"Perhaps they will not be replaced at all," Yanulf said. "Or perhaps by those who mouth the words of service to Yatar, but own allegiance to Bacreugh."
"Who the devil is Bacreugh?"
"Bacreugh is a priest of Yatar, from an order formerly known mainly in Tamaerthon. He is allied with Mac Bratach Bhreu. A kinsman, in fact."
"I see. Drumold's only real rival. But why is he followed in Drantos?"
"He preaches words comfortable to the nobility," Apelles said. "And he has made strong alliance with the priesthood of Vothan."
"More," Yanulf said. "You have been told of the vision of the Roman Bishop Polycarp?"
"Yes. Yatar and Jehovah are one. I wonder how the Jews will feel about that…"
"What are Jews?" Yanulf asked.
"Followers of Jehovah, but who believe the Christ has not yet come. They have strong dietary laws, and passionately believe there is only one God."
"There are no such in Drantos," Yanulf said.
"And now that I think of it, it's not likely there are any on Tran." Until now. How many of the mercs are Jewish? Bilofsky, I suppose. Lewin. Goodman. Schultz, only he's still down south. None of them seemed particularly devout, but you never know.
"The priesthood of Vothan laughs at Polycarp," Yanulf said. "And they do not favor the Roman alliance. Now through the followers of Bacreugh they seek control of the caves of Yatar. Bheroman Enipses may well yield those under his castle."
"Bacreugh and his order should be suppressed. And the priests of Vothan made humble," Ap'elles said.
Oh, no, you don't. You won't get me involved in religious persecutions. "I do not agree. But were it desirable, it would not be possible. Vothan has powerful friends." Including some of my mercs. They may not be believers, but they're superstitious enough. And a lot of the army is devoted to Vothan, or at least scared of him.
"You see now why this should not be seen in open court,:' Yanulf said. "And why young Apelles referred the matter to me."
"Sure. You're trying to undermine civil authority," Rick said.
"Nay, lord!" Apelles said. "We are loyal."
I'm sure you think so. But if nothing else, you're inventing benefit of clergy, which apparently they don't have here. Still, the priesthood of Yatar, as organized by Yanulf, is the nearest thing to a literate civil service I have. They also have a monopoly on paper. I can't do without them.
"First," Rick said, "I hadn't known how serious Enipses's labor problem is. We'll have to do something about that."
"At harvest time there will be labor shortages everywhere," Yanulf said. "It has always been so."
Rick scribbled a note: "Get Campbell working on a reaper."
"There is a machine," Rick said. "A way to harvest grain-grain! Where is the place for Hestia in this vision of Polycarp's?"
"As the mother of Christ," Yanulf said. "For as you know, the Christ was born of a virgin. Polycarp preaches a doctrine which he calls 'Immaculate Conception,' under which Hestia took on the flesh of a mortal in order to bear a son to Yatar."
"And you believe this?"
Yanulf frowned. "I know not what to believe. One thing is certain, the prophecies of The Time are true. And they were revealed by Yatar himself. The Romans know much of The Time, and thus must once have known Yatar." He shrugged. "Perhaps Polycarp is correct, their Jehovah is Yatar. The names are not unlike."
"Fortunately we need not decide the matter today," Rick said. "For the problem at hand, I will remit some of Enipses's taxes. You will send a persuasive emissary to bear that pleasant news. Someone who will persuade Enipses that it would not be wise to make great changes in the governing of Yatar's caves. Someone to point out that neither Wanax Ganton nor I nor Eqetassa Tylara would favor Bacreugh's cause."
"That may be sufficient," Yanulf said.
"As to Nictoros, I will issue a pardon."
"Who will make up what you remit to Enipses, lord?" Apelles asked.
"We'll have to work that out," Rick said. "Maybe you could see to it?"
"We will do that," Yanulf said.
Sure you will, Rick thought. And that'll fall on some poor schmuck who's irritated his local priest. But what the hell can I do?
I can get Campbell working on that reaper.
When dusk came, Jamiy brought in lamps. Rick sighed. They still hadn't managed good lamps. These burned a mixture of oil and naptha, and gave better light than the older tapers, but the light was still too dim, and gave him a headache. One day, he thought, I'll need spectacles, and I won't have them. And then what? But this has got to be done.
Ganton had summoned the chivalry of Drantos to the high plains. Rick was horrified. He could see no use for that many undisciplined heavy cavalrymen. Useful or not, though, they had to be fed. Wagons, horses, grain, all had to be found and sent in a steady stream, and since the bheromen had contributed their share and more, a lot had to come from the free towns- who weren't anxious to provide it. Writs had to be prepared, spies sent to find new sources of wealth to tax, constables sent to harass the obstinate… He worked for two more hours.
"It is time, lord."
Rick looked up from his paperwork to see Padraic.
"The night meal is prepared. You wished to be called," Padraic said. "The Guards wait outside."
"Thanks. Come in, Padraic. There's wine over there. Pour some for both of us, and sit down." Rick carefully stacked the papers and parchments and leaned back in his chair. Far out to the west he saw moving lights in the semaphore tower, and wondered what message was coming in.
When Padraic brought the wine, he lifted his glass. "Cheers," he said, and laughed when his archer captain looked puzzled.
"An expression from my home world," Rick explained. "Tell me, how have the men taken the news, of Lord Caradoc's promotion?"
"Well, lord. It gives hope to all, that one may rise high if one has talent and is willing."
And loyal. Let's not forget that one. "Yes. Well, here's to Lord Caradoc!" They touched glasses and Rick drained his, then held it out for a refill. "Tell me, Padraic, you were raised in Tamaerthon-what do you know of Bacreugh?"
There was a crash as Padraic dropped the pewter goblet. He bent quickly to pick it up and refill it.
Rick drew his Colt and clicked off the safety. He held the pistol concealed below the table. "Sit down," he said. "I think we'd better talk."
"Aye, lord. How did you find out?"
"I have ways." What the hell have I found out? "Now tell me about it."
"Lord, there is little to tell. My grandmother is sister to the mother of Mac Bratach Bhreu, and thus I am kin to Bacreugh. It was a kinsman who approached me."
"What did he offer?"
"He said that a friend to Bacreugh wished to speak with me, and that he would offer me honor and gold," Padraic said. "I told him that I have honor enough, and it may not be had for gold. Lord, what should I have done? For I cannot betray my kinsman, and indeed he said nothing of importance."
"What did he say?"
"Only that. Only that Bacreugh-he said a friend to Bacreugh, but I surmised that the friend would be Bacreugh himself-wished to speak with me, and it would be much to my interest to do so; that he would offer me honor and gold, and I need do little-but what I would be required to do he did not say."
Rick thumbed the Colt's safety on. "But you guessed?"
"No, lord."
"Then why did you drop the goblet?"
"I had heard you can hear thoughts, lord. I had not known it was true until now. For I was at that very moment wishing I knew what Bacreugh wished of me."
"You can do better," Rick said. "You must know they intended for you to kill me. Or to let one of them get past you and do it."