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A.R.Yngve DARC AGES Book Three _________________________ |
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Chapter 12
The church of Monro had raised its large, very old cathedrals in most city-states -- also in Pasko City. The day after Darc's third broadcast, a small platoon of soldiers escorted the city lord Migam and his son Tharlos to the local cathedral. Their electric carriage clanked to a halt outside the main portal of the building. Two pages rolled out a carpet onto the church steps. The priestesses alerted the high-priestess, a rather aged woman of noble birth named Monrosa Obispo Al-Fache. Through the complex marriage system of the nobility, Monrosa was distantly related to Lord Azuch of Fache City. Like all other high-priestesses she was blond and beautiful -- if not as inspired as Azuch's second-sighted wife. But she was aware that when the Paskos made one of their rare official visits to the Church, trouble was in the air. Monrosa did not rush to greet her visitors; she sent a number of priestesses to the gates first. Armed soldiers marched up the steps and placed themselves at the inside of the antechamber. "My lord," a middle-aged priestess objected, "the Church is sacred ground! No arms, no robots, please!" The bloated Lord Migam Pasko walked up the steps to the cathedral in a mindless stupor, half supported by his taller son. The priestesses could smell Migam's alcoholic breath, in spite of the heavy perfume he was wearing to cover it up. He did not seem to hear their objections. "We wish to see Her Holiness now," Tharlos stated urgently. "The guards are here to protect her from our city's enemies." Without further explanation, Tharlos guided his father into the cathedral. The building was no less splendid than the one in Damon City, and Tharlos had not sacked the church of its gold and jewels -- yet. The high-priestess was reading a sermon to a group of late churchgoers, when Sir Tharlos rudely inteerupted her. He walked past the aisles and up to the big altar where she stood, leaving his swaying father behind. With only a slight bow of his head, he said: "Your Holiness, I urge you to clear the cathedral of all listeners. The city lord wishes an audience with you, now." High-priestess Monrosa looked down at the young intruder without making a face. Once she had been receiving Tharlos's father into her private quarters every month -- but that was long ago. Monrosa knew Tharlos as the unofficial benefactor of covert cult activities, and the hatred between the two was mutual. She finished the reading for the handful of churchgoers, blessed them, and asked them to leave. As they hastily exited, the soldiers pushed the heavy doors shut and locked them. Not having moved from her standing position, Monrosa addressed Lord Migam Pasko. He was sitting slumped in a front aisle. "My dear lord. What an unexpected visit. Have you come for a confession? The Goddess loves and forgives all sinners who sincerely repent." The city lord kept staring forward with unseeing, morose eyes. Tharlos raised a hand in Monrosa's line of sight, and said gravely: "Your Holiness, we have come to ask you declare a ban against the unholy radio transmissions from the fiend named Darc." "What transmissions, Sir Tharlos? The Church does not concern itself with matters mechanical. Our sphere is the realm of feminine virtues." Tharlos gave her an impatient glare -- that last remark of hers was laden with irony. "I am sure your congregation knows what I talk of. The so-called 'Voice of Liberty'." Monrosa raised an eyebrow. Yes, she knew. Like all church people, she was enthralled -- not to mention shocked and slightly outraged -- by the statements and songs of the man rumored to be the reborn Singing King. Transcripts of his radio broadcasts had recently reached Monrosa through her spies, before the city's last illegal receiver was destroyed. Unlike high-priestess Inu, however, Monrosa half doubted, half feared Darc. In her older age, Monrosa felt more comfortable in a stable world, where the King's return was always promised but never realized. Had it not been for his reprehensible cult, the high-priestess might even have agreed with Tharlos to ban Darc. "The Church cannot make a difference in such earthly matters," she said. "Surely the combined forces of the nobility could deal with a single man without our help?" She smiled serenely, mocking Tharlos without openly showing it. He snarled: "I'm warning you! Do not try to hide behind your fancy gold and postures! The church shall soon be forced to contribute to our war effort --" Tharlos stopped, afraid that he had revealed too much. He had already lost self-control, and looked around for unwanted observers. Tharlos calmed himself, and faced a very stern gaze from Monrosa. "Your Holiness," he resumed, lowering his voice, "pardon my outburst. But these are trying times for us all. We need to stand united before the threat of... of a dangerous demagogue like Darc. If he is allowed to continue his foul work, the Church as well as the cities may be threatened by The Ones Whose Very Name Brings Disease. Is it not obvious, that Darc is rallying them into another uprising?" Monrosa's eyes opened wide for a second; the very mentioning of the Lepers shook her. The primal fear of the unknown great wilderness showed in her features, and she swayed where she stood. Tharlos smiled; he had found her weak spot. "Maybe an official ban is not necessary after all, Your Holiness," he proposed benignly. "A generous donation to our war chest is a much more practical way to defend the people against you-know-what." Reluctantly, the high-priestess nodded. A purring sound, amplified by the vast cathedral, caught their attention. It was the sleeping Lord Migam, snoring loudly in the front aisle. |
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