letters, for thought? Will their children even be able to read?”
“And you think joining the church will help?” he asked, scarcely keeping the amused incredulity out of his voice.
“Of course not,” she said scornfully. “I think running the church will help. Perhaps even that will accomplish nothing, but at least learning will die with a friend by its bedside, rather than abandoned in a ditch. Virtue comes through contemplation of the divine, and the exercise of philosophy. But it also comes through public service. The one is incomplete without the other. Power without wisdom is tyranny; wisdom without power is pointless. Who, for example, is likely to be the new bishop?”
“Caius Valerius.”
“And will he do a good job?”
“No. He is a contemptible fool.” He did not mention that he was also a cousin of his friend Felix.
“So do a better job,” she said simply. “Take that authority and use it. Defend all you hold dear. Use your skills and your intelligence, for you have both. Can Euric be stopped? If not, can his rule be moderated, or put under constraint?”
“Perhaps,” Manlius said.
“ ‘Perhaps,’ ” she repeated. “A possibility, with no guarantee of success, but said without hesitation. You have thought of this already, I see.”
“Of course. I see a possibility.”
“And yet you do nothing about it. Shame on you.”
He looked at her. “I am concerned about what would be necessary, about what I might have to do.”
“Then double the shame on you, and double it again,” she said sharply. “You are like a general who will not send his troops into battle for fear they will get their breastplates dirty. You have your mind and your soul, Manlius, trained and honed, and will not act for fear of tarnishing them. You should be afraid; you are vain and arrogant, full of error. But I never thought you were a coward as well.”
The next day Manlius summoned Syagrius and dictated a letter to Bishop Faustus; there followed a lengthy exchange of views, and a visit to the bishop a few months later. During this Manlius was perfectly honest. He could not claim to be a good Christian, but he was perhaps the most powerful man in the region. The church could have his help, or not. With heretic barbarians to the north and the west, with most of Gaul already gone and the ability of the emperor to protect what remained all but nonexistent, could the church do without him?
Eight weeks and three days later he was baptized, ordained, and elevated to the bishopric of Vaison, taking charge of a diocese that was already some two hundred years old and becoming, in effect, the sole authority in a region in which all others had crumbled into uselessness.
THE BISHOP’S manuscript came to Julien’s attention because, at the age of fifteen, Olivier de Noyen stole some money. He was working in the cardinal’s chancellery, carefully watching the money coming in, the money going out again. Counting the gold and silver pieces, marking it all down in the ledger. There were twelve of the cardinal’s people, all sitting at little desks, working from dawn to dusk to keep the great engine of the cardinal’s power running smoothly.
It was not work to which he was greatly fitted; he was sent there as a punishment, and as he was constantly offending against the rules of the cardinal’s household, he spent much time there, being bored to tears and failing to learn anything at all about the need for discipline. He ran too fast and collided with a cook carrying the cardinal’s meal; one week of tallying figures. He disappeared for several days; two weeks. He went out late one night and had his first experience of drinking to excess, leaving the evidence of his debauch on the floor of the great entrance hall of the cardinal’s palace; one month’s hard counting resulted.
It was after this last adventure—of which even Olivier was ashamed—that he noted that a remittance from one of the cardinal’s
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