What followed was not holy.
Afterwards, Pardos understood that the clerics’ gestures had been chosen as a pre-arranged signal. Some device for co-ordinating actions had been needed, and everyone knew how this ceremony would begin.
The brown-bearded, big-shouldered man who stood up, just as the clerics were about to start the rites, was Agila, the Master of Horse, though Pardos knew that only later. The burly Antae took two heavy-booted strides towards the altar from beside the queen and threw back his fur-lined cloak in the full view of all those assembled.
He was perspiring heavily, his colour was high, and he was wearing a sword.
The clerics’ hands remained in the air like six forgotten appendages as they faltered into silence. Four other men, Pardos saw, his heart now beginning to pound, also stood up from the back of the royal section and moved into the aisles between the rows of benches. Their cloaks were also withdrawn; four swords were revealed, and then unsheathed. This was heresy, a violation. It was worse.
‘What are you doing? ‘ the court cleric cried sharply, his voice shrill with outrage. Gisel the queen did not move, Pardos saw. The big, bearded man stood almost directly in front of her, but facing the body of the sanctuary.
He heard Martinian say softly under his breath, ‘Jad shelter us. Her guards are outside. Of course.’
Of course. Pardos knew the rumours and the fears and the threats- everyone did. He knew the young queen never took food or drink that had not been prepared by her own people and tasted first by them, that she never ventured forth, even within the palace, without a cadre of armed guards. Except here. In the sanctuary: veiled in mourning on her father’s memorial day, in the sight of her people both high and low and of the holy clerics and the watching god, in a consecrated space where arms were forbidden, where she could assume she would be safe.
Except she couldn’t.
‘What,’ rasped the muscular, sweating man in front of the queen, ignoring the cleric, ‘does Batiara say about treason? What do the Antae do to rulers who betray them?’ The words rang harshly in the holy space, ascended to the dome.
‘What are you saying? How dare you come armed into a sanctuary?’ The same cleric as before. A brave man, Pardos thought. It was said Sybard had challenged the Emperor of Sarantium on a question of faith, in writing. He would not be afraid here, Pardos thought. His own hands were trembling.
The bearded Antae reached into his cloak and pulled out a bunched-together sheaf of parchments. ‘I have papers!’ he cried. ‘Papers that prove this false queen, false daughter, false whore, has been preparing to surrender us all to the Inicii!’
‘That,’ said Sybard the cleric with astonishing composure, as a shocked swell of sound ran through the sanctuary, ‘is undoubtedly a lie. And even if it were not so, this is not the place or time to deal with it.’
‘Be silent, you gelded lapdog of a whore! It is Antae warriors who decide when and where a lying bitch dog meets her fate!’
Pardos swallowed hard. He felt stunned. The words were savage, unthinkable. This was the queen he was describing in that way.
Two things happened very quickly then, almost in the same moment. The bearded man drew his sword, and an even bigger, shaven-headed man behind the queen stood up and moved forward, placing himself directly in front of her. His face was expressionless.
‘Stand aside, mute, or you will be slain,’ said the man with the sword. Throughout the sanctuary people had risen and now began pushing towards the doors. There was a scraping of benches, a babble of sound.
The other man made no movement, shielding the queen with only his body. He was weaponless.
‘Put down your sword!’ cried the cleric again from the altar. ‘This is madness in a holy place!’
‘Kill her, already!’ Pardos heard then, a flat, low tone, but quite distinct, from among the Antae seats near Gisel.
Someone screamed then. The movement of retreating bodies made the candles flicker. The mosaics overhead seemed to shift and alter in the eddies of light.