kutzkattherine.the bishopsheir-第57部分

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as　only　the　outward　forms　of　those　sacraments　which　were　being　denied　him。　Just　before　the　dawning；　having　made　his　own　examination　of　conscience　and　act　of　contrition；　he　knelt　and　kissed　the　earthen　floor　of　his　cell　in　memoration　of　the　Body　of　his　Lord；　and　drank　of　melted　snow　in　remembrance　of　His　Sacred　Blood。　Then　he　sat　quietly　to　watch　the　lightening　sky　and　await　the　earthly　reckoning；　all　at　peace。
He　was　calm　when　they　came　to　fetch　him；　his　escort　four　smartly　turned…out　soldiers　and　one　of　his　own　former　captains；　none　of　whom　would　look　him　in　the　eyes。　He　bore　their　rough　handling　without　ment　or　protest　as　they　bound　his　hands　behind；　only　wincing　once　when　someone　jarred　the　bandage　on　his　right　hand　where　once　he　had　worn　a　bishop's　amethyst。　The　stairs　up　from　his　cell　were　slick　with　melted　snow　and　slush；　but　the　men　steadied　him　when　he　slipped　and　would　have　fallen。　He　hardly　felt　the　snow　beneath　his　feet　as　he　emerged　into　the　open　courtyard；　or　the　cold　wind　knifing　through　his　thin　gown。　Nor　did　he　give　the　scaffold　more　than　passing　notice；　or　the　executioners　and　their　shining　implements。
Loris　he　did　note；　meeting　the　archbishop's　frigid　glare　with　a　serenity　and　even　passion　which　made　Loris　drop　the　contact　first；　to　gesture　brusquely　to　the　guards。　Caitrin　and　Sicard　likewise　avoided　his　gaze；　but　young　Ithel　stared　at　him　in　confusion　as　Istelyn　smiled　gently　to　himself　and　shook　his　head。
The　scaffold　steps　were　wet　and　slippery。　He　stubbed　a　toe　on　the　way　up。　His　murmured　apology　put　his　guards　off　balance；　and　they　backed　off　uneasily　once　he　was　standing　in　the　center　of　the　scaffold。　The　masked　executioner　who　came　to　place　the　rope　around　his　neck　would　not　meet　his　eyes　either；　and　himself　apologized　as　he　slid　the　knot　snug　against　the　back　of　the　prisoner's　neck。
〃You　must　do　what　you　must　do；　my　son；〃　Istelyn　murmured；　giving　the　man　another　gentle　smile。　〃I　forgive　you　freely。〃
The　man　retreated　in　confusion；　leaving　Istelyn　alone　in　the　center　of　the　scaffold　once　more。　Serenely；　he　turned　his　eyes　toward　the　winter　sky　as　the　sentence　was　read；　hardly　even　minding　the　pressure　of　the　ropes　around　his　wrists　or　the　noose　closed　harsh　around　his　neck。
〃Henry　Istelyn；　formerly　bishop　and　priest；〃　the　herald　read；　when　the　drums　had　given　another　muffled　roll；　〃having　been　adjudged　traitor；　it　is　the　sentence　of　the　Crown　of　Meara　that　you　be　hanged　by　the　neck　and　cut　down　while　still　living；　your　members　cut　off　and　your　bowels　taken　out　and　burnt　before　you；　and　then　to　be　rent　by　horses　and　your　head　and　pieces　of　your　body　to　be　set　on　display　at　such　places　as　the　queen　shall　assign。　Thus　shall　all　know　the　fate　of　traitors　to　Meara！〃
There　was　no　plea　for　God　to　have　mercy　on　the　soul　of　the　condemned；　for　exmunicants　were　judged　to　have　forfeited　all　hope　of　that。　Istelyn　had　not　expected　it　so　he　was　not　disappointed。　As　the　drums　rolled　again；　it　became　clear　that　he　was　not　to　be　allowed　any　final　statement；　either　…　nor　had　he　expected　that。　He　kept　his　gaze　lifted　to　the　heavens　as　they　stripped　him　naked　and　made　sure　of　the　rope　around　his　neck；　only　a　strangled　little　gasp　escaping　his　lips　as　they　hoisted　him　off　his　feet　and　the　world　began　to　go　dark。
He　prayed　as　long　as　he　could。　Only　dimly　did　he　feel　the　jolt　as　they　shortly　cut　him　down　and　pinned　him　spread…eagled　in　the　snow。　He　let　the　cold　and　the　shock　claim　him；　slipping　gently　beyond　the　reach　of　his　torturers；　and　was　never　even　aware　of　the　knives；　much　less　the　fire　…　or　the　snorting　horses；　maddened　by　the　smell　of　his　blood；　who　ripped　his　bleeding　body　limb　from　limb。　The　smile　on　his　lips；　even　after　they　severed　his　head　from　what　was　left　of　his　body；　sent　a　cold　chill　through　the　heart　of　more　than　one　witness　to　his　judicial　murder。

The　following　week　saw　the　arrival　of　increasing　numbers　of　Kelson's　vassals　in　Rhemuth；　all　e　to　keep　the　feast　of　Christmas　with　their　king　as　was　customary；　no　one　in　Rhemuth　yet　aware　of　Istelyn's　fate。　Kelson　held　daily　courts　to　greet　the　newers；　with　briefing　sessions　each　afternoon；　while　Morgan；　Nigel；　and　the　other　senior　members　of　his　staff　continued　their　planning　and　preparation　for　the　projected　spring　campaign。　The　bishops　had　their　own　affairs　to　attend　to；　but　exchanged　progress　reports　with　the　king　and　his　chief　advisors　each　evening　after　dinner。　Tension　grew　as　Christmas　Day　approached；　for　all　their　futures　would　be　affected　by　the　expected　reply　from　Meara。
Burchard　de　Varian；　Earl　of　Eastmarch　since　the　conclusion　of　the　war　with　Torenth　two　years　before；　arrived　at　midweek　as　expected　with　Generals　Gloddruth；　Remie　and　Elas　in　his　train；　along　with　half　a　dozen　barons　and　other　lesser　lords。　A　few　days　later；　the　Earl　of　Danoc　came　with　two　more　of　Kelson's　generals；　Godwin　and　Perris；　and　also　the　young　Earl　of　Jenas；　whose　father　had　fallen　with　Jared　McLain　at　Candor　Rhea。　Not　at　all　expected　was　the　man　waiting　for　Morgan　outside　his　quarters　when　he　returned　alone　from　Mass　on　Christmas　Eve。
〃What　the　…　who's　there？〃　Morgan　demanded；　hand　reaching　warily　toward　the　hilt　of　his　sword。
Sean　Lord　Derry；　the　young　noble　who　once　had　been　Morgan's　aide　and　now　served　as　his　lieutenant　in　Corwyn；　stood　away　from　the　wall　where　he　had　been　leaning　and　held　out　empty　hands；　a　sheepish　grin　flickering　across　his　earnest　face　as　he　inclined　his　head　in　salute。
〃Christmas　blessings。　Your　Grace。　I　hope　you　don't　mind　that　we　didn't　join　you　for　Mass；　but　we　only　arrived　just　on　midnight。〃
His　blue　eyes　held　a　twinkle　of　mirth　at　Morgan's　surprise；　but　also　a　note　of　apprehension。　He　flinched　as　Morgan　seized　him　by　the　shoulders　to　stare　at　him；　but　he　did　not　avert　his　gaze。
〃Sean；　what　on　earth　are　you　doing　here？〃　Morgan　murmured；　though　he　had　an　idea　exactly　what　the　younger　man　was　doing。　〃And　what　do　you　mean；　we？〃　Good　God；　you　didn't　bring　Richenda；　did　you？〃
Derry　raised　one　eyebrow　in　an　expression　he　had　picked　up　from　his　former　master。　〃Your　lady　wife　decided　she'd　like　to　keep　Christmas　with　her　husband。　Your　Grace。　If　I　hadn't　brought　her；　I　suspect　she　would　have　e　on　her　own。〃
〃Aye；　she　probably　would　have；〃　Morgan　muttered　under　his　breath。　〃I　wish　you　could　have　tried　to　talk　her　out　of　it；　though。〃
〃Do　you　think　I　didn't　try？〃　Derry　asked　indignantly。　〃I　know　what　your　orders　were。　I　can't　say　my　heart　was　really　in　it；　though。　I　think　she's　about　had　enough　of　Coroth　for　a　while。〃
Morgan　sighed；　awareness　of　that　situation　catapulting　hack　to　consciousness　as　it　had　not　for　several　weeks；　so　far　from　home　himself。　For　all　the　personal　satisfaction　his　marriage　with　Richenda　had　brought　him；　there　were　still　vast　areas　of　their　relationship　which　had　not　yet　e　into　balance。　Chief　among　them　was　the　question　of　how　much　authority　his　new　wife　should　assume　during　his　all　too　frequent　absences　from　his　own　court　…　and　that　decision；　to　Morgan's　continued　dismay；　was　not　entirely　his　to　make；　for　all　that　he　was　Corwyn's　duke。
In　the　ordinary　course　of　things；　certainly　within　the　first　year　of　their　marriage；　Morgan's　duchess　should　have　bee　his　chatelaine　at　Coroth　and　regent　of　Corwyn　in　his　absence。　Morgan　had　not　granted　Richenda　that　status。　The　fact　was　that　many　of　his　own　men　distrusted　her　…　not　because　she　was　Deryni；　for　probably　no　one　at　Coroth　even　suspected　that　…　or　would　have　cared；　if　they　had；　since　Corwyn's　duke　was　Deryni　anyway　…　but　because　her　first　husband　had　betrayed　the　Crown。
Perhaps　she　was　tainted　with　treachery　as　well；　they　reasoned　…　perhaps　even　plotting　revenge　for　her　first　husband's　death；　for　the　sake　of　her　son　by　him。　As　Dowager　Countess　of　Marley；　she　already　had　young　Brendan's　guardianship　jointly　with　her　new　husband；　with　virtual　freedom　to　manage　the　lands　and　ine　of　the　six…year…old　earl　as　she　chose。　If　anything　were　to　happen　to　Morgan；　Her　Grace　the　Dowager　Duchess　of　Corwyn　and　Dowager　Countess　of　Marley　would　have　access　to　Corwyn's　vast　wealth　as　well；　until　the　infant　Duchess　Briony　came　of　age。　For　such　power　and　position；　what　might　the　former　wife　of　a　known　traitor　not　do？
It　was　all　utter　nonsense；　of　course；　but　convincing　his　men　of　that；　other　than　the　few　officers　close　to　Morgan；　had　proven　far　more　difficult　than　Morgan　ever　imagined。　He　had　expected　some　controversy　and　suspicion　when　he　first　brought　his　bride　home　to　Coroth；　less　than　a　year　after　Bran　Cons'　death；　but　he　had　thought　the　suspicion　would　diminish　as　they　came　to　know　and　trust　her。　They　had　not。
They　did　not　trust　her　because　they　did　not　know　her。　They　did　not　know　her　because　when　Morgan　was　away；　which　was　far　more　often　than　he　would　have　liked；　she　kept　largely　to　herself；　having　no　authority　to　exercise　in　his　absence。　He　could　not　give　her　authority；　since　they　did　not　trust　her　…　and　they　did　not　trust　her　because　they　had　no　opportunity　to　observe　any　behavior　that　might　have　confirmed　her　stated　loyalty　to　her　new　lord。　It　was　an　unfortunate　vicious　circle　that　Morgan　had　not　yet　figured　out　how　to　break。
Hence；　Richenda　had　remained　a　mere　resident　of　his　castle　at　Coroth；　treated　courteously　enough　by　the　immediate　ducal　household；　but　given