Book 4, Chapter 13: A Compromise of Letters
Standing at the bookshelf, flipping through another book when the guard entered the room, shouting, “His Excellency, the Archbishop, Your Highness.”
I didn’t let my shoulders drop to reflect my mood at the interruption, but replaced the book on the shelf. Another history of war, not what I was looking for. Then, I turned, hands together, saying, “Your Excellency. I expected you sooner. When you sent your priest.”
“And I, Your Highness, awaited you in the cathedral.”
I wasn’t bothered in the slightest about his waiting but figured I should say something. “Ah.”
“And the documents?” He looked at me expectantly, as if I wasn’t aware that his priest had told him what happened to them. “Perhaps we could sign them into law?”
“I’m afraid that’s no longer possible.”
“I was told you threw them into the fire in a fit of rage, but I was hoping that was an exaggeration.”
“It is an exaggeration, for I was not angry in the slightest when I tossed them in.”
“Princess Cayce, documents such as those are difficult and time consuming to arrange.”
“It was you, Your Excellency, who made the signing of those documents impossible. Or, irrelevant.”
“You’ll have to enlighten me as to how I did that, my lady.”
“Please,” I gestured at the chair, “have a seat.” I waited until he sat, then sat myself, folded my hands together under the desk and out of sight, just in case, and said, “Well, I’m not a queen and therefore cannot formalize your church as the state’s own.”
He sat back, “Surely as princess, you are the de facto ruler of the kingdom.”
“Yes, oh, certainly. Perhaps only because of my army. My military power. Yes, this much is true. But, as you and the earls have pointed out again and again, I have no legal power until next year.” I smiled as sweetly as I could. “And I’m not entirely sure I want to force my will upon the kingdom using military power alone. Though if that is your advice, I will call my generals to discuss the appropriate courses of action.”
“Ah.” He looked uncomfortable, sat back a little straighter and clasped his hands together on his lap. “I suppose we’ll have to revisit this discussion next year, then.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Indeed.” I knew, just knew, I should shut up, but out it came, the gloating and spilling of threats, “For I am young and impressionable and will be on a long campaign. A war campaign. One finds so very many possibilities when one travels and experiences new cultures. And after the coming excursion, I will be visiting Laemacia and learning all that I can in their civilized nation.” They, after all, had pants with actual, functioning belt loops.
“I assure you that no other church is as well suited your peoples as the one serving here humbly.”
“We shall see, Your Excellency, we shall see.” How many dangers did I invite by mocking him so? Perhaps I was threatening him. Hard to say and asking him just wasn’t the thing to do.
“Mass and the ministrations of the church are always at your disposal, my lady, should you seek meditation and wisdom.”
“If I’m being honest, it is exactly that quality I lack. Wisdom. Though I’m not entirely convinced it comes through meditation. I do that often enough and here I am, as naïve as ever.”
“You were coronated in our church’s cathedral. Surely, that carried with it, even required by it, authority. Unspoken and sublime. And from authority, when power is derived from the divine, obligation is its due.”
I was getting that feeling again. A pressure behind the eyes, like a migraine building. Perhaps it was coincidence, yet I wanted to blame the archbishop and his talk about divinity. Not aloud, though. I rubbed my temples, “Obligation to whom? Your Excellency or the deity you represent?”
“The church itself, of course. I’m merely its head. A leader and nothing more.”
“Well then. We shall revisit this discussion next year. Unless, of course, I am crowned queen by some other church.”
“Don’t overstep, my lady. I fear it will be to your peril. You’ve already burned the bridges with the largest, most powerful church.”
“And you conspire with Hafthon. Yes, yes, no point in denying it.”
“He’s a pious man, and powerful.”
“He is powerful, I’ll give you that. And here I am, despite that you want a king on the throne.”
“I believe further discussion on this conversation to be of limited use.” He stood, gave a quick nod of his head, “And I will take my leave of you. Perhaps we can revisit these issues when you are, shall we say, more agreeable.”
I finally got a hold of my tongue, stood, bit back a quip and merely said, somewhat thoughtlessly, “Have a good day, Ghevont.”
He turned his bulky body back my way and said, “We all win some battles. And lose others. It doesn’t behoove a princess to be petty and vindictive.”
I’d already said as much as I cared to and simply returned his gaze. After he left, I returned to my seat, rubbing my temples again. Ugh. I should have shut up, said nothing, nodded and smiled and put him off until I left in the spring, but no, no, I had to go and explain in vivid detail how I had come to be his enemy. And he’d been so nice the first dinner we’d shared.
Still, he was a two-faced jerk and Hafthon would be leaving, back to his earldom and taking his meddling with him. The archbishop, until I left, would have no one to conspire with. At least I hoped. And, yeah, that assumed there was no such things as spies or messengers.
Morry’s advice on simply taking all the earldoms was looking better and better.
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