To the Bishop

As she followed the silent Brother away from the main sanctuary and up several flights of stairs, Christine began to notice that the decor was getting more and more luxurious. The carpet became richer and thicker beneath her feet, the frames of the pictures hanging from the walls were gilded and the windows were glazed with clear glass.

"Wait here my Lady." Brother Quentin broke the silence as he guided her into a small antechamber with deep green drapes and a settee that was as fine or finer than any in her mother's private solar. "I will explain to the Most Reverend Bishop that you insisted on an audience." The early morning light was streaming through the windows and from this height, Christine could see much of Oldchester laid out beneath her like a map.

Christine settled delicately on the edge of the chair and ran her hand along the smooth polished mahogany armrest as she gazed out the window to collect her thoughts. She tried to remember what her father told her about Bishop Anthryl, but as hard as she tried, she could not remember anything useful. The Baron Gerard always spoke respectfully of the Church and its appointed representatives but after careful consideration, she could not remember her father sharing any insight about man who wears the mitre. Something about his reticence left Christine feeling unnerved; was there something that her father knew about the man, but would not say? Now that she was here, it was probably too late to change her mind, for that matter, would the bishop even believe her story?

"Lady Gerard!" Her head jerked around when she heard her name called. Well, that answers that question at least. The bishop looked less imposing wearing just a simple white cassock then she remembered him in his formal vestments, shorter and frankly quite a bit overweight. All the same, when he took her hands in his lifting her to her feet, she recognized the face. "We were so worried about you. Thank the Lord that you are safe." Christine fell to her knees and pulled Bishop Anthryl's ring to her lips, kissing it in obeisance. The bishop's hands were soft, plump and smelled of rosewater, and for just an instant she compared them to the strong, weatherworn hands of the Verderer before turning her attention for the reason for her call.

"Your Excellency, please forgive this unannounced visit." Christine tried to keep her voice from breaking. "I have nowhere else to turn." She could feel the tears starting to form in her eyes and blinked hard to keep from crying.

"My dear child," the portly cleric cupped her cheek in a gesture that might have been paternal. "You did well to come here. It is a terrible thing about your father, but the Church always protects the innocent." The bishop's hand remained on her cheek caressing her soft skin. "Especially, when the innocents are as beautiful and wholesome as you."

"Thank you, Your Excellency." Christine looked up at the bishop confused by the way his hand lingered on her face and the compliment. "I am your humble servant." She could put up with a little discomfort kneeling at his feet if it meant winning the support of this powerful clergyman.

"Yes, I know my dear," Bishop Anthryl smiled down at her with an expression that Christine could not decipher. "We shall have to think of how best you might serve us." She began to speak again but was silenced when she felt the man's thumb brush her lips. "Hush, my child. You have been through a most harrowing experience, but you are safe now." He paused for a second, licking his lips before continuing. "Forgive me my child, but I must know. Did Prince Henry **** you, my dear? We've heard the most disturbing of rumors."