The Harrowing of Gwynedd (25 page)

“Well, at least we have some of the best seats,” Rhys Michael observed, slipping to his knees on the other side of Alroy and craning his neck toward the altar area. “The ceremony's supposed to be really impressive. I suppose it is going to be crowded, though.”

Indeed, if only for reasons of logistics, Candlemas—which was also the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin—seemed particularly ill-suited for the institution of any new religious order, of whatever size. Not only was the day's usual liturgy considerably lengthened because of the feast itself, but the very process of blessing all the candles for the coming year was a formidable physical undertaking in its own right, requiring a fair amount of space and time. Javan doubted they would be out of here by noon. Hundreds of candles had been piled before the altar, boxes and baskets of them, from the tall, elegant brands used on the altar down to humble votive lights and the tapers for lighting all of them. Their honey-sweet fragrance filled the sanctuary and choir and drifted into the nave—a soothing scent, were it not for the fact that Javan knew his every reaction to be under scrutiny by watchers of a most critical disposition.

Murdoch, Tammaron, and their wives and children faced the princes across the choir, up behind the two rows of choir monks who would sing the day's responses. In the fourth and last row, returned from his wedding trip at last, Rhun of Horthness sat flanked by his bride of a few weeks and a dark-eyed girl someone had said was a daughter of a first marriage. The recently made Earl of Sheele seemed far more interested in fondling his new countess' shoulder than in watching what was about to occur, but Javan knew that the outward air of dissipation concealed a sharp intellect and awareness that missed very little. No, things would not be easier, now that Rhun was back.

Nor was the disposition of attendees on the king's side of the choir any more reassuring. The royal squires formed a buffer row immediately behind the princes, young Cathan Drummond now among them, but behind them knelt Manfred and his family, with little Michaela Drummond now among the attendants of Manfred's wife, the Lady Estellan. The parents of Cathan and Michaela were nowhere to be seen. A thinner and very sad-looking Richeldis MacLean, still wearing black for her dead sister, sat sandwiched between her future mother-in-law and her affianced husband, their marriage banns having been read for the first time the previous Sunday.

Javan saw little to hint at the day's double intention as the ritual began, though he sensed a large number of men standing quietly in the ambulatory aisle that ran behind the high altar. Dawn was still a faint glow behind the stained glass beyond as a splendidly vested Archbishop Hubert entered, attended by his auxiliary bishop, Ailin MacGregor, and several priests Javan did not recognize. Hubert's cope was a rich, stiff brocade of violet and gold, heavily embellished with gold bullion on orphreys and hood. MacGregor's was hardly less sumptuous. Even Hubert bowed more deeply under the weight of his vestments as he stood before the altar with its piles of candles and began to sing the day's opening prayers.

“
Dominus vobiscum
.”

“
Et cum spiritu tuo
,” the choir answered.

“
Oremus. Domine sancte, Pater omnipotens, aeterne Deus, qui omnia ex nihilo creasti
.…” Holy Lord, almighty Father, eternal God, who didst create all things out of nothing, and by thy command didst cause this liquid to become perfect wax through the work of bees.… we humbly beseech thee … graciously to bless and hallow these candles for the service of men.… Be pleased to grant that as these lights, kindled with visible fire, dispel the darkness of night, so may our hearts, enlightened by that invisible fire, the radiance of the Holy Spirit, be free from all blindness of sin.…

The prayers for blessing the candles were lengthy and threefold, and seemed interminable to Javan, dreading what would follow. When Hubert had finished singing, he sprinkled the candles three times with holy water while the choir sang the antiphon,
Asperges me
. Next, he censed the candles thrice. The pungent bite of the incense smoke mingled with and overpowered the honey scent as he finished, making Javan sneeze.

Silence for a few seconds, as Hubert handed off the thurible and temporarily changed places with MacGregor, who had taken up one of the large, blessed candles. The choir shifted to a new set of canticles and antiphons as MacGregor presented it to Hubert, who lit it from flint and tinder struck by a waiting deacon and then held the lit candle aloft in salute to the altar.

Then, when Hubert had given it to MacGregor, both received the other clergy in the order of their rank, to distribute candles to all. Each man knelt before Hubert to kiss the candle humbly and then the hand that gave it, before moving on to MacGregor, to light the candle from Hubert's original.

But they did not form up for the procession that should have come next. Instead, Hubert's clergy gathered to either side of his episcopal throne, bowing as he passed between them and took his place. His costly vestments bent stiffly around him as he sat, and the precious miter a chaplain placed on his head glittered like an earthly crown in the candlelight.

As a master of ceremonies came forward in a lesser cope, bearing a large scroll that dangled half a dozen seals pendant from as many different colored ribbons, two lines of priests in the most austere of black cassocks began to file into the choir from either end of the ambulatory aisle. They were led by a tall, lanky, barefooted man of about fifty, also all in black, who prostrated himself at Hubert's feet as his brethren knelt all around him, heads humbly bowed. Javan could not quite place the man, though he looked vaguely familiar, but there was no mistaking Fathers Lior and Burton among the kneeling others, even without the odd cinctures they had worn the last time Javan saw them.

The men remained kneeling, their incipient leader still stretched prostrate among them, as the master of ceremonies read out the charter.

“
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen. Salutem in Domine, omnes gentes
.…”

The document began innocuously enough, with the conventional Latin words one always expected of such formal documents. But after the introductory phrases, the text shifted to a vernacular translation, as if to ensure that there could be no mistaking the charter's intent.

“So, therefore, do we, Hubert John William Valerian MacInnis, Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd, in accordance with the recommendation and consent of our Council sitting in Ramos, authorize, institute, and found a new religious order, under our direct and especial patronage. And the name of this Order shall be the
Custodes Fidei
—the Guardians of the Faith—and its purpose shall be three-fold.

“First, so that the teachings of Holy Mother Church may be transmitted in accordance with holy writ and canon law, free from the taint of heresy, especially the heresy of the Deryni contagion, the Order shall have charge of all education whatsoever in this land—from infants' schools through universities and seminaries—under the direct supervision and execution of the Order's Chancellor General.

“Second, so that the purity of God's holy priesthood may be preserved, uncorrupted by the taint of Deryni magic, as set forth in the Statutes of Ramos, all examinations for entry into Holy Orders of whatsoever kind shall be conducted by members of the Order, who shall have all means at their discretion to ensure the good faith of candidates, even unto capital trial. To this end, all seminaries presently instituted for the training of priests or religious of any kind are hereby made over to the
Custodes Fidei
, and all ordinations to any clerical degree whatsoever are temporarily suspended, for a period not to exceed six months. During that time, the Order shall take such steps as are necessary to bring all such seminaries into accord with the new guidelines promulgated by the Council of Ramos, so that by Lammastide next, in the second year of the reign of our Lord King Alroy, an officially sanctioned series of approved seminaries may be duly reconstituted and the training of priests resumed, to the greater glory of God.

“Third, so that Holy Mother Church may once again have an honorable company of Christian Knights to defend her and do homage before Our Lord, to be His arm upon this land, we do institute a sub-order of Knights of the Most Holy Guardianship,
Equites Custodum Fidei
, who shall live under monastic rule and owe direct obedience to the Primate through their Grand Master and Vicar General.

“And as an especial sign of the favor of this Order in the eyes of the Crown, it has been the pleasure of the King's Grace to grant unto said
Custodes Fidei
a double cincture of Haldane crimson and gold, intertwined, in token of the Order's mandate to unify holy and secular law. And though all members of the Order shall wear black as a sign of humility and their death to secular concerns, their mantles shall be faced with Haldane crimson, lest anyone forget that the Order bears the special patronage of the Crown of Gwynedd.

“And the badge confirmed unto this Order shall be
gules
, a winged golden lion
sejant guardant
, its head ennobled with a halo, holding in its dexter paw an upraised sword, emblematic of the Or der's duty to maintain constant vigilance in defense of the Faith.…”

There was more of the proclamation, mostly pertaining to specific lands and houses being granted to the Order at its institution, but Javan hardly heard. Now he understood how the regents planned to enforce at least some of the restrictions the Council of Ramos had placed on Deryni, especially the ban on Deryni priests.

He watched numbly as the first members of the Order came forward to make their vows to the archbishop, Hubert raising up their leader first—Paulin of Ramos, who stepped down as Bishop of Stavenham to become the
Custodes'
first Vicar General, and who undoubtedly would continue to spearhead the council that shared his name. No wonder he had looked so familiar.

And now Paulin was giving up a bishop's miter to head the
Custodes
. Him the archbishop invested with a wide scarlet sash, tying over it the cincture plaited of Haldane scarlet and gold cords. The black mantle laid around his shoulders was wholly lined with scarlet, clasped with a pair of haloed lion heads at the throat, and bore a larger version of the haloed-lion badge appliqued over the left shoulder. His staff of office likewise bore the lion badge in three dimensions, and the thought crossed Javan's mind that the hand-high sword in the lion's paw was a lethal weapon, as was Paulin himself. Certainly, that Paulin had chosen to give away a bishop's miter for it bespoke much of the power the new Vicar General expected his order to wield in the future.

Following Paulin, his immediate subordinates made their vows and were installed. One Marcus Concannon became Chancellor General, in charge of the seminaries—a man well known as a Deryni hater as well as a scholastic. A tall, gaunt monk identified only as Brother Serafin became Inquisitor General. Javan shivered to hear Father Lior named as his assistant.

And as the Order's first Grand Master, to command the new ecclesiastical knights, Paulin named his brother, the former Earl of Tarleton, a widower-warrior of some prominence who had resigned his earldom to his teenaged son but a few days before, and now took the name Albertus in religion.

Then came the rank and file of the new Order. In addition to nearly four-score clergy, over a hundred fighting men took the vows of the
Custodes
that morning, promising poverty, chastity, and obedience in exchange for the accolade of an
Eques Custodum Fidei
, conferred by Grand Master Albertus. The professed brethren's plaited cincture of scarlet and gold became a cordon when worn about the left shoulders of the new ecclesiastical knights, and black surcoats bore a red moline cross charged with the haloed lion's head of the Order's device. The pristine white sash formerly used to denote knighthood among the Michaelines acquired scarlet fringes when bound about the waists of the new ecclesiastical knights. To Javan, the fringe evoked the imagery of blood dripping from the ends of the sashes, desecrating the very concept of chivalry. Nor did the swooping black mantles with their scarlet facings make the
Equites
look like anything other than birds of prey.

And the Order's lethal intent seemed only underlined by Hubert's next act, for he called all the newly vowed
Custodes
to kneel before him and there bestowed upon them the notorious Benediction of the Sword, which granted the recipient automatic forgiveness for malicide. In general terms, malicide had always been understood to mean any justifiable killing of the wicked. In practice, its use in the past had almost always been confined to times of war, when malicide was not only expected but encouraged. Giving the
Custodes
such a sanction in peacetime amounted to a license to murder Deryni, so far as Javan was concerned—for who better than the Deryni, in the regents' estimation, currently embodied the most prominent example of wickedness?

Unfortunately, Javan could do nothing to prevent it. And when he attempted to query Alroy about it, while the newly vowed and exonerated
Custodes
filed forward finally to receive their candles from the archbishop's hands, Alroy could not seem to understand why Javan should object. Nor could Rhys Michael, when Javan shifted his questioning to
him
—and the exchange brought a
shush
and a very stern look from Manfred, back behind the row of royal squires. The reprimand silenced Javan immediately, but it did not still the turmoil in his brain.

Hubert's triumph was not yet complete, either. For as the
Custodes
took up their candles, they went not to the ambulatory aisle whence they had come, but filed into the nave to line the center aisle. The ostensible reason was to provide a guard of honor, for when the morning's original ceremony resumed where it had been broken off to institute the new order, all laymen present, beginning with the king and his brothers, were expected to come forward as the clergy had done and receive
their
candles from the archbishop.