Flash Points

02 - The Royal Writ

One slashing look sent the servant scuttling out. The door to the study closed, leaving him alone with the man behind the desk.

"You have such a way with people, Dmitri," murmured his host without raising his head. "Please, have a seat."

"I'd hate to ruin your cushions, Excellency."

Bishop Crowley glanced up, then set down his pen and frowned. "Is it raining?"

"No, Excellency."

"You appear to be dripping wet. And... is that blood?"

"My apologies, Excellency. The blood is not mine."

"Oh?"

Water squished in his shoes. "His lordship refused to surrender peacefully, Excellency, and ordered his escort to fight. In the darkness and confusion..." He shrugged. "Richmond stumbled and fell into the Cielle."

"What?" Crowley half-rose in alarm. "Where is he now?"

"Ludlow Prison, Excellency."

"I see." Crowley relaxed. "One of the riverboats fished him out then?"

"No, Excellency. I did."

"You?"

"Naturally, as he knows not how to swim."

"You dove into the Cielle in the dark of a winter evening to rescue a man you've hated since you were eleven?"

"My orders were to arrest him, Excellency."

Crowley shook his head, bemused. "Sometimes, Dmitri, I wonder if you're quite human."

He gave no answer, as none was expected.

"So. Ludlow. Has he said anything?"

"No, Excellency."

"He will." Crowley rose to pace his study. He stopped before the fireplace and poked the embers until flames reappeared. "Come here, Dmitri," he said with a trace of impatience. "I'll not have you catching pneumonia because you're too stubborn to admit that you're half-frozen."

"Your Excellency is kind." The warmth caressed his skin. In the stillness, the crackling of the fire sounded loud. "Excellency, are the charges true?"

He had expected a prompt reply -- that the king's justice was infallible, the evidence too strong. But instead the bishop only stared into the dancing flames. Finally, "Does it matter, Dmitri?"

He drew in a sharp breath. Ludlow. The very name inspired terror -- whisperings of underground dungeons, unspeakable tortures. He was unhappily aware of how many of the rumors were true.

"Has the king appointed an interrogator?" he asked, shuddering at the memories.

"No. He gave that task to me. It was what I was doing when you arrived." Crowley gestured at the desk. Swiftly crossing the room, Dmitri cast an eye over the writ. "It allows the bearer to use any and all means to extract from the prisoner details of the conspiracy. I have left only the name unfilled."

Dmitri looked up, his pulse pounding. "Excellency..."

"I know what you want Dmitri," Crowley said quietly. "And I cannot deny that you have the right, and yet..."

"He destroyed my family!" The outburst startled even himself, and he struggled for calm. "He hung my father on trumped-up charges, drove my sisters and I out to starve. When I reached eighteen and dared ask after our stolen lands, he kept me in Ludlow for two-and-a-half years--"

"From whence I rescued you. Yes, I know." There was sadness in Crowley's gaze. "Do you still hate him so? You'd buried it so deep I wondered if you'd finally let go."

"I've never made any secret of how I feel, Excellency."

"No." Crowley rubbed his eyes, looking tired. Joining Dmitri at the desk, he rolled the writ into a scroll and hesitated before holding it out. "Here."

The fine vellum crinkled under his fingers. "May I borrow a pen, Excellency?"

"No." Crowley managed a crooked smile. "You will not begrudge me the time it will take you to get home and use your own, will you, Dmitri?"

"No..." He shrugged off his confusion. "Then I wish you good night, Excellency."

"One thing, Dmitri, before you go." Crowley lowered himself into his seat. "Have you thought about what you will do after the earl is dead?"

"Excellency?"

"It's inevitable, Dmitri. Be his treason real or imagined, Richmond will not last long at Ludlow. And once he confesses, death will be quick to follow. What will you do afterwards?"

He shook his head. "I've never thought of it."

"Come now. It cannot be that difficult to fathom. "

He shifted, uneasy. Richmond dead... He had worked and sweated and bled for that goal, but, incredibly, he had never thought to see it happen. "I don't know, Excellency," he said at last. "I suppose I will go on working for you."

"Will you?"

Dmitri went still. "You would turn me out, Excellency?"

"No," Crowley said gently. "I will not. But Dmitri, I wonder... Will you still be able to look me in the eye, if you put your name on that writ? And will you still be able to work for me if the answer is no?"

An unexpected pain squeezed his chest. He dropped his eyes to the floor. "You want me to forgive him? After all he's done?"

"I want you to think about your future. And, while I know you will probably laugh, I want you to think about your soul, and what will remain of it should you go back to Ludlow now with nothing but vengeance in your heart." Crowley came around the desk and touched him lightly on the arm. "This may sound trite, Dmitri, but torturing Richmond into a gibbering wreck will not restore your family. You cannot mend your own life by destroying another's."

A tremor ran through him. "It's not right," Dmitri whispered.

"I know." Crowley's hands clamped over his shoulders, making him look up. "But you have brought him down, Dmitri. Your work has assured his fall, and yes, I tell you now that I do believe the charges are true. Do not lose yourself here at the end."

"I..." He closed his eyes. "I'll think on it."

"Good." Crowley released him. "That's all I ask."

Dmitri nodded, turning to leave. "Excellency..." He paused in the doorway. "Thank you. For everything." For believing I can be a better man.

Crowley gave him a melancholy smile. "Good night, Dmitri. Go with grace."

***

Word count: 998