“Oh, on Sundays we are to work while the sun shines, then drink and make merry when it sets!”
“Broke that one, too, I see,” Matt said grimly, “and I don’t think I have to ask what he taught you about using the name of God as a swear word. You do know who tempts you to do the opposite of what God teaches, don’t you, Jord?”
Jord’s eyes widened with horror. “It is as you say, it is as you say—he taught us to worship Satan! But why then did he not call the Devil by name?”
“Say it outright, and people would be warned, and stay away in fear and loathing,” Matt explained. “Disguise it, and they’ll listen. In the final analysis, though, you watch how they behave, and you’ll know what god they really worship in their hearts.” He felt rather uncomfortable saying it, thinking of people in his own world, but he knew that the vast majority of people were very easily fooled. He wondered if P T Barnum spoke of all the people in all the worlds.
He put the thought aside and got back to interrogation. “Since we mentioned the king, let’s follow it up. What does King Drustan know about all this?”
“As little as you did before last night, I suspect,” Jord answered, “though his son John is another matter.”
“John?” Matt stared. “That incompetent loser? He’s in on the druid scam?”
“I do not know what a ‘scam’ is, but I do know that John is a prince, and can aid the cause of the Chief Druid mightily,” Jord answered.
“Especially since he’s now heir apparent,” Matt mused. “Maybe he’s not as dumb as he looks.”
“Dumb? He is not talkative, from all I hear, but he is scarcely mute,” Jord protested.
“Less and less as we go along.” Matt was revising his opinion of John by the second. “What does he have to do with your Chief Druid?”
Jord shrugged. “The friars and their fellow priests prevent the tax-gatherers from gouging all they may from the peasants. They stand between the common folk, and the barons and soldiers who have won the king’s war for him.”
“Stand between? How?”
“Why, whenever the baron looses his soldiers to loot and rape, as is their pay for war, a dratted priest appears to command them to withhold in the name of the Lord!”
“Literally stand between.” Matt felt a chill. “And John doesn’t like that?”
“What prince would? How will he bring soldiers to his banner without expectation of such rewards?”
“Certainly not by the sheer generosity of his spirit, or nobility of his brow,” Matt agreed. “John isn’t the kind to command personal loyalty. So your Chief Druid made him an offer?”
Jord shrugged impatiently. “I know nothing of what passed between them, save that the Chief Druid disguised himself as a gardener, and thus found occasion to speak to the prince.”
Matt grinned in spite of himself. “And boy, wasn’t he surprised when one of his gardeners told him he could get rid of this nuisance problem of interfering clergy!”
“I expect that he was,” Jord admitted. “Nonetheless, the long and the short of it is that Prince John was quite willing to give his support to the Old Religion if the druids could woo the people away from the Church. He could only pledge such in secret at first, but has promised to become more open as he gains influence, and to make the Old Religion the faith of the land if he comes to power as king.”
Puzzle pieces fell together in Mart’s mind. “So not only does he have a chance of actually becoming king someday— he has some help arranging it, and some definite plans!”
“With his brothers dead, it would seem so,” Jord admitted.
“I know little of the druids,” Friar Gode said, frowning, “but I cannot believe that any clergyman would so conspire to despoil his own flock!”
“I can’t believe it, either,” Matt said. “The real druids would never have approved of such behavior toward their own people. Enemies, maybe—conquered foemen are another matter—but not toward their own commoners.”
“They did sacrifice people to their gods,” Friar Gode reminded.
“Yes, but those were captured enemies, or volunteers from their own people, not kidnapped virgins! Besides, that ceremony I watched last night was pure hokum, with no higher object in mind than luring people to join up. I don’t know much about the ancient druids’ worship, but I do know it wasn’t like that!”
Friar Gode nodded. “There is little that is real about these so-called druids.”
“They’re a synthesis of power-mongering ideas from this century, together with all the most popular human vices disguised as ceremony, mixed in with bits and pieces of Druid lore that everybody already knows about, so that the people will recognize the symbols and think the men are genuine druids,” Matt said.
“Almost a mockery of them,” Friar Gode said grimly.
Jord stared from one to another, more and more scandalized with every word he heard.
“Yes, a burlesque of the actual article,” Matt agreed. “You might even say these synthodruids are a do-it-yourself religion. No matter what you call it, though, it’s a great cover for a grassroots takeover by the forces of Evil. How can we fight them, friar?”
“By virtuous living, and thus setting a shining example before the people.” Friar Gode spread his hands, at a loss. “How else, I cannot think.”
“There is the possibility of telling the people what they’re doing, by means of minstrels’ songs,” Matt said, “but I hesitate to think what might happen to those minstrels, and I’m not sure the people would believe them anyway.”
“There are men and women far more holy than I,” Friar Gode assured him. “Perhaps they can see how to counter this threat to the Faith better than a humble friar like myself.”
“Well, holiness doesn’t usually result in knowing how to fight,” Matt said, “but I suppose that in the spiritual realm, a near-saint might have inspirations worth the listening. I don’t know your country all that well, friar. Who do you think might be a good consultant?”
“There is the Abbess of the Convent of St. Ursula,” Friar Gode answered. “She is said to be very holy, yet a most redoubtable woman.”
Well, Matt had his doubts as to how useful the abbess’ holiness would be, but found her redoubts far more reassuring. “Best lead I’ve got, I guess, and asking her opinion can’t do any harm. Thanks, friar—and thanks for the night’s lodging, too.”
“You are welcome.” Gode managed a smile. “Not that you seem to have made much use of the latter.” Then he frowned, concerned. “You have had no sleep, though. How shall you fare through the day?”
“Oh, I think I can keep going for a spell.”
The doors opened, letting in a bright shaft of morning sun. “Lord Wizard?” Sir Orizhan asked. “Are you well?”
Jord’s head whipped about; he stared at Matt as though he’d been betrayed.
“Of course,” Matt said briskly. “Just because I’m up before sunrise doesn’t mean I’m sick.” Then his attention went to Sergeant Brock, beside the knight and very pale as he stared at Jord. “What’s the matter, Sergeant?”
Brock gave a start, as though realizing where he was. “Is not this the druid who hurled a fireball at the friar yesterday evening?”
“I was.” Jord bowed his head, ashamed.
“A druid, in a church?” Brock sounded scandalized.
“I have repented of my errors, goodman,” Jord told him, “and confessed my sins.”
That unnerved Brock even more than seeing Jord in the first place. He turned away, obviously agitated.
Sir Orizhan stepped close to confide, “I have seen this happen to soldiers before—discovering that their enemies are not always complete villains, and can even turn aside from their evil ways.”