Suspicious Knows Suspicion
Refectory, St. Braumel’s Cathedral, Naurlinz, South Wisana 10:03am, Sowenmoon 27th, 456 NE
Soft mid-morning sunlight tempered by the covered walkway of the east cloister lit the refectory. The décor was humble. A few unlit candelabras hung high. Bare stone walls. Stout dark buffets parked along these walls and several long polished trestle tables with benches was its extent.
There was one remarkable exception at the north end. This one feature drew the eyes. A low altar festooned with garlands of daffodils and burning red candles, broke the spartan theme. This altar was ruled by a half-life sized milky green jade statue of Mother Krina. The divine figure was wearing a gilded loose flowing scarf. That, with her long wild tresses, scarcely covered her breasts and privates leaving little to the imagination.
On tip-toe the figure leapt from atop a pile of writhing fanged serpents cast in bronze, copper and brass with jeweled eyes. Several of the serpents had sunk their ivory fangs into her ankles. Held aloft in her delicate hands was an alabaster infant swaddled with a ragged horse hair buckram cloth. Its lowly and worn nature clashing with the exquisite sculpture.
Cats swarmed about and on the assemblage. They capered while avoiding candle flames and greedily snarfed on the obligatory bit of meal each diner was expected to offer.
The Cats being there, doing that, was one of the thousands of rites and observances made throughout the realm of The Church. Some were universal in The Holy Church but many were colloquial, like this one.
Esther sat alone at the end of a table contemplating the scene attempting to intuit any meaning from it. The baby was Aylmer. The serpents are the Anki from the Old World and Krina was Aylmer’s mother who died in the Exodus. The cats though, that had her stumped. She had not asked, telling herself that she wanted it to be revealed through holy faith.
She had just finished sweeping the refectory and scattering fresh threshes. The scent of lavender and lemon balm had calmed her. She caught herself enjoying the moment, the altar, and its contrast with the plainness of the refectory.
She felt eyes on her. When she looked she saw Allena Wat, a Tuninite inquisitor and fellow soldier in the Company of the Red Dawn. Military wise they served the same cause. Spiritually, ethically, they were antipodal in their concept of the demiurge.
The typically coquettish woman was leaning against a wall ten strides away looking at Esther’s boots of all things, seemingly lost in deep thought.
Allena wore the crisp modest dress and bonnet of a Bithean goodwife. What a deceiver, Esther thought. She had seen Allena’s behaviours for over a year now. She was a slut and a manipulator. There was no denying that the woman was attractive, silver tongued and very smart. Traits Esther knew she did not have in abundance. The woman was also an opportunist, devious and morally bankrupt. Traits Esther was grateful she had little of, if any. The alluring opportunist was also an itinerant priestess of The Ancient Holy Church, just like Esther. Lastly, she was also a chaplain in the same military Company. This part was the worst because it meant they frequently had to work with each other.
Allena played a sweet girl next door and always did the perfect things in such a way as to be lauded. These attributes left her admired by most of the male senior officers. Any criticisms by Esther or any other woman would come across as jealousy. Despite all that, Allena held up in a fight or a mission well enough. At least on the occasions she didn’t happen to be where the action wasn’t.
Be it said, this woman’s presence did not sit well with Esther. It distorted her thoughts with emotions.
Unsure how long these thoughts and emotions had captured her attention caused her to come present. Allena was now watching Esther’s face. A cunning grin quickly transformed into a sweet toothy smile. She pushed off the wall and put her hands behind her back as she took a few steps towards Esther.
Esther’s startled face turned to a guarded frown.
“Sister.” Allena chirped with cloying exuberance. “My goodness, these cats are something else.” She thisk, thisked with her tongue and teeth as she wiggled her fingers. Esther braced for some sort of spell.
Instead, a white kitten sprinted to the ‘goodwife’ and jumped into her embrace. Lifting it up she gave it little kisses before cradling it. It swatted at her Hexacirque (holy symbol) hanging atop her full bosom. She began slowly stepping closer.
“It seems you are fitting in well here at this grand Cathedral. The Bishop is such a benevolent and caring father for this diocese and its flock. Blessed be He.” Allena watched Esther closely for a reaction.
Blessed be! Esther could not ignore the use of the pagan phrase. It rankled her but she did not let it show.
Feeling increasingly perturbed as this voice registered, not the accent, as familiar. The alarm of this recognition was not from their time serving together. It was the voice she had heard when spying on the Bishop a few days ago. She had the urge to grab the harlot of Tunini by her coiffed hair and drag her to the altar for a flogging. Instead she swallowed her disgust.
Standing up she gave a small nod and stated with conviction. “May the light of the Lords find you this day…Sister.” Moving over to the Altar of Krina, she genuflected then walked towards the door to the cloister.
As she opened the door, Allena’s sweet voice called. “It seems you have forgotten something, Sister.” Esther reluctantly turned about pretty sure she had not forgotten anything. This felt like baiting. Allena was picking up something off the floor by where Esther had sat. She began walking towards Esther while looking curiously at a small vial in her hand as she sauntered towards the Chaplain. It was, or was just like, the vial of strange white powder she had acquired in her clandestine visit to Bishop Greer’s chamber.
Steeling her face to calm she pasted on a curious look. “I do not recognize it, sister. Perhaps someone else left it. With the Good Lords’ consecrations, I bid you a good day.”
She left feeling a bit surprised at herself and confidant that was the most convincing fib she had ever told. Granted, she could count all her lies on both hands and one foot.
After leaving the refectory, she had a lengthy visit at Lanaril’s altar in the Cathedral. Leaving there she walked in deep shadows of another cloisters covered walkway. She could see the front of the Bishop’s residence. Where she had landed as she swung down on a copper gutter a few days past. It had been repaired.
His front door opened. She watched as Allena, Knabbalah, Kundaliza other members of The Company of the Red Dawn. They were with the elderly Gensii, Abbesse Trembeline. They exited stopping on the stoop to give ring kissing farewells to Bishop Greer. The Abbesse wore her usual sky-blue habit. The three young women wore simple white gowns, colettes ringed with a wreath of lillies. All indications of lustration rites. Then she saw the red slippers that all of them wore, even the Bishop. That was odd. She stayed in her umbra and watched the women head to the convent’s bathhouse. She glanced back at the Bishop. He was looking through the partially open door with an unwholesome grin. He was looking at her. She was confidant she was not visible to normal vision. He nodded and closed the door.
Esther contemplated the three women and fellow soldiers. Allena is the manipulator and technically an inquisitor of Tunini, she had a million tricks up her sleeves. Knabbalah was also a manipulator, but of the kind typical for a Nander, more direct, blunt. She would outright bully if it would work. Fairly, she was a decent if somewhat lackadaisical soldier. Kundaliza, an adherent and inquisitor of Pahach, the dark God of war and power. This tall attractive muscled woman was a force of her own. Cultured, amicable and from a good upper-class Bithean house, she did well as team member and used her elite education in useful ways. Her dark side came out in battle. She lived to kill. To crush the weak that did not yield. Her style was ferocious yet calculated. She was willing to employ any means to destroy her opponent; dirty tricks, poison, hostages, explosives, whatever it took. All done with a reverent sadism and steadfast determination that made the skin crawl for most who saw that side of her. Her arms and legs were graffitied with the writhing adder tattoos typical of followers of Pahach.
None should be on this holy ground.
Later, checking her pockets, Esther found the vial. Was that some sort of legerdemain that Allena had pulled? Or was it another vial? If so, had she found it or just did she say so. Whatever it was, it was revealing to say the least. Allena laying out something so blatant could only be baiting.
She attempted to recall what she had learned about any clergy being evil in The Ancient Church. From what she knew it was rare. The policy of tolerance was expansive. Tenets were that most evil can be turned to good. Not with violence but with compassion and patience. All acolytes were vetted. She was. That only involved words, oaths, and the insights of the clergy member performing the ordaining. Any suspicions or transgressions of an evil bent were to be handled by a tribunal. If guilty they were sent to a prelate to be lustrated. If that did not remove the taint, then the guilty would be sent to Oracle’s Hill*, to receive a life’s sentence in The Great Hall of the Archives. There they served as pages to the Scribes of the Hallowed Tomes.
*aka The Hill. Religious center of The Ancient and Accepted Church.