"Aye, now." Tuan's face darkened again; then he shrugged. "Well, no matter; for a priest, there's small choice between Abbot and King, in any event. Aye, if 'twere only a matter of granting him power of appointment, the form, why, let him have it! Since he hath already the substance."

"If 'twere all," Catharine echoed.

"There's more?" Rod could almost feel his ears p.r.i.c.k up. "You've got my attention, I conFESS."

"The traditional conflict between Church and Crown," Fess's voice murmured behind his ear, "revolved over two issues: secular justice versus ecclesiastical, specifically in the matter of sanctuary; and Church holding of vast tracts of tax-exempt land."

"Aye, and more difficult," Tuan said somberly. "He thinks we take too little care of the poor."

Well, it was rea.s.suring to know that even a computer could miss. "I'd scarcely call that a disaster."

"Would you not?" Catharine challenged. "He wishes us to cede all administration of charitable funds unto himself!"

Rod halted. Now, that was a Shetland of a different shade! "Oh. He only wants to take over a major portion of the national administration!"

"Only that." Tuan's irony was back. "And one that yields great support from the people."

"Possible beginnings of a move toward theocracy," Fess's voice murmured behind Rod's ear.

Rod ground his teeth, and hoped Fess would get the message. Some things, he didn't need to have explained to him! With a theocracy in the saddle, what chance was there for the growth of a democracy? "That point, I don't think you can yield on."

"I think not." Tuan looked relieved, and strengthened- and Catharine glowed.

Which was not necessarily a good thing.

"We are come." Tuan stopped before two huge, bra.s.s-bound, oaken doors. "Gird thy loins, Lord High Warlock."

A nice touch, Rod thought-reminding him that he ranked equally with the man they were about to confront.

The doors swung open, revealing an octagonal, carpeted room lit by great clerestory windows, hung with rich tapestries, with a tall bookcase filled with huge leather-bound volumes...

... and a stocky, brown-robed man whose gleaming bald pate was surrounded by a fringe of brown hair running around the back of his head from ear to ear. His face was round and rosy-cheeked, and shone as though it were varnished. It was a kind face, a face made to smile, which made it something of a shock to see it set in a truculent frown.

Tuan stepped into the room; Catharine and Rod followed. "Lord Abbot," the King declaimed, "may I present Rod Gailowgla.s.s, Lord High Warlock." * The Abbot didn't get up-after all, he was the First Estate, and Rod was the Second. His frown deepened, though he bobbed his head and muttered, "My lord. I know thee by repute."

"My lord." Rod bobbed his head in return, and kept his tone neutral. "Take my reputation with a grain of salt, if you will; my magic is white."

"I hear thy words," the Abbot acknowledged, "but every man must judge his fellows for himself."

"Of course." Determined to be a hard case, wasn't he? But that was it, of course -"determined." He had to work at it; it didn't come naturally.

"Majesties," the Abbot was saying, "I had thought my audience was with thy selves."

"As it is," Tuan said quickly. "But I trust thou wilt not object to Lord Gailowgla.s.s's presence; I find him a moderating influence."

The Abbot slipped for a second; relief washed over his face. Then it was gone, and the stern mask back in place; but Rod warmed to the man on the instant.

Apparently he didn't mind being made more moderate, as long as their Majesties were, too. It meant he was looking for a solution, not a surrender. Rod kept his eyes on the Abbot's chest.

The monk noticed. "Why starest thou at mine emblem?"

Rod started, then smiled as warmly as he could. "Your indulgence, Lord Abbot. It's simply that I've noticed that badge on every priest on Gramarye, but have never understood it. In fact, I find it unusual for a ca.s.sock to have a breast pocket; it's certainly not pictured so, in the histories."

The Abbot's eyes widened-he was concealing surprise. At what? Rod filed it, and went on. "But I can't imagine why a priest would wear a screwdriver in the breast pocket-that is what that little yellow handle is, isn't it?"

"Indeed so." The Abbot smiled as he slipped the tiny tool out of his pocket, and held it out for Rod to inspect-but his eyes were wary. " 'Tis only the badge of the Order of St. Vidicon of Cathode, nothing more."

"Yes, I see." Rod peered at the screwdriver, then sat down at Tuan's left. "But I can't understand why a monk would wear it."

The Abbot's smile wanned a little. "On a day when no grave matters await us, Lord Warlock, I will rejoice to tell thee the tale of our founder, St. Vidicon."

Rod c.o.c.ked a forefinger at him. "It's a date."

"Amen!"

And the ice was broken.

The Abbot laid both palms flat on the table. "Yet now, I fear, we must turn to weighty matters."

Rod felt the temperature lowering noticeably.

The Abbot drew a rolled parchment from his robe, and handed it to Tuan. "It is

with sorrow, and all respect, that I must present this pet.i.tion to Your Majesties."

Tuan accepted the parchment, and unrolled it between himself and Catharine.

The Queen glanced at it, and gasped in horror. She turned a thunderous face to the Abbot.

"Surely, Milord, thou canst not believe the Crown could countenance such

demands!"

The Abbot's jaw tightened, and he took a breath.

Rod plunged in. "Uh, how's that phrased, Your Majesty?"

" 'In respect of our obligations to the State and Your Majesties,' " Tuan read, "

'we strongly advise...' "

"Well, there you are." Rod sat back, waving a hand. "It's just advice, not demands."

The Abbot looked up at him, startled.

Catharine's lips tightened. "If the Crown feels the need of advice..."

"Uh, by your leave, Your Majesty." Rod sat forward again. "I fear I lack familiarity with the issues under discussion; could you read some more of it?"

" 'Primus,' " Tuan read, " 'we have painfully noted Your Majesties' encroachment upon the authority of Holy Mother Church in the matter of appointment of...' "

"I see. There, then, is the substance of the case." Rod leaned back, holding up a forefinger. "I beg your indulgence, Your Majesties; please excuse the interruption, but I believe we really should settle this issue at the outset. Authority would seem to be the problem. Now, the people need the Church, but also need a strong civil government; the difficulty is in making the two work together, is it not? For example..." Rod took a quick look at the parchment for form's sake, and plowed on. "For example, this item about administering of aid to the poor. What fault find you in the Crown's managment of such aid, my lord?"

"Why... in that..." Rod could almost hear the Abbot's mind shifting gears; he'd been all set for ahot debate about appointment of clergy. "Why, in that, quite plainly and simply, there is too little of it! That is the substance of it!"

"Ah." Rod nodded, with a commiserating glance at Tuan. "So we come down to money, so quickly."

They hadn't, but Tuan picked up a cue well. "Aye, so soon as that. We are giving all that the Crown can spare, Lord Abbot-and a bit more besides; we do not keep great state here, the Queen and I."

"I know thou dost not." The Abbot looked troubled. "And there is the cause of it. We do not feel we should eat off gold plate, if our people go hungry. Yet they do go in hunger, for there's simply not enough coin flowing to the Crown, for us to be able to channel back more than we do."

"Thou couldst levy greater taxes," the Abbot offered, half-heartedly.

Tuan shook his head. "Firstly, an' we did, the barons upon whom we levy it would simply wrench it out of their villeins, who are the same poor we speak of here; and secondly, because, if the barons did not, the villeins would rise in rebellion. No, Milord Abbot-the taxes are already as high as we may push them."

"For example," said Catharine sweetly, "thou thyself, Lord Abbot, would be first to protest if we levied a tax on all the vast lands of the Church!"

"And little would you gain thereby," the Abbot declared stiffly. "The Order's holdings are scarcely a fortieth part of thy whole kingdom!"

"Datum correct," Fess immediately hummed behind Rod's ear. And if Fess said it, it had to be right-statistics were his hobby.

But it struck Rod as anomalous, that a medieval administrator could be so accurate, without being able to consult the State's records.

"Many of thy barons hold more!" the Abbot went on. "And of our income from those lands, the bulk is already given out to the poor-so thou wouldst gain quite little by taxing us! Excepting, mayhap," he amended, "that thou mightest, thereby, take even more from the poor!"

"You see?" Rod threw up his hands. "The well's dry; you've said it yourself."

The Abbot looked up, startled, then realized that he had.

"And if both Church and State are already giving all they can," Rod pursued, "what more can we do?"

"Put the administration of what funds there are under one single exchequer," the Abbot said promptly; and Rod's stomach sank as he realized he'd lost the initiative. "Two whole trains of people are currently employed in the disbursing of these funds, and the upshot is, a village I know has two poorhouses, one a hospice of our Order, one paid by the Crown-and there are scarcely twenty souls who need either! Such doubling is costly. Moreover, if only one staff worked at this task, the others' pay could go to the poor-and since the Brothers of St. Vidicon do this work for only meager bed and board, a.s.suredly ours would be the less expensive staff to maintain!"

Rod sat, dumfounded. Of course, it waspossible that the Lord Abbot had hit on this idea by himself-but Rod doubted it.

"Subject refers to duplication of effort," Fess murmured behind his ear, "a concept in systems a.n.a.lysis. Such concepts are far too sophisticated for a medieval society. Off-planet influence must be suspected."

Or time-traveller influence. Who was sticking a finger in the Gramarye pie this time, Rod wondered-the future Anarchists, or the Totalitarians?

Probably the Anarchists; they tended to work on highly-placed officials. Though there was a proletarian issue here...

He'd paused too long. Catharine was saying, caustically, "Aye, leave an hundred or so loyal servants without employment, and their wives and families without bread! Thou wilt thus a.s.sure thyself of good custom at thine almshouses, Lord Abbot!"

The Lord Abbot's face reddened; it was time for Rod to get back in. "Surely neither system is perfect, Lord Abbot. But, with two operating, what the one misses, the other catches." Had he heard of redundancy? "For example, does the Church still divide its charity-money equally, between all the parishes?"

"Aye." The Abbot nodded, frowning. "That which the parish itself doth not raise."

"But parishes in Runnymede have a much greater propor-tion of desperately needy than the rural parishes," Rod explained.

The Abbot blinked, and stared, wide-eyed.

"I don't think the parish priests have even had time to notice it, they're so overworked." Rod was a great one for saving the other guy's face. "But the King's almshouses are there, giving these poor parishioners at least enough for bare subsistence. That's the advantage to having two systems- and the disadvantage to only having one. Who then would catch what the officers missed?"

He'd gone on long enough for the Abbot ^o recover. "There's some truth in that," he admitted. "But surely, if there are to be two systems, at least each one should be self-governing. Would it not work at its best that way?"

Rod glanced at the Queen and King. Catharine was considering it-and didn't seem disposed to commit herself.

"Aye," Tuan said slowly, "I confess there's reason to that."

"But mine cannot be so!" The Abbot slapped the^abletop and sat back with an

air of triumph, obviously pleased with himself for having gotten them back to

the topic they hadn't wanted to discuss-and with such a good case for it, too.

"No-it really can't, I suppose." As far as Rod was concerned, the timing was just right.

"Nay. While the Crown appoints priests to parishes, I cannot set the man I deem best for the task, to the doing of that task. Does this not lessen the excellence of this double-chain thou speakest of?"

"At least our appointments are better than those of the barons, whose choices obtained ere I was crowned," Catharine retorted; but her tone lacked vehemence.

"For which, I must thank Your Majesties." The Abbot inclined his head. "Yet is it not now time to take a further step on the upward road?"

"Mayhap," Tuan said judiciously, "though it's surely not to the Crown's advantage to lessen any further its hold over the roots of government..."