“Not nearly enough. You cannot let Bumble destroy you.”
“But you have already said he has not.”
Vlad sighed and took a step back. Beaten and exhausted, likely starved and crushed by the destruction of his settlements, Fire couldn’t muster enough rational thought to resist Bumble, much less aid Caleb in defending himself. And it would make no difference if he did. Even if Fire were able to present himself in a favorable light, the tribunal would still convict.
“Caleb, do you have a sense as to public sentiment in this matter?”
“Half again as many shun me as offer praise, and most of the latter are veterans who remember Bumble poorly. I don’t get the sense that anyone believes they could be prosecuted next, so they believe what Bumble is doing will protect us.”
Prince Vlad chewed his lower lip for a moment. “I’m not going to be given any choice but to sign off on the death warrant. I can buy time, but little more than that.” He thought for a moment, then frowned. “Steward Fire, do you know of any enemies Bishop Bumble might have?”
The prisoner shook his head. “He has always seemed to me to be a well-loved man.”
Another question had begun to form itself in Vlad’s head, but the slamming open of the doors to his chamber prevented its completion. Bumble burst in, flanked by the two guards, and hurried his way along toward where the Prince stood. Bumble’s face had taken on the purple of raging apoplexy.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I wished to speak to Steward Fire.”
Bumble’s eyes became slits. “That is not what I refer to, Highness. How dare you have beaten the prisoner!”
Fire slumped in the chair and Caleb gasped. Vlad stared. “I beg your pardon?”
The fat cleric pointed a finger straight at the Prince. “My men are witnesses to the fact that the prisoner was not injured when they brought him here.”
“You go too far, your Grace.”
“Based on our previous discussion, Highness, I would have thought you know that your accusation is a lie.” Bumble snapped his fingers. “Get the prisoner back to the armory.”
The guards came forward and took custody of Fire. One grabbed the leash while the other buckled the steel muzzle back in place. The one holding the chain yanked it, and Fire staggered toward the door.
The Bishop’s eyes never left Vlad’s as he pointed at Caleb. “And you, Frost, be gone. And beware what you print in your Gazette. Heresy takes all forms, and will be stamped out in these Colonies. I can and will ruin you and your paper.”
Caleb laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Would you, now?” Bumble’s voice dropped into an icy register. “Were I to preach against it, were I to fund Mr. Wattling to reestablish his paper, and then contribute to it, I think you would find your readership greatly reduced. And if my people were to comb through your archives, I am certain there are things there which could be considered seditious, treasonous, or heretical. You are very free in your thinking, Frost, and contributors like Samuel Haste do not help you. So do not test me or tempt me.”
Vlad held up a hand. “Thank you, Caleb, but I think you should leave now.”
“Yes, Highness, as you wish.” Caleb bowed to the Prince and, as he headed for the door, turned back just long enough to stick his tongue out at Bumble.
Vlad waited for the doors to close behind him. “Bishop Bumble…”
“I thought, Highness, I honestly thought, we had an understanding, you and I. I thought I made my wishes clear. I shall be forced to write a letter to the Archbishop in Launston all about your conduct. You give me no choice.”
Vlad cocked his head. “I do not mean to sound impertinent or disrespectful, but are you truly that stupid?”
Bumble’s pig-eyes widened.
Vlad opened his hands, but let his shoulders slump a bit. “You made it very clear to me that I was to sign off on Fire’s being burned at the stake. Now, I ask you to consider Scripture. The Good Lord, once convicted by his own people, was brought before the Remian Provincial Governor, since only he had the authority to put a man to death.”
Bumble shook his head slowly. “And you wish to cast yourself as Pilate, and me as one of the High Priests. Do you think I am a fool?”
“No, because that scenario would cast Fire as our Savior. You know that I cannot do that, both because of the pressure you bring on me and because Colonel Rathfield was sent from Launston to deal with Fire’s having broken the law in establishing his settlements beyond chartered land. You have tried him for heresy. I called him here, clearly, to examine him on the matter of treason-a matter which you were not allowed to address at your trial.”
Bumble snorted. “Mr. Frost made that very clear.”
“And who do you think ordered Caleb Frost to raise that objection?”
The cleric folded his arms just over his ample belly. “You did?”
Vlad bowed his head. Though he was making things up as he went along, he felt safe. He already knew Bumble was steeped in the ways of conspiracy, and, therefore, would see conspiracy at the slightest provocation. Bumble’s vanity also blinded him, so as long as the Prince made certain that he’d only acted because Bumble had him under his thumb, Bumble would believe everything the Prince said. To disbelieve was to allow that Prince Vlad might not be under his control, and his ego would not entertain that possibility.
“You gave me no choice. There are those among Mystrians-Samuel Haste being a prime example-who would criticize me for using civil authority to punish a man for a crime against the Church. By calling Fire here, by examining him myself in the matter of law, and by having his defender here to corroborate and publish my version of the events that transpired, no one will be able to take issue with Fire’s fate. He would have been disrespectful and defiant, he would have been said to have cursed the Queen, and all would have thought it fortunate that we were not forced to spend money on a second trial, when one had been already held.
“I would also have you notice that Mr. Frost was willing to play his part-defying you even with no audience- because it bolsters the validity of his testimony about Fire in this regard.”
Bumble tapped a finger against his chin, his dark eyes flicking back and forth. “You are saying this was theatre.”
“It was politics played out as you demanded. Fire hates you, hates the Church, hates God; there are those who might support him at that. Having him hate the Queen, hate the law and hate me, there are some who would support him in that also. But few are those who will support him in all these things.”
Vlad’s heart pounded as Bumble silently considered all he’d said. The Prince knew he’d overplayed his hand when he commended Caleb for acting defiant without an audience, but Bumble had let that pass. Vlad just hoped the man had moved from seeing if everything made sense, to figuring out how he would use this new-found knowledge to his advantage.
Bumble’s chin came up. “You should have informed me that this is what you were doing.”
“I did not think you a good enough actor to manufacture outrage effectively.”
“You would be surprised, Highness, as to what emotions I can call upon when needs require.” The Bishop’s eyes tightened. “This afternoon, we shall pass sentence. I shall want him burned tomorrow.”
“Is that wise?”
“How do you mean?”
“If you announce the sentence this afternoon, with the execution to take place on Monday next, your declaration will be in time for the Gazette. Moreover, you will be able to preach a message from the pulpit on Sunday which will be heard by crowds swelling the town to watch the Steward burn. With that much advanced notice, you will have people in from Bounty and Lindenvale, or perhaps even down from Summerland and Queensland.”
“Up from Richlan, too.”
“Exactly.” The Prince nodded. “You want to send a message to all heretics, and I need to send the same to anyone who would defy the Crown. Monday next gives us that opportunity.”
Bumble slowly smiled, which tightened the Prince’s guts. “Yes, very good, you are right. Monday will be
