He shouted his order to the other Katharoi. “Stand down for Judge Boucher!”
The other guards moved out of the road and to their posts. Rachael nudged the mare into motion again. The soldier was visibly relieved when they passed under the portcullis and into the middle ward.
The guards at the inner gate immediately stepped aside to allow them to pass, but the men’s stares followed them. As they rode between the summer kitchen and the bake-house, Lucian looked up at the cathedral and crossed himself.
The courtyard was empty. A small herd of goats bleated from within the confines of their fence. No staff member came to take their horses.
Lucian glanced at Rachael. She fingered the hilt of her sword, her unease apparent as she reined the mare to a halt at the western door. She helped Lindsay down from the gelding. Lucian took his cane and dismounted.
“Is everybody at church?” Lindsay asked. She looked up at the relief over the cathedral doors that portrayed the archangel Michael standing over the subjugated Satan. She craned her neck and stared at the motif, her eyes wide with wonder.
Rachael fingered the pouch at her belt. “Can you feel it, Lucian?”
He calmed his mind and shut out the sights and sounds around him so he could listen with his soul. The dark resonance he recalled from Catarina’s house seeped through the stones. “One of the complicit is weaving an enchantment.”
Lindsay’s gaze snapped to Lucian. “In a church?”
Lucian nodded. “Catarina’s priests took over several churches in Hadra. They find double meanings in the scripture and wrap their spells in the words. The sermons are manipulated, and the congregations succumb over a long period of time. It’s like slow death by arsenic.” He turned to Rachael. “When was the last time you attended Mass?”
Rachael blushed and looked away. “Years.”
“Be grateful. If you’d been here, the Wyrm would have taken you long ago.”
Lindsay frowned at the doors. “Have they won?”
“No,” Lucian said, “it’s not so easy. Those who have a strong will can resist the spells; only the weak succumb. I can feel John’s presence. So long as the Seraph lives, there’s hope.”
Rachael ascended the stairs.
Lucian kneaded the head of his cane. He had not come all this way to live in the Fallen’s shadow again. “Listen carefully: I don’t believe Reynard will attack me or Lindsay. His goal will be to make you sound like a liar. Lindsay and I are more valuable to them alive than dead.”
Rachael nodded and Lucian was glad to see a hint of fear in her eye. Good. If she was afraid, she’d be careful.
“The key, Rachael, is not to argue. Reynard will strive to be the most reasonable person in the room. If you become angry and lash out at him, he will use your anger against you. You will look like lunatic and he will sway their judgment.”
“And the Seraph.”
“Precisely.”
“The magic’s getting stronger.” Lindsay took his hand.
“Of course.” Still, he hesitated.
Lindsay squeezed his fingers. “Come on, Lucian. We can do this.”
“She’s right,” Rachael said and gestured for him to join her.
Lucian nodded. He couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to face them. He climbed the stairs with Lindsay at his side, his cane clacked against the stone.
“Into the abyss,” Rachael whispered as she pulled the heavy door open.
The smell of incense drifted on the air. Rather than the pleasant scent Lucian remembered, the odor was cloying. He wrinkled his nose. The atrium was dark in spite of the sun shining through the arched windows. He tried to see around the colonnades, but shadows obscured the arcades.
They moved past the atrium and into the nave where statues of the saints leaned from their alcoves, their blind eyes sinister in the murky light. Rachael kept a fast pace as she led them toward the service, and Lucian matched her stride.
The chamber’s acoustics amplified Reynard Bartell’s voice and covered the sound of their footsteps on the polished floor. As they reached the wooden screen, Reynard’s words thundered through the cathedral. “‘They have as a king over them the angel of the bottomless pit.’”
Rachael held her hand up and they stopped. Lindsay shuddered, but her mouth was set in a determined line and her left eye narrowed as she evaluated the scene. He drew her near and peered through the lattice of the screen.
Tendrils of smoke coiled in the aisles. Several rows of pews were placed along the south aisle for those too lame or ill to stand, and these were filled. The younger Katharoi stood along the north aisle. On the right side of the quire was the lectern where Reynard raised his arms. “‘His name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek he is called Appollyon.’”
John stood to the left in the pulpit, flanked by Xavier and Charles Dubois.
Sadness entombed Lucian’s heart as his gaze swept over John. His Elder had aged so much. Though he appeared brittle with his years, one glance at the steel blue eyes warned Lucian that John didn’t suffer frailty of either the mind or the soul.
Beside John, Xavier’s scowl focused on Reynard. Dubois scanned the room with a hunter’s eye. John’s posture was similar to Xavier’s tense form, and like Dubois, the Seraph examined the room.
He suspects something is amiss. Lucian recognized the glower shading John’s features. He’d seen that look as a youth. He intends to let them hang themselves with their actions.
Behind the altar stood a resurrection cross, empty to symbolize the risen Christ, and it dominated the room. An urn of wine and a loaf of bread awaited the blessing for the Eucharist.
Many of the Katharoi focused on Reynard as if entranced. Lucian tried to gauge how many were in the room, but the people were pressed too close together. To his dismay, he noted staff members mixed into the crowd. They would have no defense against Reynard’s spells.
Rachael became very still beside him, and the first resonance of the Spirit tinged the atmosphere. He didn’t risk a glance in her direction, but he knew she reached deep into her soul to draw on the power of God. As she drew her spell around her, peace radiated from the essence of her being.
“‘The first woe has passed.’” Reynard must have sensed it too. He surveyed the room with a frown and lost the rhythm of his spell.
Rachael’s voice rang clear, startling the congregation. “‘There are still two woes to come.’” She stepped away from the screen and into the aisle.
Lucian followed her; Lindsay’s fingers clenched his hand.
“Revelation. How apropos.” Rachael slowed her pace. “Let’s talk of Hell, Reynard.”
The Inquisitor blinked at her, then pointed at Lucian. “How dare you bring that traitor into God’s house, Rachael Boucher!”
Xavier positioned himself in front of John, and Lucian avoided his old friend’s gaze. A rustle of movement radiated through the room as other Katharoi awoke from Reynard’s spell. They turned to look at the trio approaching the altar.
John stepped around Xavier. He glared at Rachael as if she was the enemy. Lucian’s mouth went dry with fear. He’d thought himself resolved to his fate but lost his certainty in the face of John’s enmity.
Reynard gripped the edges of the podium and leaned forward. “I asked you a question, Judge Boucher. Why have you brought that traitor into God’s house?”
“The traitor is in the pulpit,” Rachael said.
John’s face flushed scarlet. “Tell me, Judge Boucher, what is the punishment for bearing false witness?”
“If one member falsely accuses another of being complicit, the false witness will have his tongue cut out and suffer banishment or death at the Council’s finding.”
Lindsay stiffened.
John nodded. “Do you wish to recant your statement?”
“I accuse Reynard Bartell of being complicit with the Fallen.”
The crowd shuffled and a murmur fluttered through the dim room like a breeze before the storm.
&nb
sp; Reynard relaxed his stance and shook his head sadly. “I beg you, your Eminence, have mercy on her. It’s the Wyrm. The demon has taken her and causes her to sow discord amongst us.”
Rachael stepped into a shaft of sunlight. No one could look at her and believe she was possessed. The sun’s rays caught the red in her hair, and for a moment a fiery halo burst over her head.
Murmurs turned to a hum as the Katharoi whispered amongst themselves. Lucian halted at Rachael’s side; they kept Lindsay between them.
John’s eyes momentarily widened at the sight of Rachael then he drew his mask of indifference over his face again. He acknowledged Lucian’s presence before his gaze settled on Lindsay. The girl shivered like a colt but made no move to break eye contact with John. Lucian realized the Seraph had slipped past her frail mental shield and was busy examining her thoughts.
John held out his hand and descended from the dais. “Come here, child.”
Lindsay glanced up at Lucian and he nodded, reluctantly letting her go. A piece of his heart went with her. Rachael moved closer to fill the gap where Lindsay had stood.
John drew Lindsay near and smiled down at her. Her expression remained solemn, and Lucian noticed she turned so she could see him.
“What is your name?”
“Lindsay Richardson, sir.” Her voice quavered, her confidence gone with the eyes of the congregation on her.
John’s features softened with the same look he’d worn when Lucian and Catarina had emerged from the Veil. “Peter Richardson’s sister?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And who is your Elder? Rachael?”
“Lucian,” she whispered.
Reynard left the podium. “Do not be seduced by the child’s innocence, your Eminence. Look to the creature she was drawn to—a traitor, a liar. Can she be anything but a mirror of his soul?”
Rachael walked to John and passed him the Psalter. She placed her hand on Lindsay’s shoulder, and the girl relaxed. Only Lucian noticed the slight tremor to Rachael’s hand. John snatched the book and opened it.
Rachael said, “Only those with the highest integrity have the ability to draw a child through the Crimson Veil. The Veil will open for neither the Fallen nor the complicit. To say this child is corrupt is to say God has failed us. I will speak for her. And for Lucian.”
Lindsay’s head whipped around until she looked up at Rachael. Rachael didn’t acknowledge the girl’s stare. Without a word, Lindsay linked her fingers with Rachael’s, then turned and glared triumphantly at Reynard.
Lucian’s heart skipped an entire beat. Oh God, what has she done? By tying her fate to his, she’d shifted the battlefield beneath him. He would have to forsake his passive role or take Rachael down with him. Again.
Reynard left the pulpit, craning his neck to see what Rachael had given John. “Your passions blind you into seeing love where there’s only lust, Judge Boucher. You’ll let that traitor lead you to ruin once more.”
“Like Catarina led you?” Lucian asked.
“You will be silent!” The Inquisitor pointed at Lucian.
“I will not!” Lucian’s fury swam upward and choked him. He rapped his cane against the floor and the sound of wood meeting stone jarred his words loose from his mouth. “I’ve been silent for sixteen years and I’ll not be silent another day. Catarina never loved you, Reynard.”
The Inquisitor froze.
Every Katharos stilled until not even a robe rustled. John glared at Lucian but made no move to prevent him from speaking.
Lucian gripped his cane. “She used to mock you. She bragged how easily you’d fallen for her whispers of love.”
“Shut.” Reynard’s face blanched white. “Up.”
“Cate used you like she used me.” Like she used anyone who loved her. “She’s dead, Reynard.” Dead by my hand. As much as Lucian wanted to confess his sin before them all, he couldn’t make himself say it.
Reynard stiffened and just for an instant, Lucian saw the older man’s grief before Reynard extinguished his sorrow. “You’ve gone mad if you think I care about that renegade.”
Yet Lucian knew different. He’d seen Reynard’s letters to his twin. “You can repent, Reynard.”
The Inquisitor regained control. “I have nothing to repent.”
“Is that so?” John asked. He returned his attention to the book. “I have your signature in a pact with Mastema. Right beside Catarina’s.”
“That is a lie, your Eminence!” The Inquisitor stepped forward. Dubois frowned and tried to see, but Xavier was faster, blocking the Commissioner’s line of vision. Several of the seated Katharoi rose and the younger members strained to glimpse the book John held.
“And where was this pact found, Judge Boucher?” Reynard asked.
“Cross Creek.”
“Your holding?” Reynard smiled as if he’d proven his point. “Admit it, Boucher, you’ve been jealous of my advancement from the beginning. This is your effort to destroy me. That could be anyone’s signature. And wasn’t it convenient the book was at your house.”
Rachael smiled back at him. “I never would have thought to look there if I hadn’t found this.” She produced the sigil she had taken from Caleb’s coat and gave it to John.
A few in the crowd jostled forward, but Lucian noticed the congregation had thinned. Many of the complicit members saw the handwriting on the wall and fled. They wouldn’t fight; they were still far outnumbered by the faithful. To remain at the Citadel was suicide, so they made their escape while the parishioners remained enthralled by the tableau at the dais.
Lucian held his silence. The corrupted high-ranking members were trapped by their importance. Dubois sidled toward the edge of the pulpit with measured movements to avoid attention. With the appearance of the sigil, Reynard’s ability to shift the blame to Rachael died. John held the cloth up for Reynard to see, and the Inquisitor paled.
Rachael said, “It was hidden in Constable Aldridge’s coat.”
John’s lips were tight with rage. “And where is Constable Aldridge?”
“The Rosa took him.”
Someone cried out, an inarticulate sound of grief and horror, but in the large room, Lucian couldn’t see who it was.
Rachael started to say something else, but John raised his hand. “I’ve heard enough. Xavier!”
“Yes, your Eminence.” The General stepped forward.
John handed him the book. “Arrest these people.”
A door slammed from somewhere within the cathedral. Several people broke for the arcades where they could lose themselves in the winding corridors. Xavier shouted for his guards to seal the gates. More Katharoi left their seats to obey his command. Lucian wondered how many would use the opportunity to escape.
“These are lies, your Eminence!” Reynard’s voice crawled an octave higher. “Lies designed to disrupt our unity and create another schism.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about, Reynard.” John turned and nodded to Xavier. “If you are innocent, the truth shall set you free.”
Xavier grabbed Reynard and shoved him forward as he shouted orders at his soldiers. The General took Dubois by the arm, handing the struggling Commissioner over to one of his own constables.
Lucian was dimly aware of John ordering the Katharoi to their chambers where they would await word as to their impending arrest or freedom. He declared martial law and promised a directive within the hour to disband the Council until the members could be exonerated or condemned.
Members hurried from the cathedral, whether to burn damning evidence or to speculate on possible signs of corruption, Lucian could care less. He felt Lindsay’s confusion and wished either Rachael or John would comfort the girl. She looked to him for guidance, and he motioned for her to be patient.
In the disorder, two girls about Lindsay’s age paused for a better look at the new foundling. Lindsay released Rachael’s hand to brush her fingers across her stained shirt. She brought the end of her braid to her lips as she studi
ed the other girls and their neat cassocks. John dismissed the girls with a wave, and they joined their brethren in leaving the cathedral.
Tanith remained behind. Lucian realized how much he’d missed her and her dark eyes that glittered with love. She went to Lindsay, and though Lucian couldn’t hear what she said, he knew she reassured the girl. Lindsay released her braid and took Tanith’s hand.
John gestured to a side arcade, but Tanith ignored him and led Lindsay to Lucian. Tanith stood on her toes and Lucian had to bend down so she could kiss his cheeks. “I’m grateful the Goddess brought you home safe,” she whispered in his ear.
He closed his eyes and, unsure of his voice, he said nothing.
Lindsay put her arms around him and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”
He wished they could have a last moment alone, but one look at John’s frown told Lucian he needed to be careful for Lindsay’s sake. “Of course it is. Go with Tanith.”
“Will you come soon?”
“Perhaps.” Lucian had no idea what John intended. He wouldn’t lie to her. “The Seraph will speak to me, and I’ll have to do as he says.” He tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear and tried to smile. “You’re a good child, Lindsay Richardson.”
Tanith took her hand, yet Lindsay hung back. “We’re a team, you know. Nobody can change that. You’re my Elder.” She held her fist up and he gently bumped his knuckles against hers. “I know what that means now.”
He leaned down, kissed her cheeks. “Now go with my blessing.” Lucian released her, and she allowed Tanith to lead her out of sight. “Remember me,” he whispered as she disappeared into the shadows of the Citadel. Gone, but never gone from him; she remained entrenched in his heart. Lucian kneaded the head of his cane and lowered his head.
John secreted the tin with the sigil beneath his robes and spoke to Rachael. “You’ve killed my Inquisitor, Rachael Boucher. I need a new one so you’re moving back into the Citadel. Get someone to manage your holdings. I need you here.”
Rachael bowed her head to him.
Lucian felt the weight of John’s gaze settle on his face. He unbuckled Matthew’s sword and knelt.
Miserere: An Autumn Tale Page 30
