St. Thecla the Witnesser was the first skopos;
The skopos alone can depose and restore biscops;
She alone can call councils and authorize holy law;
She alone can revise her judgments;
She alone can depose emperors;
She alone can absolve subjects from their allegiance;
All princes and noble vassals must kiss her feet;
Her legates, however humble, have precedence over all biscops;
An appeal to the skopal court supersedes any other legal appeal;
The skopos is undoubtedly made a saint by the merits of St. Thecla.
Every day Adelheid, queen and empress, bent her head and listened in apparent humility. Like Antonia, she knew they had nothing but God’s authority on which to rebuild what had been lost. Therefore, God would succor them, and they would do what was right by God. Wicked folk would hate Antonia for her fidelity to God, but she knew that the Lord and Lady had brought her to this position because They wished all those who stood in the Circle of Unity to obey her. St. Thecla had risked all to witness. Antonia could do no less.
“There will be more tomorrow,” said Adelheid when the audience hall had cleared and they sat in a pleasant silence with only the scratching of pens and the gossiping of Adelheid’s servants to distract them. Lamps were lit. Lady Lavinia excused herself to attend to four relatives, one a holy presbyter, who needed to be settled in before the evening’s feast.
“There will always be more, Your Majesty.” Antonia admired her clerics as they worked industriously on codicils, grants, and letters. “As we govern wisely, our influence increases.”
“Yes. More come every week.”
“They fear the Enemy. Therefore, they come to us for rescue. Soon we go in to supper, Your Majesty. It is necessary we discuss Duke Conrad’s daughter and the Eagle. The girl is a sorcerer, trained by her grandmother. She is dangerous.”
“Because she is a sorcerer, or because she is not loyal to us?”
“I recommend you kill her at once. Be certain to strike when she least expects it, or while she sleeps. She may have weapons at her disposal that will make her difficult to kill.”
Adelheid regarded her in silence. One by one, lamps were lit in the hall, casting shadow and light according to God’s will: skopos and empress in pools of light, and the rest in the growing shadows each depending on their nature.
“What of the Eagle? Henry never trusted him.”
“Kill him, too, if you wish it, but he may yet be of use to you. He knows the secrets of Anne’s power. He knew her longer than anyone. He has power of his own that I do not yet understand.”
“Where have they come from? Why are they here? Is it not important we learn these things?”
“I have possession of her story. Anne is dead.”
“How can the girl know this for certain? Where did they come from?”
“From the deserts of Saïs. I will tell you the whole later, after we have eaten.”
“How could they have crossed the Middle Sea when such monstrous waves destroyed every shoreline?”
“How and where they crossed I do not know. Only the Eagle can tell us that tale.”
Adelheid’s gaze skimmed the audience hall, noting each person and what they were doing or to whom they were speaking, noting what soldiers guarded the door and which shutters were open and which closed. “What power have I here, Holy Mother? I have your power, as skopos. It has served us well. So far.”
“Do you not trust in God, Adelheid?”
Her expression was wary, and her tone sharp. “It is men I do not trust. A powerful lord—and there are still some in Aosta, especially in the west where they were spared the worst of the cataclysm—may choose to raise another biscop or holy deacon to high office. She may claim the skopos’ throne, and that family will therefore gain support for their own faction.”
“Their claims would be false.”
“So we would argue.”
“You have seen God’s hands at work here on Earth. How can you doubt Their power?”
“I have seen destruction raised by a great working, raised by human hands. All I know of God’s power is that They chose to spare me from death while killing Henry. I have one child who lives, and another who will soon die.” The shadows had touched her, but she went on without faltering. “I have few supporters from the noble clans who rode south and east to support Henry’s empire. Darre is in ruins, uninhabitable. What remains of southern Aosta I do not know. I have marched through the eastern lands myself. They are devastated. Must I go to the Arethousans for help? Sanglant will not aid me. He intends to become regnant in Henry’s place. Yet now Elene of Wayland falls into my hands. With her, I might buy cooperation from Duke Conrad. He has ambitions of his own. She is more valuable to me alive than dead.”