But she would not be defeated. She would not fall, nor would she turn back now.
“Take this sword, then, if you must have something,” she cried, and flung the sword at it.
The iron pierced it. The creature dissolved in a thousand glittering fragments of luminous iron. Unexpectedly, a strong wind caught her, and she tumbled headlong over the threshold into the pitch-black realm of Erekes.
4
THE trial commenced two days later, much to Bayan’s evident disgust. Surprisingly, Sapientia refused to hinder her aunt’s inquiry, and while Biscop Alberada had shown herself willing, if reluctant, to look the other way when it came to sins of the flesh, she stood firm on matters of heresy.
It continued to rain steadily, making life in the palace environs wet and miserable. The stench of smoke from all the hearth fires became almost unbearable, and a grippe, an aching snot-ridden cold that left its victims wretched, raced through the army crowded into the palace compound and outlying barracks.
So there was a great deal of coughing and snorting and sniffling among the audience when the biscop’s council met in the great hall. Alberada presided from the biscop’s chair, flanked by Bayan and Sapientia to her left and a dozen scribbling clerics seated at a table to her right. Heresy was such a grave charge that Alberada’s clerics wrote down a record of the trial as well as of her judgment, to be delivered to the skopos so that Mother Clementia might remain aware of the corruption that had infiltrated her earthly flock.
Normally Alberada would have called for at least two other biscops to be present, to lend full authority to the proceedings. Given the season and the desperate situation, with Quman patrols sighted daily from the city walls, she contented herself with the local abbot and abbess from their respective establishments ensconced within the safety of Handelburg’s walls. They were complaisant, unworldly folk, unlikely to challenge the biscop no matter what she said.
As the King’s Eagle, Hanna had to stand in attendance on the entire dreary proceeding so that she could report in detail to the king about the sins of his son and the righteous inquiry made by the biscop, Henry’s elder and bastard half sister.
Ekkehard was given a chair facing his accusers. The rest of the accused heretics had to stand behind him, according to their rank, while witnesses were brought forward and, after several tedious hours of testimony, Alberada laid out her judgment:
A prince of the realm had used his rank and influence to infect hapless innocents with the plague of heresy. And while some of his victims, faced with the wrath of a royal biscop, recanted quickly, others remained stubbornly loyal to his impious teachings.
Ekkehard sat through it all swollen with the most magnificent indignation that a youth not yet sixteen years of age could muster out of his own terror, uncertainty, and fanatic resolve. Perhaps he was too young and self-important to be truly afraid. Six of his intimate companions had survived the battle at the ancient tumulus. Biscop Alberada showed her respect for the loyalty necessary between a noble and his retinue by making no attempt to force them to repudiate their lord. For them to abandon him, as it were, in the heat of battle would have been a worse offense even than their spiritual error. Let them be punished along with him. That was fitting.
ad come so close to falling.
With a bitter chuckle, she climbed on. At last the path parted before her, the silver ribbon cutting out to either side along a pale iron wall that betrayed neither top nor bottom. A scar cut the wall, a ragged tear through which she saw a featureless plain. Was this the Gate of the Sword, which heralded the sphere of Erekes, the swift sailing planet once known as the messenger of the old pagan gods?
As if her thought took wing and brought form boiling up out of the aether, a figure appeared, a guardian as white as bleached bone. It did not, precisely, have mouth or eyes but rather the suggestion of a living face. The delicate structure of its unfurled wings flared as vividly as if a spider had woven the threads that bound bone to skin. It barred her path with a sword so bright it seemed actually to cut the aether with a hiss.
Its voice rang like iron. “To what place do you seek entrance?”
“I mean to cross into the sphere of Erekes.”
“Who are you, to demand entrance?”
“I have been called Bright One, and Child of Flame.”
That fast, as though in answer to her words, it thrust, attacking her, and she leaped back. Instinctively, she reached for Lucian’s friend, the sword she had borne for so long. Drawing it, she parried, and where the good, heavy iron of Lucian’s friend met the guardian’s bright sword, sparks spit furiously. It struck again, and she blocked, jumped back, checked her position on the path, and made a bid to cut past it.
Yet where it had not stood an instant before, it stood now, sword raised. “You have too much mortal substance to cross the gate,” it cried triumphantly, its voice like the crack of the blacksmith’s hammer on iron.
The breath of hot wind off Erekes’ dark plain weighed her down. She was too heavy to cross.
But she would not be defeated. She would not fall, nor would she turn back now.
“Take this sword, then, if you must have something,” she cried, and flung the sword at it.
The iron pierced it. The creature dissolved in a thousand glittering fragments of luminous iron. Unexpectedly, a strong wind caught her, and she tumbled headlong over the threshold into the pitch-black realm of Erekes.
4
THE trial commenced two days later, much to Bayan’s evident disgust. Surprisingly, Sapientia refused to hinder her aunt’s inquiry, and while Biscop Alberada had shown herself willing, if reluctant, to look the other way when it came to sins of the flesh, she stood firm on matters of heresy.
It continued to rain steadily, making life in the palace environs wet and miserable. The stench of smoke from all the hearth fires became almost unbearable, and a grippe, an aching snot-ridden cold that left its victims wretched, raced through the army crowded into the palace compound and outlying barracks.
So there was a great deal of coughing and snorting and sniffling among the audience when the biscop’s council met in the great hall. Alberada presided from the biscop’s chair, flanked by Bayan and Sapientia to her left and a dozen scribbling clerics seated at a table to her right. Heresy was such a grave charge that Alberada’s clerics wrote down a record of the trial as well as of her judgment, to be delivered to the skopos so that Mother Clementia might remain aware of the corruption that had infiltrated her earthly flock.
Normally Alberada would have called for at least two other biscops to be present, to lend full authority to the proceedings. Given the season and the desperate situation, with Quman patrols sighted daily from the city walls, she contented herself with the local abbot and abbess from their respective establishments ensconced within the safety of Handelburg’s walls. They were complaisant, unworldly folk, unlikely to challenge the biscop no matter what she said.