claiming that the plague is a result of the Church going astray, away from Markwart and toward Avelyn.'

Jilseponie did wince a bit at that information.

'They are led by Marcalo De'Unnero, so I have been told,' Shamus went on. He poured another strong drink, for he could see, without doubt, from her stunned expression and from the way the blood drained from her face, that she surely needed one.

Stone after stone slammed against the wall or soared over it, making those few monks on the outside parapet duck for cover.

Down in the square below, De'Unnero and his black-and-red-robed brethren ran all about, urging the rabble on.

And on they came, shouting curses, throwing stones, and hoisting makeshift ladders up against the abbey walls. Another group charged the front gates, a huge battering ram rolling along between their two lines.

'Abbot Braumin!' Castinagis cried from up front, for the abbot had bidden the monks to use all restraint. With that battering ram rolling at them, though, they had to act fast.

'Defend the abbey,' Braumin agreed, his voice a harsh whisper, and he turned and walked away.

He heard the sharp retort of a lightning stroke behind him, heard the cries of pain and of outrage, heard the continuing rain of stones, and heard, above all else, the voice of Marcalo De'Unnero, rousing the crowd to new heights of frenzy.

For hours they assaulted the abbey; for hours, the monks drove them away. Wherever a ladder went up, a brother was on the spot, pushing it away; while others launched magic crossbow bolts, even hot oil, at the would- be invaders. Dozens died at the base of St. Precious' ancient stone wall, while scores more were wounded.

The next day, they were back again, even more of them, it seemed; and this time another force accompanied the Brothers Repentant and the angry peasants. The sound of great horns heralded the arrival of Duke Tetrafel and his soldiers, all of them outfitted for battle.

Abbot Braumin was on his way to the front wall even before the messenger came running for him. 'It is the Duke,' the younger brother tried to explain as they hurried along. 'He has brought an army and claims that we must surrender our abbey!'

Braumin didn't answer, just hurried on his way, arriving at the parapet above the front gate tower beside his three closest advisers.

'Abbot Braumin!' came the cry from the herald standing at Tetrafel's side.

'I am here,' Braumin replied, stepping forward into plain view-and well aware that many of Tetrafel's archers had likely just trained their arrows on him.

The herald cleared his throat and unrolled a parchment. 'By order of Duke Timian Tetrafel, Baron of Palmaris, you and your brethren now secluded within the abbey are declared outlaws in the city of Palmaris and are ordered to vacate St. Precious posthaste. Because Duke Tetrafel is a generous and noble man, you will not be prosecuted, as long as you depart the city this very day and promise not to return!'

Abbot Braumin stared hard at Tetrafel all through the reading, purposely keeping all emotion off his face. 'We have spoken of going to Caer Tinella to open the chapel ofAvelyn,' Viscenti remarked.

Braumin turned and stared at him, but shook his head determinedly. 'Duke Tetrafel!' he cried out powerfully. 'You have no jurisdiction here and no power to make such demands.'

The herald started to respond, but Tetrafel, obviously still possessed of some amount of vigor, grabbed the man and pulled him back. 'All the city has come out against you!' he yelled at Braumin. 'How can you claim the rights of a Church when you have no followers?

'

'We did not give you the plague, Duke Tetrafel,' Abbot Braumin bluntly answered.

'But you did!' came a cry from the side, from De'Unnero. He ran out before the gathering, waving his arms at the crowd. 'They did! Their sacrilege has brought the vengeance of God upon us all! Unseat them and He will be contented, and the plague will lift from our lands and our homes!'

'Duke Tetrafel!' Braumin called out, 'We did not give you the plague, nor have we the power to cure your sickness. But how many times have the brothers of St. Precious-'

'Out!' the Duke interrupted, leaping out of his carriage and stumbling forward. 'Out, I say! Get you gone from that building and from my city!'

Abbot Braumin stared down at him; his cold expression gave the frightened and angry man all the answer that he needed.

' Then you are besieged, I say!' Duke Tetrafel declared. ' If the night has passed and you have not fled the abbey and the city, then know that you leave your walls at your own great peril. Besieged! And know that our patience is not great. Your terms of surrender worsen with each passing hour!'

Braumin turned and walked away. 'If they come on again, defend the abbey with all necessary force,' he told his friends. 'And, please, for my own peace of mind, if the opportunity presents itself, strike Marcalo De'Unnero dead.'

Castinagis and Talumus nodded grimly at the request, but Viscenti, more familiar with De'Unnero's reputation, blanched at the mere thought of it. He watched Braumin go back into the abbey and wondered if he had been foolish to talk his friend out of going to Duke Tetrafel's aid, wondered if they should not take the offer and vacate Palmaris at once. All of them, every one.

Viscenti looked back to the courtyard, to see De'Unnero leading a prayer session with hundreds-no, thousands! — of folk gathering about the square, lifting their voices in response to his own. The Brothers Repentant filtered through the crowd, enlisting allies.

No, this would be no traditional siege, Viscenti knew. The outraged peasants would come at them again and then again, until St. Precious was no more than a burned-out husk of broken stone. And what would happen to the brothers? he wondered. Would they be dragged through the streets and tortured to death? Burned at the stake, perhaps, like poor Master Jojonah?

He heard the prayers and, more clearly, the words of anger, the prom- ises that the brothers of St. Precious would pay for bringing the plague upon them.

A shudder coursed down Viscenti's spine. He did not sleep at all that night.

'Here they come,' Brother Talumus said grimly to the monks standing at his side between the outer wall parapets a few mornings later. He knew, and so did the others, that this would be the worst assault yet. Duke Tetrafel had declared a siege, but in truth, the actual attacks against the abbey had increased daily, for the common folk, roused by De'Unnero and with many of them plague-ridden and thus short of time, had no patience for any lengthy siege.

A hail of stones led the way, followed by the ladder bearers and many with makeshift grapnels attached to long lengths of rope. A group stubbornly picked up the battering ram, which had been repelled three times already- the last time with a dozen peasants toting it slain-and started toward the main gate, cheering with each grunting stride.

Monks scrambled along the outer wall, some with gemstones, some with crossbows, some with heavy clubs or knives. They threw lightning and shot quarrels, pushed aside ladders and slashed ropes.

A hail of arrows soared in just above the wall. Several brothers dropped, some groaning, some lying very still.

'Tetrafel's archers!' Brother Talumus cried, scrambling in a defensive crouch. 'Lightning to the back! Lightning to the back!'

Abbot Braumin rose up bravely down the line, graphite in hand. He brought forth a streaking white bolt, slamming into the archer line, scattering men. He started to duck back for cover, but saw a figure he could not ignore: De'Unnero, rushing madly among the charging peasants, cheering them on to certain death.

A second bolt, much weaker in intensity, erupted from Braumin's hand, but De'Unnero saw it coming, and with the reflexes of a cat, he skipped aside, just getting clipped on one leg.

With a yell that sounded more like a feral growl, the wild monk charged the abbey.

Braumin glanced all about, seeking the rope or ladder that De'Unnero might use, and in his distraction, he did not note that the monk's strides resembled more the gallop of a tiger than the run of a man. Hardly missing a step, De'Unnero came to the base of the wall and leaped up, up, clearing the twenty-five-foot height, catching hold of the crenellated wall and pulling himself up with frightening agility and ease right before the stunned Braumin. He hit the

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