"Just now, my concern is with the bishop who didn't join him," Kelson said, "and whose finger lies in that box."

His curt gesture between himself and Morgan, where the box weighted a comer of the offensive letter, renewed the anger which had flared in every heart at his first reporting of the outrage.

"Unfortunately, I fear this is only a taste of what Loris has in store for Istelyn," Kelson went on after a studied pause. "Be that as it may, I cannot agree to the Mearan terms. Nor may I sacrifice my kingdom for the sake of one man, however precious he may be to all of us. As my council, you must know that at the outset."

They were not his full council, for several important members had not yet arrived from their outland holdings to keep the compulsory Christmas Court with the king, but they represented some of Gwynedd's finest minds. Kelson knew some of those minds in quite a literal sense; but without making unwarranted use of his powers, he could only guess about the others.

Morgan was no mystery, of course - at least in his feelings on this matter.

Seated as usual at the king's right hand, he was as close as a touch, whether of hand or of mind. Morgan had spent his outrage on his first inspection of the letter and the box, so that now only cool purpose remained - that his old adversary should not have the ultimate victory.

Duncan occupied the next chair, where once his father and brother had sat as Duke of Ca.s.san and Earl of Kierney; and after him came Ewan, senior of Gwynedd's three nonroyal dukes. Kelson sensed an uneasiness in Duncan which was as much an aftereffect of their interplay with Dhugal as a concern about Istelyn, but Ewan required no Deryni reading at all; he would say what he thought, when he thought it, as he always had.

Beyond Ewan sat Bishops Arilan and Hugh de Berry - the Deryni Arilan, whom Kelson could not have read even if he dared to try, and the earnest and faithful Hugh, touchingly human. Arilan had resigned a council seat on taking up the See of Dha.s.sa, but Hugh had never been a member. Hugh had been secretary to Loris' deceased colleague, Patrick Corrigan, however, which meant he knew Loris as well as any man present.

Dhugal knew Loris, too - not as intimately, but certainly more recently - and he was acquainted with the Mearan royal family as well, which none of the rest of them were. He was not an official member of the council either, though Kelson planned to remedy that once Dhugal had been formally confirmed as Earl of Transha. Now that they had been reunited, the king wanted his foster brother at his side - especially in light of Dhugal's unexpected but intriguing shields. The recent probing of those shields, as well as Dhugal's on-going discomfort from his aggravated injuries, had left the young border lord a little shaky, but he was at Kelson's side now, perched self-consciously on a stool between Kelson and Archbishop Bradene.

Archbishop Cardiel sat next to Bradene, and Jodrell and Saer de Traheme beyond them, all four new to the council since Kelson's accession. Nigel occupied the chair at the opposite end of the table, as heir presumptive, with Conall as an unofficial observer at his right.

"No one questions your position. Sire," Bradene said quietly, when a few of the others began to fidget at the lengthy silence. "Least of all would Istelyn question it. According to what young Dhugal has told us, Istelyn is totally resigned to the consequences of his loyalty." He sighed. "I fear we can do nothing save to offer up our prayers for his deliverance."

"Prayers will not deliver him from the agony Loris intends for him," Arilan murmured under his breath. "If I could give him the coup and save him Loris'

spite, I would."

Arilan's open espousal of an act the Church forbade as murder startled Bradene and Hugh, each only recently emerged from the relative shelter of cloister or academia. But the coup de grace was an acknowledged if reluctantly practiced fact of life to the battle-seasoned - a human mercy to friend or foe when only pointless suffering lay between a man and death. Other than the two bishops, only Conall was yet unblooded in that regard. Even Dhugal had not escaped the grim initiation. Most of the young border lord's experience had been limited to animals sick or injured past healing, but once it had been one of his own clansmen shattered in a fall from a river cliff, and no one else was nearby to take responsibility. The man had been beyond speech already by the time Dhugal reached him, hardly a bone unbroken in his twisted body, but the pain-glazed eyes had begged for release, all the suffering ending as Dhugal drew his dirk across the pulsing throat. Dhugal had just turned thirteen.

As Nigel cleared his throat impatiently and sat forward, Dhugal jerked himself back from memory and suppressed a shudder, glad that the decision about the unfortunate Istelyn was none of theirs to make. He knew no one blamed him for not bringing Istelyn out of Ratharkin, but he regretted his inability nonetheless. The bishop had been a brave man and a welcome friend for the short time Dhugal had known him, even if they had disagreed over points of conscience.

"We serve neither Istelyn nor ourselves by brooding on this further," Nigel said quietly, breaking the awkward silence. "No one regrets his situation more than I, for he has been a good friend as well as a faithful shepherd to the Church, but I think we must address more constructive concerns." He looked directly down the table at Kelson. "Sire, Loris may seem the greater threat at the moment, but his importance is directly related to the influence and support of the Lady Caitrin. Break her and you will break him as well."

Kelson inclined his head in wry agreement. "I should like very much to do both. Uncle. Unfortunately, I fear that any meaningful forcing of that issue must wait until the spring."

"Well, thank the heavens for that bit of wisdom," Ewan muttered under his breath. "I thought he might be intending to gallop off to Meara again tonight!"

"In this weather?" Bradene asked, shocked.

Morgan, sensing the disapproval under Ewan's gruff aside, flashed a warning look at Kelson.

"I think His Majesty is quite aware of the situation, Ewan," he said easily.

"In any case, even were it not for the weather, we've lost our element of surprise.

Our foray into Meara went unchallenged because no one expected us to venture forth on the edge of the season's first storm. They'll be ready for us next time."

"They'll be ready for a military offensive, yes," Nigel countered. "However, I have in mind an offensive which requires no military action whatsoever. The means of accomplishing that offensive is already in your hands, Sire."

Expressionless, Kelson sat back in his chair and lowered his eyes, tracing the carving on the chair arm with one fingertip. He suspected he knew what was coming. He had hoped to avoid the question indefinitely.

"If you're referring to our hostages. Uncle, I don't make war on women and children."

"Nor am I asking you to do so," Nigel said. "I would remind you, however, that not all wars are won on the battlefield."

Before Kelson could frame a reply, Ewan's bearded face creased in a lecherous grin.

"He means the marriage bed, lad. Now, there's a merry winter's sport! I told ye a bride was what ye needed. An' wouldn't that frost her mother?"

"Ewan, please!"

Kelson's rebuke stilled the old duke's tongue, but it did not wipe the grin from his face or extinguish the gleam in his eyes. Nigel was studying his royal nephew with a mixture of compa.s.sion and resolution, not liking the suggestion any more than Kelson did. To Kelson's left. Archbishop Bradene looked dubious, Cardiel thoughtful. As Bradene cleared his throat, all eyes instantly turned toward him.

"Sire, it appears that between them. Their n.o.ble Graces have just suggested a marriage with the Lady Sidana," Bradene said quietly.

"The Princess Sidana, by Mearan reckoning. Excellency," Nigel amended, "and heiress to what they regard as the legitimate royal line."

"But it isn't the legitimate royal line," Kelson pointed out. "And even if it were, she has a mother and two brothers ahead of her."

"The mother is not a young woman," Nigel countered. "Even if she were to escape us, you have time on your side. You can easily outwait her. Of the brothers, one is in our hands already and the other eventually will be taken or slain in battle. Eliminate the two of them and marry Sidana - not necessarily in that order - and the Mearan royal line will become the legitimate line in your children's generation, as should have been done in your great-grandfather's time."

From the animation of the discussion that followed, it soon became apparent that the notion had already occurred to at least a few of them, probably from the moment Sidana rode through the city gates in Morgan's arms. Kelson mostly listened for the first few minutes, occasionally exchanging uneasy looks with Morgan, Dhugal, or Duncan; but when at last he held up a hand for silence, he had shuttered his true feelings behind a facade which even Morgan could not pierce.

"There is a certain logic in what my uncle has proposed, my lords," the king said carefully. "I will tell you from the outset that this is not the first time the lady in question has been proposed as a potential royal bride. When I was in Transha a few weeks ago. Lord Dhugal's late father also extolled the lady's suitability - not as an uncle seeking rich dowry for his niece, but as a loyal liegeman suggesting a possible way to ease the tension which has been increasing along the Mearan border for the last several years."

"Old Caulay offered you her hand and you didn't tell us?" Ewan blurted, eyes flashing above his bushy beard. "Why, that old fox!"

"He didn't offer me her hand, Ewan!" Kelson retorted, allowing himself a sigh of exasperation. "He wasn't in any position to make me such an offer. He simply pointed out the obvious advantages of such a match. Sidana was still in Meara at the time."

"And now that she is in Gwynedd?" Nigel asked.

Kelson closed his eyes briefly and drew a deep breath, then let it out with a patient sigh.

"Frankly, the idea terrifies me. I don't even know the girl. But I'm a king first and a man second. If such an alliance would ease the tension along the border and help secure peace, then I would be less than true to my coronation oath if I did not give it my wholehearted support."

"It might just do that. Sire," Jodrell said thoughtfully. "I know the Mearans. My patrols go back and forth across the border constantly. Caitrin's sons or Sidana's sons - it would make no difference to most folk. They've been sending sons and husbands and brothers off to war with Gwynedd for over a hundred years."

"I doubt a marriage with Sidana would stop that," Saer de Traherne said.

"Unless Caitrin does submit by Christmas, which I think highly unlikely in light of that," he gestured curtly toward the letter and box, "there's still going to be a war in the spring - at least until we take her and Ithel."

Bishop Hugh, silent until then, sat forward and raised a hand for recognition.

"Sire, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but might not a marriage with Sidana be used to negotiate a true peace? Perhaps Caitrin would be willing to renounce her claim, if she were a.s.sured that her daughter would be queen of a united Meara and Gwynedd."

Dhugal shook his head emphatically. "Not a chance, Excellency. Even if she would, Ithel wouldn't. He's full of plans for when he's king. Llewell's little better, though at least we have him in custody."

"The lad is right. Sire," Jodrell agreed. "Marriage with Sidana might provide an ultimate solution, but we'll still have to take Caitrin and Ithel - and any other Mearan heirs, while we're at it - before it would be meaningful.

Judhael, in particular. Mearan partisans might pa.s.s over Sidana if another male heir could be persuaded to take up the cause."

"We will deal with Judhael, my lord," Arilan said pointedly. "You need not worry about a renegade priest. The marriage does have its merits, though. Sire, from what has been said, I a.s.sume that you would be willing to enter such a union. Is that a correct a.s.sumption?"

Kelson shrugged, making a game attempt to appear casual. "If I must.

However, a great deal depends upon the lady. She may not want to marry me."

Ewan snorted. "She'll do as she's told, if she knows what's good for her!"

"And suppose she doesn't?" Kelson asked.

Jodrell shrugged. "She is your hostage. Sire. If such is your desire, I hardly think she has much choice in the matter."

"Oh? And if I drag her to the altar against her will, how then for the sanct.i.ty of our marriage vows?" Kelson retorted. "What say you. Archbishop?"

As Bradene squirmed under the royal scrutiny, Arilan shook his head. "It is not required that the bride be eager, Sire, only willingly resigned. And if the wooing is carried out with - the proper delicacy," he arched an eyebrow knowingly at the king, "I think she would not be unwilling."

His glance at Kelson conveyed all the potential of a Deryni king's ability to persuade, without even resorting to his own Deryni abilities. Kelson read his meaning instantly, a little sick at heart, and knew by Morgan's quickly damped flare of indignation that he had read it, too.

With a chill smile. Kelson leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a resigned sigh.

"I take your meaning. Bishop," he said quietly, trying to put out of mind the temptation Arilan had just presented him. "If wooing's to be done, however, I'll do it in my own fashion. For the sake of my kingdom, I'll even take her by force if I must. I'm sure a priest could be found who would turn a blind eye to her protests," he added dryly. "But if peace can be secured some other way, without much loss of life, then I would as soon not wed for now. We still have time."

"And does Istelyn have time?" Bradene demanded. "How do you intend to answer that?"

As he gestured angrily toward the box across from him and Kelson, the king slapped his open palm against the table in consternation.

"Obviously I cannot answer it. Archbishop! I have already said that I can do nothing for Istelyn. I shall reiterate our demand that Caitrin and her son submit to me by Christmas."

"And if she does not?"

Kelson sighed heavily, his momentary anger deflated.

"If she does not, then I shall take the Princess Sidana to wife at Twelfth Night and send out summons of array for a spring campaign."

"Alas, I fear that will mean Istelyn's death," Cardiel said, as murmurs of concurrence rippled around the table.

"We must count Istelyn as dead already, my lords," Morgan said softly.

"And if he dies, then we must make his death count for something. I know he would support the king's wish to settle all as bloodlessly as possible, but if necessary, the spring shall see his murderers confounded with the sword."

"Very well," Bradene replied. "I see that there is no appeal for that.

Fortunately, the Church has weapons other than the sword with which to confound Loris and his would-be Mearan queen. Nor need we wait until the spring to use them."

As Bradene swept his fellow bishops with his hard glance, almost in challenge. Kelson knew with a chill certainty what was coming next.

"I propose a rite of general excommunication," Bradene went on. "That we formally strip Loris of his rank and priesthood - something we should have done two years ago - that we suspend the bishops who have taken his part, and that we excommunicate the lot of them, including the Mearan royal family."

The other bishops nodded gravely, murmuring among themselves; but Kelson's stomach did a slow, queasy roll, even though he had been half-expecting someone to bring up the subject before they were done. Having been excommunicated himself at one time, if only for reason of Loris' spite. Kelson could not but feel pity for those about to incur the same fate. He glanced at Morgan and Duncan, who had felt the cold breath of excommunication even more directly than himself, and caught their similar recoil at the very notion; but it needed to be done. Excommunication was a language Loris would understand, though it would also enrage him.

"I agree," Cardiel said quietly. "The measure comes after much provocation. Do you also recommend a general Interdict of Meara, my lord?"

As the others drew in breath - for Interdict would bar everyone in Meara from all sacraments and solace of the Church, even the innocent - Bradene shook his head.

"I would not place that burden upon the entire Mearan people at this time - though it may prove necessary in the future, if excommunication does not bring the princ.i.p.als to heel. No, what I have outlined is sufficient for the present, I think - unless you have some valid objection. Sire?"

Kelson bowed his head. "I would not presume to dictate the conscience of my bishops. Excellency," he whispered. "If you feel this action warranted, then so be it."

"It should be done as soon as possible, then," Bradene said decisively.

"Tonight, I think, after Compline - so that our response may go to Loris and the Lady Caitrin along with His Majesty's."

Cardiel nodded. "The necessary doc.u.ments can be drawn up by nightfall.

My monks will a.s.sist us. Sire, we would count it a particular favor if you and the rest of the lords of state could lend us your support by your presence."

"We shall attend you," Kelson replied.

Bradene nodded, relieved. "Thank you. Sire. I should like your support in a happier matter as well. I have had no opportunity to consult with my brother Cardiel, but I feel certain he will concur with what I should like to propose."

As he turned his glance across the table to Duncan and smiled, his intention immediately became clear.

"Father McLain, you know that I was in complete sympathy with your wish to delay your consecration until the spring, so that you might better prepare yourself for your increased responsibilities, but our changed circ.u.mstances are such that I feel we need you now. Confirmation of your rank will also underline the authority of the bishops who elected you and help to strengthen our present position regarding Loris' bid for power. Will you consent to be consecrated immediately? Or as soon as may conveniently be arranged?"

As Cardiel nodded agreement, Arilan and Hugh also turning expectant eyes on Duncan, Kelson allowed himself to relax just a little. This he could support without a qualm. He sensed Morgan's support as well, as he turned his keen Haldane gaze on Duncan. The Deryni priest folded his hands precisely on the table before him and let out a long, resigned sigh before looking up at his superior.

"I will consent. Excellency, but I would ask one indulgence on your part: I wish to be invested with Bishop Istelyn's ring." He glanced around defensively. "It would mean a great deal to me. We may be helpless to save his physical body, but I would at least do honor to the courage and conviction of his soul."

"Well said," Kelson murmured, as Bradene and Cardiel exchanged approving glances.

"It shall be done as you have asked," Bradene said. "We shall set your consecration for three days hence. But for now. Sire, by your leave, I think we must all retire to prepare our various answers to Loris and his cohorts."

The bishops' answer was given substance later that night. Kelson did not relish his part in it, but he attended as he had promised. Kneeling in the front row of the south choir stalls, Dhugal and Morgan to either side of him and the rest of his council behind, he listened to Bradene sing the opening invocation, answered by the circle of cowled monks and priest-bishops around him. Duncan stood among them.

"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti...."

"Amen"

The cathedral was darkened save for the candles in the hands of the gathered clergy and the red glow of the Presence Lamp above the altar behind them. A draft curled down the nave and through the choir, making the candlelight dance fitful shadows on vestments, choir screens, and stalls. Bradene stood with Cardiel on the lowest altar step, both of them wearing black copes and mitres and also holding a candle apiece. A long strip of parchment trailed from Bradene's other hand, ragged at the bottom with heavy pendant seals.

"My lords and my brothers, it is my unpleasant duty to p.r.o.nounce the following judgment, to which all of you have subscribed," he said. "Be it duly witnessed, here before the altar of the Lord and in the Presence of the Hosts of Heaven, that we do what we do without malice, and for the good of the souls of those involved, in hopes that they may come to recognize the error of their ways and repent, returning at last to the loving bosom of Mother Church."

Clearing his throat a little nervously, he handed his candle to Cardiel and brought the parchment within the range of its light, beginning to read in a voice which carried through the choir and all along the nave.

"Whereas Edmund Loris, priest and former archbishop, hath fled the just penance of a duly const.i.tuted synod of his equals and thus rejected the authority of those set above him; and whereas said Edmund Loris hath consorted with rebellious subjects of his lawful liege and king, forswearing his own sacred vows by such action, and exhorted them to treasonous acts; and whereas the said Edmund Loris hath resumed authority to which he no longer hath claim and hath used that authority illicitly to consecrate a bishop neither elected by a properly const.i.tuted synod nor approved by the king; and whereas said Edmund Loris hath usurped the authority of a brother bishop in his own diocese, and forced him to witness illicit acts, and caused him grievous physical harm, and used threats against his life in an attempt to sway others to his treasonous ways.

"So therefore do we, Bradene, by the Grace of G.o.d Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd, p.r.o.nounce said Edmund Loris deprived of his episcopal rank and degraded from the fellowship and office of the priesthood throughout the land. We do further excommunicate the said Edmund Loris and suspend and excommunicate all bishops claiming to owe him obedience, especially Creoda of Carbury and Judhael of Meara. Likewise do we excommunicate Caitrin of Meara, Sicard MacArdry, and Ithel of Meara, and bar them from all solace of Mother Church. Let no church of G.o.d be open to them, but let every sacred temple and sanctuary be shut against them...."

Squirming inwardly. Kelson sat back on his heels as the rite continued and made himself rest his chin quietly on his folded hands, unable to put from mind his own excommunication and the blind panic it had first evoked. He sensed a similar discomfiture in Morgan, kneeling motionless at his right, but outwardly the Deryni lord was as composed as always. He dared not try to read Dhugal.