Abbot Glendenhook of St. Gwendolyn crumpled the parchment in his large and strong hands. His thick brow furrowed over deep-set eyes and he clenched his huge fist powerfully, the muscles on his massive arm tightening the fabric of his brown robes. More than any other master of the Abellican Order, Toussan Glendenhook had ridden Fio Bou-raiy's coattails to power. For many years, he had walked in Bou-raiy's shadow, and willingly so. Glendenhook had accomplished much on his own, especially in the arts martial, where he had risen as one of the finest warriors to come out of St.-Mere-Abelle - not on a par with legendary Marcalo De'Unnero, of course, but Glendenhook had been the best of his class.
Still, Glendenhook had always been very aware that he had no chance of ever rising in the hierarchy beyond the rank of master - until, that is, his friend Bou-raiy had ascended the dais as the Abellican Church's Father Abbot. Glendenhook had been there every step of the way with Fio Bou-raiy, supporting his friend. When Bou-raiy had made his successful bid for the position of Father Abbot, Glendenhook had lobbied long and hard for the votes. Subsequent to gaining the seat in St.-Mere-Abelle, Fio Bou-raiy had repaid his loyal friend with this appointment as abbot of St. Gwendolyn, a monastery traditionally run by a woman.
There had been little resistance to the appointment; the then-Master Glendenhook had rushed to the rescue of St. Gwendolyn when the rogue De'Unnero had come to dominate the place, organizing his infamous Brothers Repentant from the ranks of the plague-devastated abbey. Over the last couple of years since his appointment, Abbot Glendenhook had compiled a strong record at the abbey and among the people of the neighboring villages. His abbey was among the leaders in per capita attendance and donations, and though he was not really a great follower of Avelyn Desbris and the reform that had swept the Abellican Church, Abbot Glendenhook had not reined in his sisters, brothers, and masters when they had desired to go out among the people with the healing soul stones. Like his mentor, Fio Bou-raiy, Abbot Glendenhook had adapted to the change, if not embracing it, and had brought St. Gwendolyn back from the ashes.
And now this.
The burly man looked down at the crumpled parchment, trying to find every angle between the actual words. He was not surprised, of course, to learn that Duke Kalas was fast approaching St. Gwendolyn with his enormous army; Glendenhook and all the other citizens of central and southern Honce-the-Bear had watched Kalas' march from Palmaris throughout the winter, with every town falling into obedient line. Kalas had cut a line straight out to the coast south of St. Gwendolyn, and so it had been obvious for nearly two weeks that he would not stop there, but would turn north to finish his blanketing march.
But this decree, from Duke Kalas himself, had not been so predictable, especially coming in some thirty miles ahead of the front ranks of Kalas' force! The nobleman had formally announced his approach, and his demand that St. Gwendolyn be opened to him and to King Aydrian Boudabras, and that the brothers and sisters of the abbey formally declare Abbot Olin and Master De'Unnero as the rightful leaders of the Abellican Order.
"He knows that we, that I, will never accede to the demands of Marcalo De'Unnero," Glendenhook said to Master Belasarus, another transplant from St.-Mere-Abelle.
"Not in any form!" the master declared. "The man is a dangerous rogue! He is beyond the bounds of rationality itself. There is no place in the Abellican Church for Marcalo De'Unnero, curse his name!"
Abbot Glendenhook patted his large hands in the air to calm the frightened and angry master. "Of course there is no place for him. Father Abbot Bou-raiy has formally banished Marcalo De'Unnero - he did so almost immediately after De'Unnero's disgrace in Palmaris at the hands of Sister Jilseponie."
"And now Abbot Olin has embraced him?" Master Belasarus spat incredulously. "Has the man gone mad?"
"Beyond mad, it would seem," said Glendenhook. "It is no secret that Abbot Olin did not take his defeat by Father Abbot Bou-raiy well. But never could we have imagined this."
"They will march to the gates of St.-Mere-Abelle," Master Belasarus reasoned. "Father Abbot Bou-raiy will not open the abbey for them. Does King Aydrian mean to tear those great gates down?"
Abbot Glendenhook looked down at the parchment once again and offered only a shrug. That was an issue that would be settled later in the season, it seemed, likely before midsummer's day. For Glendenhook now, though, the issue was here before him in the form of this letter. Why had Kalas sent it? Glendenhook and Kalas had met only briefly a couple of times in their lives. In many ways, they were men cut of the same mold. Both lurked in the background of the true power, Fio Bou-raiy and Father Abbot Agronguerre for Glendenhook, and King Danube and now, apparently, King Aydrian for Kalas. They were generals in their respective armies, Glendenhook for the Church and Kalas for the crown. There had been no animosity between them, at least none that Glendenhook had ever noticed.
Was it possible that Duke Kalas had sent this letter so far ahead of the army to give Glendenhook the opportunity to gather up his staff and escape to St.-Mere-Abelle? By all accounts, the roads to the mother abbey were clear of any soldiers.
"What do you want of me, Duke Kalas?" the abbot said quietly.
"He knows that we cannot open our gates for a king demanding such change within the Abellican Church," Master Belasarus remarked.
Glendenhook looked up at him.
"Duke Kalas surely understands that we, none of us, will ever accept the rule of Marcalo De'Unnero," the master explained. "Nor of Abbot Olin, unless he wins the position he so covets by our rules at a College of Abbots."
"Where is Olin?" Glendenhook asked. "Is he still in Behren?"
"By all accounts."
A soft knock sounded on the door of Glendenhook's office. The abbot motioned to Belasarus, who answered, opening the door wide to admit Sovereign Sister Treisa, the highest-ranking woman at the abbey, and a likely successor to Glendenhook. Before the storm that was Aydrian had clouded the Honce-the-Bear sky, there had been rumors that Father Abbot Bou-raiy intended to move Glendenhook to another position, perhaps even as abbot of St. Honce in Ursal, to thus elevate Sovereign Sister Treisa and restore St. Gwendolyn to the control of a woman. Nearing forty, the comely Treisa seemed more than ready to assume the mantle. She had lived through many trials during her years at St. Gwendolyn, including the devastation of the rosy plague and the perversion of Marcalo De'Unnero.
She had come through it all with grace and dignity, and had returned from her personal pilgrimage to Mount Aida to partake of the Miracle of Avelyn with such a profound sense of serenity that she calmed any room simply by entering. She had supported Glendenhook brilliantly over the last couple of years, since her return from a walking tour of the Mantis Arm, and the two had become as close as any brother and sister of the Abellican Order dared. There were even rumors that their friendship had gone beyond propriety.
But no one really cared to investigate the rumors, and many actually hoped they were true. For whatever reason and by everyone's estimation - even Glendenhook's - Sovereign Sister Treisa had made Glendenhook a better and more generous abbot.
Abbot Glendenhook rose when she entered, offering a warm smile despite his foul mood.
The sovereign sister didn't return that smile. "Duke Kalas will arrive in two days," she explained. "His army has been spotted to the south, moving hard and without resistance."
"They will have to cross through two villages, and securing them may slow them," Master Belasarus offered.
"I would not count on that," Treisa replied. "His army's ranks have swollen. By all reports, he left Palmaris with a few thousand."
"What is the estimate of his force in the field now?" Glendenhook asked.
"Twenty thousand, perhaps. Perhaps more."
The staggering number had Glendenhook sliding back into his seat.
"All towns are rallying to King Aydrian," Treisa explained, "Their menfolk are running to join in Duke Kalas' glorious march."
"One that will take him to the gates of St.-Mere-Abelle, no doubt," a dour Belasarus added.
"Twenty thousand," Glendenhook echoed quietly.
"Perhaps more," Treisa said again. "There are rumors of a second force moving north to the west of here."
"Encircling us," Belasarus reasoned.
"So many have joined him," Glendenhook said, shaking his head.
"How could they not?" asked Treisa. "Duke Kalas and his Allheart Knights in their shining armor have stormed into every village, praising King Aydrian. To contest them would be suicide."
"To follow them is to deny the true line of kings!" Belasarus protested.
"The common folk care little who is their king, master," Treisa replied.
"They care only that their families have enough to eat, and that their children might live more comfortably than they. All this rattle of politics is background gossip for the folk, unless the rattle leads to the misery of war."
"Which it certainly shall when Prince Midalis arrives," insisted Belasarus.
"If he is not too late," said Glendenhook, and his pessimism seemed for a moment as if it would knock Belasarus from his feet.
"They join Duke Kalas because they have no one to lead them otherwise,"
Treisa reasoned. "Perhaps King Aydrian's army will fracture when and if Prince Midalis arrives. Perhaps not."
"And what is the role of the Abellican Church in all of this, then?"
asked Belasarus. "Are we to cater to the demands of the usurping young king if doing so means demanding the abdication of Father Abbot Fio Bou- raiy for the likes of Abbot Olin and Marcalo De'Unnero?"
"Of course not!" Abbot Glendenhook said without the slightest hesitation.
He held a stern stare upon Belasarus for a bit, then softened his strong features as he turned back to Treisa. "What counsel do you offer?"
The woman paused a bit, her brow furrowing pensively beneath her black hair and showing only the slightest wrinkles of age. She chewed a bit on her bottom lip, a common twitch when she was deep in thought that often brought a smile to Glendenhook; and she turned her hazel eyes to the floor. Finally, she looked back up.
"If King Aydrian had remained secular and had not involved the Church in his theft of the throne, then I would counsel inaction," she explained, "even though his ascent adversely affected another sovereign sister and forced Jilseponie from Ursal. But since it was Abbot Olin and worse, Marcalo De'Unnero, at Aydrian's side, we cannot step away from it. No distance that we put between Church and State will hold. It is clear now that Aydrian means to instate one of his cohorts into the structure of the Abellican Order at the very highest level. Twelve significant chapels have been rolled under Duke Kalas' present march, and only those brothers who pledged their allegiance to King Aydrian and to both Abbot Olin and De'Unnero remain in place serving their communities. All others were forced away, or worse."
"We have heard such rumors from the brothers seeking refuge here,"
Glendenhook agreed.
"And so we must stand, on one side or the other," Treisa went on. She looked at Belasarus, then at Glendenhook, forcing their undivided attention. "We cannot stand with Abbot Olin and the traitorous De'Unnero.
We cannot sacrifice our mortal souls."
"Then fight or run?" Belasarus asked of Glendenhook.
The abbot looked to Treisa for guidance.
"Neither," the sovereign sister said, and she squared her shoulders. "Do not close our gate to Duke Kalas, for he will merely trample it down. Let us resist with inaction. Let us not run from them, nor march with them, but rather, merely sit where we are."
"Does that not signify our acceptance of Abbot Olin and Marcalo De'Unnero?" asked an obviously confused Belasarus.
Treisa shook her head. "We will not allow it to seem so. Not to Duke Kalas and not to the folk of the land. We will surrender without a fight, because we cannot win, but we will not serve King Aydrian or his kingdom as long as he embraces such treachery in the Abellican Church. Let our example perhaps begin the first fissure in Duke Kalas' army, a slender crack that will widen when the true king of Honce-the-Bear marches south from Vanguard."
"We must make this clear if our statement is to have any effect,"
reasoned Belasarus.
"And we must ensure that our surrender does not strengthen Duke Kalas,"
Glendenhook reasoned. "Organize an escape by some of the younger and hardiest brothers. Let them take our treasures, particularly our gemstones, along the coast to St.-Mere-Abelle."
"Duke Kalas will not appreciate that," said Treisa.
"And it will perfectly outrage Marcalo De'Unnero, which makes it all the sweeter," Glendenhook agreed.
"But we need something more telling," Master Belasarus reasoned.
"Something to ensure that the people all around, especially those commoners who have joined with Duke Kalas, understand that we do not support King Aydrian."
Glendenhook considered what options he might have, then noticed that Sovereign Sister Treisa's face had suddenly brightened. He prompted her with a look.
"My sisters and I are nearly finished with the altar cloth intended for the final canonization of Avelyn Desbris," she explained. "The image of the upraised arm of Avelyn placed against a solid red background - the same image that Father Abbot Bou-raiy commissioned for the new window in the great keep of St.-Mere-Abelle."
"What do you propose to do with it?" the intrigued Glendenhook asked.
"Let us fly it above St. Gwendolyn, proudly so!" said Treisa. "And right beside it, let us fly the bear rampant of the Ursal line. By all accounts, Duke Kalas marches under a different flag, that of the bear and the tiger rampant, the flag of Aydrian Boudabras."
Abbot Glendenhook nodded his agreement - such a show as that would spread ear-to-ear all along the eastern stretches of Honce-the-Bear.
"But doing so will ensure that Abbot Olin and Marcalo De'Unnero gain the altar cloth of Avelyn's upcoming canonization," reasoned Belasarus.
"It is worth the price," Treisa decided before Glendenhook could speak.
"In our show, we will send a message to St.-Mere-Abelle, as well, offering our vote for Brother Avelyn's long-overdue ascent to sainthood, and we will remind all the kingdom of the miracle that precipitated his rise."
Abbot Glendenhook had never shared Treisa's enthusiasm for Avelyn Desbris. Nor had Father Abbot Bou-raiy. But Bou-raiy and Glendenhook had long ago discussed the matter, and had agreed that Avelyn's rise was an avalanche that would bury any who opposed it. After the Miracle of Aida, with a majority of Honce-the-Bear's population making the difficult pilgrimage to be cured of the rosy plague, or insulated against its deadly effects, there could be no denying the rise of Saint Avelyn. The process should have been completed several years before, but the typically ponderous Abellican Church simply hadn't gotten around to it yet - mostly, Glendenhook knew, because his friend the Father Abbot was holding the final canonization in reserve against any potential crisis in the Church. Only the Father Abbot could finalize the process, and that gave Fio Bou-raiy a large stick indeed to wave against any upstart young brothers, particularly Braumin Herde and his fellows of St. Precious and in Vanguard.
"Any who stay will do so out of choice," the abbot decided. "All who wish to flee for St.-Mere-Abelle should go out this very afternoon. And I strongly suggest that most of your sisters make that flight, Sister Treisa. We have precious few women in the Abellican ranks as it is."
Glendenhook's expression went very serious. "I would ask of you that you, too, make the pilgrimage."
"Then you have little understanding of my faith, Abbot Glendenhook," came the stern reply. "In my God, in St. Abelle, in my Church, and in my abbot."
While on one level he wanted to yell at her and scold her, Abbot Glendenhook could not help but smile at the determined and strong woman.
"Master Belasarus," he said, without ever taking his eyes from Treisa, "I bid you to lead our delegation to St.-Mere-Abelle. Tell Father Abbot Bou- raiy of our actions here, of the flags we proudly fly."
"But..." the man started to argue, but he stopped and sighed. "Yes, Abbot, it will be done."
All the horizon was filled with their spear tips, an army greater than anything ever seen by the three dozen remaining brothers at St. Gwendolyn or the two hundred people of neighboring villages that had come in for shelter. They were not as practiced as the Kingsmen or the Coastpoint Guards, and certainly not as spectacular as the Allheart Knights, but what the peasant warriors who had joined up in the glorious march of Duke Kalas lacked in shining armor and precision marching, they more than made up for with the sheer weight of numbers.
Grim-faced and dirty-faced, they stood shoulder to shoulder in a line stretching all around the three sides of the abbey that did not face the sea, and in ranks five deep. Allheart Knights rode all about, bolstering men with their cries of duty and glory for king and country.
Centering the line was Kalas' primary force, the Kingsmen who had marched with him out of Palmaris, and they alone would have had little trouble in overrunning St. Gwendolyn, Abbot Glendenhook realized.
From the front, western gate of the abbey, the abbot looked up at the two flags, flapping hard in the ocean breeze. At least he had made a statement.
Calls along the ranks advanced Kalas' force, thickening the ranks and tightening the line as they moved in closer. Over the hills behind them came great catapults, and carts beside them piled with heavy stones.
Glendenhook could see the faces of the soldiers clearly now, could see their eyes. They were not afraid, not even the peasants, because they knew that few would die if battle was joined this day.
If Duke Kalas called for a charge, St. Gwendolyn would be overrun in a matter of minutes.
Horns blew along the ranks and the approach halted, the front lines barely two hundred feet from the abbey's high walls. From the center of the line came a contingent of Allheart Knights along with a rider bearing the flag of the new Honce-the-Bear. Duke Kalas centered them as they rode fearlessly up to St. Gwendolyn's gates, right in the open before the abbot and his brothers.
"Who leads this abbey?" Duke Kalas called up.
"One known to you, good Duke Kalas," Glendenhook replied, stepping forward to the edge of the wall so that the Allheart leader could get a good look at him. "Abbot Glendenhook."
The duke gave a deferential nod of his head. "I come bearing great tidings from Ursal, Abbot Glendenhook," said the duke. "Tidings sad and tidings glorious."
"That King Danube is dead and young Aydrian has assumed the throne," the abbot answered.
"I expected that word would precede my arrival."
"And so it has."
"And yet you fly the flag of old," the duke remarked. "We have brought a new one for you."
"It is not one that we desire."
Duke Kalas hesitated, and Glendenhook noted a wry smile spread under the metal cage of his great plumed helmet.
"We fly the flag of Honce-the-Bear, the flag of Prince Midalis," the abbot pressed on. "For it is he who was second in the royal line."
"The affairs of state are not your concern, good Abbot," Duke Kalas replied, and there was no angry edge to his voice. "It is up to the throne of Ursal, and not the Abellican Church, to determine the proper pennant of the kingdom."
"Agreed," Abbot Glendenhook replied immediately. "And yet in this the Abellican Church cannot remain silent, for the rise of King Aydrian is not an incident pertinent to the state alone. We know of his allies, Duke Kalas. But enough of this shouting." Glendenhook stepped back from the wall and called down, and the gate of St. Gwendolyn creaked open.
"Under rules of truce," Glendenhook called back out over the wall.
With a look to his knights, the duke led the entourage forward into the small courtyard of the abbey.
"You were wise in opening your door," Kalas said to Glendenhook and Sovereign Sister Treisa when he and one other Allheart met with the pair in Glendenhook's private quarters a few minutes later. "Some chapels were more stubborn in their disregard for King Aydrian. They are being rebuilt."
"A duty that no doubt does swell the heart of Duke Kalas," said Glendenhook.
Kalas shot him a dangerous look.
"Why bother with the pleasantries?" the abbot asked. "We know why you have come, and you understand why we have chosen to fly the flags you see atop our abbey. Your hatred of the Abellican Church is not unknown to us, good Duke. Nor is its source, and for many years has the death of Queen Vivian weighed heavily upon the shoulders of every Abellican."
Glendenhook knew that he had touched a nerve with so straightforward an opening. Little had shaped Duke Targon Bree Kalas' life more than the death of King Danube's first wife, Queen Vivian. Summoned to her side, Je'howith, at that time the abbot of St. Honce, had worked feverishly to save her, but alas, he had arrived at her side too late. That blow had stung King Danube, but had wounded Duke Kalas even more profoundly, leaving a scar in his heart that manifested itself regularly in tirades against the Abel-lican Church. For more than two decades since Vivian's death, Duke Kalas had been one of the greatest critics of the Church, a critic who had erupted many times concerning the leadership in Palmaris, and on any other issue, even the pilgrimage to Mount Aida. The troublesome duke had been the subject of many heated discussions at St.- Mere-Abelle during the years when Glendenhook had served there as a master, under Father Abbots Markwart, Agronguerre, and Bou-raiy.
"Queen Vivian is not the issue here," Duke Kalas said through gritted teeth.
"Is she not?" Abbot Glendenhook replied, measuring every wince on the duke's face as he spoke. He wanted to reason with Kalas, not push the man into an explosion.
"My march is to spread the word of King Aydrian, and nothing more," Kalas replied. "Those who oppose him will be defeated, of course, whether that opposition comes from village leaders, noblemen, or the Abellican Church.
Your abbeys exist because of the generosity of Honce-the-Bear's throne.
Do not ever forget that."
"The throne has long understood the stabilizing influence of the Church as its partner in holding the kingdom strong," Sovereign Sister Treisa put in. "Ours is a partnership of mutual benefit."
"And so, when you fly the flag of King Aydrian and accept him as your sovereign - "
"Our sovereign is God alone," the feisty Treisa interrupted.
Duke Kalas looked at her hard, then softened his face into a smile and nodded his deference. "As you believe," he said with a polite bow. "Allow me to restate my position. When you fly the flag of Aydrian, should any secular pennant wave above your abbey, and accept him as the rightful king of Honce-the-Bear, then accept my march here as a cause for celebration and not fear."
"Your king has made such acceptance difficult," Abbot Glendenhook replied. "For his decrees apparently extend beyond the accepted domain of his kingdom."
"Men of your Church came to him, not the other way around," Duke Kalas answered. "Abbot Olin saw the truth of King Aydrian and embraced him."
"As did Marcalo De'Unnero," said Treisa.
"Hardly a man of our Church," Glendenhook was quick to add.
Duke Kalas chuckled. "And none of my affair," he said. "Though I will assure you that Marcalo De'Unnero would kill you if he saw the flags you "Then do inform him," Treisa said defiantly.
Duke Kalas and Abbot Glendenhook both widened their eyes at that remark, and the other Allheart in the room gasped aloud.
But Treisa pressed on. "How could one as noble as Duke Targon Bree Kalas, friend of King Danube, throw in with the mad dog De'Unnero? Have you so forsaken your longtime friend? Is the loyalty of the Allheart Knights such a frail thing as that?" "Tell your woman to take care her words," Kalas warned Glendenhook.
"Her words are my own," the abbot answered.
Kalas looked as if he was about to strike out physically, but Glendenhook, taking his cue from the determined sovereign sister, continued. "Abbot Olin has made of himself an outcast to St. Abelle and the Church that bears his name. I expect that a replacement for him will be appointed at St. Bondabruce very soon."
"His monks love him and follow him devotedly, and believe that he, and not your friend Bou-raiy, should now lead the Abellican Church."
"Then the replacement will come from St.-Mere-Abelle, or from neighboring St. Rontlemore in Entel," said Glendenhook.
"The replacement," Duke Kalas mused. "A short-lived appointment, no doubt."
"Because the crown does not accept its place in the kingdom," Glendenhook replied. "The affairs of the Church must be left to the Church! You would march with an army to St.-Mere-Abelle and right Abbot Olin's perceived wrong?"
"I will march wherever King Aydrian determines that I must march," Kalas shot back. "To St.-Mere-Abelle - through St.-Mere-Abelle! It hardly matters."
"It is not the concern of the king!"
Duke Kalas snorted and shook his head. "You do not understand," he said quietly. "Aydrian has changed everything. Once, at the end of King Aydrian's own sword, I fell into the hands of death. No, Abbot, not your friend Bou-raiy himself, could have..." He stopped and gave a little laugh.
"And yet, I live," he finished, looking Glendenhook right in the eye. "I live because now is the time when Honce-the-Bear has brought forth a king with the power over death itself!"
Abbot Glendenhook shook his head in confusion and looked to Treisa, who seemed equally perplexed. "What babble is this?" the sovereign sister asked. "No man has such."
"Certainly no Abellicans," Kalas spat. "When Queen Vivian lay dying, could the fool Je'howith save her? You priests promise eternal life.
Well, on my word, Aydrian has shown himself the master of death itself.
You condemn him, and me, because you cannot comprehend, because you are so wound within your rituals and false promises that such a king as Aydrian is beyond your comprehension."
"As was the Miracle of Avelyn?" Treisa countered. "Was it not Saint Avelyn who rescued the kingdom - your friend's kingdom - from the ruins of the plague?"
"Saint Avelyn?" Duke Kalas scoffed.
"Soon to be."
"So it has been said for many years," remarked the duke, but then he waved his hands and spun away. "It is of no matter. Avelyn is hero to the people of Honce-the-Bear - even Jilseponie once wore that mantle. They are of no concern anymore. Aydrian is king, and woe to any who oppose him."
"You can so deny Prince Midalis, who was your friend?"
Duke Kalas stiffened at the remark and steeled his gaze. "Prince Midalis would understand and accept if he understood Aydrian as do I."
Glendenhook's jaw dropped open. "What has this young Aydrian done to you? What bewitchery is this?"
"It is the only honest 'bewitchery' that I have ever seen," Kalas spat.
"Unlike the falsities of the Abellican Church."
The two men stared long and hard at each other.
"You will open your gates to the soldiers of King Aydrian," the duke demanded. "You will fly the proper flag."
"And if we do not?"
"Then I will open your gates posthaste," Kalas calmly explained, and he walked out of the room, sweeping up his fellow Allheart in his wake.
"What are we to do?" Abbot Glendenhook said to Treisa when they were alone.
The woman looked at him and smiled with true serenity, completely accepting her fate.
Abbot Glendenhook returned that smile a moment later, then moved in and kissed the beautiful sister on the cheek. He swept out of his office, moving to the front wall. They had made their statement here with the flags, and now he intended to make another.
"Duke Kalas!" he shouted down from the wall at the group of men even then turning their To-gai steeds back toward their line. As one, the Allhearts turned back. "Be gone with your army. This is the house of God."
"Open your gates, Abbot Glendenhook," the duke warned.
"We will open our gates here at St. Gwendolyn and even at St.-Mere-Abelle when your King Aydrian assumes his proper place," the abbot yelled at the top of his voice, wanting as many of Kalas' men as possible to hear.
"When the criminal Marcalo De'Unnero is imprisoned and Abbot Olin is turned over to Church authority for judgment. Until then, St. Gwendolyn is closed to you."
Duke Kalas again seemed more pleased than concerned.
"Duke Kalas!" Abbot Glendenhook shouted down again as the man turned away once more. As he called, Glendenhook fished into his belt pouch, finding a particularly heavy gemstone.
The duke turned about.
"What is your intention?" Glendenhook demanded.
Duke Kalas turned his mount about to face the abbot squarely. "I spread the word of King Aydrian across the breadth of Honce-the-Bear," he replied. "For those who accept the word, there is alliance and friendship from the crown. For those who do not, there is only the sword."
"St. Gwendolyn will not open her gates!"
"Then I declare you enemy," Duke Kalas called.
Abbot Glendenhook lifted his hand toward Kalas and focused his vision through the images sent to him from the stone. He saw all the fine armor the man wore more vividly then, as if the rest of the world had dulled to his senses. He focused on one spot in the duke's armor, the plate covering the man's heart, and he let the energy of the gemstone build in his heart and soul.
Kalas was shouting out something to him, but he did not hear. Behind him, Sovereign Sister Treisa cried out, but he didn't register any of it. All that mattered was the gemstone and its mounting energy; all that mattered was this one wound he intended to give to young King Aydrian.
Glendenhook gave the lodestone all the power he could muster, tightening and strengthening its magnetic attraction to that one spot on Duke Kalas's armor. And then, with a cry, the abbot let the bullet fly.
So fast was its flight that the very air crackled about it, and the ring as the gemstone smashed against Duke Kalas' chest sounded as loudly as an abbey bell.
Duke Kalas flew backward from his mount, landing hard in the dirt.
"What have you done?" Treisa cried, running up beside the abbot.
"I have sent a loud message to King Aydrian that the Abellican Church will not buckle to unreasonable demands of the state!"
Below them on the field, some of the Allhearts shielded the fallen duke while others leaped down from their mounts and lifted him. Other men rode out from the army ranks to assist in bringing Kalas back.
At once the catapults fired and huge stones pounded against St.
Gwendolyn's walls, crumbling the ancient stone. And then came the charge, more than twenty thousand strong, shaking the ground beneath the abbey, and it seemed as if the place would simply collapse beneath the thunder.
Abbot Glendenhook ran all about, gathering his brothers to him and ordering them to stand down. "Offer no resistance," he commanded when he had them all assembled in the nave of the abbey's great chapel. "We have made our statement."
A brother at the back of the hall, peering out the doors cried, "They have breached the gate!"
"Close the door, brother," Abbot Glendenhook bade him. "Come and sit, and pray."
A few moments later, the doors of the chapel burst in, and soldiers swept into the place.
"Join us in prayer, my friends," Abbot Glendenhook said to them.
He was the first to fall, beaten down under the weight of a shield rush, then pounded into submission. His frightened brothers and Sovereign Sister Treisa were similarly dragged away.
Two surprises greeted Glendenhook later that afternoon, when he was dragged, half-dead, to the same room where he had met with Duke Kalas that morning.
"And so we meet again," said the first surprise, Duke Kalas himself, sitting in Glendenhook's own chair and still wearing his now-dented, but intact, armor.
Glendenhook was roughly placed in the chair across the desk from the duke.
"Never underestimate the Allheart armorers, good Abbot," Kalas explained.
"They designed our fine suits with just you troublesome Abellicans in mind."
"Had I been stronger," Glendenhook remarked under his breath. "Had it been Jilseponie behind the weight of that stone..."
"Had it been King Aydrian, then I assure you that my armor would have shattered like glass," Kalas replied. "But no matter. Your cowardice was open for all to see."
"You declared us your enemy, not I."
"And I rode under a flag of truce," Duke Kalas countered. "Yours was the attack of an assassin - not a popular role to play, wouldn't you agree? "But no matter," the duke said again. "St. Gwendolyn flies the flag of King Aydrian and is thus incorporated once more into the kingdom of Honce-the-Bear. All of her monks, brothers and sisters alike, will be properly interrogated."
"Brothers and sister, you mean," Glendenhook said, wanting to score some point at least, in referring to the escape of the bulk of St. Gwendolyn's monks.
But Duke Kalas merely smiled and motioned to a man at the side of the room, who immediately turned and pulled open a side door. Two soldiers came through, holding a battered Master Belasarus between them.
The monk was shaking his head and crying. "We tried," he pleaded with Glendenhook. "They were waiting for us, just five miles up the coast."
Glendenhook's mouth drooped open, despite his desire to hold strong in the face of Duke Kalas.
Duke Kalas waved his hand and the soldiers dragged Belasarus back out of the room.
"Now, as I was saying," the duke went on casually, "they will be interrogated and those who accept King Aydrian will find that he is a beneficent ruler."
"And those who do not?"
"Will face the court of Abbot Olin, no doubt," Kalas replied. "I care little."
"And what of my fate?"
Duke Kalas looked away. "I sympathize with you. I truly do."
To Glendenhook's surprise, he found that he believed the man. "Then I am to face the wrath of Olin and De'Unnero as well."
"Your unprovoked attack was made on an official of the State, not of the Church," the duke replied, and he looked back at the doomed abbot. "You will be tried, of course, but you know, as do I, that such a trial is but a formality. There can be no doubt of your crime."
Glendenhook's gaze lowered.
"I might be willing to call for a finding of mitigating circumstances, lessening your sentence," the duke offered, and Glendenhook looked back up at him.
"But in return, I would have to proclaim Aydrian as rightful king of Honce-the-Bear," the abbot reasoned.
"That is the first part, yes."
"You would demand of me that I support Abbot Olin and Marcalo De'Unnero?"
"I assure you that in doing so, you would alleviate much suffering that will soon befall your brethren," the duke answered. "And if all of your foolish Church would cooperate, the kingdom would know less confusion and less war."
Abbot Glendenhook thought on that for a few moments. "Perhaps there are some things worth dying for," he said quietly.
"I bid you reconsider," Duke Kalas replied. "For your own sake and for those who will errantly follow your lead to their deaths."
Glendenhook sat back once again and closed his eyes, looking deep into his own heart and soul. He had never been the most pious of Abellican brothers, but rather, more of a pragmatist, as was his mentor, Father Abbot Bou-raiy. On the surface, this predicament seemed the epitome of such a dilemma, principle versus pragmatism, and for the first time in his life, Abbot Toussan Glendenhook felt himself truly tested at every level. This was the ultimate pragmatic moment, obviously, but so too, the ultimate denial of his faith.
He thought of his true inspiration in life, Sovereign Sister Treisa, and answered with a voice strong in conviction.
"Build your gallows."
