The nixie, I noticed, became changed in the telling into a rather ill-defined although still malignant magical creature.
I was almost overwhelmed to be sitting so close to the queen again, smelling her scent, seeing her smile, hearing her voice. She addressed me perfectly naturally, as she always had, and I did my best to be equally natural.
But I still glanced surreptitiously around the church, looking for Theodora. She could have been there but I would not have seen her in the throng.
Then the organ began playing, and conversation quickly died away as aristocrats and townspeople settled back as well as they could in the crowded pews. Through the great doors of the cathedral came half a dozen bishops in brilliant scarlet robes. All of them seemed quite old and highly venerable. They walked solemnly the length of the cathedral, across the mosaic Tree of Life, to stand around the altar.
When the last bishop had taken his place, the doors opened again, and all the cathedral priests came in. I looked for and did not see Joachim. But the other members of the cathedral chapter filed slowly up the aisle to stand in a group beside the bishops.
One bishop stepped forward: the bishop of the great City. I had seen him once when I was in school. The great mane of hair protruding below his mitre had been grey then and now was white, but his booming voice was unchanged.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, speaking into a profound hush, “we are gathered here to observe one of the most important ceremonies of the Church, the election of a new bishop.”
I rather doubted that I was his dearly beloved. Although Joachim had forestalled an incipient riot against me, after I was left there would still have been strong feeling against both the magical monster who had attacked the cathedral and the wizard who “must” have had something to do with its appearance. Perhaps Norbert had tried to cover up for his humiliation by lashing out against me, even if not against Joachim, once I was gone. The City’s bishop would certainly not be impressed at hearing from one wizard that another wizard was planning some sort of attack on the Church.
“In the Church, as you know,” he continued, “we bishops are brothers, brother shepherds, guiding the Christian flock in the ways of God with each other’s assistance and guidance. Because each bishop is elected by the priests of his own cathedral, that is the men who will serve under him, only the most holy and worthy men are sought for the position. We who are bishops know in our hearts how far we fall from the ideal, but the ideal is clear: piety, intelligence, judgment, dedication to the Lord’s Word.”
I became tenser and tenser, waiting for what must be coming, but fast and irreverent magical probing still located no monsters.
The bishop opened his Bible. “The office of bishop was laid down from the beginning, and the Apostle tells us the necessary qualifications: A bishop must be blameless, vigilant, sober, of good behavior, apt to teach, not greedy of filthy lucre, but patient, not a brawler, not covetous, one that ruleth well his own house. A bishop must be a vessel unto honor, sanctified, and meet for the Master’s use, prepared unto every good work.”
He closed the Bible complacently, as though congratulating himself that
“We are ready.” I noticed that the priest who was apparently now dean spoke for the chapter.
“Then let your deliberations begin.”
The priests filed gravely out the side door of the church. They had been gone for ten minutes, and Paul had started to swing his legs and I was wondering if there would be a recess, when they all filed back in again. This time they had Joachim with them.
I strained forward to see better. He was dressed in scarlet robes and was bareheaded. His eyes turned toward us, but he did not seem to see us.
“We have made our choice,” said the new dean.
“And do you all agree in this choice?”
“We are all agreed, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” The priests spoke together, but I heard Norbert’s voice loudest of all.
“Then send your candidate forward!”
The priests stepped aside, and Joachim walked slowly to the front. I would have been intimidated by those enormous black eyes in his completely sober face, but the bishop of the City met him placidly. “Joachim! You have heard the will of the cathedral chapter. Do you accede to this election?”
“If God has called me,” said Joachim in a low, grave voice, “in speaking through the chapter, then I must accept, although I know in my heart I am not worthy.”
I had to disagree with this. I thought he met every criteria the bishop had mentioned.
“Brother bishops!” turning to the others. “Do you accept Joachim as your brother?”
“We accept him with joy,” said the bishops, all speaking together.
“And you, the People of Yurt and Caelrhon,” turning to the congregation, “do you acclaim him as your spiritual father?”
There was a general affirmative murmur from the crowd.
“Then kneel down, Joachim.” Joachim knelt, and the bishop took a crystal ampoule of oil from the altar. He unstoppered it and poured two drops on the lowered head before him. He then took a tall gold and white hat, like his own, and fitted it on.
“Rise then, anointed of the Lord, and fellow bishop!” Joachim stood up, and the two men kissed each other on both cheeks. “Take these symbols of your office.” He put a shepherd’s crosier into his right hand and slipped a ring onto his left. The enormous ruby gleamed in the candlelight, the ring I had last seen on the dead bishop’s finger.
“Then let us all sing Alleluia to God!”
The congregation scrambled to its feet, the organ began to play, and a great song of praise rang out. Joachim stood still, not singing. I tried to catch his eye as he was only about twenty feet away. But I doubted he saw me. His eyes were again elsewhere. He was bishop now, burdened with the souls of two kingdoms, with responsibilities that went far beyond the worries of a wizard he had known when they both were young.
When the hymn died away and the congregation sat down again, two acolytes brought forward a throne. It was heavy, and they dragged as much as carried it in front of the altar. When it was properly positioned, they stepped back and Joachim sat in it.
“My people!” he said, addressing us all. “I come to you an unworthy man, but one who will do his best to guide your souls to God, with His aid. I would now like to ask those of you who govern our people’s physical bodies to come forward, to dedicate yourselves and your purpose to the same divine purpose that guides us all.”
Another week and Paul could have taken part himself, but the queen was still regent. She rose, holding Yurt’s silver ceremonial sword, then walked slowly forward to the altar, laid the sword on it, and knelt before the throne. She kissed the episcopal ring, and Joachim put his hand on her head and blessed her. Then he took her by the shoulders and drew her up.
“Rise, my daughter, and govern well,” he said, and handed her back the sword.
She returned to her place, squeezing in between Paul and me, and then it was the turn for the king of Caelrhon. The ceremony was repeated with our duchess, then Caelrhon’s dukes, then the counts of both kingdoms, followed by the castellans and the lords of manors. It occurred to me as the ceremony progressed that it would be very easy for an unscrupulous lord to use the opportunity to plunge his sword into the bishop’s heart.
But everything progressed with perfect correctness. When the last lord had returned to his place, and I was starting to wonder if we might still escape without a magical attack, Joachim rose and stepped forward.
He was now only a few feet away and I was sure he saw me, though he gave no sign of recognition. Instead he raised his arms to bless the congregation.
But I did not hear his words. I stared instead at the sleeve of his robe.
It was a brand-new robe, clearly made just for him since he was taller than any of the other priests. Worked across the bottom of the scarlet sleeve were intertwined roses and crosses. They were done in a distinctive stitch, where the embroidery thread crossed three threads, skipped one, and crossed two more. That was Theodora’s embroidery.
