«But, would they have disciplined him?» Kenneth asked.

«Quite so», the king agreed. «And the answer is, no, they would not. My way was best».

«Perhaps», Seisyll said. «But there will be a price to pay for your way».

«Should I have bound him over to whatever 'justice' the Church might have chosen to impose?» the king asked.

Seisyll smiled faintly. «I did not say that, Sire. But there will be a price to pay».

The price, in the short term, was indeed the excommunication that Bishop Desmond had threatened — and surprisingly, excommunication as well for Alyce, whose Deryni powers had assisted in ferreting out the guilt of Septimus and his two fellow-offenders.

«You've done nothing wrong», Kenneth assured her. «You used your God-given gifts to uncover the truth — and truth always comes of God. Septimus deserved to die. It was he who turned his back on God — and reaped his just recompense. This will pass».

«But it does not 'just pass», she murmured, clinging to his embrace. «In the eyes of the Church, I am now set apart from God, even more than my blood already had set me apart. No priest may offer me the sacraments». She looked up at him. «We may not even be married, until this ban is lifted».

Anger stirred in his sea-gray eyes. «The Church is not God, Alyce. And not all who serve the Church also serve Him. What of your family chaplain, Father Paschal? Could he not be summoned, and would he not perform the rite?»

«Aye, he would», she admitted, brightening, for she had not yet considered that possibility. «Out of courtesy, he would normally defer to the direction of any lawful bishop, but he is not obliged to do so. They will like it not at all, though, if he should act in defiance of their authority».

«And I shall like it not, if our marriage is too long delayed, gentle Alyce». The touch of his lips on hers, at first a token gesture to reassure, began to tease at promises of deeper passions, stirred increasingly in the weeks since their betrothal. And when he briefly let himself drink deeper of her kiss, pressing her body close to his, she knew that she could not long bear to keep him from her bed.

«I could send for Father Paschal», she whispered, as she caught her breath. «He stayed in Cynfyn after Ahern's burial, to assist in expanding the king's regency there, but I know he would come, if I asked».

«Then do it», he urged, and turned her hand to press it to his lips, feeling her delicious shudder as his tongue teased briefly against her palm.

Meanwhile, the king refused to be moved on the matter of his quarrel with the Church — and at the beginning of Lent, his excommunication was widened to include interdict for the entire archdiocese of Rhemuth. For more than a month he held firm in his resolve, but finally he sent word to the archbishop, requesting his presence at the castle.

«Sire, you cannot allow this to continue indefinitely», Archbishop William told him, on the day after what would have been Palm Sunday, had the city not been still under interdict. «You have forced me to close the doors of every church in Rhemuth, and to cut off your people from the solace of the sacraments — and this during Lent, when we should be remembering the passion of our Lord, and recalling His sacrifice for us. Can you not unbend to make this far lesser sacrifice?»

«I cannot regret what I did», Donal said stubbornly. «Septimus de Nore was a disgrace to his calling, a murderer. He deserved to die for what he did».

«Perhaps he did», Archbishop William conceded. «That is not the real issue. Canon law reserves the judgment of delinquent priests to the justice of the Church. The king cannot be seen to flout that law».

«I was unconvinced that justice would be done».

«So you took the law into your own hands», William retorted. «And how is that different from any lynch mob that might flout secular law?»

«His brother would have set aside the law!» Donal said emphatically.

«Perhaps. But we shall never know now, shall we?»

Donal looked away, biting back an angry retort.

«Donal, we must end this impasse», the archbishop murmured. «What would it hurt, to make some small concession? You achieved your aim. Septimus paid with his life. Conceding your error will not undo the justice you saw fit to impose. But you must not require your people to suffer further, because of your stubbornness».

After a long moment, the king turned his face slightly toward the archbishop.

«What would you require of me, to make a reconciliation with the Church?»

«Do you repent of your deeds?»

«Of the execution of Septimus de Nore — no. But I regret that I was obliged to bypass the authority of the Church, in my pursuit of justice».

A long silence fell between them as the archbishop considered. Then:

«I am willing to accept that statement as an act of contrition», he said. «However, I would require a more public act of penance».

«How public, and what sort of penance?» the king countered, warning in his eyes.

The archbishop again considered, not flinching from the king's gaze.

«For penance — thirty lashes, as you ordered given to Father de Nore», he finally said, holding up a hand to stay the king's protest. «I would allow, the use of a simple leather scourge of four unknotted thongs, rather than the weighted strands customarily used in the flogging of a criminal. But you shall accept this purging in the presence of the full cathedral chapter, assembled within the privacy of the chapter house at the cathedral».

«And you will lift the interdict, and the excommunication?»

«I will», the archbishop replied. «I shall personally receive you back into the bosom of Mother Church and grant you absolution, at which time you will receive Holy Communion, as a sign of your reconciliation. Do you agree?»

Donal closed his eyes for a long moment, then nodded.

«When can it be done?» he whispered.

«A preparation of three days' fasting should be sufficient», the archbishop allowed. «Bread and water only. I suggest you spend it in seclusion. You may have two men to accompany you for the purgation. I should warn you that I shall allow Oliver de Nore to be present with my monks».

«Do not press me too hard, Archbishop!» Donal warned.

«The affront was against his brother», the archbishop replied coolly. «He has a right to be present. But he shall not lay hand on the whip. My monks shall see to that».

Donal let out an explosive breath, then gave a nod.

«Agreed.

«Then, three days hence», Archbishop William said. «And have I your word that you shall abide by these conditions, I shall lift the interdict immediately upon my return to the cathedral».

«You have it», the king replied. «This should be Holy Week. I would not subject my people to any further deprivation».

«A commendable sentiment, Sire. Then, I shall expect your presence on Thursday evening — after Mass and the stripping of the altars, I think. Perhaps an hour after that, when those keeping vigil have mostly gone. That should ensure the privacy you require. We shall await you in the chapter house».

«As you say, Archbishop».

The king told no one of the accommodation he had reached with the archbishop, though by morning, with the interdict lifted, it could be surmised that some arrangement had been agreed. He canceled all public appearances for the next three days and kept to his private chambers, seeing no one. Limited to bread and water by the terms of his fast, he found his perceptions sharpening at first, and spent a great deal of time considering, as fully as possible, the many interlocking ramifications of the past several months since Twelfth Night.

Most wide-reaching, of course, was the rift he had created between Church and state, by his defiance of canon law — though that was about to be rectified. More personally troubling was the act that had started the unfortunate chain of events. With Krispin dead, not only had he lost a son, but the intended protector for his firstborn.