Michael Stackpole - Of Limited Loyalty

Vlad held up a hand. “Thank you, Caleb, but I think you should leave now.”

“Yes, Highness, as you wish.” Caleb bowed to the Prince and, as he headed for the door, turned back just long enough to stick his tongue out at Bumble.

Vlad waited for the doors to close behind him. “Bishop Bumble…”

“I thought, Highness, I honestly thought, we had an understanding, you and I. I thought I made my wishes clear. I shall be forced to write a letter to the Archbishop in Launston all about your conduct. You give me no choice.”

Vlad cocked his head. “I do not mean to sound impertinent or disrespectful, but are you truly that stupid?”

Bumble’s pig-eyes widened.

Vlad opened his hands, but let his shoulders slump a bit. “You made it very clear to me that I was to sign off on Fire’s being burned at the stake. Now, I ask you to consider Scripture. The Good Lord, once convicted by his own people, was brought before the Remian Provincial Governor, since only he had the authority to put a man to death.”

Bumble shook his head slowly. “And you wish to cast yourself as Pilate, and me as one of the High Priests. Do you think I am a fool?”

“No, because that scenario would cast Fire as our Savior. You know that I cannot do that, both because of the pressure you bring on me and because Colonel Rathfield was sent from Launston to deal with Fire’s having broken the law in establishing his settlements beyond chartered land. You have tried him for heresy. I called him here, clearly, to examine him on the matter of treason-a matter which you were not allowed to address at your trial.”

Bumble snorted. “Mr. Frost made that very clear.”

“And who do you think ordered Caleb Frost to raise that objection?”

The cleric folded his arms just over his ample belly. “You did?”

Vlad bowed his head. Though he was making things up as he went along, he felt safe. He already knew Bumble was steeped in the ways of conspiracy, and, therefore, would see conspiracy at the slightest provocation. Bumble’s vanity also blinded him, so as long as the Prince made certain that he’d only acted because Bumble had him under his thumb, Bumble would believe everything the Prince said. To disbelieve was to allow that Prince Vlad might not be under his control, and his ego would not entertain that possibility.

“You gave me no choice. There are those among Mystrians-Samuel Haste being a prime example-who would criticize me for using civil authority to punish a man for a crime against the Church. By calling Fire here, by examining him myself in the matter of law, and by having his defender here to corroborate and publish my version of the events that transpired, no one will be able to take issue with Fire’s fate. He would have been disrespectful and defiant, he would have been said to have cursed the Queen, and all would have thought it fortunate that we were not forced to spend money on a second trial, when one had been already held.

“I would also have you notice that Mr. Frost was willing to play his part-defying you even with no audience-because it bolsters the validity of his testimony about Fire in this regard.”

Bumble tapped a finger against his chin, his dark eyes flicking back and forth. “You are saying this was theatre.”

“It was politics played out as you demanded. Fire hates you, hates the Church, hates God; there are those who might support him at that. Having him hate the Queen, hate the law and hate me, there are some who would support him in that also. But few are those who will support him in all these things.”

Vlad’s heart pounded as Bumble silently considered all he’d said. The Prince knew he’d overplayed his hand when he commended Caleb for acting defiant without an audience, but Bumble had let that pass. Vlad just hoped the man had moved from seeing if everything made sense, to figuring out how he would use this new-found knowledge to his advantage.

Bumble’s chin came up. “You should have informed me that this is what you were doing.”

“I did not think you a good enough actor to manufacture outrage effectively.”

“You would be surprised, Highness, as to what emotions I can call upon when needs require.” The Bishop’s eyes tightened. “This afternoon, we shall pass sentence. I shall want him burned tomorrow.”

“Is that wise?”

“How do you mean?”

“If you announce the sentence this afternoon, with the execution to take place on Monday next, your declaration will be in time for the Gazette. Moreover, you will be able to preach a message from the pulpit on Sunday which will be heard by crowds swelling the town to watch the Steward burn. With that much advanced notice, you will have people in from Bounty and Lindenvale, or perhaps even down from Summerland and Queensland.”

“Up from Richlan, too.”

“Exactly.” The Prince nodded. “You want to send a message to all heretics, and I need to send the same to anyone who would defy the Crown. Monday next gives us that opportunity.”

Bumble slowly smiled, which tightened the Prince’s guts. “Yes, very good, you are right. Monday will be perfectly acceptable.

And you will put me through Hell before then. Though he had no idea what Bumble planned, Vlad smiled. “Monday, then. It shall be perfect.”

5 July 1767 St. Martin’s Cathedral, Temperance Temperance Bay, Mystria

Bishop Bumble climbed into the pulpit slowly, measuring his movements for their gravity. Prince Vlad had suggested that he could not have acted to display outrage when necessary. He still stung from having been blindsided by the Prince’s ploy. Though the Prince had claimed he did not want to portray himself as Pilate, the Bishop knew that many would see him that way. For his temerity at having tried his little game, Prince Vlad would have to pay.

Bumble grasped the top of the podium and gave himself a moment. He nodded toward Benjamin Beecher, and then turned and nodded to the Prince and his family. He let his gaze wander over the congregation. Vlad had been right about one thing: the delay had packed the Cathedral. Which is perfect for my performance.

“Presiding over a heresy trial is a terrible thing, my friends. Reverend Beecher, Bishops Harder and Southfield have been a comfort. At the times when I might have shrunk from the enormity of the situation, they supported me. Their clear-headed counsel kept me focused on one point. The reason for the trial was in the hopes that the defendant would see the error of his ways, would recant his heresy, and again join in communion with the Church.”

Bumble looked down, as if he needed a moment to let him get the better of his emotions. “I should like to thank Caleb Frost for accepting the challenge no one else would, of defending Ephraim Fox, even though Fox did not desire defense. Caleb’s objections reminded us that we had a grave responsibility to present all the evidence so there could be no doubt as to Fox’s involvement with heresy. It was hoped that Fox himself would realize how firmly he was caught, and this realization would be the catalyst for his repentance. Despite Caleb’s spirited defense, it was not.

“Even though the case against Ephraim Fox was so overwhelmingly strong, I hoped we would not be forced to pass down the sentence that we did. It is not an easy thing to condemn a man to death. To me, to my fellow judges, that sentence would not only rob him of his life, it would rob him of eternity. For if he died unrepentant, his soul would forever be consigned to the burning pits of Perdition. While we, my friends, will enjoy Paradise, he will only know unending torment.”

The Bishop passed a hand over his forehead. “Even before we passed sentence, I went and spoke with Prince Vladimir on this point. Only he could grant the punishment of death. He had just finished examining Ephraim Fox himself, and what I saw on the Prince’s face made my heart shrink. For even though I wished forgiveness for a man who denied and defied God, I saw the Prince was not disposed to grant leniency for crimes committed against the Crown. Though I expressed a wish that he use his power to commute the sentence to life imprisonment at Iron Mountain so that Ephraim Fox would have a chance to reconsider and be saved, the Prince was adamant that insults against the Crown could not go unpunished. And while he could have conducted his own trial, and ordered Fox’s execution on criminal grounds, he felt it just as well to save time and allow our sentence to stand.”