then he will put the seneschal to torture to make him reveal where he has hidden the rest of it.”
“No!” she cried. The thought of anyone torturing Giedre’s father was intolerable. That kindly old man?
“It happens all the time, my lady. And if he has spent your father’s money all his life only as your father directed, he is not about to start throwing it around now without orders from somebody in authority. He would be asking for trouble, you see?” He laughed. “Who would ever think that we should have to begin by fighting honesty? Altar vessels, here we come!”
It occurred to Madlenka that Marijus was likely to be around Gallant for some weeks or even months to come. She might be seeing quite a lot of him.
Most houses in Gallant were three stories high, with the bottom level being used for storage, workshops, or livestock. The streets were made even narrower by innumerable stone staircases leading up to the domestic floors, and these made natural galleries for spectators. As more and more townsfolk appeared to watch the informal parade, they stood on those stairs or packed back between them to let the nobility pass, so that Madlenka felt she was walking along a two-story canyon of people. More faces peered out of every window. Some stared angrily and showed their teeth, but she was sure that their anger was not directed against her but at the infamous count, the Hound who burned cottages with families inside.
As she and Marijus passed through the cathedral door, an argument broke out behind them, Leonas screaming that he wanted to come in, his father insisting that he stay outside with some of the guards.
Marijus looked around with annoyance. “Leonas gets frightened in churches. I think he’s scared by the echoes. Come, we need not wait for the others.”
Why not? Why was she here at all? Either her escort was lying about her marriage potential or he had some other use in mind for her. Was even the seneschal capable of betraying her? Of course he was, if he could be persuaded that it was for her own good, or in the king’s service. She went up the steps with Marijus and entered the dimness.
Somehow the cathedral seemed both smaller and grander when it was empty. She and Marijus led the procession along the nave toward where Bishop Ugne was already standing on the steps of the sanctuary, clad again in his vestments. She let her companion decide when to halt, and the rest of her companions spread out in a line on either side of them. The troopers-garrison, Pelrelm honor guard, and landsknechte — halted a few steps back. The cathedral did not fall completely silent, though, and when Madlenka glanced around, she saw many people pouring in the west doors, anxious to witness whatever was going to happen. As if doubting their right to spy on their betters, they were staying back and close to the walls, so newcomers had no choice but to move farther forward.
Bishop Ugne frowned at the unexpected audience, but he could hardly order the people out of the house of God. He announced a prayer for divine guidance and protection, but the quiet shuffling noises at the back resumed as soon as it was over. This public meeting was a serious error, Madlenka decided, but to terminate it now would be a worse one.
The bishop went to the altar and fetched the precious jeweled reliquary that held the bone of St. Andrej.
“Havel, my son, you have a statement to make?” he asked softly.
The Hound stepped forward. “I do, my lord bishop.” But then he unexpectedly raised his voice and made a proclamation instead. “I employ men to spy on what is happening across the border in Pomerania. Last week three of them independently told me that they had seen Duke Wartislaw’s army moving south along the Silver Road. He has fifteen or twenty thousand men and is bringing a very big bombard and some other artillery, and he seems to be heading for Cardice.”
Sounds carried well in the old church, and moans of dismay announced that the townsfolk had learned of their peril. The bishop frowned angrily. Wondering if that was what Vranov had wanted all along, Madlenka glanced at Marijus, but his expression told her nothing.
Havel repeated his offer of aid, conditional on payment.
The bishop waited a moment to be sure he had finished, then held out the reliquary. “Place your right hand on this. Do you solemnly swear…?”
The Hound swore as he hoped for salvation that what he had just said was the truth.
Then Marijus stepped forward and swore he would faithfully defend the fortress if he were acknowledged as acting keeper. He, too, spoke out loudly. People were entering by the side doors also now, and the tidings of war and allies had the cathedral humming like a summer beehive.
For a moment it did seem that an agreement had been reached.
Then everything collapsed.
Captain Ekkehardt was not as loud as the Pelrelmians had been, but he did not whisper either. He repeated that he was quite willing to fight for forty florins a month, but again he stipulated that he must be paid in coin. Again Vranov said so must he. Again the seneschal said he could not provide such funds without royal approval, and everyone tried to speak at once. Even the bishop was raising his voice now. The congregation groaned. There was no shyness now-people were pushing forward to hear.
Stupid, stupid old man! How could the seneschal not see that by hoarding the king’s money, he was putting the king’s fortress in peril? In fact he was risking the entire kingdom.
Madlenka realized that she was about to lose her temper. It was a bad habit of hers, as her mother had told her many times. Indeed, they had often had screaming matches about it. She always promised never to do it again, and she hadn’t done it for… a while. Not seriously, anyway. She discovered that she did not care what the cost might be. She wanted to explode like a bombard, so she strode forward three steps to join the men in front of the bishop.
“Stop it! STOP IT! Seneschal Jurbarkas, if you will not spend the king’s money, then I will spend mine. You must have far more than two thousand florins put away for my dowry. I know you do. Father told me. So I will lend that money to defend the castle.”
More uproar, with the townsfolk joining in, cheering her. Crimson-faced, Bishop Ugne was trying to restore order in the Lord’s house. Eventually he got silence.
“That money is not yours, Madlenka,” he said. “You are not of age, and besides, it would belong to your husband. Stand back!”
She did not budge. She had foreseen that argument. She knew the seneschal, and how he had never done anything without her father’s permission. What he needed now was an excuse to help her. She tried to argue and had to shout over the others’ voices. Probably all that they heard were her final words: “…read the banns!”
“What?” They all spoke in chorus.
The question seemed to echo outward in circles like ripples on a pond.
“Read the banns for me to marry Marijus Vranov, of course.” She looked around at the appalled faces. “I’m not saying to marry us! Banns just ask if anyone knows of an objection to us getting married, that’s all. We know there is because the king has forbidden it, but nobody else does.”
Judging by the bishop’s expression, he had not been informed of that royal edict. Madlenka plunged ahead with what was already beginning to feel like a serious mistake.
“A marriage wouldn’t be valid, and I certainly couldn’t get married so soon after… after… while I am still in mourning. But once you have read the banns the first time, then Seneschal Ramunas can advance money to my betrothed, can’t you, Uncle?”
Bishop Ugne looked ready to explode. “You would have me profane this house by making a proclamation I know to be false?”
“It isn’t false!” Madlenka stamped her foot. “Banns are just a question if anyone knows of a reason why there can’t be a marriage. Uncle, will it work?” She hadn’t called the seneschal that since she was a child.
They were all looking at her as if she still was. Had she made a fool of herself in front of half the town?
Worse-had she fallen into a carefully prepared trap? Why was Vranov smiling?
“Yes, it would,” the Hound said.
“I suppose it would,” Sir Jurbarkas conceded, accepting this fig leaf of authority. “I may still get hanged for grand larceny, but I could do that.”
“Then stand back, all of you,” Bishop Ugne said. He wheeled around and strode back to the altar, to replace the reliquary. Then he returned to his vantage point on the steps. The nave was full and the transepts were filling up also.
