Emban clasped his hands behind his back somewhat theatrically and bowed his head. When he lifted his face, tears were actually streaming down his cheeks. He turned slowly, giving everyone in the audience chamber ample opportunity to see those tears. ‘Alas, my brothers,’ he said in a broken voice. ‘Our vows forbid us to lay aside our cassocks and vestments and to take up the sword. We stand helpless in this dreadful crisis. We are doomed, my brothers, and our holy mother Church is doomed with us. Alas that I have lived so long that I must witness this terrible day. Where can we turn, brothers? Who will come to our aid? Who has the power to protect us in this darkest hour? What manner of men are there in all the world who can defend us in this dreadful, fatal conflict?’

There was a breathless pause.

‘The Church Knights!’ a feeble old voice wheezed from one of the red-cushioned benches. ‘We must turn to the Knights of the Church! Not even the powers of Hell can prevail against them!’

‘The Church Knights!’ the Hierocracy roared as in one voice. ‘The Church Knights!’

Chapter 11

The excited tumult in the large chamber continued for some time as Patriarch Emban of Ucera stood gravely in the centre of the long marble floor, just happening to have placed himself in the precise centre of that elongated circle of light streaming down through the round window behind the vacant throne. As the babble of voices began to die out, Emban raised one pudgy hand. ‘Indeed, my brothers,’ he continued, his voice carrying just that right note of gravity, ‘the invincible Knights of the Church could easily defend Chyrellos, but the knights are committed at this time to the defence of Arcium. The Preceptors are here, of course, taking their rightful places among us, but each of them has but a token force here, certainly not enough to fight off the armies of darkness encircling us. We cannot whisk the full might of the militant orders from the rocky plains of Arcium to the Holy City in the twinkling of an eye; and even if we could, how could we convince the commanders of the army in that sorely beset kingdom that our need is greater than theirs and thus persuade them to release the knights to come to our aid?’

Patriarch Ortzel of Kadach rose to his feet, his severe face framed by his pale, greying hair. ‘If I may speak, Emban,’ he said. The Patriarch of Kadach was the compromise candidate of the faction opposed to Annias, and he spoke with a certain authority.

‘Of course,’ Emban said. ‘I eagerly await the wisdom of my esteemed brother from Lamorkand.’

‘The paramount duty of the Church is to survive so that she may continue her work,’ Ortzel said in his harsh voice. ‘All other considerations must be secondary to that. Will we all concede that point?’

There was a murmur of agreement.