“The men on Temple charity carry away the garbage,” Deluca explained, “and bring barrels of water to wash the sewage away in the few dry weeks of the year. There is heavy rain in this city almost daily, but it never lasts long. This is the cleanest city on Makassar.”
MacKinnie remembered Jikar, which was swept daily by the Guild apprentices, but said nothing. Batav was cleaner than he expected a primitive city to be, certainly more so than the garbage-strewn warrens of South Continent.
There were people in the streets. Some wandered through the ground-floor shops, although there was little to buy. Every shop had a large crucifix at its door, and a wind chime whose major feature was a replica of the Temple from which various shells and other sounding materials hung. Most of the population was small and dark, although there was a fair number of the taller, fair-haired men like Vanjynk. The tallest were still smaller than MacKinnie and the two clergymen, and here and there someone would turn to watch the group before staring off at nothing again.
Once, MacKinnie saw a group of uniformed Temple guardsmen, with a bright-yellow-robed official walking in their midst. He asked Deluca who the man was, and was told, “A tax collector. Some of them have taken minor orders beyond the deaconate, but are not full priests. They don’t allow the priesthood to work directly on squeezing the population, but a lot of them have served a trick in that occupation before they take final vows.”
They arrived at a small courtyard, behind which stood a massive stone and log house. Two swordsmen stood in the courtyard, and opened the iron gates when they saw the bishop, then went back to their posts, lounging carelessly against the gate pillars.
“Two weeks arrears in their pay,” Deluca told Nathan. “It is strange. Many men in this city have nothing to eat, and you would think they would be glad of duties where they are well fed and have at least some money, but more and more throw themselves on Temple charity, work in the streets when they work at all, and refuse honorable employment. The city has lost its heart.”
MacKinnie nodded. The barbarians were at the gates, but the men of the city either thought themselves lost already, or refused to think about it at all. Only the Temple kept the enemy at bay, providing whatever spirit Batav had been able to muster. Nathan doubted that even the iron-willed Temple believers would be able to hold things together for long.
The inside of the house was sparse, showing both the lack of funds which had furnished it, and, perhaps, the austere temperament of the Archbishop. MacKinnie was shown into the great hall, where His Eminence sat in ragged splendor, staring at the dying embers of a fire which was not really needed to heat the room.
“As we supposed, Your Eminence,” Laraine said, “the ship was from the west. And more than we dared hope, it is owned by men from the Empire, although by their accents they are from a part I have never visited. A colony world?” he asked, turning to MacKinnie.
“I didn’t ask your origin when I offered to help you, my lord,” Nathan replied. “Is it necessary to discuss mine? The Empire contains many worlds, and the citizens of some are more fortunate than those of others. But despite the contempt the Empire feels for my world, it is my ship and my gold which can save your lives. We may even be able to help you in the work you came to do.”
Deluca gasped, but before he could speak the Archbishop said, “He speaks well. Let him continue, for God often sends help in strange disguises. Our work is with the souls of all men.” The old man waved toward a chair. “I gather that you have no way of calling the Navy to assist us?”
“We were not permitted such devices, my lord.”
The Archbishop nodded. “A colony world.” He nodded again. “The Navy could do nothing even if you could call them. Once we are dead, they will send a punitive expedition, and the Imperial Traders Association will be the loudest voice in demanding vengeance for the deaths of the priests of the Lord. The Church has more than once been used as a pretext for Empire.”
“I do not understand, my lord,” MacKinnie said.
“The Emperor has no wish to conquer these worlds.” At MacKinnie’s puzzled look, the old man halted. “Bring our guests something to drink.” He turned to MacKinnie. “You know nothing of Imperial politics. Are you a member of the Church ? ”
“New Rome has not yet come to my world, my lord. We are Christians, more or less. I was baptized into the orthodox church, which I am told is acceptable to New Rome.”
“Forgive my curiosity; it was not idle. It follows that you know nothing of Imperial politics. What are you doing on Makassar?”
“My king has sent me to head a trading mission, my lord. He rules the largest civilized country on my home world, and is allied with the Imperial ambassador. The
Navy is aiding him in the subjugation of the planet.”
The Archbishop nodded. “But you are not a Trader. Nor are any of these with you. Please, do not protest. You cannot deceive a man of my years. You are a soldier, and these others, what are they, spies? It does not matter. And here you are, on this primitive planet, having come from a world which is itself primitive … and you talk of aiding us! It is admirable, but I fail to see what you can do. Still, such courage should be rewarded, if only with information.”
He paused as servants brought wine and additional chairs for the others. “This is not very good wine,” Deluca said. “But it is all we have here. The Trader has far better on his ship.”
“Wine does not make the day,” the Archbishop told them. “It is only a vehicle. Look at them, Father Deluca. Barely able to speak the Imperial language, knowing nothing of the capital and its ways, voyaging across space in ships they cannot understand … If the Church could bring men to as much faith in her teachings as these men have in themselves!” He tasted the wine and grimaced.
“You and I have the same mission, my lord Trader,” he told MacKinnie. “We are agents provocateur, sent to aid the Imperial Traders Association. The difference is that I know it, and you do not.”
“I do not understand.”
“I did not expect you to understand. You believe you are here for some other purpose, some great mission to save your own kingdom perhaps, certainly something more important than bringing back gold for your planetary king. And we are here to bring these people back to God. But both of us will serve the ITA as surely as we would if they had hired us.”
The room was still as they waited for him to continue. “The Navy will not permit the Traders simple conquest. I am sure that you know that no good military force will fight for a standard of living — their own or anyone else’s. It takes God, not gold, to put heart in a soldier. The Navyfights for a cause, for the Emperor and the Church, for New Annapolis, for the Oath of Reunion, but never for the ITA. The Navy will not simply come in here and set up kingdoms for the Traders.
“So they use us. They get us sent here, and prevent the Navy from giving us protection … but after we are slaughtered, it will be the ITA delegates who shout the loudest for vengeance. ‘Have to teach the beggars a lesson,’ they will say. And the same for you colonials … back on your planet there is opposition to the Empire. I don’t have to know where you come from to know that. And Imperialism won’t insure much loyalty. The ITA will find them troublesome. But the really troublesome people will be the most patriotic … Do you think they will not join when the ITA recruits them for a merchant army to punish this planet? To revenge you? Neatly solving two problems, the conquest of Makassar, and the removal of leaders and soldiers from wherever you come from. It is an old and tested formula and it works.”
“Why do you permit them to use you, my lord?” MacKinnie asked.
“Whatever your reasons, would you have refused to come here if you had known?” the Archbishop answered. “I thought not. Nor could I refuse to bring the Word of God to the heathen.” The old man coughed, his thin shoulders shaking violently. “Now go back to whatever plan you have, but remember the ITA. They have large resources, and they have power, but they have no virtue. One day the Navy will tire of being used and kill them all, but others will spring up in their place. There is always the ITA.”