Chapter 13
"Love"
Abiron looked for the source of the word, and fell in love.
This had never happened before. He loved his mother-wife, of course, but he had loved her since before he was born. He had never fallen in love before.
And this, said the small, rational part of his brain that remained functioning, was someone worth falling in love with indeed. She stood slightly behind Brother Ulf, and outshone him as the summer sun outshines a sullen fire. She wore a wool habit, severe in shape, belted at the waist. Her feet were unshod, and her white feet whispered across the stone flags of the floor as she made her way towards the two contestants. Her hair, hacked severely short about her shoulders, gleamed with fallow gold. Her body was hidden by her habit, but her upright carriage and confident stride made him confident it was as lovely as her face, which, although set in determined lines, lost none of its sweet beauty to his gaze. Behind her stood two others. One plainly dressed in the fashion of Ulf, one in the finery of Rome. He paid them no mind. His eyes were locked on her.
"My lady Angela," said Hannah, acknowledging her with a nod. "Be welcome. I wondered when I would find a sparring partner," she said, with a withering glance at Ulf, "more worthy of my skill."
"I am only a servant of my Lord," said Angela, and Abiron's knees nearly buckled with the force of his desire, "but I am here to defend Him nonetheless. Not that He needs defending from the likes of you." she said bitterly.
"You speak of love, Sister Angela. Tell me. What love can your Christ offer that is greater than that of the Deity I worship?"
"Love beyond death."
At this, Hannah faltered. For the first time, doubt entered her gaze. Sister Angela saw this, and pressed her attack. "He loved you, He loved me, He loved all of us so much, that He not only took on your sins and allowed His earthly form to die, but He came back to us. Did your Deity, can any other god claim this? He let himself to be put to death, and returned to those who did not halt it, forgiving their cowardice and assuring them they they still rested secure in His divine love. And He allows us to worship him and promises a place at His table when we die.
"Come, my brothers. We have nothing more to say here. Let us take up this debate again, when there are more willing ears to hear." With this, Angela waked away. Casting a malevolent gaze at Hannah, Ulf followed her. The two other men paused for a moment. One approached their group.
"My lady Queen,". It was the elder, a man of some fifty years, garbed in the finery of the Roman hierarchy, with a gaze at once shrewd and kind.
"My lord Lambert. How fortuitous that you arrive. You missed out on all the fun."
"Indeed." Lambert's gaze took in all of them. Cassiopeia, Ariana, Abiron, and Hannah, who had left her circle of admirers and had moved to her mother's side. "A pity I could not have put out this little conflagration before it began. But with a lady of such skill," he said with a slight bow towards Hannah, "I think the result would not have differed." He turned and walked away. "Paul, to me," he snapped. The final member of the Christian's party started and hurried after the bishop. But not without one final glance at Ariana, at whom he had been gazing as if star-struck.
"Come, children," said Cassiopeia with a long sigh. "My lord husband will need to hear of this, and what we decide this evening may eventually decide the fates of us all."
*****
"She did
what
?"
Benedictos, king and ruler of their nation, looked nothing more than a peasant dressed up in his lord's finery. Short, squat, with a tanned face and thinning blond hair, he seemed as if he would be more comfortable repairing tack in a stable or counting loaves in a bakery than sitting in the most finely appointed room Abiron had ever seen.
"She took on Ulf in the lesser gallery, in front of half the titled nobility of the country. And beat him, hands down," said Ariana.
Benedictos looked at Cassiopeia. "What say you, my lady wife?"
"Benedictos, we are all family here. One way or another. The least you can do is abandon the dreadful formalities."
"Fine. How badly did she kick his ass, Cassie?"
Cassiopeia grinned. "You know how much I love it when you talk dirty, Bennie." Her expression sobered. "She won on points, but I am glad that Lambert and I were there to keep things from escalating. Sister Angela showed up, and she fights dirty. With that milkmaid face and those eyes of hers. By the Deity! She could tempt me to believe in their Christ, and I can barely stomach Paul and Lambert, let alone Ulf."
Benedictos looked at the two other men in the room. "What do you think, lads?"
Prince Alan spoke first. "I only saw the end. I had been delayed by...erm...a prior engagement." Cassiopeia looked sharply at him. "I didn't see most of the punches, as it were, but Sister Angela seemed to make some strong points at the end. I am glad she wasn't there for the entire debate. She may have taken the day. She has the strength of her belief. That counts for a lot."
"No, she doesn't."
All heads turned to Abiron.
"She doesn't believe a thing that she says. Or if she does, much of what she believes is caught up in anger." He looked at Ariana. "Do you remember when you were teaching me debate and elocution, mother?" He heard a gasp from Hannah, as he confirmed their relationship, and Alan drew in his breath with a hiss. "You made me defend impossible positions to strengthen my skills."
"I remember," Ariana smiled. "You made a very convincing argument that blue was green, once upon a time."
"But I hated it. I couldn't stand taking a position I didn't truly believe in. When I spoke, my voice sounded exactly like Sister Angela's did today. Her anger wasn't at Hannah. It was at her circumstances. She isn't saying what she believes. She is saying what she has been taught."
"Well, isn't
that
interesting," said Benedictos. A light had entered his eyes. "You are sure of this, lad?" he asked Abiron.
Abiron shrugged, uncomfortably caught in the gaze of many. "As sure as I can be, sire. I have never spoken to the lady. But I do not think her faith is as strong as many here suppose. I think that her teachers fell into the same trap. Her beauty so captivated them they chose to believe her faith was real. The more attractive a lady is, the more inclined we are to ascribe to her our own beliefs."
"Well do I know it," sighed Benedictos. Abiron looked at him, and whether it was by the grace of the Deity, or by some insight heretofore unknown to him, he saw that the piercing wit that was so prevalent in Prince Alan and Princess Hannah came not only, nor even primarily, from Queen Cassiopeia, but from this simple stumpy man who looked like nothing more than a turnip-farming peasant. The king smiled at him sadly. "I asked her, you know. I asked her twice. But she would not have me."
Abiron stared at the king, confused, until he saw that his gaze was directed at Ariana. Then he understood.
"You knew I was meant for another, Benedictos." Ariana's voice was gentle.
"Yes, I know," said the king. "For two others, as it seems. That doesn't mean a foolish young man can't dream. After the second time, the Deity Herself came to visit me. She was rather put out about the entire affair. She told me in no uncertain terms that I should pull my head out of my ass and marry the woman that was the best for me. And she was," he looked fondly at his queen. "but that didn't make things any easier at the time."
"But what does this mean for us?" asked Hannah plaintively. She had been sitting out of the way, but now she moved forward. "What are we going to do? The worshipers of Christ are no worse off today than they were yesterday, and every day's delay means we are another day closer to our country being brought under Rome's heel."
"Dissension among ones' enemies is always useful, princess," said Abiron. "It is helpful to know that the Christians are not one monolithic block, but four people, with agendas all their own. Think you on it." He held up a finger. "One. Brother Ulf. Passionate, zealous, but utterly vulnerable to, and infuriated by, logical attacks on his position. Not skilled in debate."
"He is more like the drunk at a tavern who thinks that if he shouts his argument louder than his opponent, he is the victor," put in Prince Alan.
"Actively disliked by both Bishop Lambert and Sister Angela." said the queen.
Abiron held up his second finger. "Two. Bishop Lambert. Ambitious. Intelligent. A diplomat who finds his progress impeded by the rage of Ulf. Ulf probably dislikes him for being patient, and Angela almost certainly resents him if she is a weak in her faith as I suppose."
"She may be vulnerable to a kind ear," said the prince, with a sideways look at Ariana.
"And Lambert may be made vulnerable if he is led to believe that the king's position is weak and that he may give in to the demands of the Christians. Make him overextend," said Ariana.
"Third. Sister Angela. Intelligent. Skilled in debate. She has the wit to know that if she is not strong in her faith, she must learn to fake it, lest others see it and she be cast out."
"Beautiful, as well," said Cassieopeia. "I wonder. Did you see what the poor dear had done to her hair? Was that her doing, or the work of someone else? And if someone else, how much does she resent it?"
"Last. Brother...Paul, isn't it? What can you tell me about him? I only saw him for a moment at the end of the debate this afternoon."