“Well, dammit, it stands to reason, doesn’t it,” demanded Foster with some heat, “that anti-English people could easily have doctored the King’s proofs?”
“Tchtchtch.” Collier again smiled that ultra-superior smile. “We have become a fanatic royalist, have we not? But do not allow Arthur to deceive you as, for so long, he deceived me. He is an exceedingly devious young man, Foster, and not above exploiting anyone or utilizing any means to justify his actions or bring about his desired ends. But I disgress.
“With rank insubordination of the Church and her definite authority, Arthur planted three colonies—fortified colonies— on the mainland at various points between Spanish and Irish lands. The Irish quickly eliminated the northernmost colony, leaving no single survivor. The Spanish were not so thorough, however, and a few settlers got back to England to tell of the butchery of colonists who had honorably surrendered to the Spaniards.
“Now, both the previous and the present Popes and Queen Angela, the Regent, all were born in Spain. When Arthur added insult to injury, petulantly ordering his brother’s widow and his own nephew incarcerated as enemies of the state until he made up his mind whether to execute them or simply exile them, the present civil war commenced. When word of his transgressions reached Rome, moreover, he was excommunicated and Rome expected that his nobles and people would then either depose him or force him to bow to the just dictates of the Church.”
Foster shook his head in disgust. “Talk about theocratic despotism! Well, it must have really toasted the goddam Rope’s balls when the most of Arthur’s subjects stood with him against everything the meddling bastards could do.”
“You still don’t or can’t or, more likely, refuse to understand, Foster,” Collier sighed, then went on as if addressing a retarded pupil. “Arthur is in the wrong, Foster. Rightfully, he is not even King. His illegal actions have brought destruction and immense suffering upon his lands and people, death to his wife and family and, no doubt, ramifications more widespread and long-lasting than any of us can now imagine. This rebellion is the largest and most stubborn that the Church ever has faced, involving not just a province or two and a few tens of thousands of peasants, burghers and minor nobles, but an entire kingdom, it’s ruler and a large proportion of its total population, including one of its highest clergymen.
“Two months ago, Rome finally got around to excommunicating Harold, the Archbishop of York, and declaring his see vacant. But all churchly functions he performed prior to that are valid, including his sanctification of the Whyffler Hall powder mill. So, you see, I—and all of you—have nothing to fear from Church authorities, on this ground, at least. Furthermore, if we go over to the side of the right, devote our future energies and talents to furtherance of the Holy Cause of the Church, we will be forgiven our earlier efforts on the side of Arthur and his rebels.” “Says who?” barked Foster.
“No less a personage than Cardinal Ram6n de Mandojana, and Papal Legate now in Edinburgh,” announced Collier with a satisfied smirk.
Webster lifted a buttock and broke wind, loudly. Foster chuckled. “I echo and endorse Buddy’s sentiments, Collier. In the first place, I do not and will not share your newfound belief that King Arthur is wrong, not on what obviously biased evidence you’ve given us tonight. In the second place, I value my neck and I’ve got no intention of risking it to prove whether this Mandapajamas is a man of his word. You’re more than welcome, as far as I’m concerned, to jump out of the frying pan, but don’t expect me to join you in the fire, fella; I ignite easily.”
Collier talked and argued on for some hours, but made no converts. As dawn paled the sky, he pulled his gauntlets back on with stiff, jerky movements. Only Foster and Krystal were left in the den, the other three having retired long since.
“Ill say but one thing more, Foster,” the former Earl began coolly.
Foster was infinitely weary of listening to his uninvited guest. His muscles were stiff and his eyelids heavy and gummy-feeling. He realized that his temper was frayed to the point of sudden murder. “I wish you wouldn’t, Collier, not if it’s some more of your damned preachments. You’ve foresworn King Arthur, we haven’t, it’s that simple, and nothing you can say is going to change our feelings about the King, the Church, or the lightnesses or wrongnesses of the causes.”