A/N: I have no idea if the latin I've used for the title is correct - but it sounds awesome, so there we are...
And some gaps in Rich's knowledge are shortly to be filled in!
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fratres in Armis
Peter carefully adjusts the formal robes as he sets them about my shoulders, while I check my appearance in a looking glass. When I departed England, I never imagined that such at thing as this would happen. I saw myself as a mere teacher, rather than a man granted the title of 'Magister' and revered as the equal of the Grand Master of the Order of the Silver Swords. Perhaps I assumed that Cromwell would achieve such heights - even if I never saw that for myself; but to know that he has indeed done so is still sinking in. If I am astonished at this outcome, then I cannot imagine how Cromwell himself must be feeling.
I have not seen him since we broke our fast two days back - and he broke the news to the students, for he has been in seclusion with that Secretary, who I now remember is called Eduardo, since that time. There is much for him to learn, it appears, as the Order is steeped in tradition and custom - but also the most remarkably small things - such as the requirement for him to say Grace before each meal in three languages: Latin, Hebrew and Arabic - a tongue of which we know nothing in England at all.
Eduardo did visit me this morning, however, to give me a letter, which now rests upon the table before me.
My dear Richie
Forgive my failure to visit you over the last few days; it is the custom that, following his announcement of the passing of his predecessor, the High that Shall Be goes into seclusion until his investiture. There is much for me to learn - things that are the sole knowledge of the High and his Secretary, and no other - and I have a scant three days to learn them. I do not think that I shall be overly challenged by such a task, for my memory is as good as it has always been; but I miss your counsel and support as I take my first steps into a new world. I think, now, that I understand more the leap into the dark that stretched before you when you agreed to leave England and travel at my side.
The High that Was left no spoken instructions, but he was a man of wisdom and great foresight, and set down his requirements in writing a few weeks after our arrival. He has set out instructions for the investiture of his successor, and has decreed that you shall play a part in what is to come - for you are the equal of the one who is to be invested, and he believed that no Silver Sword should think a Second to be less than he. His instructions are in the paper that accompanies my letter. Mark them well, for there shall be no opportunity for either of us to undertake any form of rehearsal. We shall be guided by Eduardo, and Father Fischer; and hope and pray that we make no mistakes.
I think it likely that you foresaw such an honour for me - even if Shadowsight did not forewarn you; though I must confess that I saw it not. Perhaps you think me dishonest in such a claim - but it was never my expectation or plan to return here with the aim of becoming Grand Master. I watched you receive that honour, and rejoiced for you - considering it a just reward for all that you have become, and all that you have endured and overcome - but I never thought to seek such an honour for myself.
It is my intention that we shall sup together at the first opportunity after the investiture is over, and that we shall work together as we have always done - no longer Silver Sword and Second, but as absolute equals. As the High that Was has determined, the time for seeing Seconds as mere helpers is done. You have proved the need for that more than any - and so we shall ensure that all know of the work of Seconds, whether they enter the Courts or not.
You shall see from the note that you must present yourself in your formal attire in the Great Hall a quarter hour before the seventh after noon this day. Father Fischer shall direct you upon where you shall be seated, and answer any questions you have over what you must do. I shall see you then - and I ask you to pray for my foolish, quavering heart - for I look upon what is to come with equal excitement and dread. Excitement at the opportunity to bring forth young men who are equal to the task of protecting this world from infernal horrors, and dread at the prospect of doing so also. Most contrary, I fear!
I think it right to tell you that I could not have achieved this without you, my friend. Your companionship, friendship and trust has supported me as equally as the knowledge that you have uncovered to aid me. For that, I shall always be grateful - and I hope that we shall continue to stand together until God calls us home.
I shall see you this evening - and we shall take our first steps together into a new world. Another one. Are there any more left for us to discover, other than that last, great undiscovered realm? Perhaps - perhaps not. But with you at my side, Richie, I shall be more than ready to face them.
Yours ever,
Thomas.
"I think you are prepared, Magister." Peter says, brushing a last strand of errant thread from one of my sleeves. He turns then at the sound of a knock upon the door, "I think your escort is here."
"Then we are finished not a moment too soon." I agree, half cheerful, half fearful. I have no idea what is to come other than the written instructions - which I have now committed to memory as best I can. One of the Masters is without, dressed in his formal robes of black with silver piping, and he bows courteously as I emerge, "Follow me, Magister. Father Fischer is awaiting you."
When I arrive at the Great Hall, the enormous space is empty but for the Chaplain, who is conversing genially with Rabbi Crescas and Imam Amrani. It is strange to see them so - for I am used to an atmosphere of religious strife; but, as the ability to sense ichor is not restricted exclusively to those of the Christian faith, neither is the pastoral care extended to the students. All three men are learned and kindly - and I have found them all to be equally helpful to me on the rare occasions when I have been struck by my bad memories, but Cromwell has not been free to come to me.
All of them attend an investiture - but the leader of the ceremony is the one who shares the faith of the High that Shall Be. Today it shall be Fischer - but the Grand Master prior to Vaqué was Jewish, so Rabbi Crescas oversaw his investiture.
"Be seated, Magister," Fischer smiles, indicating a finely upholstered chair on the dais - which has been cleared of the usual trestles. It is to the right of another, which is of equal decoration and height. I was not obliged to undertake much in the way of ceremony when Vaqué granted me my robes - but that shall not be the case with Cromwell. Though I think that much of the ceremony that involves me shall be to replace that lack of a formal confirmation of my state.
Fischer departs, and the rest of the Masters are drifting in, each bowing formally to me in turn before seating themselves in the ranks of chairs either side. Six to the right, and six to the left - though one shall be empty now, for its occupant shall be vacating it to sit beside me.
As they do so, I remain astonished that they show no resentment at being required to bow to a Second. While Cromwell has stated his intent to ensure that the term 'second' is used in name only, I have never been able to think of myself in any other way - and I am still attempting to accept that I am truly the equal of a Silver Sword. But we Seconds are vital - without us, our Silver Swords are blind, and who else can they turn to when their burden becomes too heavy?
I am interrupted from my musings by the sound of the students filing in. We are all seated - but they remain standing as they reach the benches upon which they shall sit in due course. As there is - at present - no invested Grand Master, the one who once presided over the students was the eldest of the Praeceptors; but now it is to be me, for I am a Grand Master.
I have never been so nervous in all of my life.
While I have no words to speak, for that shall be the work of Fischer, Vaqué determined before he passed that it would be the role of a Grand Master to set the robes upon another. As he set my robes upon me, so I shall do the same for Cromwell. It seems so strange to me - for I have always been in his shadow, and willingly so. For this brief time, I am greater than he, and I am unused to such a thing as this.
The door at the rear of the hall opens, and Fischer returns, Cromwell in his wake. As he has done since we arrived here, he wears that black, floor length tunic, but the robes that shall be granted to him are here, beside me. They have been made specifically for him, as those worn by Vaqué are now dressing his body - awaiting burial tomorrow.
The words of the ceremony are in Latin, regardless of the faith of the new Grand Master, and are clearly of great antiquity, as befits the age of the Order. Cromwell swears to uphold the values of the Order, to protect mankind from the cruelty of demon-kind, and to serve the Masters and Students to the best of his ability. Throughout, it is made clear that the Grand Master is as much a servant as a master, and there is no mistaking his sincerity as he speaks those ancient words.
Fischer calls upon God to bless the new Grand Master, and support him in his first days of his new responsibility. This done, the Chaplain turns to me, and I step forth with the grand, red robes. Amrani assists me in setting them about Cromwell's shoulders, but he seems quite at ease, and I am hard put not to snort with laughter when he winks at me as I carefully arrange the draping at the front.
He turns to the assembled students, as they sit - their collective descent to the benches causing a remarkable rumbling and scraping sound of bench legs. Now that he is invested as Grand Master, he must address the assembly for the first time; though he is not obliged to do so in Latin, for the tradition is that a Grand Master makes this address in his mother tongue.
The first thing he does, however, seems to be quite unprecedented, as he bows to the young men before him, "I am your humble servant, and I thank you this great honour. I am used to service, and I shall continue to serve the Order as I once served Kings - with my fullest determination and all the skill at my command.
"The world in which we live is changing, as men of lesser means become more able to stand with those of high estate; for those who see their privileges undermined shall fight against it, and what demon would allow such an opportunity to pass by? You are at the forefront of a great war that has been fought since the first of the Crusades - and shall not end until our Lord returns. It is my task to stand with you, and with my fellow Masters, against that darkness. All of you know of all that I have done - and perhaps it might seem that no demon could rise against man again; but that is not so. You are as vital to the work of the Order as any other who has walked these halls, and I swear to you that I shall do all that I can to prove myself worthy of your faith in me."
Then he turns, and stretches out his hand to me, calling me forth to stand beside him, and I am embarrassed once more as he directs those present to turn their applause as much in my direction as his. But it is done - Cromwell is now the Grand Master of the Order of the Silver swords - and, as I have done these ten years past, I stand beside him.
It comes as no surprise to me that the first change that Cromwell institutes is that we dine together every day. While I sup with my masters and students in the evening, as he does with his, it seems important to him that some things that have been at the core of our time together remain intact.
"I want to ensure that the work of the High that Was in teaching the young men of the Order the value of Seconds continues and is improved." He says as Bernhard, his new manservant, serves us slices carved from an excellent haunch of venison, "But I am wondering if it might be worthwhile establishing a new rank of Second to work out of the Dovecotes and support the Itinerants, for they have always been obliged to rely upon the spies to aid them. While they have always offered the very best of their service, they have other tasks to perform."
Given the progress of the young men under my care, the same thought had been upon my mind for some considerable time, though I had not been sure of the best means to broach it, "Speaking with honesty, Tom, I would agree with you wholeheartedly. The men of the universities sent us a company of excellent minds and, while some are certainly well suited to work as Court Seconds, others would be equally useful as Seconds - but there are no Courts to which I could dispatch them. Only two show a keenness to become archivists."
He smiles, "Are you sure that that is not thanks to your reputation as a swordsman at my side?"
"I am not entirely sure;" I admit, "though I take great pains to remind them that my adventuring at your side was always the exception to the life of a Second, and not the rule. Nonetheless, they value the weapons and combat training that they receive - and those who I think are most likely to enter Courts could well be most able should they be called upon to defend themselves from a ravener."
I look up, and I realise that he is looking at me again, "And what of you?" he asks.
He is not blind - he can see that my eyes are shadowed again, and he has been obliged to come to my presence twice in the last few weeks as my horrors have felled me. I cannot fathom how it is that, of all the unpleasant experiences I have endured in my life, this one remains so strongly tied to me - but then, nothing that came before it ever touched the depths to which I was dragged by Leraje and those who served him. They hurt and humiliated me to a degree that I had never known before - dressed only in that vile smock that grew more and more foul as the days passed, and that ghastly sense of vulnerability as it was removed to bare my back for the lash. I recall how my experiences with Zaebos haunted me for nearly a year after we destroyed him - until I confronted those memories and set them aside in the midst of a far greater enterprise. Perhaps I have a predisposition to brood over painful experiences - for even now, though the best part of a year has passed since I was freed from that stake, I still do so.
"I think it seems closer today, for a year has passed since it happened." I admit, "Of all the vile things that were done to me, the worst was that dreadful violation of my mind - and I wonder if that is why I still find myself struck by the memories of it. I have endured violence against my body more than once - and though I am marked by the remnants of the wounds, they have healed. But my mind? That is another matter - for it had never occurred to me that such a thing could happen; and, for a time, I was convinced that I was going mad."
He rests his hand upon my arm, his eyes sympathetic. Even his worst experiences as a Silver Sword cannot touch what I have suffered, but I am sure that the reason for my relapse is purely the time of year, so I make myself smile at him, "Thank you for your concern - it is truly appreciated; but I think that, now that a year has passed, that sense of fear shall begin to recede more thoroughly. Besides, as we have so much to do, I think I shall be too busy to brood upon it."
"That is my intention." Cromwell agrees, reaching for his claret, "I have already asked the spies to send through reports of their observations of the common folk in the countries they serve. That class of men who have made their own fortunes is growing, and they shall demand a share of the power held by those of Landed wealth; and eventually those who have less still shall wish for theirs, too. I should rather we knew of it beforehand, than be obliged to counter a demonic response to an outbreak of political chaos."
"Do you anticipate resistance?" Given the traditions of the Order, I cannot help but wonder if the Masters might find Cromwell's reforms to be inappropriate.
"I think not - for most of the Masters have either served at Courts, or are well aware that we cannot ignore the changes that are becoming apparent. I noticed before the High that Was passed, that there were thoughts to move in such a direction as this - so I think I shall not be herding them, so much as leading them." He smiles, then, "Though, given that nearly a month has passed since I took up this calling, I think I am not so sure as I sound."
In the weeks since his investiture, Cromwell has certainly made a number of changes - particularly in relation to the completion of the final Trial. While no student has been foolish enough to attempt to emulate his feat of climbing the outside of the great Tower, he has emphasised that his behaviour was dangerous and extremely stupid - and, as it cost Joachim his life, any who attempt it henceforth shall fail the Trial.
He has also taken to meeting each student personally on a regular basis. Though he has not elaborated upon it to me, for its confidentiality is such that only the Grand Master is permitted to know it, the means that were set in place to ensure the silence of failed students is a spoken phrase that is imparted to the student prior to their departure. I had assumed - wrongly - that Cassandra had created this protection, but instead it has existed from the very day that the House accepted students for the first time, courtesy of a Jewish mystic who went on to become the first Grand Master. As soon as the gates are closed behind them, they forget the House, and all that they experienced there - and the gates are, to them, no more than the gates of a Seminary that they happen to be alongside as they decide that they should return to their home. Thus all students regard a summons to the chambers of the High with great trepidation, so he has decided to invite them into his outer parlour to discuss their progress several times a year, rather than reserve such a visit for one purpose alone. It is now that I learn how it was that the vile Campofregoso recalled the House despite his own failure: he departed in a state of high dudgeon without visiting the Grand Master - and thus never heard that final statement that would have kept us safe from him.
In addition, Cromwell visits my students each month to deliver a lecture about the life of a Court Silver Sword. While I can speak of the work of a Second, I have no such expertise; and I know from their wrapt expressions that Vermeulen, Bianchi and Durand are as enthralled as the boys. They are all learning well, though I think it shall be at least another year before they are ready to serve - and I intend for them to apprentice to the serving Second that they are to replace, as no amount of tuition can ever prepare one for the reality of our calling.
I think, now that I look upon it, that I have never been happier than I am now. I am respected, I serve an Order of men that works to protect all from the horrors of demon-kind, and I am still in partnership with the dearest friend I have ever known. It is likely that, had we not experienced that remarkable rejuvenation thanks to the light that emerged from the Jerusalem Chalice, I would be mourning Cromwell by now; but instead we continue to work together, and our Mission continues - albeit changed somewhat from our times of hunting in the Palaces of Henry's Court.
Agnes continues to write to me regularly, and her writing continues to improve in both tidiness and content. Her letters are always present amongst communications from Cecil, which keeps us apprised of matters in the English Court. Reports from across Europe speak of a true movement towards peace between nations, and I have never felt so assured that we are finally emerging from that hideous danger that came so close to destroying the world that we know.
That night, however, the dream that I have convinces me to think otherwise.
Cromwell's expression is grave as he watches my tremblings, "Fire? That must have been hard for you."
"Not so much for me, Tom - more for what it was burning. I saw the halls of the House aflame - with all who reside within locked inside. I saw the boys in flames - I saw you in flames…" I stop speaking, shuddering in horror.
"A warning from Shadowsight, I take it?"
"It can be nothing else."
"They cannot act without our preventing it - so now they intend to act against us directly."
I nod.
"Then it is as well that you and I have found ourselves here at a time when we are most needed. But for you, and your bond with your sword, we would know nothing of this."
"The risk is not amongst demons." I find words emerging from my mouth again - that has not happened in a long time, "Look to the Church."
Cromwell's eyes widen, "The Church is moving against us?"
"A charismatic voice, speaking against the faith-blind." And then it is gone again, "Forgive me, Tom. If I cannot articulate the danger specifically, Shadowsight speaks through me."
"I recall that from our fight against Eligos." Cromwell nods, "That makes sense, Richie: there is a newly appointed Cardinal recently arrived from Rome. The assessment amongst older and wiser heads is that he is both ambitious, and keen to accumulate fame and power, and what better way than to uncover a perceived nest of heretics?"
"Jews and Mohammedans within the walls of a Seminary." I add.
"I had thought that his ambition might be curbed by Archbishop Borromeo; for all his devotion to curbing the reformation, he remains devoted to his faith and appreciates the dangers that face mankind to the point that he knows of, and accepts, us. But it seems not."
"What is his name?" I ask, "If I know it, I can set Bianchi to work on making enquiries about him."
"Abramo Faraldo." Cromwell supplies, "He is Genoese, but there is little information about his background - his rise seems to have been remarkable."
"Perhaps he is highly talented?"
"It is stated that he is - but nonetheless his apparent keenness to make his mark is his true danger, and that is what we must take steps to counter. If there is a demon involved, I think it more than likely that it is taking advantage of his ambition and he knows nothing of it. If there is, and we can expose it, then there is hope that we shall check his ambition before it becomes too dangerous."
"To all; not just to us." I add.
I return to my study deep in thought. There is nothing in my mind that suggests infernal involvement - and indeed we were brought closest to our destruction not by a demon, but by politics. I know from my own experience that ambition to attain political greatness leaves much misery in its wake - for I was as guilty of it as any other when first I entered service to King Henry. Certainly there shall be an opening for demons to exploit should Faraldo succeed in his aim to 'cleanse' the seminary of 'heretics' - but the primary threat to us is the man himself. The consequences that shall follow shall be borne by others. He sees only glory as a destroyer of the unfaithful - and has not the first inkling that his first act shall likely cause men to curse his name for all time as they are crushed to nothing by the infernal forces that shall be free to rise unchecked. Our army may be small, but it is strong and knowledgeable - and that is our best defence.
Shadowsight remains mounted on the overmantel of my great fireplace, where a good fire is set to counter the growing chill as winter encroaches upon us. Bianchi is waiting for me, as I sent for him when I left Cromwell's study, and his expression is as grave as Cromwell's was when I tell him of the new threat that faces us.
"How strange that Cassandra's incantations to divert the Clergy from our doors have not quelled his intentions." He says, "He must be singularly ambitious if he has been able to overcome them."
"You do not think it to be the interference of an infernal power?"
"It could be - but we are often quick to blame a demon rather than seek a simpler explanation. Only God is truly omniscient - demons most certainly are not." He smiles, "Though I think it would not go amiss to dispatch an Itinerant into his presence."
"It would also be helpful to know more about this man." I add.
"I shall get to work upon it at once." Bianchi chuckles.
As he is now engaged elsewhere, it falls to me to take his classes. While I cannot hope to match him in knowledge, the young men that sit before me are always eager to hear stories of my life in the Court, and their enjoyment of my exploits is heartening. Today, however, my concern is to warn them of the dangers that they might face. Again, I have only my own experiences to use - but they are uncomfortably numerous, and I have taken time to learn of the fates of those of our calling who were felled in service.
Despite my intention, however, I am still unable to speak of my ordeal in Luzern, which remains unrelated. I justify my silence on the grounds that it occurred when I was no longer serving in a Court; and as none have seen the state of my back, and never shall, I am not at risk of unexpected questions. The fact that I was stabbed and left to die is unnerving enough for them, I think. Though I am careful to temper that with altogether more exciting tales of adventuring - for some of them seem to have gone quite pale.
Lessons done for the day, I return to Cromwell's study to discuss the matter further. Bianchi has not found it difficult to accumulate the information that we require, as he knows the right people to ask, and Cromwell peruses it with a mild frown, "There is nothing here to suggest anything other than straight ambition, Richie."
"That was my thought. While his rise was indeed fast, it was not abnormally so. He is of good family, with strong connections in the Church, and that has stood him in good stead to attain a degree of advancement that would - in other circumstances - appear almost impossibly quick."
"In some respects, his talent would appear to be incidental - his family connections would have raised him to this height regardless of ability." I do not hide my amused smile; even now, Cromwell struggles to hide his annoyance at the corruption that has infested the Church at the highest levels. Borromeo may live an austere life, but he is the exception - for most Cardinals seem to be hardly lacking in wealth and property. Wolsey was certainly proof of that rule.
"What shall we do next?" I ask.
"I think we should attend one of his sermons." Cromwell says, "If there is ichor present, then we shall know whether our challenge is political - or infernal, and political."
I have not left these walls since our arrival, and it has never occurred to me to do so. In some ways, I have come to rely upon a sense of safety that my enclosure supplies - and I find that the prospect of stepping back out into the world rather more unnerving than exciting. I do not need to look at him to know that Cromwell has noticed.
"I think it is something that you should do, Richie," he says kindly, "You have become too habituated to the protection of these walls - and that is not healthy."
"I know - but…" I almost cannot bear to admit it - for it sounds so womanish, "I am afraid to leave."
Once again, his hand is upon my arm, "I can do this alone - but I would not wish to: not without my faithful Second at my side. It would feel most wrong to me. You know as well as I that true courage is fear mastered, and you have always proved able to master your fears. One more fight?"
I look up at him, and see the faith in his eyes. Faith in me. Yes, I can do it. I can justify his faith…
"One more fight." I nod.
I have lived within the walls of the House for a scant few months - but already I have become so habituated to it that I have all but forgotten the crowded nature of the streets outside it. God, there are people everywhere, and I am quite convinced that they stare at me, even though the clothing I wear is no different from that of those about me. Indeed, it has been so long since I last wore clothing other than that long tunic that I feel rather strange.
We are making our way to the Church of St Nicholas - a small building tucked into the houses around it - a mile's walk from the House. I can see the grand stonework of the great Duomo - a building that I have not entered at any time - between the houses, but mostly I am keen to ensure that I am not left behind. Cromwell knows these streets - but I do not.
The mass is yet to begin, but the congregation is quite sizeable for so small a place. It seems that my sword was correct in its claim that this man is charismatic - why else would people abandon their work to crowd into this tiny church in the midst of a busy day? Certainly their eagerness as they await him suggests it.
I am gaining no sense of danger - which is comforting to me, for I have become most wary of large crowds since the Kyburg faction attempted to execute me in Luzern. Equally, Cromwell has given no indication that he senses ichor - but then he is yet to see the man that we have come to hear.
When he makes his entrance, dressed in the finest clothing as befits his exalted status, a strange moaning sound seems to emanate from those around me - as though all hunger for his words. That, in itself, is unnerving, for I am unused to such a degree of devotion; but nonetheless there is something about him - his relative youth, and an air of excessive devotion that only just stops short of outright fanaticism. No - this is not a man who would consort with demons. Far from it, in fact.
While I have become much more able to understand - and speak - the tongue spoken by the people of Milan, the speed at which Faraldo speaks is such that I cannot follow him. Cromwell, on the other hand, is clearly taking in every word - though his expression does not reflect the devotion of those around him. For my part, I am wondering whether I am attending Mass, or a political tirade; for I have not yet heard a single word of the Latin service - or any indication that it is to begin.
I do not risk asking Cromwell to aid me in understanding what is being said, for the use of another tongue in this febrile atmosphere would be highly dangerous. I have never been particularly perceptive - but even I can sense the shifting mood of the crowd - as though they are being driven to anger, and encouraged to act upon it. No - this man's danger is most certainly not as a mouthpiece for a demon; it is his own determination to engrave his name upon the consciousness of history. Perhaps he sees the adulation that Borromeo has attracted through his austere way of living, and wishes to surpass it.
But still - there is something that concerns me; for the crowd are hanging on to his every word to a remarkable degree - as though held in thrall. Surely he is not that arresting a speaker? Perhaps there is something here after all; something that is taking advantage of his audience…
Then Cromwell winces, sharply; his hand rising to his head as he squeezes his eyes shut. I know what that means - and it confirms that which is already a suspicion to me. A demon is present.
Fortunately, the crowd is now so wrapt that they seem not to notice as I guide Cromwell aside and we take refuge in a small chantry that is barely more than an alcove, "I can feel it too." I whisper, very softly, "It has just entered, I think - for my sense of the atmosphere changed at the moment you flinched."
"Can you identify it?" he asks, his voice no louder than mine.
"There is no name in my mind." I admit, "It may not be a demon of sufficient strength to warrant a name."
"It is still here; but I am becoming able to set the discomfort aside." He stands away from the wall that he had been leaning against, "I have only my poniards - I could not bring the swords without their being noticed."
"Then if we must fight, I shall call mine." I pause then, as he sets his hand upon my arm and grips it tightly, "What?"
"We are discovered."
Bemused, I turn, and realise that the entire company is now looking at us, their eyes hostile. For a moment, my legs tremble, and I am sure that my knees shall give way, for that hostility is so like the people of Luzern as I was forced to walk amongst them to the stake. But then, Faraldo calls out - though I still struggle to fathom what he says.
To my surprise, Cromwell stands taller, and steps forth. The crowd parts as he approaches them, for his expression is dangerously set, though calm. From what little I understood, I realise that the Cardinal has identified us as members of a House of Heretics, and has demanded that we face him.
I do not hesitate - while my bond with Shadowsight is strong, I need to have it in my hand to truly be able to see that which is hidden, and I mumble the summons just enough to be audible, but not to the point where they are understood. In an instant, the sword is in my hand, and I conceal it under my long cloak as I follow Cromwell out into the nave.
Yes - there it is. I can see it now. I have no idea what it is - but it seems almost like a ghost, wisps of mistiness curling about the Cardinal like a diaphanous veil that obscures his vision, and clouds his judgement. Now and again, a face emerges from that mist - and it is a most beautiful countenance. In that moment, the sword speaks to me again, and I know her name: Lilith.
No, he has not summoned her, nor is he possessed by her - for she does not take possession of men…what was that verse from Proverbs? I read somewhere that it referred to the night-owl…the Lilit…Lilith…
He is speaking again - but I cannot follow the speed of his words. The best guess that I can make is that he is accusing us of sheltering non-believers and Jews. He knows of the House - but then all the Cardinals do. The deception wrought upon him by that misty deceiver has caused him to see us as a danger, not a help. But she cannot deceive me - for I see all things. I have Shadowsight.
And she knows it.
When Cromwell replies, however, he does so at a slower speed, so that I can keep up, "You know nothing of what we are, or what we do. If you wish to know, then I am willing to show you - freely and without restraint."
Again, he speaks far too quickly - but I think I gain a few words that suggest he thinks that we shall take him and shut him away to prevent him from stopping our march of heresy. Oh, for God's sake - when will people stop being so foolish over faith?
Cromwell looks at me, and knows that I have been granted knowledge, "You can see it?"
I nod. I am not deceived, for my sword shows me all things. How, then can I enable all to see her? "Et pacti Dei sui oblita est inclinata est enim ad mortem domus eius et ad impios semitae ipsius. Omnes qui ingrediuntur ad eam non revertentur nec adprehendent semita vitae."
She stares at me now, her glorious features creasing into a dangerous snarl - for she knows that I have recognised her. From Cromwell's expression, he knows who she is, too; for he recognises that passage from Proverbs.
"For her house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto the dead. None that go unto her return again, neither take they hold of the paths of life."
I turn to look at Faraldo again, and his expression is no longer arrogant - for he is as familiar with that except from Proverbs as any - and he is equally aware of the belief that it refers to the demon Lilith.
"Even now, she is upon your shoulder, Eminence." He says.
I recognise his answer - though it is delivered in a trembling voice, "You lie!"
"Your words have attracted her, for she is vengeful - and she seeks to destroy those who stand in her way. The pact exists for a reason, Eminence. Those who come to us do so for what they can do, not the faith that they follow. She cannot harm you, or any other, for she has not the strength. Her power lies in deceit - for she has deceived you, and that deceit infects every word that you speak to those who gather to hear you. Do not let your pride and ambition bring you to disaster."
For a moment, I am convinced that he shall refuse to listen - for that has ever been the response we have received when faced with such a dilemma; but instead his expression becomes ever more unnerved.
"Hide no longer, Lilith!" I hope that they do not think that I am speaking a spell - for none of them understand Hebrew, "Show yourself - and then begone!"
I am not fool enough to think that she would obey me as a mere man - but the voice that speaks is not mine, and it has a power that I entirely lack. Whatever magics the smiths of those far-off Steppes wrought into my sword - they are sufficient to command her, and she must obey.
The wail she utters as she is forced into existence before the gathered throng is horrible - a howl of anger and dismay that she has been discovered. Yet again, the forces of demon-kind have attempted to strike at men, and the Raven and his Second have been present to counter it. I shall certainly ensure that the Archive records her actions, to ensure that we shall recognise it if she tries again in future times.
Now that all can see her, that strange sense of adulation falters almost in an instant - for the people who are gathered see something that they cannot believe to be real. My fear now is that there shall be a panic - and certainly there are a few screams amongst the crowd - but already Faraldo is seeing that it is incumbent upon him to act, for he has created this - and it is for him to end it.
"In the name of Christ, I abjure thee!" He says, firmly, angrily, "Begone demon! In Christ's name, begone!"
She shrieks, wildly, but the mistiness of her form begins to whirl about like charybdis, and in mere moments, she vanishes into nothing.
"Work with us, Eminence. Not against us." Cromwell says, quietly in the silence that follows, "For we are all intent upon the same thing - the protection of men from demon-kind. You have driven a demon from our midst - and thus you are with us in that great war."
Someone nearby calls out something that I do not catch, but he falls to his knees in grateful prayer. Around us, the relief and joy at their apparent deliverance causes others to do the same. Thank God they are looking to the cross on the altar, and the Cardinal standing before it - and no longer at us.
Faraldo is breathing quickly, but his expression is now not one of distrust or hatred - being instead one of astonishment at what he has done. He does not need to know that my exhortation was the order that she obeyed - but as the powers that we invoked came from much the same source, does that matter? People shall speak of a miracle at the Church of St Nicholas - where a Cardinal drove out a demon - and our anonymity shall be preserved.
The congregation are still upon their knees as we slip quietly away, and Faraldo has been both suitably chastened for his foolish challenge to the Pact that hides us, and renewed in his faith at his supposed casting-out of a demon.
"That was rather easier than I expected." Cromwell admits, sounding rather disappointed as we commence the mile-long walk back to the House.
"Indeed." I agree, "Perhaps it is as well, as you did not have your swords. And I was so hoping to hear them sing again."
"Forgive me, Richie." He says, with blatantly false contrition, "It was most remiss of me."
"Do you think that we are safe again?"
"I hope so. Small though that confrontation was, it seems to have drawn our wayward Cardinal back upon the right path again - and that is the best that we could have hoped for."
"I am glad I came with you." I add, "My nervousness was mitigated by the pleasure of the hunt - even if it was only to banish a cloud of mist."
"Fratres in Armis, Richie." He smiles, cheerfully, "Fratres in Armis."
'Brothers in arms'. Yes, very appropriate. How sad that I have given up my coat of arms to my son - I should very much like to have added that as a motto.