The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  The river expedition had been arranged by Brother Thomas, the knight whom Teo met on the roof of Castle d’If. Brother Thomas was what the Order of the Cross called a friar. Though he was a fighting man and a full-fledged member of the military order, he had taken additional vows of poverty and self-denial. Brother Thomas had many critical things to say about the lukewarm commitment of the knights to the principles of Christianism. Unlike them, the humble friar welcomed Teo’s proclamation about Iesus Christus, who died and rose again. Excited by the idea of taking this message to Jineve—a mission that dovetailed with Teo’s own plans—Brother Thomas had secured the riverboats for the expedition. Teo suspected Odo allowed the journey only because he was glad to rid Marsay of those he considered pests.

  Marco came to Teo’s side as he stood in the longship’s narrow prow. Teo greeted him warmly, glad for the friendship of the pirate-turned-explorer. Marco’s polished good looks were somewhat diminished now that his goatee had grown shaggy and his cheeks were unshaven. But when Teo jokingly commented on his friend’s ragged appearance, he shot back, “Hey! Have you looked in a mirror lately, amico?” Teo could only laugh as he rubbed the rough whiskers on his chin. It wouldn’t be long before he had a full beard.

  Marco leaned on the gunwale. “Brother Thomas thinks we’ll reach the outskirts of the Jinevan kingdom today.”

  “Good. I’m sick of river travel.”

  “Me too. Give me the open seas any day.” Marco glanced over at Teo. “What does this little excursion do to your timetable?”

  “For getting back to Roma, you mean?”

  Marco nodded.

  Teo thought it over. It was now late in the ninth month, which meant the ocean would close to sailing in about seven weeks. Reserving a week to return down the Rone to Marsay and another for sailing to Roma, Teo figured he could allow five weeks to accomplish the mission the Papa had assigned him. Part of that mission was already achieved: Teo had made contact with the Knights of the Cross, although they hadn’t received him as warmly as he wished. The other part of the mission was to visit any nearby kingdoms that might be interested in the faith of the Christiani. Jineve seemed to be the best candidate.

  “My timetable looks fine,” Teo answered Marco. “In fact, I should have several weeks to spare.”

  The afternoon wore on as the boat traveled north up the Rone. Earlier there had been obstacles to navigate, but now the crew made good time despite the faster current. Suddenly a voice called out from upstream, “Cease rowing, strangers!” The rowers looked at each other with confused expressions. It took Teo a moment to realize why: the language was foreign to them. But it was his own native tongue.

  He stood up and shouted to the boat ahead, “We’re friendly! Our mission is one of peace!”

  “We’ll see about that,” came the terse reply.

  The army boat escorted Teo’s party for several hours. As they traveled, the signs of civilization became more numerous: docks along the banks, other boats, even houses here and there. At last they arrived in a true city, situated at the place where the river widened into a broad lake. A sign proclaimed, “Welcome to Jineve—Jewel of Leman Sea.”

  The civic waterfront was indeed beautiful, lined with stately mansions and an impressive palace. A jetty protruded into the lake, capped by a majestic fountain at its tip. The army boat docked at a pier in the harbor. Brother Thomas ordered his men to moor alongside it.

  A man in fine clothing met the party at the dock. “I am the steward of Montblanc Palace,” he said. “Our honorable ruler Mayor Calixte welcomes new business opportunities, if that is why you are here.” Teo translated the greeting for his companions.

  “Tell him it’s the transactions of the eternal soul we’re concerned with,” Brother Thomas said. Teo conveyed this back to the steward, who seemed unimpressed.

  Nevertheless, the steward treated the travelers with respect. Introductions were made, with Teo serving as a go-between. The steward arched his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully when he heard Teo had come all the way from Roma. “That is very curious,” he said. “I think it will interest the mayor quite a bit.”

  The steward led Teo, Marco, and Brother Thomas toward the palace. The guests were shown to a comfortable bedchamber and invited to dine with Mayor Calixte in an hour.

  After freshening up, the three men went down to dinner. The steward led them to the banquet hall and swung open the paneled door. Beside the table, Mayor Calixte stood in conversation with an unusually tall man.

  No!

  Teo’s heart lurched. His hand went instinctively to his hip, though he had left his sword in his room out of courtesy.

  The tall man was expensively dressed. He had a stunning physique—broad shoulders, thick arms, a narrow waist. His dark hair was slicked back against his skull. He turned to Teo, staring at him with the yellow eye of a cat.

  “It’s him!” Marco hissed, clutching Teo’s sleeve.

  “Don’t back down. We have nothing to fear at the moment.” Teo strode into the hall to meet Mayor Calixte.

  “My, my! All of a sudden we have an influx of foreign businessmen!” The congenial mayor shook hands with his three visitors. “I hear you are from Roma, Teofil. Do you know Antonio by chance?”

  Teo and the Iron Shield locked their gaze. “We’ve met,” they said in unison.

  Mayor Calixte invited everyone to find their places at the table. While the mayor prattled about business opportunities, Teo tried to decide how to handle the situation. Apparently the Iron Shield was posing as a respectable merchant from afar. Teo couldn’t exactly stand up and accuse his enemy of being an occultist at the helm of an international society of assassins. Mayor Calixte had accepted the Iron Shield’s story. He had no reason to believe such a wild accusation from a stranger. Teo realized he would have to win the mayor’s confidence before trying to expose the facts.

  And what are the facts? What is the Iron Shield doing here? The last time Teo had seen him, the man was preparing to carve out Teo’s eyeballs. Now he was in Jineve. Teo wanted to know why.

  Mayor Calixte turned toward the three new arrivals. “So, gentlemen, tell us about your business here.”

  “We didn’t come to Jineve for trade,” Teo explained. “We have come in the name of the Creator God with a message of hope for your people. Our faith offers brotherhood and harmony among men.” Teo thought that idea might appeal to the mayor.

  The Iron Shield sneered. “Who cares about warm feelings and brotherly love? What Jineve needs is wealth and prosperity.”

  “It’s true, Teofil,” the mayor said pointedly. “A prosperous kingdom is a happy kingdom, no matter what religion is embraced.”

  “On the contrary, the world is full of rich men who lack peace. And those who are poor often have great spiritual joy.”

  “That could be said about many who don’t follow your faith,” the Iron Shield challenged.

  The wheels of Teo’s mind spun as he sought to offer a well-crafted response. “I acknowledge your point,” he said, “but an examination of the evidence reveals Christianism will have a greater positive effect on society than any other religion. Why? Because it’s grounded in human dignity and respect for one’s fellow man. When a religion advocates altruism, not domination . . . virtue, not decadence . . . order, not chaos . . . in other words, when it advocates love, not selfishness, then society will prosper.” Teo turned away from the Iron Shield and faced the man at the head of the table. “That, Mayor Calixte, is what Christianism offers Jineve.”

  The mayor mulled over Teo’s words for a long moment. At last he reached for a carafe and emptied the remaining wine into his glass. “All I want is for Jineve to get filthy rich. Come see me when you have a business proposal.” He pointed at Teo’s empty glass. “Do you need more merlot?”

  “I’ll get it for him, Mayor,” the Iron Shield said.

  “Thank you, Antonio.”

  The Iron Shield grabbed Teo’s glass as he rose and went to the wine cart. T
eo watched him carefully. His back was turned away from the table for several seconds before he returned, holding Teo’s refilled glass in one hand and a full decanter in the other. He offered the glass to Teo. The blood-red wine glittered in the light of the chandelier.

  Marco kicked Teo under the table. An urgent expression was on his face. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  Teo reached for the glass but at the last moment pulled his fingers back. The motion was quick and discreet. The Iron Shield fumbled, then the glass slipped from his hand and broke against the table. Wine dribbled into the mayor’s lap. He jumped up with a displeased expression.

  “Don’t feel bad for spilling on the mayor, Antonio,” Teo said to the flustered warrior. “We all understand you have but one eye.”

  The Iron Shield scowled. Marco barely stifled a laugh. Brother Thomas dipped his chin to Teo and raised his goblet as if to say, “Well played.” Yet Teo took no joy in the incident.

  I might have won the round, he thought, but my enemy took the bout tonight.

  Though it was the middle of the night, Ana could not sleep. Troubling thoughts churned in her mind. She huddled under her blankets, staring at the square of moonlight on the wall. Vanita breathed rhythmically in the other bed.

  Ana pushed aside her covers and stood up, straightening the strap of her linen shift that had fallen off her shoulder. She thought about putting on her dress but didn’t want to wake Vanita, so she wrapped herself in a shawl. It would be enough. There were no men in the convent except Liber, and he was fast asleep. Barefoot, Ana slipped out the door and closed it behind her.

  She made her way to the convent’s chapel. It wasn’t grand like some of the temples of Deu she had seen, yet it was a holy place, sanctified by the sisters’ liturgical songs that ascended daily. Ana went to the choir stalls and took a seat.

  For a while she prayed in the dim chapel. The high windows of the clerestory admitted a pale glow. Everything was quiet and still. O Deu, Ana said in her heart, I’m feeling sad tonight. I miss Mother and Father . . . I miss my bedroom in Edgeton . . . I miss the mountains and the sound of cowbells and the smell of new-cut hay. Images of the pastoral Chiveisian landscape rushed through Ana’s mind. Though she knew she was where Deu wanted her right now, she couldn’t deny the longing she felt for the home she’d once had.

  “It’s so hard to wait,” she whispered to her God. “Teofil has his mission to occupy him. What should I do in the meantime? What’s my purpose? Will you speak to me?”

  In a dark corner a cricket chirped. Ana tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Her feet were cold against the flagstones, so she pulled them up to the wooden pew with her knees bent.

  Deu! I feel like an orphan! The thought seemed strange to Ana at first, but soon the comparison started to make sense. She had lost her parents. She was living in a place she couldn’t call her own. The convent was much like an orphanage, an institution where the food wasn’t home-cooked, the bedrooms were communal, and no one had a family. Ana told herself not to wallow in self-pity. Her situation was better than many in the world. Yet this is how I feel right now. I’m as lonely as an orphan without a home! Will you let me be honest about that, Deu?

  As Ana prayed her eyes fell on the lector’s pulpit. The housemother would often stand there to read the scriptures. Until recently that had meant only the Old Testament, but with the discovery of the Latin words in Liber’s memory, the New Testament had become available to the sisters as well. In fact, a beautiful Talyano edition had just been delivered by the Papa’s printers. A thought occurred to Ana. Is the book stored inside the pulpit? She hoped it might be. She was hungry for its words.

  Ana slipped from the choir stall and crept toward the pulpit. Though she didn’t believe her actions were forbidden, being barefoot and alone in the chapel gave her the strange feeling of doing something sneaky. The lower part of the pulpit was a cabinet. A lock was on it, but Ana had observed that keys were rarely used around the convent. She grasped the handle. It turned, and the cabinet opened.

  A book was there.

  “Come, Lord Iesus,” Ana said softly. It was an invocation she had discovered at the end of the New Testament, in the closing words of the mysterious Apocalypse.

  Lifting out the book, Ana set it on the pulpit’s reading surface. Both testaments were in the volume. Ana marveled that the words she had spent so much effort seeking over the past year could now be reproduced in print to be spread far and wide. It is such a privilege to live in this age of rediscovery, she reminded herself.

  Ana turned to the New Testament. The book fell open to the Fourth Biography of Iesus written by Ioannes. Her eyes alit on the fourteenth chapter:

  If you ask me anything in my name, this I will do. If you love me, keep my commands. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another helper, so that he may remain with you forever—the spirit of truth, whom the world cannot accept because it does not see him or know him. But you know him, because he shall abide in your midst and be in you. I will not abandon you as orphans but come to you . . .

  Ana’s head shot up from the page.

  Orphans!

  She bent close and read the sacred words again. Her body shivered as she realized Deu had just spoken to her. He had impressed upon her mind the image of an orphan, then led her to a passage that dovetailed with the image. The spirit of Deu will abide with me! Iesus will not abandon me!

  “So this is how you whisper to us,” Ana said with a glance toward the ceiling. “I knew you would.”

  She closed the book and put it back in the pulpit. Comforted, she returned to her room. Vanita was in bed but awake when Ana arrived.

  “Where have you been?” she asked as Ana closed the door.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “How come?”

  Ana sighed. “I guess I’ve been struggling in this season of waiting. Teo says we can go back to Chiveis—and I want to so much! But I also want to wait on Deu. I needed to hear from him, so I went to the chapel.”

  “Did you find him?”

  Ana slipped under her warm covers. “Yes. He came to me.”

  “And what did he tell you?”

  “No specific plans. But he told me very clearly his spirit would be with me.”

  Vanita was silent for a long moment. “Does that mean you shouldn’t make plans?”

  It was a good question, and Ana gave it serious thought. At last she said, “No. I definitely think I should make plans as best I know how. But then I need to listen to his spirit, and if Deu wants to change my plans, I have to be willing to let him.”

  Instead of answering, Vanita sat up in bed and struck a match. She lit the candle, then shook out the flame on the matchstick. Her expression was somber. “I agree. And I’ve been thinking about one sort of plan we ought to make.”

  Ana was intrigued. “What?”

  “Those guys from the Clan have me worried. The fellow who called himself Riccardo, and the other guy who socked you in the gut.”

  “I’m still bruised,” Ana said, touching the tender place above her navel.

  “Clearly they were after something. Maybe we need to make it our business to thwart them.”

  Ana sat up on her elbow and faced Vanita. “You’re right! But what can we do?”

  “First let’s figure out what they want. Then let’s keep them from getting it.”

  “I assumed they wanted money.”

  “No. Those men weren’t petty criminals. They left the other rooms untouched and came straight to this one. Why?”

  Ana shrugged.

  “Ours is the only room labeled for guests,” Vanita said. “The others are numbered. Coincidence? Probably not, which means they were searching for something specific—something they knew we would have.”

  “Okay. So what is it?”

  The two women considered the possibilities. An idea hit Ana. “The thief took a book! Remember? He snatched it as he left. It was just a history of the sisterhood
that I was reading—nothing irreplaceable. But it shows what he was after. He was sent to find a book.”

  “They must want the Sacred Writing!” Vanita said.

  “But that’s strange. A few months ago that would have made sense, but now there are many copies of the scriptures circulating everywhere. More every day. Why would he want our particular one?”

  Vanita nodded thoughtfully. “Good point. And why would a criminal gang care about a religious book? I mean, I could understand if it were the Exterminati. They were founded to stamp out Christianism. But the Clan is a different type of organization. They want money and power.”

  “I hear they’re very superstitious. Maybe they think Christianism has magic spells they could use. Like you could put a hex on someone or conjure up evil fires if you knew the right words.”

  Vanita’s jaw dropped. “Evil fires!”

  “What?”

  “Evil fires! We do know how to make evil fires!”

  Ana shook her head, confused. “Not in the scriptures I’ve been reading.”

  Vanita rose and went to a closet. She located a sack that contained some of the belongings Teofil didn’t want to take on his mission. Untying the drawstring, Vanita reached inside and pulled out a book. Ana strained to discern the title in the candlelight.

  When recognition dawned on her, she gasped. The book described how to make the explosive powder. It had belonged to the High Priestess of Chiveis. Teo had stolen it from her, then accidentally carried it into exile: The Secret Lore of Astrebril.

  “The Clan wants that deadly weapon,” Vanita said.

  Ana nodded. “And we have to make sure they don’t get it.”

  King Piair II stood on a balcony of his palace and gazed out over the Citadel, the capital city of Chiveis. The Citadel was constructed at a strategic location. A chain of very high mountains faced the Chiveisian frontlands, forming an unbroken wall in all but one place. There a cleft pierced the mountains, leading to a valley that branched south and east. The valley was a hospitable place to raise livestock on the rich mountain grass, or even grow a few crops in the bottomlands. The only entrance into this idyllic valley was through the cleft—a fact that did not escape the glorious founder of Chiveis, Jonluc Beaumont. He ordered the construction of a fortress whose ramparts would seal off the secluded vale. The Citadel spanned the cleft, climbing up the mountain flanks on either side. Its granite face was impenetrable, and its defensive armaments were intimidating. The Chiveisi who lived behind the Citadel’s protective wall felt safe from all intruders. Even the citizens who lived on the other side—from the upscale town of Entrelac between two lakes, to the tiny village of Edgeton on the frontier—drew comfort in the knowledge they could flee to the sheltered valley in times of danger. In this way Chiveis was insulated from the outside world. And young King Piair intended to keep it that way.