Warrior King, page 20
“But couldn’t the same be said of Deisenbach?”
“King Justinian doesn’t have a history of invading us.”
“Perhaps, but if the Church called upon him to assist in the crusade, would he heed the call?”
“That’s difficult to predict,” said Ludwig. “I’ve never met the fellow, but I have heard he’s more interested in wealth and entertainment than conquering.”
“Entertainment?”
“Yes. He’s said to enjoy jousting.”
“That’s common in the north, although I’m surprised a king would participate.”
“Oh, he doesn’t participate, merely spectates, but he’s said to have his favourites. I’m led to believe that attempting to gain his favour is a popular pastime amongst the contestants. Is it like that in the north?”
“Not in Reinwick. Erlingen is the Petty Kingdom credited with making tournaments so popular. You competed yourself, did you not?”
“I did,” replied Ludwig, “but only the once, and I ended up losing everything.”
“But that’s where you met Sig and Cyn, so it wasn’t a total loss.”
Ludwig smiled. “That’s right, I did. Perhaps, when this crisis is over, we’ll host a tournament here in Harlingen.”
“What a wonderful idea.”
“That’s assuming we still exist.”
“Don’t be so glum,” said Charlotte. “We will survive this.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because I have faith in you. I’ve believed in you since we first met, and I’ve yet to be disappointed. You will find a way through this conflict, even if it means defeating the entire Holy Army.”
A soft knock drew his attention. “Yes?”
“Temple Captain Hamelyn to see Your Majesties.”
“By all means, send him in.”
The door opened, allowing their visitor to enter.
“You bring news?” asked Ludwig.
“Indeed, Majesty, although I’m not quite certain where to begin.”
“According to Temple General Charlaine, your order has been instructed to disband. Perhaps you should start there?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, that is true. I came here to tell you we have no intention of laying down our arms, or becoming Temple Knights of Saint Cunar. I understand this puts you in a difficult position, so if you want us to leave your realm, we shall abide by your wishes.”
“Why would we want you to leave?”
“The Temple Knights of Saint Mathew are no longer sanctioned by the Church. Allowing us to continue to operate within Hadenfeld is a flagrant disregard of the Church’s laws.”
“The Antonine already branded us as unbelievers, my friend, and we’ve taken in close to five hundred Temple Knights of Saint Agnes. I doubt the presence of two companies of Mathewites could make the situation any worse.”
“I’m curious where you stand,” said Charlotte. “What of your superiors? Have they surrendered their positions of authority and joined the Cunars?”
“I cannot speak to the entire order, but I do know our regional commander in Deisenbach refused to dissolve the chapters under his command. Ultimately, that leaves the Temple Knights in Hadenfeld, Deisenbach, and Grislagen under the Temple Commander’s control.”
“And how many knights does that make?”
“I’m not entirely certain,” said Hamelyn. “We have two companies here in Hadenfeld, but last I heard, there is only one each in Deisenbach and Grislagen. The rift in the Church, however, particularly amongst the orders, has seen some of our brothers give up their oaths of service.”
“In other words,” said Ludwig, “your numbers are decreasing.”
“Quite the reverse, actually. Although some of our brethren chose not to fight the Antonine’s edicts, other, more dedicated souls, are making the long trek to the region seeking to join us where we are accepted.”
“And how are the Cunars taking this?”
“I think, to a large degree, they’re ignoring us. To their mind, the Temple Knights of Saint Mathew offer little in terms of a threat.”
“Yet your order fought in Arnsfeld, as well as Hadenfeld.”
“True, sire, but only in limited numbers. Regardless, the Temple Commander implored me to make our case before the two of you to discover your thoughts on the matter.”
“Your presence is always welcome,” said Charlotte.
“Agreed,” added Ludwig. “I recommend you keep your companies intact and remain here. If it’s a matter of funds, we can arrange to undertake the expense of housing and feeding you.”
“And what would we have to do in return?” asked Hamelyn.
“Help protect Hadenfeld.”
“I assume that means placing my men under the command of the Crown, but I’m not altogether certain that would be appropriate. I would, however, like to propose an alternate arrangement.”
“Go on.”
“If you’d allow it, I’d place my companies under the command of Temple General Charlaine.”
“She’s from a different order,” said Charlotte.
“True, but we’ve worked with our sister knights on many an occasion, and the Temple General is an experienced leader. Of all of us, she knows best how to employ Temple Knights in battle.”
“I have no objection,” said Ludwig.
“Nor do I,” added Charlotte. “Your proposal makes perfectly good sense, but you’d need to organize this with the Temple General.”
“Then I shall make arrangements to do so immediately.”
“Has your regional commander in Deisenbach heard anything of a Holy Army massing in that realm?”
“His last instructions indicated nothing of that nature, and considering his stance on defying the Antonine’s order to disband, he’d be on the lookout for any news like that.”
“Before you go,” said Ludwig. “Have you heard anything from Archprior Hywell?”
“I’m afraid not, Majesty. The conclave has been in full session for days on end, and my men have been specifically ordered not to enter the building while it’s in session.”
“And they say nothing when they leave each night?”
“That’s just it; they don’t leave at all. They’ve sequestered themselves in the Temple of Saint Mathew.”
“But they must eat, surely?”
“Food is brought to the door, but the Holy Fathers carry it inside. Even then, little is spoken, save for matters concerning the meals.”
“Out of curiosity,” said Charlotte, “how does this new arrangement of yours sit with those of Saint Mathew?”
“I’m not sure I follow?” said Hamelyn.
“If I’m not mistaken, your order’s grand master traditionally worked under the authority of the Patriarch of Saint Mathew. Now that you no longer have a grand master, who will your Temple Commander report to?”
“That, I’m told, is one of the many matters the conclave is considering. I’m afraid I have nothing else to report to you, Majesties, but should I hear of anything, I’d be pleased to pass it on to you.”
“Thank you,” said Ludwig. “That would be very much appreciated.”
* * *
Two days later, Archprior Hywell sat in the sunroom with the king, making small talk while shifting around in his seat, unable to settle.
Ludwig decided to get to the subject at hand. “Has your conclave concluded, Your Grace?”
“It has,” replied the archprior. “We discussed a great many things, particularly the matter of where we stand regarding the Antonine’s edicts.”
“And your conclusion?”
“The Church of the Saints has a long and storied history. For more than a thousand years, it’s provided spiritual guidance to those in need, fulfilling a critical role in the very fabric of the Petty Kingdoms. In the past, we’ve always expected moderation from those in charge. We have a saying amongst our order, or at least we did: ‘The bureaucracy of the Church moves slower than a snail.’ In many ways, this was both a weakness and a strength, for it allowed radical changes to be resisted with every fibre of its being. Unfortunately, this appears to no longer be the case.”
The archprior seemed to be struggling with what he’d come to say, but Ludwig remained silent, letting the fellow take his time.
“This is a most difficult decision, especially given that our finances are, by and large, controlled through the senior members of the Church. That is not to say we rely on them for the day-to-day operations of our temples, but any new construction or expenditure beyond that is only approved at the highest levels.”
“Are you not an archprior?” said Ludwig. “The only person higher in position is the patriarch of your order, surely?”
“Although I oversee all aspects of our religion here in Hadenfeld, my power stops at the border. While only the patriarch outranks me, the Antonine is filled with archpriors, each taking care of a particular aspect of the order, including finances. If we break from the Church, those funds would cease to be accessible to us.”
“But the donations you receive here would no longer be forwarded on to the Antonine.”
“Yes,” replied Hywell. “That point was brought up. We would suffer in the short term, but the general consensus is that our finances would be in a better state by this time next year. Until then, we’d have to weigh every expenditure carefully.”
“So you’ve decided to split from the Church?”
“We have. The decision was a difficult one and not, by any means, unanimous, although we did, at last, reach a consensus. Once that was decided, there were a host of new problems to deal with, beginning with how this Hadenfeld Church of Saint Mathew should operate.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“That the basic organization adopted by the Church of the Saints be maintained, although without a patriarch.”
“My understanding was that only the fighting orders were affected by the Antonine’s orders.”
“Yes, but then we were ordered to cease administering religious services, a direct result, we were informed, of your refusal to permit a Cunar commandery in Hadenfeld. We felt the Council of Peers had overstepped its authority. Branding you a heretic for denying their request is a grave injustice, one which we cannot let stand. The result of all of this is that we will continue to conduct ceremonies in the name of our blessed Saint as we have for centuries.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” said Ludwig, “although I must warn you that if the Holy Army succeeds in defeating us, it may well cost you your livelihood, possibly even your heads.”
“That topic also came up at the conclave,” said Archprior Hywell.
“And?”
“We’d be poor servants of Saint Mathew if we did not stand up for what we believe in. We’ve formed a new council to make decisions. I will be the chief arbiter, but the decisions shall be made by the priors and Holy Fathers of the realm.”
“How do you plan to accomplish that? You can’t have every Holy Father travel to Harlingen each time a decision needs to be made.”
“True, but experience tells us very few decisions must be rushed in such a matter. In the meantime, votes can be tallied by gaining a consensus through correspondence.”
“Voting by letters?” said Ludwig. “An ingenious solution, although I fear it makes debate more difficult.”
“Some might say it makes things easier. The written word can be so much more expressive than a council hall, where emotions get the better of people. Putting ink to paper requires much more thought.”
“You make a good point.”
“Thank you. It will take time to set things in motion, but I feel it’s the best option going forward.” He paused briefly. “Having said that, I should stress we are committed to this endeavour, even if the Antonine should change its mind. We are now the Hadenfeld Church of Saint Mathew, and our links to the old Church of the Saints are irrevocably broken.”
“Have you heard anything from the archprioress?”
“Their conclave is still in session, but I suspect they will arrive at a similar conclusion. They won’t abandon the Temple Knights of Saint Agnes, and between you and me, they were given scant attention from the Antonine.”
“Why is that?” asked Ludwig.
“When it came to the fighting orders, the Cunars always received the most attention. They were, after all, the pre-eminent fighting order of the Continent, or at least they were supposed to be.”
“Yes, but the archprioress isn’t a Temple Knight.”
“While that’s true, their order worked very closely with the sister knights. They also had the disadvantage of under-representation. You see, the Council of Peers consists of the patriarch of each Saint, or the matriarch in the Agnesite’s case. The Antonine is, in essence, a court of sorts, with each member vying for a share of the resources. As the lone woman on the council, the Matriarch of Saint Agnes was already facing an uphill battle.”
“I assume what they collected went into the Antonine’s coffers?”
“Indeed,” said Archprior Hywell, “and funds were seldom returned for the construction of new temples. If anything, they’ll be much better off now. As an independent church, they will keep all the donations they receive.”
“Do you think this decision by the Antonine will have far-reaching consequences beyond Hadenfeld?”
“Their decision concerning the fighting orders certainly will, but I’m afraid Hadenfeld is another matter entirely. I hate to admit it, but the Petty Kingdoms typically turn their backs when their neighbours are in trouble, and few would be willing to defy the Church under any circumstances. Even as we speak, Temple Knights are being instructed to leave realms across the Continent. Not all, mind you, especially those where the orders served in the best interest of those in charge.”
“Have you any specific kingdoms in mind?”
“I can’t imagine Arnsfeld kicking them out, can you? Not after they quite literally saved the kingdom, and Reinwick, I’m told, is in a similar state. However, both those kingdoms are some distance from the Antonine; I suspect those closer would be more inclined to follow the orders of the Primus.”
“You say Primus,” said Ludwig, “but isn’t the Council of Peers responsible for such things?”
“In theory, yes, but Primus Wilmar appears to have solid control over the patriarchs. They say he was a Cunar Temple Knight, a most unusual situation.”
“Father Vernan told me that’s rare.”
“Rare? Why, it’s singular. Never before has a member of the fighting orders been chosen as a Primus.” Hywell shook his head. “No, I must be more precise. There was one, a Mathewite to be exact, but he was invalided out of the Temple Knights due to an injury and became a Holy Father instead. He eventually became an archprior, which led to him being named Primus, but that was many years later.”
“Was he an effective Primus?”
“Unfortunately, we never got a chance to find out. He died shortly after taking office, a victim of his advanced years. A pity, really, particularly considering his work with our missions across the Petty Kingdoms.”
The archprior stared at the fireplace and sighed. “We live in difficult times, Majesty. This situation would try the patience of Saint Mathew himself were he here to witness it, but you are handling it with grace and humility. That marks you as a rare individual.”
“I thank Your Grace for your kind words,” said Ludwig, “but I had little choice in the matter. A king who subordinates himself to a higher authority puts himself at risk of becoming a vassal.”
“That sounds like a quote, though I daresay it’s not from the Book of Saint Mathew.”
“It’s attributed to The Campaigns of Aeldred. I haven’t read it myself, but since becoming king, I’ve taken to reading anything about leadership I can find, and they all make reference to it. I must admit I find it strange that people who hate the Old Kingdom so much seem to savour the words of its founder.”
“The Campaigns of Aeldred, you say? Were you aware that book is required reading for some of the fighting orders?”
“I was not,” said Ludwig. “Does that mean Temple Captain Hamelyn might possess a copy?”
“I doubt it. That’s usually reserved for Temple Commanders, but you should talk to Temple General Charlaine. She’d likely have one, provided, of course, she was able to bring it out of the Antonine with her.”
“I shall be sure to ask next time I see her.”
20
Demands
Autumn 1107 SR
Ludwig was placing the saddle on his horse when he saw Charlotte enter the stables. “Come to see me off to Eisen? We already said our goodbyes.”
“There’s been a development. One that requires your immediate attention.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Temple Commander Amarand has returned under a flag of truce.”
“To what end?”
“Perhaps we’d best go and find out?”
Ludwig removed the saddle, handing it off to a stable hand. “I shall delay my trip till we’ve dealt with this fellow.”
They made their way towards the great hall. “Any idea what he’s here for?” he asked.
“None whatsoever, but his coming in person indicates it's important. Cunars are not ones to go anywhere under a flag of truce.”
“He wants something.”
“Agreed, but what? Does he still expect us to bow to the Church when we’ve told him in no uncertain terms his demands are unacceptable?”
They entered the great hall, taking their seats on the twin thrones of Hadenfeld. A nearby guard waited, and with a nod from Ludwig, opened the door. Outside, stood Captain Gustavo and six men, the familiar form of Temple Commander Amarand in their midst.
They entered, but rather than the guards splitting off to either side, Gustavo kept them ringed around the Cunar.
“Majesties,” said their visitor. “I bring you greetings in the name of the Primus.”
“Indeed?” replied Ludwig. “I’m surprised to see you here, Temple Commander, especially considering the matter we discussed on your last visit.”
