The Mosaic

Chapter 77 | All the King's Men

All the King's horses and all the King's men, couldn't put him back together again. -- Nursery Rhyme

Steps echoed behind him, like nails being hammered through a coffin lid, and like a coffin lowered into the ground, darkness bled all around Amand.

The Cathedral roared up around him like a hungry beast – Amand had always hated this one. He loved churches, not for their beauty like Inspector Steno, nor for them being a 'house of God', but for their power. Their marble was held together by blood, their gold gleamed like swords drawn in conquest for an empty name and a lie.

Churches were liars, and Amand could always respect an equal.

But this one... he did not like the rat sniffling in this one, its stench of righteousness and piety poisoning the cathedral. Amand did not trust men with such conviction to greater causes. Oh, you could use them, a blind man was easy to lead. But they were fickle, their fire threatening to burn all around them. They were fools, but they were dangerous.

Somehow, the rat had gotten wind of his arrival – despite the night's fog still creeping back to the ocean through the streets as Amand and his Swiss Guard marched for the harbour– and had extended his most humble invitation. Humble, indeed. Now Amand was Cardinal, already favoured by his Pope, and this man would finally kneel.

Amand loved it when people bowed for him, adored him, but nothing tasted as sweet as an arrogant man forced to his knees. He enjoyed the rebellion in their eyes.

Nacchiante stood tall at the apse, smiling the shivering smile of a madman as Amand made him wait, his red robes whispering across the marble and darkness. The Bishop must like the colour, red like the blood he loved to spill in the name of everything unholy – just outside, a noose had still swung from the gallows.

Amand stopped his guards with a wave of his hand and took a last, delicious step towards the Bishop. The man did not kneel right away. Perhaps he thought he could intimidate Amand with his height. Amand had half the urge to break both his legs. But Nacchiante sunk onto his knees, grasping Amand's hand to kiss the heavy ring. "Your excellence."

The Bishop's smile turned eager, but his eyes flickered elsewhere. Amand leant down, clasping the man's chin in an icy grip, forcing feverish eyes to meet his. Amand's lips curled into a slow smile at the hatred in those eyes.

"Careful," he whispered, "Vipers strike when you look away."

The bishop wet his lips. "Vipers are already among you!"

"They are my dearest guests." Amand straightened up again. Seeing the bishop shift on his knees sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. How uncomfortable, how unfortunate. Perhaps it was bad faith to keep a man so close to god kneeling, but Amand loved power more than he feared heaven.

"You mock me, your excellence."

"Am I?" A million sins lingered in his smile.

The man opened his mouth again, but Amand waved his hand, shooing his words away into the darkness beyond them. "You requested an audience. Do not waste it." Amand twisted Marius' ring on his finger. This filth was costing him precious time. He was less than a day away from Venice, from Marius.

"As I said, your excellence, the vipers –"

"Mon dieu, you already bore me. That is a fantastic talent of yours, perhaps someone else needs a court-jester?"

Amand turned to leave, when the Bishop's voice caught him mid-stride. "Your Arch-deacon –"

Amand turned back, casting a cold glance down at the kneeling man. The smile had turned lecherous. "Don't act like a slobbering hound, Bishop. Marius. What of him?"