"How generous of you," Sozomenos murmured. Rhavas hadn't thought he had such sarcasm in him. Some priests and prelates muttered angrily at Rhavas' assumption that they could not quote chapter and verse for themselves. Others showed by their blank and anxious expressions that they needed all the help they could get. The ecumenical patriarch must have seen as much, for he added, "Well, go ahead, then, very holy sir."
"And so I shall." And Rhavas did: "'Now at the beginning the two gods declared their nature, the good and the evil, in thought and word and deed. And between the two, wise men choose well—not so the foolish.'"
"There!" Arkadios cried. "Out of your own wicked mouth you convict yourself!" He shouted toward Sozomenos: "Let him be anathematized now, so we can go home and tend to our own business."
"What have you to say to this?" Sozomenos asked Rhavas.
"Why, that the very holy Arkadios has proved himself . . . foolish, of course," Rhavas replied calmly.
Arkadios was anything but calm. "To the ice with you, Rhavas!" he roared. "I curse you in Phos' holy name!"
If Rhavas cursed Arkadios in return, there would be a death on the floor of the High Temple. That would give those two mages something to think about! But he was not ready to do that, not yet. In fact, he consciously restrained himself from doing anything of the sort. All he said was, "The very holy sir needs to consider whether he has in fact chosen well in choosing Phos. That is what we all need to consider today."
He would have gone on, but shouts of fury from every corner of the High Temple drowned out whatever he might have said. Then Sozomenos raised his hand again. Again, he won silence from the assembled ecclesiastics. Into it, he said, "You are welcome to disagree with the very holy sir. But you must do it through reasoned argument. Bellowing like a bull has no place here."
Rhavas wondered what the bludgeon-bearing monks thought of that. Bellowing had had its place at a great many synods in Videssian history. So had breaking heads. No matter what the ecumenical patriarch had to say, such things might also come into play at this one.
For now, though, Sozomenos' force of character—his holiness, to use a word Rhavas increasingly mistrusted—carried the day. He said, "The prelate of Skopentzana has the floor. He may speak as he wishes. Should you think it wise, you will have the opportunity to rebut him: of that, you may rest assured. For now, though, very holy sir, you may proceed."
"Once more, most holy sir, I thank you." Rhavas looked out at the sea of hostile faces around him. "I am going to ask you, gentlemen, holy sirs, to consider the state of the Empire of Videssos in deciding whether choosing Phos was wise or foolish. Which god has shown himself to be the more powerful?
"How many bloody battles have the Avtokrator and the rebel general fought against each other? How much have those fights accomplished, except in killing Videssians who would better be left alive? Who laughs, who triumphs, in a civil war? Phos? Give me leave to doubt it."
Arkadios, who seemed to have decided that he was the chief spokesman for orthodoxy, threw back his head and laughed theatrically; his big gray-streaked beard bounced up and down. After the theatrics were done, he said, "The Empire has had trouble before. Trouble is not enough to turn all of us into accursed Skotos worshipers." He spat again. So did most of the ecclesiastics in the High Temple.
"When there is room to doubt, I am in favor of giving the benefit of the doubt," Rhavas said. "I do not see that there is room to doubt anymore. Can you, Arkadios—can any of you, holy sirs—deny that Videssos today rules only half the land she ruled a year ago? Can you deny she is liable, even likely, to lose more land still?"
"Half the land?" Now Arkadios shook his head, for all the world like a bull bedeviled by flies. If he could have flicked his ears back and forth, he would have done that, too. "You lie, very holy sir."
"In saying this, very holy sir, you prove two things. First, you come from the west, and do not understand the north and the east. And, second"—Rhavas planted his barb with a certain ferocious glee—"you are an ass, and an ignorant ass at that."
Now Arkadios bellowed like a bull, a bull one of those flies had bitten. How long had it been since anyone presumed to stand up to him in argument? Quite a while, plainly; and, as plainly, he did not relish the experience now. "Why, you bald-arsed son of a whore!" he roared. "I'll thrash you with my own hands!"
He stormed toward Rhavas. No doubt he could have done it. He was taller than Rhavas (who was not short), twice as wide through the shoulders, and twice as thick through the chest. Rhavas, however, did not intend to take a beating. If Arkadios swung on him, that would be the last thing the prelate from the westlands ever did.
"Stop!" Sozomenos' voice was as sweet and clear as a silver bell. And Arkadios did stop. That made Rhavas wonder for a moment—but only for a moment—if Phos still could work miracles after all. The ancient ecumenical patriarch pointed a trembling forefinger at Arkadios. "Resume your place, very holy sir. I told you before that no unseemly violence would mar this synod. Resume it, I say!"
"But, most holy sir, he—" Arkadios pointed toward Rhavas. Even as he did, though, he began to obey Sozomenos' command.
"I had not finished." Sozomenos himself turned in Rhavas' direction. "Neither will there be any crude and crass insults heard. As much as violence, they taint our holy faith. Do you understand me, very holy sir?" He sounded very stern indeed.
"Yes, most holy sir. Please recall that I was insulted before I gave back the same coin," Rhavas said.
"That will be enough from both of you," Sozomenos said. "Are we ecclesiastics, or only so many squabbling tradesmen? If reason cannot prevail, why did we come together here?"
I don't know. Why don't you ask the monks with clubs? But Rhavas didn't say it out loud. He bowed to the ecumenical patriarch and said, "I shall remember your wise words, most holy sir."
Sozomenos looked in Arkadios' direction. With obvious bad grace, the prelate from the westlands mumbled, "And I, most holy sir."
"Excellent. I thank you both." From most men, that would have been nothing but a polite, insincere phrase. Sozomenos obviously meant it: one of the character traits that made him so impressive. He nodded to Rhavas. "You still have the floor."
"Thank you." Rhavas looked around the High Temple. "I say again that more than half the Empire is lost to us. I say also that it will be difficult if not impossible to win it back. Think on how many priests and prelates are not here, for their cities and towns were overrun by the Khamorth.
"I could speak for hours about the atrocities and massacres the barbarians have perpetrated against the people of Videssos, and this despite the countless prayers for thanksgiving and salvation those people offered up to the lord with the great and good mind. I know whereof I speak. I led many services calling on Phos to save his people from the onslaught of these savages who know him not. I led them, yes, and what good did they do us? Why, no good at all, as anyone can see, for I also watched the Khamorth sack Skopentzana. I watched them kill. I watched them rape. I watched them plunder. I saw nothing to make me think the lord with the great and good mind restrained them in any way.
"And how was it that they were able to enter the Empire in the first place? Was it because the lord with the great and good mind invited them in? Do any of you think so, my fellow priests and prelates, monks and abbots?"
He waited. No one shouted out such a belief. Only silence came echoing back from the good god's image in the dome. Rhavas dared hope it was a troubled silence.