Magnus nodded; these people's beliefs were like their church service-whatever kind of Christians they thought they were, they weren't Catholic. Roman Catholics believed that the Holy Trinity consisted of one God in three separate persons, as separate from one another as the leaves of a shamrock, but even more unified than the plant as a whole. This nun, though, was saying that the Holy Spirit didn't really exist. And her next words made it even more clear.
"This Holy Ghost, as God's yearning for a son, did embrace the Virgin Mary, and enkindled in her the babe, born at Christmas, and named Jesus, the Christ. He was therefore the son of God-but do not commit the error of mistaking Jesus for God! He was a man, and only a man-a saint, and more than a saint; a perfect man, to be sure-but only a man withal."
The children sat attentively, as though they were listening closely-but several eyes had glazed over. They had heard this before.
So had Magnus-it was called the Arian heresy.
"So God filled Mary with His Love, which we call the Holy Spirit," the nun summarized, "and Christ was born.... Hermann! Keep thine hands to thyself!" She descended on the luckless boy, whose hand had twitched toward the pigtails of the girl in front of him, and whacked him sharply over the knuckles with her ruler. As he squalled, she turned toward the elder nun with a sigh. "What ails these children this day? Have we been lax in our vigilance? Hath the Devil crept amongst them whiles we taught? Wherefore? And by what means?"
"Not the Devil." The older nun gazed across the heads of the class toward Magnus. "Yet there is a stranger present, who doth watch. 'Tis thy presence, young man, that doth encourage these children to disruption!"
Magnus turned very thoughtful. She might be right, he realized, though not for the reason she thought.
"I must ask thee to leave," the elder nun said, striding toward Magnus. "An thou dost wish to discuss the Faith with us, we will welcome thy questions-but after the school day is done." Her steps faltered as she came closer to Magnus, for he had turned a hard, brittle smile on her, and his eyes were glittering in a way that caused her to come to a halt ten feet from him. As soon as she had stopped, he bowed politely. "I would not be a burden on thee, Sister. Assuredly, I shall leave." He turned and stepped into the forest-with relief, if the truth must be known; even gladly.
After a dozen steps through the underbrush, Magnus turned to the side and broke through to the track. He looked back toward the schoolroom, expecting to see Rod standing there shadowing him. Instead, he saw only the class and the teachers. He frowned, puzzled, then glanced back into the forest-but no, his father wasn't following him there, either. Well ... Maybe he had trusted the young man not to get himself into trouble. Magnus smiled, and turned back toward the village.
He found his father in the village common, handing a skillet back to a housewife and chatting. Magnus remembered that Rod had disguised himself as a tinker before, and smiled at the old-well, older-man's slyness. He waited till the conversation was done and Rod had gathered up his tools and was turning away, then stepped up to him. "Ingratiating thyself with the housewives again, my father?"
"Huh?" Rod looked up, startled, then smiled. "Oh. Yes, son. How else am I going to learn anything? How about you?"
"I took a more direct path to the knowledge I sought. I went to school."
"Yeah, I followed you and watched for about five minutes. That was about all I could take."
Magnus nodded. "Thou hast ever had an aversion to child brutality."
"Yes, except when I lose my temper." A shadow darkened Rod's face, and the glance he gave Magnus was furtive. "I'm not too keen on psychological abuse, either."
"I ken the feeling, my father. For myself, though, I had a bit more trouble with the hypocrisy."
"Well, yes, there is that." Rod fell into step beside his son, noting that Magnus had changed direction to accompany him. "But I'm old and jaded, Magnus. I almost expect hypocrisy, these days."
Magnus frowned. "I would not say there is any great deal of it in yourself, or Mother-or the Elven King, Brom O'Berin, or Their Majesties."
Rod shrugged. "All that means is that you associate with good people-who keep their hypocrisy down to a minimum. But some of it is unavoidable, son. Anyone who believes in two conflicting values is going to be a hypocrite, and there's nothing he can do about it. You caught me in it once-remember?"
Magnus lifted his head, gazing off into space, searching his memory. After a few minutes, he nodded. "I noted that thou didst denounce those who try to force their own system of government onto others, the whiles thou dost labor lifelong to woo the folk of Gramarye toward democracy."
Rod nodded. "And I could only reply that I'm wooing, but they're forcing. Of course, I'm not sure that distinction would hold up terribly well."
Magnus quirked a smile. "Less well than it might, when I consider that thou hast spoke of self-determination with religious fervor."
"Right. But I'm just helping them determine the form that I know they'll choose anyway-aren't I?"
"Yet it would seem that thine enemies, the future anarchists, know that the people, left to themselves, would choose to carve up Gramarye into separate, warring villages. Thine other enemies, the future totalitarians, know that they would choose a dictatorship."
"Not quite. They know those are the forms of government they could bludegeon the people into accepting."
"Whereas thou dost know the people of Gramarye truly choose democracy?"
Rod lifted an eyebrow. "Do I detect a note of skepticism there?"
Magnus broke into a grin. "Thou hast it; I have accused thee of hypocrisy."
"Rightly, too. But if I honestly believe in selfdetermination, but also honestly believe democracy is best for them, what choice do I have?"
"Why, only to manipulate them into growing a democracy of their own." Magnus nodded. "Yes, I see-the hypocrisy is unavoidable. For if thou wert to withold thine action for democracy in the name of self-determination, thou wouldst be equally a hypocrite, wouldst thou not? Yes, I see." He turned to Rod with a sudden frown. "What hypocrisy do I enact, then?"
Rod shook his head. "Too soon to say. Whatever your life's work is, I can't tell-you may not even have begun it yet. And you haven't exactly been outspoken about your personal beliefs."
"I would not kindle anger betwixt us," Magnus murmured.
Rod nodded, chagrined. "Probably right, too. Well, catch me in a good mood and tell me what you're thinking. Okay, son? I'd really like to know."
Magnus smiled with warm amusement. "Canst thou truly say thou wilt regard it as the confidence of a friend, and not seek to correct thy son in the error of his ways?"
Rod was silent for a few steps.
Then, finally, he nodded. "Yes. If that's what it will take to find out what my son really believes-yes. If you'll remember that my silence doesn't mean I approve or agree, I promise I'll just listen, and not try to talk you into seeing the truth."
"And show no sign of the hurt thou wilt feel?" Magnus shook his head. "Nay, my sire. I know not if I can find the willingness to wound thee."
Rod sighed. "Okay, let's try. Tell me your honest opinion of the governmental setup in this village."
"I cannot, for I have none yet-or rather, none that I trust. I have seen a raging priest, and cruel-hearted nuns, and a lass who chafes at the bonds of authority-but do not all, of her age?"
"Not . . ." Rod caught himself, and bit his tongue.
Magnus smiled. "Not all, thou wouldst say? Well, mayhap not. Yet, past that, I know not how the folk of the village feel about their spurious bishop."
"Well, I do-not a complete survey, you understand, just a brief sampling of public opinion, as heard by a tinker. But from what I can tell, most of them are quite happy with this arrangement. I'm sure there must be a few malcontents, such as that suicide who was buried yesterday morning and, probably, his father. . . ." A shadow crossed his face; he forced it past, and continued. "But most of them seem quite content to take orders from the priests a
nd live their lives according to their version of the Bible. They don't even mind the priest yelling insults at them from the pulpit-they all want to know how unworthy they are, because that increases their chances of getting into Heaven."
Magnus shuddered. "Why, what a perverted catechism is this, that doth preach heresies as Holy Writ and perceiveth not its own hypocrisies!"
"Most people don't-that's why the real Church teaches that you have to be constantly examining your conscience."
" 'The unexamined life is not worth living'? " Magnus smiled. "The early Church fathers had been reading their Plato, had they not?"
"You disagree with the sentiments?"
Magnus shook his head. "At the least, the Church doth admire sound logic. This `bishop' careth only for that which hath a good feel inside him."
"Glad you said 'inside'-that poor teenager who got lambasted for being jealous about his girlfriend this morning sure didn't think the outside felt too good." Magnus gave him a sharp look, but he plowed ahead. "That kind of hypocrisy, I can't stand-preaching charity and love, then turning around and humiliating someone in public."
Magnus hated it, too, but hearing it from his father some how made him bridle and come to the nuns' defense, even though he thought very little of them. "There must be discipline in any social group, my father."
"Discipline, yes-but it can be administered without hatred, or pleasure in the victim's suffering. I don't have too much respect for someone who preaches love and understanding, and nurses a grudge at the same time. Needless to say, I'm sure that young man is one of the malcontents."
"I should think that he is," Magnus admitted. "Yet the bulk of them seem to see no conflict betwixt the preaching and the practice."
"None at all. It's as though they have two compartments in their minds-the one for `religion' and the other for 'practical necessities'-and they never see any conflict in living by both precepts. The `Church is fine, but business is business' mentality."
"Did not Christ speak to that? Summat about not letting the left hand know what the right hand doeth?"
"Which may come naturally to most people, but it's one hell of a way to play the piano. Yes, but you see-you're cheating. You've read the Book."
"Which these people have not," Magnus mused. "They have but heard as much of it as their priests do wish to tell them."
"There is that problem, yes. In addition to which, I'm not at all sure the local copy of the Bible is the same one the Church is using."
Magnus looked up, frowning. "Do not these people believe themselves to be Catholic?"
"Good question-and I asked it. The answer is, no, they think they're just generic Christians. Of course, that doesn't mean anything-anyone in Europe would have said the same thing, before the Reformation. But when I asked them if the Pope is infallible, they all said `Yes, and the Bishop speaks for the Pope.' "
"I wonder an His Holiness doth know of it," Magnus murmured.
"I have my doubts. In fact, when we get out of this forest, I'm half a mind to hunt up the Abbot of the Order of St. Vidicon and rat on them."
"To tell the Abbot, so that he may send a score of monks to convince this audacious prelate of the error of his ways?" Magnus looked up, scandalized. "Surely thou wouldst not, my father!"
Now it was Rod's turn to be confounded. "Why not?"
"For that thou hast said thyself that the bulk of these people are content with this form of government, and the monks would surely unseat this bishop. Worse!" His eyes widened at a sudden, horrible thought. "When they sought to, the bishop would claim that he is the Abbot's peer, and would set his people to warring 'gainst the monks!"
"Then they would leave, and come back with soldiers." Rod nodded, face grim. "Yes, there is that little problem. But I can't let him go on tyrannizing these people, can I?"
"Dost thou not truly believe the self-determination thou dost preach?"
"Not as thoroughly as you do, apparently-but, yes, I still think I do. On the other hand, there's the little matter of his brutalizing the ones who don't agree with him."
"Like that poor wreck of a father we saw yestermorn?"
"Well, yes, I was kind of thinking of him. But there was that boy at the school, and that girl Hester from the tavern, whom he's obviously in love with."
Magnus's face hardened. "And where there are so many as that, there may well be more. Yet should not the majority rule?"
Rod opened his mouth to answer, but realized the implications, and left his mouth open while he did some quick rethinking.
Magnus watched, managing to keep his face politely grave.
"Yes," Rod said finally, "but that doesn't mean the majority have the right to act as tyrants over the minorities."
"The tyranny of the majority." Magnus nodded. "Thou hast spoke of that before, and Fess hath taught me of it. Alexis de Tocqueville, was it not?"
"Still is-and I suspect Fess also taught you the counter to it." He certainly had taught Rod, repeatedly.
"Aye-that such tyranny is balanced by the individual's rights inborn. Yet those who dislike this bishop's rule are free to leave, are they not?"
"I certainly didn't get that impression, from that funeral sermon-if you can call that diatribe a sermon."
"I did not," Magnus murmured.
"I know-I did. But maybe we should talk to the object of that sermon, before we make any firm conclusions about the rightness of this nasty little theocracy they've got here."
"'Tis most assuredly a theocracy, as the word hath come to be used-a rule by the priests," Magnus countered. "But it most assuredly is not what the word doth mean literally-a government by God."
"No-the proper term is hierarchy, rule by the sacred-but that has come to mean only a social status-order." Rod shook his head in amazement. "And people say semantics doesn't matter! Come on, son, let's find that bereaved parent!"
Magnus halted. "By your leave, my father, I find I've little stomach for that."
"Why?" Rod looked up. "Don't want to put your ideas to the test?"
"Mayhap," Magnus admitted, though it galled him. "Yet I find this whole village quite distasteful."
"Sickening, even?" Rod looked up at him keenly. "Then do something about it. Stand up for what you believe."
"And seek to impose mine own views upon them?" Magnus shook his head. "I have not that right."
Rod smiled, starting the quick gibe, then caught himself and frowned, thinking. He finally found a good alternative. "Would you, if you had been born as one of them?"
Magnus looked up, startled, then turned thoughtful, nodding. "Mayhap. If I were one of them, I would have the right of dissent, would I not?"
"Yes, if they acknowledge that right."
Magnus swept his hand wide in a dismissive gesture. "Acknowledge or not, the right is there. It is simply that if they do not honor it, there may be some fighting."
"Or some torture," Rod said grimly, "if there are more of them than of you."
"Such a consideration should not weigh . . ."
"How can you fight the system if you're dead?"
"A point," Magnus admitted, then stood frowning in thought.
Rod sighed and shook his head. "Whatever the right of it, you're not ready to act if you don't know what you believe. I'm not about to leave these people in the lurch, though."
Magnus looked up in alarm. "Thou didst give me thy word!"
"I know. That's the problem." Rod looked up, almost imploring the young man to understand. "If I were sure most of them liked this government, you see, I could just help the malcontents escape, and let it be-but I don't know that."
"And therefore thou must needs stay until thou dost?"
"Yes, or until I'm sure the majority really don't want the priests' rule, in which case I'll be free to do what I can to oust them."
Magnus stared, shocked and outraged. Then he reddened, and anger began to build.
"Oh, all right, all right!" Rod turned away in disgust. "I gave you my word. I'll te
ll you what-" He turned back to Magnus. "How about, before I actually do anything, I talk over the evidence with you, okay? Then, when you've made up your mind, we'll decide what to do together."
"If I can make up my mind, dost thou mean?" Magnus was redirecting his anger.
"Now, I didn't say that." Rod held up a hand.
"Nay, but thou hast thought it. Belike thou wouldst like me to step aside and let thee do as thou wilt."
Rod frowned up at him. "That sounds like my line, doesn't it?"
Magnus stared at him, anger piling up over hurt. Then, without a word, he yanked his horse's head about and rode off into the forest.
Rod watched him go, then turned away with a sinking heart. "Blew that one, didn't I?" he said to Fess.
"I think you made your point, Rod," the robot-horse replied.
"Yeah. I won the argument and lost the boy's respect, right?"
"I do not truly think so," Fess said slowly. "In fact, I think you may have caused him to lose respect for himself."
"Oh, no." Rod squeezed his eyes shut. "That is definitely not what I wanted." He looked up and heaved a sigh. "But what could I do? I have to stand up for what I believe in, too, don't I?"
"Principles can be frustrating, Rod, can they not?" Fess murmured.
"They sure can-especially when they're my own, coming back at me. Come on, Fess, let's go."
7
Magnus rode among the trees, trying to stave off a feeling of guilt. What made it worse was not knowing whether he was feeling guilty about abandoning the people of Wealdbinde to their fate, or about betraying his father-or both.
And, of course, there was the girl, Hester. She certainly was no raving beauty, but was pretty enough, and there was something about her that wouldn't let go of his mind. Had he deserted her, too?
Then he remembered Neil Aginson, and decided that perhaps he had not.
"Women are ever a trial," someone sighed.
Magnus looked up, jolted out of his reverie, and saw the ragpicker ambling down the trail beside Magnus's horse. "What, art thou come again?" Magnus demanded. "Get thee gone!"
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