometimes. If he wasn?t so damned likeable I?d dislike him.?

Ignatius chuckled dryly.?My daughter, my lord Gervais, Rudi Mackenzie is indeed a very able young man, as I understand you informed your… host. But what is your impression of the Bossman himself? You have seen a good deal of him; I know him only by reputation.? ?Oh,? she said.?I thought it would all be over now…?

Wishful thinking always lies in wait! she reminded herself; that was one of her mother?s sayings. After a moment?s careful thought she went on: ?He reminds me of my lord the Count of Chehalis.? ?Oh, that is so true,? Odard said.?An excellent comparison. And I know Piotr a lot better than you do, your Highness. We?re friends, sort of.? ?No accounting for tastes,? Mathilda said dryly. ?Politics.? The young noble shrugged.?As much of a friend as a mere baron can be with the son of a Count. The man?s a damnable snob, among other things. Passable swordsman, useful with a boar spear and good with horses, and a lousy poet. He?s no fool, either, not really, except that he?s lazy-lazy between the ears, in which he does resemble Lord… Bossman Anthony strongly. But by God, can Piotr drink!?

Aloud she went on:?Only Lord… Bossman… Anthony is even worse than Piotr, because he?s had nobody to tell him he can?t have whatever he wants. I think… I think he was too much indulged as a child. His mother died when he was young, too, and evidently his father had a succession of lemans who flattered him when they didn?t ignore him altogether, and none of them bore children.?

Ignatius nodded.?That is what my superiors here have informed me as well. That makes it… uncertain… that he will carry out his undertaking to release us all. It was originally meant as a mocking joke. Accordingly it would not be safe to reveal ourselves yet, even leaving the minions of the Corwinite cult out of consideration.? ?Yes,? Mathilda said.?Looking at it objectively.? ?In fact, we have some information concerning the Cutters? plans,? Ignatius said.?From Edgar Denson, of all people.?

Odard?s brow went up.?And he revealed it?? ?To Ingolf.? ?For his own purposes,? Mathilda guessed; there were plenty of men like Denson around court at home. ?Indeed, my child.? Ignatius nodded.

No surprise to him either, Mathilda thought. A knight-brother trains in politics. ?Denson intends to use the Cutters? own eagerness to kill us as a tool to reinforce his influence with the Bossman,? Ignatius amplified. ?He evidently fears that it isn?t as unassailable as he would like people to think.? ?Nobody who has to depend on Anthony is in an unassailable position,? Odard said.

Mathilda nodded.?Including Anthony. I think he doesn?t know himself what he?s going to do from moment to moment, or whether his boredom is going to overcome his good sense.? ?This is a man not used to being thwarted in anything,? Ignatius said.?I have been… very concerned at you being so much in his company.? ?Yes,? Mathilda said again, unhappily.