tongue,” he said, his eyes boring into Father Leopold’s. “You are speaking to the king.”
“And you are speaking to the Archbishop’s personal envoy,” said the priest, not budging an inch. “The envoy of one who answers to the High Father, to whom even kings must bow. I will not be threatened by the likes of you. And I will have this one in my custody.”
Thomas felt himself begin to tremble again and this time he couldn’t control it. I will not go back.
The king rose to his feet and stepped down. “We are aware of the Archbishop’s request, ” the emphasis on the last word was deliberate and unmistakable, “and we once more remind you, the students are ours . They are servants of the king, and answer only to the king’s law in all matters.”
“Then arrest him, in the name of the king’s law,” said Father Leopold. “Arrest him and hang him for witchcraft.”
“The king’s law requires proof,” said Sir Walter. “And you have provided none.”
“And until you do,” said the king, “no actions will be taken against Thomas. Or any of those who fought in Frostmire. By anyone. Under pain of my displeasure. Have I made myself clear?”
Father Leopold’s back grew straighter, as if the rod planted there had been pushed upward. “The Archbishop will not be swayed by threats.”
“Nor will I,” said the king. “And you may go and tell Culverton that. Now.”
Father Leopold bowed, though not low enough to be respectful. Alphonse’s bow was lower, and he smiled at Thomas when he came up. “I will look forward to seeing you again. Soon.”
The two men backed away, bowed again, turned and left. Thomas’s knees nearly buckled in relief. No one in the room spoke until Father Alphonse and Leopold stepped outside of the room and the door swung shut behind them.
“You did that very well, young man,” said the king.
Thomas swallowed. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
“Unlike you, Lord Henry,” said the king. “Must you fight with everyone?”
“It’s what I was raised to,” said Henry, blithely. “Please accept my apologies.”
“I would if I thought there was the slightest bit of sincerity in your words.” The king stepped back up on his dais and sat down again. “It was quite the mess in Frostmire. Though thankfully short.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Thomas and Henry together.
“The death of Duke Antonius was most unfortunate,” said Sir Walter. “As were the actions of his son, Richard. Who killed Richard?”
“Baron Goshawk,” said Thomas, wincing a bit. Richard had been Henry’s favourite brother, before the war. “With a throwing axe.”
“A nasty bit of business,” said the king.
Thomas remembered the axe slamming into Richard Antonius’s chest and suppressed a shudder. “Yes, your Majesty.”
“How do you feel your brother will be as Duke?” asked Sir Walter.
“Devious,” replied Henry. “And probably fair and decent to the common people.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “The ones he doesn’t flog for his amusement, anyway. John was always worrisome in that respect.”
“So I’ve heard,” said the king. “Now, Lord Henry, perhaps you could explain exactly why you lied to me about the nature of the events in Frostmire?”
The silence that followed that was so full of tension that is was practically visible, coiling around them like a snake squeezing its prey.
Henry swallowed, and then said, “Not so much lied as omitted details that would not be believed without proof.”
“The Archbishop believed them,” said the king. “Father Alphonse certainly believed them, to the point of being ready to torture them out of the pair of you. My spies came back with several stories that I was planning to ask you about in a more subtle way had the Archbishop not announced it to the entire city. So tell me, Lord Henry, was witchcraft used in Frostmire?”
Henry smiled. “No, your Majesty.”
“Then where do these stories of fire and fog
“And you are speaking to the Archbishop’s personal envoy,” said the priest, not budging an inch. “The envoy of one who answers to the High Father, to whom even kings must bow. I will not be threatened by the likes of you. And I will have this one in my custody.”
Thomas felt himself begin to tremble again and this time he couldn’t control it. I will not go back.
The king rose to his feet and stepped down. “We are aware of the Archbishop’s request, ” the emphasis on the last word was deliberate and unmistakable, “and we once more remind you, the students are ours . They are servants of the king, and answer only to the king’s law in all matters.”
“Then arrest him, in the name of the king’s law,” said Father Leopold. “Arrest him and hang him for witchcraft.”
“The king’s law requires proof,” said Sir Walter. “And you have provided none.”
“And until you do,” said the king, “no actions will be taken against Thomas. Or any of those who fought in Frostmire. By anyone. Under pain of my displeasure. Have I made myself clear?”
Father Leopold’s back grew straighter, as if the rod planted there had been pushed upward. “The Archbishop will not be swayed by threats.”
“Nor will I,” said the king. “And you may go and tell Culverton that. Now.”
Father Leopold bowed, though not low enough to be respectful. Alphonse’s bow was lower, and he smiled at Thomas when he came up. “I will look forward to seeing you again. Soon.”
The two men backed away, bowed again, turned and left. Thomas’s knees nearly buckled in relief. No one in the room spoke until Father Alphonse and Leopold stepped outside of the room and the door swung shut behind them.
“You did that very well, young man,” said the king.
Thomas swallowed. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
“Unlike you, Lord Henry,” said the king. “Must you fight with everyone?”
“It’s what I was raised to,” said Henry, blithely. “Please accept my apologies.”
“I would if I thought there was the slightest bit of sincerity in your words.” The king stepped back up on his dais and sat down again. “It was quite the mess in Frostmire. Though thankfully short.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Thomas and Henry together.
“The death of Duke Antonius was most unfortunate,” said Sir Walter. “As were the actions of his son, Richard. Who killed Richard?”
“Baron Goshawk,” said Thomas, wincing a bit. Richard had been Henry’s favourite brother, before the war. “With a throwing axe.”
“A nasty bit of business,” said the king.
Thomas remembered the axe slamming into Richard Antonius’s chest and suppressed a shudder. “Yes, your Majesty.”
“How do you feel your brother will be as Duke?” asked Sir Walter.
“Devious,” replied Henry. “And probably fair and decent to the common people.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “The ones he doesn’t flog for his amusement, anyway. John was always worrisome in that respect.”
“So I’ve heard,” said the king. “Now, Lord Henry, perhaps you could explain exactly why you lied to me about the nature of the events in Frostmire?”
The silence that followed that was so full of tension that is was practically visible, coiling around them like a snake squeezing its prey.
Henry swallowed, and then said, “Not so much lied as omitted details that would not be believed without proof.”
“The Archbishop believed them,” said the king. “Father Alphonse certainly believed them, to the point of being ready to torture them out of the pair of you. My spies came back with several stories that I was planning to ask you about in a more subtle way had the Archbishop not announced it to the entire city. So tell me, Lord Henry, was witchcraft used in Frostmire?”
Henry smiled. “No, your Majesty.”
“Then where do these stories of fire and fog
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