Chapter 339: You Swallow Every Filthy Whisper
Livia rose slowly. Something about that combination sounded dangerous before Tabitha had even finished explaining it.
"And he is not listening to reason," Tabitha continued. "None whatsoever. He is demanding that the Church apologise publicly for insulting the honour of Langford House."
Livia’s mind refused to process the information. "What are you talking about?"
Tabitha hurried towards her. "News has reached him that the Church intends to delay your marriage to the king."
Livia reached for the edge of the table as she tried to make sense of it. Why would he defend her marriage?
If anything, surely this was the moment he should have stepped back and allowed the Church to do what he had been unable to do himself.
"Langford House is your recognised sponsor," Tabitha said. "His father publicly claimed responsibility for your standing at court. I suppose His Grace considers the Church’s actions an insult to his family. You have to stop this madness,"
Livia sighed and reached for her veil. She draped it over her head quickly, gathered her skirts and hurried into the passage.
At the end of the corridor, Lionel was already waiting to escort her. She raced all the way to the Abbey steps.
By the time she reached the outer court, she no longer needed anyone to tell her where Richard was.
She could hear him. His voice rolled through the stone like thunder. Lionel stayed close behind Livia. She finally saw him near the foot of the Abbey steps, facing the Archbishop with his shoulders rigid.
"How dare you?" he demanded.
The Archbishop stood several steps above him, flanked by clerics.
"Such accusations are made against my family without a shred of proof," Richard continued, "and you accept them. You swallow every filthy whisper, bless it with Church authority, and then act upon it."
Richard pointed towards him. Livia stopped at the edge of the gathering. "Is this payment," Richard demanded, "for every sacrifice my ancestors have made to this kingdom? Every man who fought for the Crown?"
The Archbishop lifted both hands slightly. "Your Grace, Lady Livia is merely sponsored by your family."
"Are you implying that the word of Langford House means nothing? That my father’s guarantee means nothing?"
"Your Grace, that is not what I said. We have to be careful with the throne of England," the Archbishop said firmly. "The Church does not sanction this marriage. Not yet. Not until you or the Lord Chancellor can tell us with certainty where the lady comes from." He raised his voice slightly, addressing Richard but clearly conscious now of everyone listening.
"We do not demand that she be a princess. Nor some great noblewoman. We do not require royal blood. We require a lineage that may be examined. Something beyond assurances."
Richard’s nostrils flared. "I will not let this insult stand,"
"I am prepared to offer my apologies to your family, Your Grace."
"You ridiculed us publicly and mean to apologise in private? Unacceptable. Trust me, Archbishop, when I say this. I will make this public. I will let all of England know that a family’s nobility, loyalty, and word mean nothing to its Church because the Archbishop has decided gossip is now sufficient evidence."
"Watch yourself, Your Grace. You stand on consecrated ground."
"Even if my father allows this insult to pass, I shall not. I intend to drag this through every council chamber, every guildhall. Let us both be guests of ridicule. If you intend to make Langford House look foolish, then I shall bathe this church in every dirt and hypocrisy I can lay my hands on."
"Your Grace, I voice the minds of the people."
"That is the Lord Chancellor’s duty," Richard said. "His office concerns itself with the affairs of England. Yours is to lead us spiritually. Unless, of course, you harbour some ambition for Lord Langford’s position."
"Your Grace!"
At last, the Archbishop lost his patience. There was, apparently, only so much insult the cloth could endure before holiness developed a temper.
A ripple moved through the gathered crowd.
Richard spread his hands. "Am I wrong?"
"You stand before an Archbishop of the Church. The Church has a responsibility to the souls of England."
She had heard enough. This had moved well beyond Richard defending Langford honour. At this rate, he was going to personally create a quarrel between one of England’s greatest noble houses and the Church. "Your Grace?"
Richard turned instantly. His full attention now belonged to the woman standing several yards away.
"Your Grace," Livia said again. "Please. This will not do." She gestured around them.
The spectators had grown larger while they argued.
"This is getting out of hand," Livia said.
Richard looked around. For the first time, perhaps, he seemed to notice the audience. That did not appear to embarrass him nearly as much as Livia had hoped.
The Archbishop, however, looked at her differently. She looked genuinely distressed. The sincerity of it reached him.
He was not a cruel man. At least, he did not believe himself to be one. He was doing what he believed was his duty to the Church and the Crown.
At last, Richard turned back to the Archbishop. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.
"Allow the marriage," Richard said, "or you go to war with me. And you do know me, do you not?"
The Archbishop looked at him.
Yes.
Everyone knew Richard. He turned his eyes briefly towards Livia again. She looked as though she wished she could apologise to the entire Church.
The Archbishop exhaled. "I shall attend council tomorrow and discuss a way forward with His Majesty and the Lord Chancellor."
"I will request permission to attend. My father represents England," Richard replied. "I represent Langford House."
Geoffrey would speak as Lord Chancellor. He would weigh the Crown, and whatever other burdens England had piled onto his shoulders over the years.
Richard would speak as a Langford. And judging by the scene everyone had just witnessed, Richard intended to speak enough for several generations of Langfords who had not been given the opportunity.