“Ah,” said Nicodemus. “I see. Tell me then, what sins can he not find forgiveness for?”

“Murder of others of his own faith—”

“‘Sacrifices,’” corrected the old man. “Murder is an act of hate. We do not hate those we kill. We love them, and in loving them we sacrifice them for the preservation of the church and the glory of God.”

Sir Guy took a breath. “Of course, Father. Ibrahim is troubled by having to sacrifice those of great faith. Clerics. Their imams. His heart likewise rebels at the desecration of mosques.”

“And yet, my son, this is the heart of our Agreement. We will each tend to our own flock and sacrifice our own lambs at the altars of God.”

“Yes,” said Sir Guy with passion, “and have you not seen how this also hurts our own people? I mean no insult by this, Father, but you do not go into the field with us. You do not see the wounds we open in the flesh of true believers. You do not hear their voices as they cry out to God for protection against monsters; and you do not hear the weeping of our knights in the night, in the dark. Many of our stoutest knights weep like children for the countless lives they’ve taken. Ibrahim is not the only one who fears for his sanity and his soul.”

Nicodemus gave the fire a final jab and then turned, still holding the poker whose tip now glowed dark red. The blaze in his eyes was hotter still. “Is that what you’ve come here to tell me? Has everyone on both sides lost their nerve, then? I thought our knights were true soldiers of God. Are we to fold our tents so quickly, leaving so much sacred work unfinished?”

“No, Father. I proposed a solution to him that I believe will work to strengthen everyone’s resolve.”

Nicodemus narrowed his eyes. “What solution?”

“What we are doing now is all about, as you so rightly put it, sacrifice, and we have agreed that many sacrifices need to be made in order to inspire the people and remind them of their spiritual duty. We call it the Agreement, and we label each death as a sacrifice because we do not make war on each other. But what if it were otherwise? What I proposed to Ibrahim is a second Agreement that would permit a brand new kind of war. One that has never been fought upon the earth. One which would allow each side to feel the strength of holy purpose in their arm every time they draw a sword.” He stepped closer to the fire and the old priest. “Father, I am saying that we turn our swords against the enemies of God.”

“You are talking a holy war,” growled Nicodemus, “and again I say that we already have that.”