John Maddox Roberts - Cestus Dei

VIP免费

2024-12-23 0 0 490.87KB 216 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

Scanned by Highroller.

Proofed by Aunti

Made prettier by use of EBook Design Group Stylesheet.

Cestus Dei by John Maddox

Roberts

Chapter One

Archbishop Hilarion occupied his rightful seat in the Great Hall of

United Faiths with the stoicism of many years of experience. On the floor,

a minor imam of some obscure Islamic sect was droning a speech

welcoming the new representative from Shriva, which, despite its name,

was a planet settled entirely by Mormons. The archbishop yawned

expertly, without moving a muscle of his face.

The real business of the day would not begin for some hours. It would

be the knotty question of which among the great faiths had right of

control over the Magsaysay System, a complex of more than two hundred

rich planets settled two millennia before by colonists of every faith known

to mankind. The debate had been raging for fifty years and was at last

heading toward some sort of resolution, a resolution toward which

Hilarion had been planning for the quarter century since his predecessor

had passed the problem on to him. Hilarion looked forward to an

eminently satisfactory conclusion. It was with some complacency that the

archbishop surveyed his colleagues of the United Faiths, the most

powerful assembly of humanity since the Great Decadence.

The first impression a visitor or pilgrim had of the Great Hall was of

size, the second of color. The oval amphitheater of seats ascended one

hundred meters to the edge of the Dome of Tcherbadayev, the faerie

structure that symbolized peace and a sort of qualified brotherhood to all,

or nearly all, of rediscovered humanity. Within this huge covered cup sat

the concentrated sanctity of this world, which still held all the holiest

places of the human race. The saffron robes of the Buddhist monks glowed

brightly among the emerald turbans of the Imams of the Medina

Caliphate. The breastplates of the priests of the Third Temple glittered in

sharp contrast to the somber colors of the various orders of the

Re-established Church of Rome. The habits of a dozen minor faiths added

a rainbow sprinkling to the whole. The ascetics of the loose Hindu Oneness

added no color. They wore only loincloths, and those only out of deference

to the sensibilities of the other faiths. The Hindus displayed solely the

warm tones of brown flesh, the common denominator of earthborn

humanity these days. Only out among the stars were to be found the

variety of racial traits that had once been a part of the wealth of

humanity.

It was unusual for Archbishop Hilarion to occupy his seat so early in

the day, and the seats around him buzzed with discreet speculation as to

what business the eminent Vatican authority on strayed sheep affairs had

with the Inner Council today. That business resided in the bishop's

briefcase. It was not one of the great problems of his office, like the

Magsaysay controversy, but it concerned strayed sheep and the salvation

of some millions of souls. The archbishop had been known to keep an

episcopal synod in session for three weeks until they agreed to release a

huge sum from Vatican funds to help bring back into the fold the

Christian inhabitants of the planet Courvoisier, some twelve in number,

on the far side of the Judaic Sector.

A barefoot Franciscan friar in a gray habit approached the

archbishop's seat, bent, and spoke. Wordlessly, the archbishop stood,

smoothed his white Dominican habit, picked up his briefcase, and

followed the friar from the Great Hall. The voice of the imam droned on.

In the chamber of the Inner Council, the five humans deemed holiest by

the vast majority of rediscovered humanity sat watching the white-robed

archbishop as he arranged his papers. Around the semicircular table, the

archbishop glanced at the five most powerful beings in the rediscovered

galaxy, whom he had to sway to accomplish his purposes. At one end of

the table sat Krishna Anantanarayanan, crosslegged in a white loincloth,

who had not spoken more than five times in all the years that the

archbishop had been addressing this august body. Next to him was the

grand imam, the Voice of the Prophet, in his green turban and red-dyed

beard. On his left was Pope Innocent LXXII, whose following was

numerically the largest, although the wealth and power of the Church of

Rome were equaled by the others. The senior high priest of the Third

Temple, head of the Great Sanhedrin, sat toying with a scroll. Next to the

high priest sat the lama of Sinkiang, spiritual head of the Buddhists. The

lama's temporal power was not great, but his wisdom and experience

made his advice to the council invaluable. The archbishop rattled his

papers and cleared his throat.

"If it please Your Sanctities," he began, "my business this day concerns

the newly rediscovered Flavian System, adjacent to XV Sector. The

rediscovery of this system was reported to Your Sanctities some seven

years ago, following an expedition by scoutships of the Church Militant.

These ships effected the rediscovery while following hints given by a

captured pirate, and aided by some badly deteriorated chart thimbles

found in a pre-Decadence storeroom of the Vatican Library. The

Franciscans sent a team of missionary friars to one of the outer worlds of

the Flavians on a reconnaissance, and their report was submitted to me

last week."

"I recall the expedition's report." The grand imam's voice was

impatient. "The sector was settled entirely by Christians. Why should the

matter be brought to the attention of the council?"

"I shall come to that presently, Your Sanctity," said Hilarion. "First, let

me provide an outline of the situation; then you may decide for yourselves

whether a Declaration of Council is called for." The imam, grumbling,

settled back in his chair. He didn't like this infidel priest, and he didn't

like the way the archbishop had of involving the whole UF in matters that

were essentially the concern of the Vatican.

"The Flavian System," began the archbishop, "was settled in the first

part of the third millennium by colonists from Italy, Yugoslavia, Greece,

the Balkans, and southern Russia, at a time when these were valid political

entities. At the time of settlement, these pioneers belonged either to the

Roman Catholic or United Eastern Churches, but all became united under

the Church of Rome toward the end of the third millennium. Their tithe

records continue until the first quarter of the fourth millennium, when all

records are lost in the general chaos of the Great Decadence. The

Franciscan report on the progress of these worlds, if you wish to call it

progress, is as follows: The Flavian System, which once contained more

than one hundred worlds, is now reduced to some two score. All planetary

bodies requiring advanced technology to inhabit and exploit have been

long since abandoned. A few of the system's planets retain a minimum of

technology, which they use to ruthlessly exploit the more primitive worlds.

Principal among these is Charun, which lives so thoroughly on banditry

that there is no work for its people to do, and they live lives of pampered

poverty, with bread and circuses giving the fulfillment once provided by

faith."

"Yes, yes," said the high priest, "but this is an old story, and far from

the worst the Decadence has to offer. Why, I remember when the world of

Ben Aaron was rediscovered… well, we dealt with the problem. What has

your Flavian System to offer that is so unique? It sounds like a classic case

of the Punic Syndrome, eh?" The high priest's bantering tone was

intended to needle the archbishop, but Hilarion was too old a statesman

to rise to it.

"As you say. Your Sanctity, the symptoms of the Punic Sickness are

present here: a moneyed aristocracy who must amuse an all-pervasive

mob, slave raiding on a large scale, gladiatorial combats and other

abominations, reversion to paganism, emperor worship, widespread

piracy…"

"That is all very terrible, and we hear of such cases about three times a

week," said the Pope. "Now, what is it that concerns the council?"

"I was just coming to that, Your Holiness," said Hilarion. "It seems that

some of these worlds are engaged in the creation of the soulless."

For several moments there was silence around the table. Android

constructs were an affront to all the faiths. The high priest was first to

speak.

"My apologies for my former levity, Archbishop, this is indeed serious.

Your Holiness, do you wish to petition for a Declaration of Council

sanctioning a holy war? If so, the Sanhedrin will be willing to support you

with certain of the Hosts of the Lord."

"My thanks for your support, Most High," said the Pope diplomatically,

"but perhaps if the archbishop will enlighten us further, forty or so worlds

seem hardly of sufficient importance to justify a full cleansing, soulless

constructs or no."

"To be sure," continued the archbishop, "a fullscale crusade will not be

necessary. Most of the traffic in the soulless originates from a planet called

Cadmus. The strongest measures are called for against this particular

world, but the rest are, for the most part, guilty of no more than grievous

error. There are a handful of oppressors and many victims."

"Burn it," growled the imam. "Creation of the soulless is a usurpation of

divine function. All who practice are to be struck down and their world

cleansed with fire and steel!"

"This matter will be handled by the Church Militant, not the Legions of

the Faithful. The Church of Rome has its own views concerning culpability

and guilt. All that is necessary is a Declaration of Council supporting the

right of the Church of Rome to take whatever action, military or

otherwise, is deemed fit by representatives sent to study the situation."

The Pope's voice was flat and steely. The lama spoke for the first time:

"Bishop, you have mentioned that slavery is practiced in these worlds

on a large scale. Why is this necessary when soulless constructs are

available?"

"Technology has declined on these planets. Your Serenity, and genetic

engineering is no exception. The laboratories for producing the more

complex types of construct have long since shut down. All that are left are

those turning out the simple and simple-minded type that are good for

nothing but fighting. Their only qualities are obedience and animal

ferocity. Human slaves are far more versatile and useful."

"Archbishop, did you not mention 'reversion to paganism'?" The high

priest's voice was mildly reproving.

"I did. Your Sanctity." Hilarion's face was composed, but his teeth were

inwardly gritted. It was precisely this point he had hoped to avoid.

"There is in this report, no doubt, some estimate of the percentage of

pagans to practicing Christians?"

"Paganism runs some 99 plus percent."

"Then," said the imam, "there can be no action by the Church Militant

without a formal request from the ruling person or body of any given

world or system. Were you trying to sneak something past us,

Archbishop?"

"I am ready to present all the facts at my disposal, Your Sanctities, but

it seemed that the matter of the soulless demanded first priority."

"And as such," said the high priest, "it serves as an excellent screen

whereby you may dodge the question of whether the Church of Rome truly

has first right over these planets. If there has been a 99 per cent reversion

to paganism, then any faith could equally well claim missionary right. In

the matter of the soulless, of course, we will be willing to sanction any

military solution that you should deem necessary. For the rest, your

missionaries must persuade your strayed sheep as best they may."

Pope Innocent LXXII, 943rd Supreme Pontiff of the Church of Rome

since St. Peter, sighed wearily as she removed her tiara. She contemplated

the great triple crown with displeasure. You'd think they would have

devised something lighter in nearly four thousand years, she thought.

Within the frame of her white coif and wimple, her face was unlined and

serene, but that was the result of rejuvenation treatment. She was 150

years old, and at times like this she felt every minute of her age. Idly, she

wondered what a Carmelite music teacher from New Orleans was doing

with the Fisherman's ring on her hand.

"That was ill done, Hilarion. Now they'll all be sending missionaries and

looking for a chance to send in troops. This new imam's the most rabid

since Achmet IV. Three years in the Caliphate and two medium-sized holy

wars to his credit. He knows the Temple and the Vatican won't stand for

much more of his high-handed tactics. The situation is stable now, but

anything could upset it. You shouldn't have provoked him over a matter as

trivial as the Flavians."

"The facts were impossible to hide. Your Holiness. The imam was so

enraged about the soulless that he completely missed the vital factor, but

Ben Asher is too old at this game. I shall take steps immediately to send an

agent to the Flavians."

"No doubt you have such an agent in mind. A Jesuit?"

"Father Miles of Durga. Your Holiness will no doubt recall the name?

He was instrumental in settling the affair on Tombstone."

"The name is familiar to me. Has he not a rather peculiar

background?"

"It is a man's convictions that determine a man's merit as a servant of

the Church. Many of us are of peculiar backgrounds."

"Still, perhaps the situation in the Flavians is too delicate to turn over

to one of the Jesuit commandos." The Pope favored the Franciscans and

was decidedly cool toward the headlong tactics of the Jesuits.

"Your Holiness has no more faithful or zealous servants than the

Society."

"Perhaps too zealous. There has been much protest within the UF

concerning activities directed from Loyola. Within the Church itself

there's a great deal of grumbling, not all of it unjustified."

"There is always jealousy over organizations that enjoy distinction and

favor. As for the UF, the loudest complaints are always from the Caliphate

and the Temple. A rival's success is always annoying."

"Nevertheless, the Society takes too much on itself these days. The

trend has been worsening ever since the Second Reformation. Policy

originates from the Vatican, not from Loyola. Someday soon there must be

a reckoning between the Society and the Papacy."

"Until that time. Your Holiness, they are useful servants."

"You had better begin to take a greater interest in these matters,

Hilarion." There was something in the Pope's tone that brought the

Archbishop up short. When he spoke, it was with carefully guarded

inflection.

"How so. Your Holiness?"

"The matter of the Magsaysay System will soon be concluded. My

advisers inform me that you have contrived a diplomatic coup of some

magnitude. There will be a reward for such service. No doubt you will find

a red hat becoming."

"Your Holiness honors me far beyond my merits," said the archbishop,

inwardly exulting.

"Spare us your false modesty, Archbishop. I will speak further. I have

worn the Ring for almost fifty years. I cannot wear it forever. Within the

next twenty to thirty years, I must retire. If you serve me well in that time,

I will support you for elevation to the Papacy. It will be up to the College,

of course, but if I lay the groundwork your chances will be far greater than

those of any other cardinal."

"Your Holiness, I am overwhelmed." The archbishop's shock was

sincere.

"This is not a decision lightly made. I was looking toward this day since

you graduated from the seminary. Such are the duties of this office. Go

now, see to this matter of the Flavians. And take closer note of the doings

of the Jesuits."

Hilarion was slightly dazed as he walked back to the Great Hall. To

think that he had what amounted to a guarantee of the Papacy! And he

had always felt that he was manipulating the Pope to his will. He was

beginning to repent of his arrogance. Over his soul there settled an

unaccustomed mantle: humility. His thoughts were interrupted by the

young Franciscan friar who had summoned him to the Inner Council

chamber.

"Your Excellency, I've served here at the UF for my full year, now. Am I

permitted to rejoin my order?"

Archbishop Hilarion studied the young man who had been his page for

the past year. The young man had the air of almost preternatural patience

and serenity that characterized the Franciscan friars.

"Well, Friar Jeremiah, have you decided that the life of a diplomat is

not for you?"

"I agreed to give it a year, sir, but my place is out working among the

strayed." He gestured toward the great Dome of Tcherbadayev, through

which the great stars and the tiny ones glittered, clear in the Antarctic

sky.

"A pity," said the Archbishop. "You have the patience requisite for

these dealings. Well, then, you are dismissed as soon as you have carried

out one last duty for me. Come to my office this evening after vespers. I

shall have a set of orders for you to deliver to Father Miles of Durga on the

planet of Gravitas in the Loyola System. When you have delivered these

orders, you may go where you will."

"I thank Your Excellency most profoundly. I shall always value the

apprenticeship I have served here." The friar bowed, hands buried in the

long, wide sleeves of his habit.

"I shall miss you. Friar Jeremiah."

Chapter Two

Parma Sicarius's world was a world of grass. In fact, Thrax possessed

nothing in abundance except grass. From the fifty-foot bamboo of the

tropics to the wiry thin growth of the mountains, the most advanced

vegetable growth native to Thrax was some sort of grass. The planet

possessed virtually no metals or mineral wealth of any kind, and the water

supply was too unreliable to permit agriculture. The seas and rivers held

fish only in sufficient quantities to support very small fishing

communities. As a consequence, Thrax was a pastoral world, peopled by

nomadic tribes who moved their herds from one pasture to another as

season and water supply dictated.

Parma was herding the tribe's remaining masses of sheepox toward the

End of Green Fair, where some of the animals would be traded to offworld

merchants and to other tribes. It had been a bad year, and Parma viewed

the coming Fair with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. First had

come the failure of the tribe's springs. Sources of water that had never

failed in all the generations that the tribe had used them were dry this

year. Then a disease had killed most of the beasts spared by the drought.

Finally, when word of the weakness of the tribe had spread, the raiders

came. Parma's tribe, the Sicarü, were fighting men as good as any, but the

vulture tribes of the mountains, who lived solely by plunder, had banded

together for the kill. Still, the Sicarü gave as good as they got, and they

retained the nucleus of a new herd. If the next few years brought sufficient

water, the tribe's fortunes could be restored. If not, then the Sicarü would

be swallowed up by the vast, windy plains as countless other tribes had

been swallowed.

Parma tried to forget these somber facts, and concentrated instead on

the excitement of the coming fair. They came twice a year, at End of

Green and End of Dry, when the tribes congregated near the southern and

northern pastures, respectively. There they were met by offworld

merchants in their fabulous shuttle platforms, which carried off the wool

and meat of the sheepoxen and sometimes the live animals. Occasionally,

especially in bad years such as this, they also bore away children sold as

slaves.

He had been lucky. He had survived the elements and the raiders for

seventeen years. He had the lean, rawhide build that comes of a strenuous

life and a diet consisting almost entirely of meat. Over his saddlebow was

thonged a small round shield, and he carried a long, slender lance in his

right hand. In a scabbard of hide at his belt was a knife, its broad, curved

blade as long as his forearm from elbow to knuckles. The knife blade and

the lance point were of keen offworld steel, nearly indestructible. The only

other piece of metal he owned was a small eating and general-purpose

knife. Every member of the tribe had one of these knives and carried it

thrust into boot, belt, or topknot.

Once at the fairgrounds, after camping in the Sicarü traditional

campground, Parma sought out the contest rings. The young men of all

the tribes contended for prizes and honor at feats of strength and arms.

Perhaps a good showing there would win him a wife.

At the rings, Parma sighted some mountain and plains tribesmen,

hereditary enemies of the Sicarü, men whom Parma would have attacked

on sight in any place other than the sacred precincts of the fairgrounds. A

scar-faced mountaineer in the hard leather armor of his region crowded

Parma unabashedly, though each would have happily slit the other's

throat a few miles away. There were wrestling matches, sword battles,

knife fights, boxing tournaments, and mounted duels with blunt lances.

Fights were decided when a man was thrown in wrestling, knocked

unconscious in boxing, unhorsed in the mounted combats, or when first

blood was drawn in the blade fights. Parma entered his name in the blade

battles, knowing that the parents of his future bride would be much

influenced if he distinguished himself. In his tribe Parma was the swiftest

handler of knife and buckler, and he had four enemy thumbs to his credit

from skirmishes in defense of his tribe's herds.

On the evening of the third day of the fair, Parma's father beckoned

him over to the chiefs tent. Parma grinned broadly, knowing that this

must surely mean that a match had been made for him. He had fought

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

ScannedbyHighroller.ProofedbyAuntiMadeprettierbyuseofEBookDesignGroupStylesheet.CestusDeibyJohnMaddoxRobertsChapterOneArchbishopHilarionoccupiedhisrightfulseatintheGreatHallofUnitedFaithswiththestoicismofmanyyearsofexperience.Onthefloor,aminorimamofsomeobscureIslamicsectwasdroningaspeechwelcomingthe...

展开>> 收起<<

John Maddox Roberts - Cestus Dei.pdf

共216页,预览44页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

John Maddox Roberts - Cestus Dei

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: