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long ago, even if he could find it Nor could he spare the time to look.
Stifling a yawn, Morgan took one final look around, waved a casual salute to the
feet of Saint Camber, then began crossing slowly back to camp. Tomorrow there
would be answers to many problems, when they confronted the Gwynedd Curia.
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r r
But for now, it had begun to rain again. Perhaps that would help him to sleep.
But for Paul de Gendas there would be no sleep tonight.
In the woods not many miles from where Morgan and Duncan slept, Paul peered
into the driving rain and slowed his mount to a walk as he approached the hidden
mountain camp of Warm de Grey. His lathered horse blew noisily, sending twin
plumes of steam into the cold night air. Paul, himself mud-bespattered and
soaked to the skin, swept off his peaked hat and sat taller in the saddle as he came
adjacent to the first guard-outposts.
The move was worth the extra effort. For the sentries with their hooded lanterns
would no sooner materialize out of the darkness to challenge than they would
recognize the rider and melt back into the shadows. Guttering torches ahead
showed the dim outlines of tents in the rain. And as Paul approached the first
tent at the perimeter of the camp, a young lad wearing the same falcon badge
Paul wore came running to take his horse, rubbing sleep from his eyes and
looking at the rider in puzzlement.
Paul nodded greeting as he slid shivering from hi? horse, and he scanned the area
of torchlight impatiently as he pulled his drenched and muddy cloak around him.
"Is Warm still about?" Paul asked, slicking wet hair out of his face before
replacing his hat.
An older man in high boots and hooded cloak had approached as Paul asked the
question, and he nodded gravely to Paul and signaled the boy to be off with the
weary horse.
"Warm is conferring, Paul. He asked not to be disturbed."
"Conferring?" Paul stripped off his soggy gloves and began moving along the
muddy path toward the center of camp. "With whom? Whoever it is, I think
Warm will want to hear what I've found out."
"Even at the risk of offending Archbishop Loris?" the older man asked, raising an
eyebrow and smiling with satisfaction as Paul turned to gape. "I think the good
archbishop is going to support our cause, Paul."
"Loris, here?"
Paul laughed unbelievingly, a grin splitting his rugged face from ear to ear, then
pummeled his companion enthusiastically on the back.
"My friend, you have no idea of the uncanny good fortune of this night. Now I
know Warm will welcome the news I bring!"
"You understand my position, then," Loris was saying. "Since Morgan has refused
to step down and recant his heresies, I am forced to consider Interdict."
"The action you propose is perfectly clear," Warm said coldly. "You will cut off
Corwyn from all solace of religion, doom untold souls to suffering and possible
eternal damnation without benefit of sacraments." He glanced at his folded
hands. "We are agreed that Morgan must be stopped, Archbishop, but I cannot
condone your methods."
Warin was seated on a small portable camp stool, a fur-lined amber robe pulled
loosely around him against the chill. In front of him, a well-tended fire blazed
brightly in the center of the tent, the only portion of the floor not covered by tan
ground cloths or nigs. Loris, his burgundy travel garb stained and damp from his
ride, sat in a leather folding chair to Warm's right the chair usually reserved for
the rebel leader himself. Behind Loris stood Monsignor Gorony in stark black
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clerical attire, hands hidden in the folds of his sleeves. He had only just returned
from his mission to Corwyn's bishop, and his face was inscrutable as he listened
to the exchange.
Warm intertwined long fingers and rested his forearms lightly against his knees,
then stared dourly at the rug beneath his slippered feet.
"Is there nothing I can say to dissuade you from this action, Your Excellency?"
Loris made a helpless gesture and shook his head solemnly. "'I have tried
everything I know, but his bishop, Tolliver, has not been cooperative. If he had
excommunicated Morgan as I asked him to, the present situation might have
been avoided. Now I must convene the Curia and "
He broke off as the tent flap was pulled aside to admit a travel-stained man
wearing the falcon badge on his muddy cloak. The man swept off his dripping hat
and saluted with right fist to chest, then nodded apologetically in the direction of
Loris and Gorony. Warm looked up distractedly and frowned as he recognized the
newcomer, but he got up immediately and crossed to the entryway where the
man was waiting.
"What is it, Paul?" Warm asked, running a hand through his already disheveled
hair and guiding Paul closer to the tent flap. "I told Michael I didn't want to be
disturbed while the archbishop was here."
"I don't think you'll mind this particular interruption when you hear the news,
Lord," Paul said, controlling a smile and instinctively keeping his voice low so
that Loris could not hear. "I saw Morgan on the road to Saint Torin's just before
dark. He and one companion made camp in the ruins of old Saint Neot's
monastery."
Warm grabbed Paul's shoulders and stared at him in amazement. "Are you
certain, man?" He was obviously excited, and his eyes gleamed as he searched
Paul's. "O my God, right into our hands!" he murmured almost to himself.
"It's my guess he's on his way to Dhassa, Lord," Paul grinned. "Perhaps a suitable
reception could be arranged."
Warin's eyes glittered as he whirled to face Loris. "Did you hear that, Excellency?
Morgan has been seen at Saint Neot's, on his way to Dhassa!"
"WhatI" Loris stood abruptly, his face livid with rage. "Morgan on his way to
Dhassa? We must stop him!"
Warm did not seem to hear, had begun pacing the carpeting agitatedly, his black
eyes gleaming in concentration.
"Do you hear me, Warin?" Loris repeated, staring at Warin strangely as the rebel
leader paced the tent. "This is some Deryni trick he has devised to deceive us. He
means to disrupt the Curia tomorrow. With his Deryni cunning, he may even be
able to convince some of my bishops of his innocence. I know he does not mean
to submit to my authority!"
Warin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips, and continued to pace.
"No, Excellency, I do not think he means to submit either. But neither is it my
intention to allow him to disrupt your Curia. Perhaps it is time we met face to
face, Morgan and I. Perhaps it is time to discover whose power is stronger his
accursed sorceries, or the might of the Lord. Paul," he turned back to the man in
the entryway, "you are to hand pick a group of about fifteen men to ride to St.
Torin's with me before dawn."
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"Yes, Lord." Paul bowed. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]