Tuan fulfilled expectation. "Take up each his father's demesne and powers. Thou, Count Ghibelli, art hereby created Duke Di Medici; thou, Guelph, art now Duke Borgia. Each will take up the rule of thy diminished acres—and I charge thee to hold them in better fealty than did thy sires!"
The crowd roared its approval.
"There is danger in it, my lord," Gwen noted.
"Yeah, but there's a chance it'll work, too." Rod didn't sound terribly happy. "They just might not take the chance on their families' losing any more land."
But the crowd was quieting, for Di Medici had stepped forward. He said it grudgingly, but he said it. "I thank Thy Majesties for the safety of mine house. And…" He glanced at his son out of the corner of his eye. "I accord thee honor, my son, for thy prudence."
The young man glanced at Tuan with apprehension, but Catharine spoke.
"Be certain, my lord, that, although we would lief have thee loyal from devotion, we will be glad of thy faithfulness out of prudence."
"I thank Thy Majesties." Ghibelli didn't hide his relief too well. "And I hereby pledge thee my firstborn son as hostage."
"Easy to offer, since the kid isn't even born yet," Rod grunted.
"I' truth, Ghibelli is not even betrothed," Gwen agreed.
But the King was shaking his head slowly. "Thou hast committed no treason, Milord Duke; there is no need of a hostage as yet."
Ghibelli and all his party looked up, surprised, then turned to one another.
Tuan frowned and glanced at Catharine.
Out of the throng came the Comte D'Auguste, bowing. "Majesties!"
"We hear thee, D'Auguste," said Tuan.
"Majesty, I crave a boon!"
" 'Tis granted." Catharine smiled. "Thou hast not even to ask it; we grant it thee in light of thy selfless support of our cause."
"And," Tuan said, with his first smile of the day, "as evidence of our dehght at the birth of thy son."
The whole room went into an uproar again. Even the young lords looked startled.
"I didn't even know the countess had gone into labor!" Rod said.
"Aye, my lord, in the wee hours, and the babe was born three hours agone." Gwen smiled.
"Why do I bother trying to set up intelligence networks?" Rod sighed.
"Indeed," Catharine cried, and the room quieted. "In truth, we regret that the turmoil bred by the Abbot hath prevented us from honoring thy new heir as befits his station. Yet be assured we shall, when all order is restored."
"I thank thee, Majesties." The warm glance D'Auguste exchanged with Tuan was his welcome to the fraternity of fatherhood. "And the boon I crave is for my boy."
Tuan frowned; this was unexpected. "Thou hast but to say it."
"That when the boy hath seen fourteen years, Majesties, thou wilt accept him into thine household to be trained as a squire!"
The courtiers roared, and Tuan and Catharine exchanged a startled glance. Then Catharine nodded, and Tuan mirrored her movement as he turned back to D'Auguste.
The crowd quieted to hear his answer.
"Thy boon is granted, and gladly," Tuan called, and the crowd cheered.
Later, as the setting sun turned the view from the solar windows into an enchanted landscape, Tuan demanded, "We are honored, certes, and I feel that we may truly have made great progress toward welding this land into a whole—yet why would he ask it? And the child scarce three hours old!"
"We had said we had no need of hostages," added Catharine. "Wherefore would he thus hedge us into accepting one?"
"I think," Gwen said with a smile, "that D'Auguste can think of no place in which he would as lief have passed his growing years than here in thy castle."
Rod nodded. "Right. He wanted to make sure his son would get into the best school, so he made his reservation early."
The next night Rod stood in the shadows behind a pillar in the refectory of the monastery. He was there at the Father-General's invitation, and everyone knew of his presence, but he felt it was politic to be as unobtrusive as possible.
Not that anyone had any attention to spare for him—for the Father-General sat in the great chair on the dais, and the Abbot stood before him, bound in chains.
Father McGee fixed his gaze on the Abbot, intoning, "You must know, Reverend Father, that you can no longer be Abbot in this place."
"I have sinned grievously, I know." The Abbot bowed his head. "Yet worse, I have shown a weakness of judgment that hath severely hurt this our Order, and could have caused its demise."
"So it could have." The Father-General nodded. "Indeed, the Gramarye Order can never be one single chapter again— though, all things considered, it may be better that way."
The monks glanced at one another uneasily, but none dared speak.
"In the eyes of the King and Queen," the Father-General said, "you and your secretary are guilty of high treason."
"I have owned I have sinned," the Abbot said. His eyes were downcast, but his voice was clear, if subdued. "I have sinned mightily before God and man, and am deserving of the worst of punishments thou canst mete out."
"Yes, for you succumbed to temptation. But your secretary, Brother Alfonso, is even more deserving of such punishment, for he it was who showed you the lures of power and pride." Somehow, even now, there was sympathy in McGee's eyes. "He we have given over to the secular arm; of him, there was no doubt."
Damn straight. Rod subvocalized. Just catch Tuan giving him up!
He has not even waked yet, Fess answered.
And never will, if Bronx has his way!
He fails to mention that Brother Alfonso was truly afuturian agent, masquerading as a monk, Fess answered.
No wonder he fails to! He promised me he wouldn't!
"I deserve no less," the Abbot stated.
McGee lifted his head slowly. "He has pronounced his own sentence." He looked out over the hall and cried, "If anyone wishes to speak in this man's favor, let him do so now!"
The hall was still, each monk glancing uneasily at the other.
Then, hesitantly, Anho stepped forth.
McGee looked down in surprise. "Speak."
"I am Anho, brother of Hoban," the monk declared, "of he who came here as one of us, but did spy for the king. When he was found out, this captive was Abbot, and showed mercy to him, though he was convicted of treachery to the order—for which we all rejoice, now that Hoban's crime has been found to be no crime. May not mercy be shown to him who was merciful?"
Slowly, McGee nodded. "Well said, Brother Anho." He turned to the erstwhile Abbot. "And therefore shall I grant you life."
The Abbot stared at him, thunderstruck.
"Yet even though you have proved yourself unfit for the high office you held," McGee said, "you will always be a potential focus of power and heresy. So I judge that you must retire to a life of solitary meditation in a well-guarded hermitage, far beyond the ken of all in Gramarye."
The Abbot nearly collapsed with relief. "I thank you, my lord, for your generosity and clemency!"
He may not be so thankful when he finds out just how far away the Father-General has in mind, Rod muttered as Anho and a robust monk escorted the former Abbot away.
Let us trust that he will not care, Rod. He may be sincere in his desire for solitude and meditation.
A self-flagellant? Rod frowned and nodded slowly. Yeah, I suppose he's got it in him.
The Father-General cleared his throat, and the room quieted. "Of the Lady Mayrose I must also speak. I have conferred with the King, and we have agreed that she shall be imprisoned for life, and shall live the life of a penitent. His scouts even now search for some abandoned tower in the wilderness."