<h2 id="c25"><span class="h2line1">24</span> <br/><span class="h2line2">SPEECHES IN THE GREAT ASSEMBLY</span></h2>
<p>It was the old Hall of Presence. The throne stood as before,
its dark wood bright with jewels, and the jewelled star bright
above it, so that Rodvard felt at his back almost a palpable emanation
of Dossola’s high fame. Before him, chairs had been swung
out from the walls into the space where all had once stood to
hear judgments pronounced from the throne, as in the great days
of King Crotinianus; and other chairs brought in, not consonant
with those already there. He himself occupied the seat once reserved
to the Announcer, two steps up; a board was placed for
him to write on, since this was to be the pretence for his being
there. To the right, another step up, was the place once occupied
by the Chamberlain, which Mathurin would presently take. It
also had a board.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_394">394</div>
<p>Rodvard looked out across the hall, now filling with men,
most of whom bowed to the throne on entering, in the ancient
form. Very few were badged with coronets, and it seemed to
Rodvard a cause of hope and pleasure that this was so. There
was a solid group of legists; some merchants; and a few men from
the lesser orders, though not as many as he had expected. As he
watched, the Episcopals came in, six of the seven at once, not
looking around at the fall and sudden rise of chatter that attended
their entrance. They moved to places in the premier row of
chairs; legist badges began drifting toward them as straws on a
stream will be drawn by a log.</p>
<p>Mathurin came in. He wore his servant’s black and badge of
low condition as though they were robes and a crown, strutting
visibly. He did not bow to the throne, but walked straight up to
the Chamberlain’s place, sat down, bounced up again immediately
and slapped his palm on the board for attention. As the buzz of
talk died reluctantly and men took their places, he watched with
tight lips; when only two or three whisperers remained, he struck
the board again and said; “There is a new matter of utmost importance
before the assembly of the nation.”</p>
<p>A solid-looking man who bore the coronet badge stood up
into the dramatic pause and said; “I am the Marquis of Palm.
There is an old matter for which this assembly was called that I
shall never cease to urge. No regent-apparent has been—”</p>
<p>He was allowed to say no more. A chorus of angry babblings
covered his voice, and Mathurin slapped sharply. His voice rose;
“I am only the writer before this assembly, and will place before
it whatever is desired; but it does not seem to me that it wishes
to hear your proposal, Ser Marquis. The more since the matter of
which I speak is so great that it overrides every other. I have to
say that the nation, already threatened by exterior enemies, is
now called upon to face a worse danger, one that will call for all
our exertions. It is this: the leaders in whom we have most trusted
have turned traitor, and are conspiring with the enemies of the
people.”</p>
<p>Now there were more babblings, and angry cries, such as “Cut
their throats!” with a couple of fists brandished aloft; but Rodvard
noticed that all the outcry came from one section of the
hall, behind the Episcopals. One of the latter began fanning himself
rapidly. Instead of quieting, the tumult augmented as Mathurin
stood sweeping his eyes across it with a half-triumphant air.
At last he raised a hand.</p>
<p>“I will tell you the worst,” he said, “not in fine words but
brutally, for this is a brutal thing.” He shuffled a handfull of
papers. “No, wait, I will begin with the tale of how this knowledge
reached us.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_395">395</div>
<p>“At Drog, below the pass that leads through the Ragged Mountains
to Rushaca, there is an inn. Some eight days gone there
came to it a carriage, bearing one of the ladies of the court, oh, a
beautiful lady, all dressed as though for a ball. She came from
the north, from Zenss, where the court is, and as the road leads
to Tritulacca ultimately, her actions roused some suspicion in the
mind of the innkeeper. He is a true patriot, and thought she
might be carrying wealth away out of the country in violation of
the decree against it; watched her, and noticed that she was very
careful of a certain casket. The innkeeper thereupon summoned
people’s guards, who seized the casket and broke it open. They
found no money, but they found—this.”</p>
<p>Mathurin drew from his papers one that seemed to be of
parchment, and waved it aloft, so that all could see that it bore
at its foot a huge blue seal, star-shaped, the sign-manual of the
chancery of the realm. There were sharp intakes of breath and
stirring among the chairs; the Episcopal who had been fanning
himself stopped. The sturdy man who had described himself as
the Marquis of Palm stared aloft with his mouth open and a
frown on his face.</p>
<p>“Shall I read it to you? No, not word for word, for it is written
in Tritulaccan, and with the stupid, decorative court phrases that
try to hide real meaning.” (Rodvard thought: he has more orator’s
tricks than I ever would have imagined.)</p>
<p>Pause. “Here it is, then: a missive, signed with the name of
Count Cleudi, himself a Tritulaccan by birth, to Perisso, Lord
Regent of Tritulacca, but bearing as proof of genuineness, the seal
of our Gracious Majesty, the Queen. The substance of it is that
while without doubt the rebellion of her cousin Pavinius, aided
though he is by the Mayerns, will soon be put down, the war is
likely to be long and wasteful. Her gracious majesty therefore
consents to the proposal of the Lord Perisso, made in the name
of true religion and the old friendship between the two houses,
that he shall join the army of Dossola with not less than sixteen
shars; and in return for this, it is graciously conceded that Tritulacca
has a just claim to the city and province of Sedad Mir. And
some of these Tritulaccan shars shall pass to the war by way of
Netznegon city, to suppress certain disorders there. The rats! There
is no dealing with such people!”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_396">396</div>
<p>“Shame!” shouted someone almost before he had finished, and
now all over the hall men were on their feet and shouting, but
among other cries there was one of “Forgery!” Mathurin seemed
to be waiting for that moment. “Forgery!” he cried, his voice going
up almost to the cracking-point. “If you think it is forgery, look at
it yourself,” and threw the paper outward, as one might the caught
hunted animal to the dogs. “Will you call it forgery when I tell
you also that the whole Tritulaccan fleet has been placed on war
standard? The nation is betrayed!”</p>
<p>Now the tumult seemed completely out of hand, men moving
from place to place confusedly or trying to say something (and
in every eye Rodvard could catch there was nothing but mere
fury, which expressed itself in a color of maroon). Mathurin
looked out on the scene, making no effort at control; but from the
first row there rose a tall old man with white hair and a face set
in a habitual expression of benevolence, who raised high his
white staff of office, by which Rodvard recognized him as the
Arch-Episcopal, Teurapis Groadon.</p>
<p>Eyes caught the staff; voice after voice was abstracted from
the uproar until only a few still tried to speak, then two, then
none. The Arch-Episcopal waited until there was a silence broken
only by a cough; Mathurin pressed Rodvard’s shoulder to read the
eyes, but the old man only cast one swift glance at the dais before
turning to address the assembly.</p>
<p>“Ser writer,” he said, “and you, lords and estates of the realm,
this is not a pleasant thing that we have heard. There may be
some question of the authenticity of this message, or it may have
been written merely to deceive; a document from the hand of the
heretic Pavinius, who would make himself the equal of God. Yet
I will not deny that we must behave as though it were true; for
if we do nothing, and it proves to be so, it will be too late. And
for myself I fear it is true; for it is given to the spiritual estate to
discern the machinations of the powers of evil. There is before us,
then the question of how, joying in the protection of God, we can
circumvent the machinations of the Enemy, who has made man
and women naturally good, into instruments of evil.</p>
<p>“Let us therefore prayerfully address ourselves to the question
of how the realm may escape this trouble. In an emergency equal
to this, in the reign of King Cloar with Queen Berdette the First,
the assembly of the realm set aside their rule in favor of their
daughter, with her husband, the great King Crontinianus, of glorious
memory. But now there are no heirs female, and of heirs male,
only Prince Pavinius. Thus we seem faced with the hard choice of
accepting him, and so selling the soul to preserve the body, or of
adhering to the Queen’s will and saving the soul through bodily
submission to Tritulacca. But I do not think God demands of us
such submission, for our God is a God of joy.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_397">397</div>
<p>“We are here met in the high assembly of the realm, which I
hold to represent what of the power material has failed to protect
its own; and the power spiritual is fully represented. Therefore,
though such a step has no basis in law or custom, I say let us set
up a regency in the time of a living Queen. It should have members
of lords and estates to show forth the source of its authority;
and since the true enemy is that power of evil which has led our
good Queen astray, I humbly offer to preside.”</p>
<p>He sat. There was a rumor, almost of agreement, but with a
little edge in it that left Rodvard glad the Arch-Episcopal had
ended so, for all the rest of what he said might have led them
to agree, and it seemed to Rodvard that a regency with lords
and Episcopals on it would be only the old rule again. Mathurin
jerked his finger toward one of the brown legists, who had risen
and was waiting for attention.</p>
<p>“I am the kronzlar Escholl,” said the man. “I will say that this
proposal of a regency in the time of a living ruler has good support
in law and custom, though it is not generally known. It is
now over eight quadrials of years since King Belodon the Second
was killed at Bregatz during the Zigraner wars, and few remember
that only three weeks before his death, it was determined
that he had gone mad, and the barons set up a council of regency.
We may, I think, assume a like madness in the Queen’s
Majesty, since her offer to Perisso is clearly contrary both to the
law of the realm and true religion. His claim to Sedad Mir is
based on descent in the male line, since it is well known that the
last Count of that seignory wrongfully dispossessed his sister,
who survived him to pass on her rights to the crown of Dossola.”</p>
<p>The bright morning light struck through the window, fairly
on the speaker’s face (and as he took his place, Rodvard caught
from his eye a quick gleam of greed and lust for power, altogether
surprising in one who had spoken so dry and calmly). He
touched Mathurin’s arm to mention this, but now half a dozen
more were on their feet to speak, and the writer before the assembly
shot his finger at a man with a merchant’s badge, in the
group that had made the tumult when the Marquis of Palm was
shouted down.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_398">398</div>
<p>“I protest!” this one bawled. “I am called Brosen Zelitza. We
are the assembly of the nation, and therefore already regents in
our own right. Why vest the regency in a council? Why should
Episcopals have the temporal power as well as the spiritual? If
no one else dares to speak, I will tell you why; it is because they
are sold—sold to Tritulacca. They wish to have the power to
complete Cleudi’s contract, and their objection to it is only a
sham.” (The voice had a curious dynamic quality that seemed to
stir the very bones, but in Rodvard’s mind, watching the face,
there grew only a picture of something with teeth, he could not
make out any mind or thought.) “—by the rule of these Episcopals
and their mercenaries of the priesthood the old customs of
Dossola were set aside, and it is forbidden that women shall use
the Art. So Dossola is being made a half-nation like the savage
Kjermanash, with women in bondage, unable to defend—” (The
voice was stirring them, excitement in the hall, with movements
and the scratch of a pushed-back chair.) “—corrupt priesthood,
refuge of scoundrels and bastards,” (Rodvard swept the line of
the Episcopals, and though they were turned so he could catch
no eyes, every pose told of rising indignation.) “—who cannot define
the God they profess to serve—”</p>
<p>“Stop!” The Arch-Episcopal was on his feet again, staff upraised.</p>
<p>“Ah, the sword bites, does it? Conspirator! Plot—”</p>
<p>“Stop!” The voice that was accustomed to dominating the
vast recesses of the cathedral was thunderous.</p>
<p>Up leaped Mathurin. “My lord Episcopal,” he said, “this is
the great assembly of the people, where each may speak in turn.
When you have heard him, we will hear you.”</p>
<p>The Arch-Episcopal swung round (and from his eyes Rodvard
could catch the flash of anger clearly enough, but that was not the
sole emotion, and the rest was veiled). “I will never hear blasphemy,”
he said. “As the highest officer of government remaining
loyal to the realm, I declare this assembly dissolved. All who love
God and Dossola, follow me.”</p>
<p>Amid a renewed outburst, catcalls and shouts of approval
mingled, he lifted his staff high and strode toward the door, followed
by the others of his class. A good half the legists came
behind. The nobles stood, but hung hesitant, looking toward the
strong Marquis of Palm; and then, seeing him sit, some returned
to their seats. Of the merchants some followed, but the little knot
where the shouting started remained in their seats.</p>
<p>When the procession had passed, Mathurin said; “The session
for this day is closed.” He turned toward Rodvard (and the latter
saw in the smiling eyes that everything had gone exactly according
to plan, and Zelitza was a good man).</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_399">399</div>
<h3>II</h3>
<p>Rodvard left the Hall of Presence alone, more than a little
prideful at being a partaker in great deeds at last, and wondering
what the old companions at the Office of Pedigree would say,
who had so looked down on and baited him, when they knew
he was one of the writers before the great assembly of the nation.
Silver spadas were in his pouch; the new clothes were neat; it
was the finest day of winter.</p>
<p>He felt he must tell someone of his delight in all; lifted his
head as he strode, and so striding, inadvertently trod on the heel
of one before. The man turned to show a face as young as his
own and a clerical badge. His hands were hunched beneath the
edge of his jacket.</p>
<p>“I beg your grace,” said Rodvard.</p>
<p>“No matter,” said the other.</p>
<p>“I was thinking. Did you know that the great assembly is going
to make itself a regency in the place of Queen Berdette?”</p>
<p>“No.” A pause. “Well, now the Tritulaccan Count will find him
a better bedfellow. Perhaps we’ll have this Prince Pavinius.”</p>
<p>“The Episcopals left the assembly.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Another stop to the conversation, step, step to the corner,
side by side. The encounter glanced around (with discomfort
in his eyes at having nothing to say). “Have you seen the new
representation at Leverdaos? It is called ‘The Maid’s Problem’
and Minora is playing.”</p>
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