meant to have.
While it was easy to see Catherine as part of Norisle, and recognize the wellspring from which her angry bitterness arose, he could not dismiss her. He had loved her and had exchanged vows with her. Though countless men ignored those vows, Owen would not count himself among them. If he could not be true to his word, then he could never be true to himself or anyone else. The price of being honorable might be pain, but worse would be the price of faithlessness.
Bethany nodded slowly. “You, Captain Strake, are not alone in your love of the land and its people. You should realize that there are people here, many people, who love you for who you are and what you have done. The story in the Gazette may have been about Colonel Rathfield, but there was not a man who heard it who did not wish he had been there standing shoulder to shoulder with you. That your wife does not seem to appreciate you is seen by many as a great tragedy. Though no one would ever say a word to you about it, they recognize it and believe you a better man than they for how you deal with it.”
Owen nodded. “And probably not a few who think she should get the rough side of my hand.”
“Those are the idiots who get supper cold and their beds colder.” Bethany graced him with a simple smile. “I must be away, Captain. I apologize for the discomfort I caused. I assure you, I shall do my best never to put you in that situation again.”
“Bethany…”
“No, Owen, I made a decision a long time ago, and I have let my resolve erode.” She smiled as she backed away. “For the best of all concerned, I must again abide by my previous choice. To do otherwise, to see you in this situation again, would break my heart. I do not imagine it could ever be mended again.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
2 July 1767 Government House, Temperance Temperance Bay, Mystria
Prince Vlad’s mouth soured as Ezekiel Fire shuffled and clanked his way along toward the throne. Two large men, each dressed in the somber black clothes favored by a Virtuan funeral cortege, marched behind him. Fire remained bound as he had been for trial, from mask to the gauntlets and shackles that hobbled him. To the collar had been added a stout chain which one of his keepers held.
Vlad glanced at the man standing beside him. “Yes, Caleb, they do treat him as if he is an animal.”
“It is inhuman, Highness.”
At trial Fire had been dressed well, but in custody he had been given dirty, ragged clothes and deprived of stockings and shoes. He’d clearly not bathed and given the redness of his eyes, had not been allowed to sleep much, either. Dirt blackened his toenails, proving at least that he still had them. Vlad suspected the same was not true of the fingernails, hidden within the steel gauntlets.
Prince Vlad looked past Fire to the men guarding him. “Remove his mask, remove the collar, unbind his hands.”
The man holding the chain shook his head. “Bishop Bumble agreed to bring the prisoner to you, but said, under no circumstances, was he to be released.”
“I am the Colonial Governor-General. This prisoner is being kept in a facility by my command. Those chains are government property. I will determine how they are used.”
“Bishop Bumble said…”
“If Bishop Bumble wishes this man to remain restrained, he can waddle his way down here and tell me that himself.” Vlad knew he’d overplayed his hand at that moment, but he was prepared to pay the price for it. Both men looked shocked. “Go, the both of you, and report to him exactly what I said. The prisoner shall remain in my custody until then.”
The two guards exchanged glances.
Vlad thrust a finger toward where the Cathedral stood. “Go. You do not want me summoning troops to enforce my wishes.”
The two men bowed and withdrew.
Vlad waved Caleb forward. “Remove the mask.”
Caleb unbuckled it and slid it off, revealing Fire’s badly bruised face. The knot on one side of his jaw suggested it had been broken. The area around his mouth appeared somewhat clean, as if someone had wiped away blood from his swollen and clearly broken nose.
The Prince approached. “Can you open your mouth?”
Fire nodded and, wincing, complied.
Fewer teeth than I remember. Vlad shook his head and stepped back. “Steward Fire, I am very sorry you have been mightily abused. Bishop Bumble will be made to answer for his treatment of you.”
Fire glanced down and shook his head. His teeth remained clenched. “No, Highness.”
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, Steward. Later today Bishop Bumble and his confederates will pass judgment upon you. You will be found guilty. They will sentence you to be burned at the stake. They need to have me agree to this. I am given little choice in the matter because, as Mr. Frost tells me, you have resisted every effort at mustering a defense. If you had any mitigating circumstances, anything I could use to put pressure on Bumble, I could ask him to commute your sentence to life. You’d be sent to Fairlee, to the prison at Iron Mountain.”
“I thank you and Mr. Frost, Highness.” Fire’s words came slowly, and his breath shallow, as if breathing pained him. “God has showed me what I must do.”
“Caleb, for your own good, you might wish to retire to my office. What gets discussed from this point forward might leave you open to charges of heresy yourself.”
Caleb laughed. “What makes you think, since I decided to defend Steward Fire, that I’m not already facing that charge?”
“Fair point.” Vlad clasped his hands behind his back. “Steward, I need you to understand that I understand. I’ve read your work. I have studied the King Robert version of the Good Book, and I have seen what you have seen. I have, furthermore, used what you saw and have determined that you are right. I know, therefore, why Bishop Bumble wishes you to be silenced. And I know why Mystria cannot afford to have that happen.”
Fire stared at him, then staggered a step forward and fell to his knees. He tried to raise his hands to cover his face, but the chains prohibited him. Tears ran down the man’s cheeks. “You understand? You know?”
Vlad nodded.
“Then I’m not mad?”
“No.”
Fire hunched forward, sobbing.
The Prince dropped to a knee before him, resting his hands on the man’s shoulders. “I can imagine you thought you were. You saw things no one else did. When you spoke to your peers, they couldn’t or wouldn’t see. When you spoke to your superiors, they were surprised, then told you that you were seeing things. Men like Bumble did things to unsettle you, to undercut your confidence, to make you question yourself and your sanity. But you knew you were right, and knew that to deny what you had seen was to work against God. So you headed west with a select band of followers, to do God’s bidding.”
The crying man nodded.
“What you failed to see is why I know you’re an honest man. You failed to see that Bumble and the Church had to silence you. You were so pleased to be helping others, and you wrote to Bumble to show him a way to join you-not viciously to lord over him the error of his ways, but in fellowship so that he, too, could be saved. But that same motivation convinced Bumble that you could not be bought off or trusted to remain silent. This is why it was important to find you and bring you back for a trial, so that others would be frightened into silence.”
Fire looked up, sniffing. “The Good Lord did not resist His prosecutors.”
Vlad stood and, with Caleb, helped Fire to a chair by the wall. “I won’t argue theology with you, Steward, save to suggest that whatever Bishop Bumble is doing, it’s not found in Scripture.”
“I know what God has asked me to do. He wants me to share His gifts.” Fire smiled weakly. “You have told me that I have succeeded.”
