Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

Maria looked across to her grandfather with big eyes, confused into silence by the day’s events. I asked, “Would Lady Liberigo be available to see to her granddaughter?

He nodded, calling out, “Jericho!”

One of his assistants appeared at the door. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Take young Maria to my wife. See to it that she is never left unguarded, not for a single moment.”

Without question he came forward and took my daughter by the hand, gently leading her away. She looked to both Pedro and I with fear in her eyes. We both smiled and whispered encouragement.

Sef began to rise from his chair to follow his charge, but Lord Liberigo said, “No Sef, little Maria will be safe. You have other tasks to attend to.”

The big Fletman sank back into his seat, clearly uncomfortable at the parting.

At the sound of the shutting door, Lord Liberigo sighed. “The Church wants to interview you, Juvela, and they want to do it this evening. I can refuse them, but it makes you look guilty. Tell me, why shouldn’t I let them have their meeting?”

I shifted in my chair, but not half as much as Pedro. His irritation at being in the background showed. I said, “I’m concerned that they’ll simply brand me a witch and be done with it.”

Lord Liberigo didn’t even flinch at the mention of magic, he just asked, “And are you?”

I gasped at the question.

Where were Heinz Kurgar and his guildsmen to help me?

Pedro’s frustration boiled over, seeing him snap, “What’s all this fear of the Church? We’re dealing with cultists, it’s the Church who’s trained to deal with them. They’re here to help!”

His father frowned. “I believe Juvela is merely concerned that she’ll be caught up in the middle of their battle.”

I nodded.

He went on, “I’ve arranged a meeting. It’s to be held downstairs in one of the public rooms. We’ll all be present, myself representing the city, Heinz Kurgar for the Flet Guild, and Benefice Vassini for Krienta. The Church will get to ask its questions.

“Once done, we’ll pool our knowledge of what’s plaguing the city and together try and find a solution. I shan’t be encouraging witch burnings or the like.” He looked to me, his features softening to reveal a genuine affection. “As the Lord of this great city, I simply won’t allow it.”

Relief ran through me.

“But that meeting will happen, the messengers have already been sent.”

We went downstairs and entered the Chamber. It was from here that the Council of Merchant Princes ruled Ossard.

At the moment, the grand room with its panelled timber ceiling and wonderful wall murals showcasing the city’s history sat empty. The large room contained a twelve place round table at its centre, and hanging above were the colours of the city, its districts, guilds, and merchant houses.

Lord Liberigo pointed at four chairs. “Take a seat, they’ll be here soon.” He stopped me as I passed, looking deep into my eyes. “Juvela, consider carefully what you say. Legally I control Ossard and they can’t force you away, but if Vassini raises a mob I might not be able to save you.”

I nodded.

The door opened and Kurgar entered with three other guildsmen, leaving four seats for the Church. He looked across to me and smiled.

The room fell silent, something we left undisturbed.

Not long after, footsteps sounded at the main doors. We all turned in our seats and waited. The moment stretched on until they opened to reveal Benefice Vassini.

He walked in grandeur robed in white, with a wide band of golden silk about his generous waist. The silk’s colour matched the rich embroidery of his garment, the rings on his fat fingers, and also a small crown he wore upon his head. The Benefice moved with a stiff back, and an even stiffer sense of self-importance.

I couldn’t see this spoiled man ever working up a sweat, sobbing with sadness, or growing red with honest rage. He existed to be smug and exert control, something centred on the gold-topped staff of office he carried.

Behind him followed two senior priests and a monk of the Calbaro, a holy scholar. The priests came wrapped in embroidered white while the monk seemed much plainer, his grey robes only marked by a yarn belt.

The Benefice led them to their seats. Before he sat he hefted his staff, letting it drop with a sharp crack.

Led by Lord Liberigo, we all stood.

The Benefice spoke a prayer and then lowered himself into his seat.

When we were all sitting, Lord Liberigo said, “I welcome you all and ask you to respect each other and the peace of this place. No one here has special rights or is in any position to make demands. Let us solve the city’s problems, not add to them.”

Benefice Vassini ignored him, instead choosing to stare at me. I wondered; did he have any celestial talent? Was he sitting there searching my soul for some sign that I was the witch-wife of the Horned God and the source of all heresy?

The Calbaro monk spoke, his voice polite and almost fragile, “Please, if I may start, Lord Liberigo?”

Pedro’s father nodded.

“The city has seen eight kidnappings since dawn, leaving many frightened, especially after the very public happenings of this afternoon. That event, as the only witnessed kidnapping attempt, also gives us almost all of the little we know of the problem. For now we need to confirm what happened with those who were part of it, and ask why they were part of it.”

Lord Liberigo shrugged. “A fair question.”

Kurgar interjected, “Fair? Fair for whom? We would like to remind everyone here that there is a long history of antagonism on behalf of the Church towards the Flets of this city, a hostility that is not deserved.”

One of the priests shot back, “Nothing untoward has happened in years, and you’d do well to leave old wounds closed. We welcomed your people more warmly than most. You should be grateful…”

“Enough!” Lord Liberigo growled.

The monk said, “Please, let us get back to the question at hand.”

I sat not knowing what to say, but they all turned to me nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I began, “I saw a woman cradling her child in the crowd, she was in trouble and crying for help. It happened amidst the panic after the bells had tolled six. I ran to her aid. It was then that I saw a robed man…”

The Benefice bellowed, “Witch!”

My own voice died as his pronouncement rang out.

“Even now, the crowds call out your name! You have been claimed a servant of the saints, or more specifically, of a saint I’ve never heard of. You are a false prophet and a fool to think we’ll allow you to continue such a divine association!” the Benefice damned.

“I never claimed to be of Saint Santana, and had never heard of her until this afternoon.”

He scowled. “None have heard of her. We apprehended the man selling the relics and charms. He claims to be a Heletite missionary.”

Lord Liberigo asked, “You doubt him?”

The Benefice said, “It’s possible he’s genuine, but not likely. I’m suspicious of the timing. In a wealthy city of merchant princes beset by child stealing, now seems the ideal time to discover a saint of children and have a cartload of relics to sell. It’s not just that, but also the instructions given for ritual and prayer. If the monk is a fraud, he’s abusing our faith and a heretic. It cannot be allowed.”

Kurgar asked, “How can you not know if the saint is real?”

The Benefice narrowed his eyes, daring the Flet to find fault with his answer. “The Church of Baimiopia is a growing faith that is spread across Dormetia. It dominates the eight nations of the Heletian League and has great influence elsewhere, including in Burvoy, Evora, and even Fletland. Some of the missionaries working to establish the faith in those heathen lands discover locals who work selflessly for the greater good in spreading Krienta’s message. Such people who endure hardship to the point of death can be rewarded with sainthood. Word of such elevations can take years to be confirmed and circulated throughout all the provinces of the Church. It is not unheard of in such a situation for a saint to be well known at one end of our growing holy empire, yet unknown at the other. That is why I cannot discount the possibility that Saint Santana is real.”