LITMIR.BIZ

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anything?” Avraäm said. “Do you think that I ever did? Do you think that I craved the power and the glory of leading the church? I refused the honor at first, did you know that? No, I see by your reaction that you didn’t.

      “Well, twice I turned them down, and I was deter­mined to avoid the burden altogether, if necessary by re­turning to the cloister. Then Ismaêl, yes, that very one, he came to me privily and said that I must accept for the good of the church, that there was no one else who could assume the reins at that place and at that time without causing a di­vision in the ranks. And so I was persuaded to relent. I think he regrets his advice now, yes I do.

      “But that’s the way that God works, my dear Timó­sha. You think that you can oppose what He wants, and then, poof!, suddenly things are turned upside down, and you’re acting on His behalf, just as our poor metropolitan did. Well, my time here is nearly done.”

      “No, no, father,” the metropolitan said, “you’ll be guiding us for years yet to come.”

      “Don’t humor me,” the octagenarian said. “I’ve been patriarch for a great many cycles now, as you well know, and I’ve been subject throughout that entire period to king and prince and metropolitan, all trying to get the ‘old man’ to do what they want.

      “I attempt very hard to see things as they are. I know that I’m dying, at the very time when we are facing the worse crisis to affect our people in a generation, and I also know that you understand this full well, and have al­ready begun calculating the considerations and conse­quences thereof. But you forget, Timotheos, that however much you plan, you can never comprehend or circumvent God’s plan for you, or for this Church, or for this land. I know that you mean well, but there’s an arrogance yet in you that must be tamed if you’re to rule wisely.”

      “But you just said, father,” the prelate said, “that God will dispose of all of our prideful prognostica­tions.”

      “Don’t play the sophist with me, Timósha,” Avraäm said, “it doesn’t become you. You will be patriarch, I can see this in my dreams, oh thank the Lord for them, and they’re true dreams, I’m convinced, but the how and the why and the when, I do not know. I’m comforted, how­ever, by this knowledge as I approach the limits of my tenure here, because I know that in the end you’ll do the right thing, that you’ll follow the pathways that I laid down for you so many years ago, that you’ll be a credit both to this office and to the Holy Church.”

      “I’d still like to find a decent position for Afanásy,” Timotheos said.

      The patriarch just laughed, long and hard.

      “Oh, foolish, foolish man, oh you with so great a mind and so little faith.” He chuckled. “Father Athanasios will also be patriarch, this too I have seen, and nothing that you or he can do will alter that fact.”

      “Afanásy?” the younger priest said, astonished by the information.

      “Afanásy,” the old man said. “You go on playing your games, Father Timotheos, you play them as much as you want, but there is only one game in the sight of the Lord, and you, both of you, will have to decide in due course how you will respond to the love that He en­trusts unto you, when you have the guidance of the Holy Church as your sole responsibility.

      “But do not despair. For as much as He grants you the authority, so too will He give you the strength that you will need to face the perils yet to come. I will not be there, except in spirit, always that, but He is eternal. He will support you. He will guide you. He will not fail you.

      “Alas, I am but a frail vessel, and I must now take my rest. I apologize, my old friend, for scaring you in this way, but you have become, at times, rather overcomplacent and overcomfortable with your position, and a man needs to reflect every so often upon the true and vital things of his existence.

      “Now let me bless you before I go. May the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ watch over you, comfort you, and give you direction, throughout all of the days of your life. Amen.”

      “Amen,” Timotheos said. “God go with you, father.”

      “He is always there if you let Him enter your heart, Timósha. Find a way to lead us home to Him, my son. And pray for me. Pray for us all.”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      “WE ARE ALIVE!”

      The next two weeks were spent in frenzied activity, as the great expedition to Pommerelia began taking shape outside of Paltyrrha. The rain continued off and on in desultory fashion, occasionally ceasing long enough for the sun to lay a crust on top of the ever-present mud, but the men became used to the bad conditions, and even began joking about them.

      By the first day of May, the Feast of Saint Stachys the Stigmatized, eleven thousand soldiers had gathered at Katonaí Field west of the city, with the Ar­rhéni, Kórynthi, Luristáni, Vorónali, and Velyaminóli con­tingents still to arrive. Four thousand more troops were al­ready encamped around Myláßgorod, their destination to the west, and another five thousand at Bolémiagrad. Con­trary to almost everyone’s expectations except the king’s, the enterprise was moving forward very rapidly.

      The king had picked the first of May as the official leave­taking of the army for many good reasons, primary among them being the fact that this was traditionally the beginning of the warm season in Kórynthia, and the end of the monsoon rains. With the onset of the milder weather, the men could see the evidence around them of things sprouting everywhere, a sure sign of renewal. The opti­mism generated by all this greenery and the lessening storms had offset the depression following Lord Feognóst’s public suicide, an event that still hadn’t been adequately explained by the king’s physicians, plus the announcement the week before of the passing of the son of Prince Pankratz. Prince Alexander had perished of the creeping colick at the age of just six months.

      But nothing of an unusual nature had occurred in the interim, save a tremor two evenings before that had jolted most everyone from their sound sleep, but had passed so quickly that many could not even identify what it was. Earthquakes were common in Paltyrrha, and anyone over the age of twenty-five remembered all too well the great quake of 1188, which had leveled part of the city.

      The leaders of the expedition gathered at the hour of tritê at Saint Konstantín’s Cathedral in the center of the town, there to receive the official blessing of the Thrice Holy Patriarch Avraäm iv. After the shaky old primate had celebrated mass, given his benediction, sprinkled them with holy water, and distributed the consecrated bread and wine that represented in sacramental form the body and blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, he and half of his synod prepared to embark with the king’s army, for it was only fitting, he was heard to utter, that they suffer the same risks as the others.

      “God will protect us,” he insisted, “He will watch over us all.”

      From the Cathedral they marched as one body to Tighrishály Palace, where the Princess Arrhiána and Prince Andruin, the newly named Regents of the Kingdom in Kipriyán’s absence, were waiting for them, together with the womenfolk and children of the royal family and the high councilors of state. Many were the tears and the huz­zahs that were exchanged that day, and many the promises made of great victories and happy returns. Such are the gentle lies that loved ones tell each other, that they may sleep more soundly at night.

      King Kyprianos kissed his son and daughter on each cheek, and gave them their sashes of office. Metropolitan Ismaêl, the ranking member of the Holy Synod, was ap­pointed Locum Tenens of the Holy Church by the patriarch.

      Prince Ezzö and his eldest grandson, Prince Pankratz, the real commander of the northern army, then made their farewells; later that day they would transit to their camp near Bolémiagrad, where they would lead the northern Kórynthi army into Einwegflasche. King Hum­fried v kissed his father and eldest son gently, and was ac­tually seen to brush away a tear from his eye as he bid them “adieu.” Many at court had begun to comment that the Old Pretender Ezzö was starting to fail in his mind, especially since the unfortunate passing of his son Adolphos the previous winter. Still, he made a formidable presence on this most

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