Sanctuary?

The dawn light woke Christine, and soon Erik too stirred in her arms looking up at her with his somber eyes. "What are we going to do, Crissy?" Christine studied her brother's drawn face for a long time before she came to a decision. Other than a burnt crust of bread they found in a gutter outside a bakery, neither had eaten for over a day. If Merthin wouldn't help them, Christine needed to find someone who would. Almost as if in an answer to her prayer the resonant ringing of Prime bells pealed from the cathedral's highest tower.

"I will take our case to the bishop," Christine hugged her brother's slender body to hers trying to warm the poor boy. "He will have to grant us sanctuary when I explain what Prince Henry has done." For Erik's sake Christine tried to sound confident; the fact that the Archbishop of Whitebridge had already thrown in his support for Henry made this plan far riskier than she was comfortable with, but what other choice did she have?

By the time Christine was her brother's age, she would have seen the inherent problem with this plan. Luckily though, Erik seemed more relieved than troubled. She fingered the slight bump raised by the ring secreted under her skirt as she considered the best way to reach out to Bishop of Oldchester. She had never personally spoken to Bishop Anthryl, but she had met the elderly cleric and personally taken communion from the Holy Father at least a dozen times over the past few years. Whenever her family travelled to Oldchester, her father had always been led to a place of honor at the front of the congregation near the alter.

Remembering her shabby reception at Merthin's house, Christine took the time to remove as much of the caked mud and leaves from her dress and carefully braided her hair as neatly as she could without her maids to help. As she tidied up, she carefully planned out the next steps. Surely, God could not allow his appointed servant to allow this miscarriage of justice to go any further... all the same, there was no reason to take any unnecessary risks.

A little less than an hour later, she carefully secreted her father's Baronial ring in a mossy gap in the cathedral's north-facing wall. Erik watched with wide-eyed curiosity, and Christine had **** but to explain.

"Father's ring will be safe here." She smiled reassuringly at Erik, "until we know that Bishop Anthryl will protect us from Prince Henry." Thankfully, this early in the morning there was no one else to wonder what the two small figures were doing at the foundation of the great cathedral, and she took the time to tuck the moss carefully back into the gap hiding the priceless ring before dealing with the next difficult part. She pointed to the pool of water on the far side of the plaza, "Wait for me by the fountain, I'll come get you as soon as everything is set." In spite of her best attempts to sound confident, Christine could see the doubt and questions start to form in her brother's mind, but she pushed him gently in the right direction before turning towards the great doors of the Cathedral.

The guards at the doors wore the brightly polished breastplates that Christine remembered from her very first trip to the Oldchester Cathedral, and just like that first time she could see her reflection clearly in the polished steel. The face that stared back at her was no longer a little girl's; her eyes were sadder and wiser than the ones she remembered just two days before when she dressed for banquet in her father's great hall. The pikemen eyed her with undisguised curiosity, but they made no attempt to stop her from entering the sanctuary.

The great hall was almost empty and still lit by rows of candles along the walls although colored polygons of light danced on the walls from where the sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows. Her footsteps were echoed faintly in the otherwise empty great hall.

It was to be expected this early in the morning, but Christine was used to the great cathedral crowded with throngs of supplicants dressed in their finest filling the great hall under the watchful stares of all the saints and Lord Jesus hanging from the cross above the alter of polished marble. It was too much to expect that the bishop would be there waiting to lead her to the front of the sanctuary, but she had hoped there would be someone that she could approach.