“Sulriggan is banished! How can he oppose it?”
“Not truly banished. In disfavor. Mark there is a difference. His nephew attends on my brother. Or attempts to attend. Here is my point: since we have the marriage agreement protecting Her Grace, they may try another way. They may attempt my friends. And of my friends, youare as likely an object of their plotting as my lady is. An accusation of sorcery, of any sort of impropriety, would create an immense storm, possibly a delay. Anything you do amiss. Or fail to do—or that she fails to do. It’s their last chance.“
“I understand.” He did. He knew the other lords disapproved of him, all except Cevulirn. “What must I do, then?”
“Be wise. Be wary.”
“I am, sir.” All the events of Lewenbrook were in that declaration—all that thunderous, terrible realization in which he had known a book without reading it; in which he had understood all that was in it. That was what lay between him and the fecklessness some, even Cefwyn, continually expected in him. Even Cefwyn had not known the moment he had changed, or in what odd ways. He had no idea how winter behaved. But he knew how to defend himself, and he knew spite when he saw it. He knew the workings of the court. Thus far, he evaded them.
Cefwyn’s hand rested on his shoulder as they walked. “I never take you for a fool. But be aware, most of all, that His Holiness is not a pious sort of priest. And I must explain one other thing to you. The Regent of Elwynor, Her Grace’s late father, always did the office of chief priest as well as king; and this is a matter of great concern to the Quinalt. They want to assign a priest to Her Grace and will not accept her acting in priestly ways.”
She is a wizard, he almost said. He was not sure how much of that truth Cefwyn knew, although he was sure Cefwyn had some notion. And was, it for that reason the Quinalt objected? Should he, in trust of Cefwyn, in good faith, tell all he knew and discuss the question? Saying could never be unsaid, and absent Emuin’s agreement, he dared not, when two people were happy and almost wedded, whatever that entailed.
“They want to assign a priest to Her Grace,” Cefwyn said. “They disapprove of women.”
“There are no women at all in the Quinaltine?” He remembered robed women, women in white, carrying candles.
“Not as priests. Not, therefore, as reigning kings, who have the function of priests, or to be lord of a province—”
“Lady Orien was.”
“—Lady Orien is a sorceress, good lack! They hardly approved of her in any respect! And I never consulted the Quinalt in the marriage agreement. Nor needed do so, in Amefel. The point is, they disapprove women in high places. But the marriage treaty, made and sworn to in Amefel, under Quinalt, Teranthine and Bryalt auspices, says Her Grace shall keep all her prerogatives. Allher prerogatives, without exception, it’s written in the treaty, and, lo! a meddling clerk in the Quinaltine discovered this aspect of the Elwynim Regency ten days ago—which I have not told Her Grace. Murandys and Ryssand came fawning up to me saying she cannot act as a priest, demanding she declare a faith, and for a certain number of days, messages have outnumbered the autumn leaves.”
So men and women being wed couldhave secrets one from the other. It relieved him somewhat of guilt. It was not wrong for Ninévrisë to have held secrets, nor for him to leave them be.
“Then,” Cefwyn said, “then, a few days ago, the Quinalt came with a new thought. If she has not accepted a priest, she cannot be sanctified, and if she is not sanctified, she cannot accept a creed. Without a creed the Quinalt recognizes as godly she cannot swear a godly oath or receive one, and without swearing there cannot have been a treaty ora betrothal.”
That would be disaster. “The Quinalt in Amefel said it was an oath and they certainly knew she was Elwynim.”
“The Quinalt here is higher and theyknow she is Elwynim, but if itsays 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 thatto 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.”
“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 herto declare a faith, thinking she cannot satisfy the demand… and then they would be rid of the treaty and the marriage except on theirterms, which Her Grace would never accept. But the Bryalt faith such as they practice it in Amefel is verynear 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 beforethe 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 havetold 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 refused to do that.”
“The Quinalt detests them as half heretics. But it isa recognized faith and it makes her no heretic, which is what His Holinesswants, now, because heknows I will press this to the uttermost, includingbreaking from the Quinalt myself if he denies me in this. My grandfather made the Quinalt what it is, my fatherpreferred them over the Teranthines, and by the gods I can do the same for the Teranthines over themif 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 thisworld. 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, ifI must. But I have a war to fight. And I had far rather the Holy Father’s goodwill. We are almostto an understanding that will make the Holy Father myally 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. Can you prevent them?”
He was utterly confused. “I can try. I shall try, sir.”