A Kiss in the Night (21 page)

Father Thomas suggested, "One lifetime for eternity seems a fair price."

A delicate brow lifted as Linness asked, "And since when did God anoint the good bishop with the power to bargain for men's souls?"

Paxton and John were not the only men who admired the comment. Morgan often thought Linness's high-mindedness and religious beliefs—while often different from the strict teachings of the church—made twice as much sense. He nodded with an appreciative grunt.

Father Thomas's gaze darkened with anger at the woman's foolish comment. "And would you dare advise me on religious doctrine, milady?"

"Nay," she said in a pretense of innocent shock, "I would never do that, Father. I was just surprised to hear that the clergy had the authority to guarantee eternity in return for service to the church. Because, you see, I had always been taught that only God has that glory."

Averting his mirthful gaze, John reached down to stroke one of the hound dogs. The lady's wit was sharp, her charm alarming and yet wholly irresistible. How many times had he wished for the nerve to say such to the greed of the holy church?

The priest bristled with anger and decided to ignore the impertinent lady and the steward. Addressing the lords Paxton and Morgan, he asked, "What price a man's salvation? Gaillard is growing. Already the township is a community of nine hundred, and by God's grace that number will triple in five years." With sudden passion he said, "The people need the spiritual center of God's church as much as they need bread and water."

Paxton dryly replied, "Only the well-fed man would think so."

"’Tis a moot point in any case," Morgan added. "The Gaillard vineyards have not been producing half as good as in days past—all the world knows this. Thanks to my brother, we are starring crop rotation and this year we will be fertilizing the soil better—"

"All at great expense," John pointed out.

"Aye," Morgan agreed. "You go back and tell your bishop that Gaillard has a good enough church, that we will all rejoice that I can afford to feed and house him and his legion of fellow brethren, but that is all. I do not have a fortune with which to execute his grandiose plans."

Father Thomas's mouth pressed in a fine line as he looked to Paxton. "Surely there is some wealth in Gaillard..."

Paxton laughed, unnerving the man more. "The holy plot thickens, I see. This bishop imagines I will pay for all these new buildings. I suppose you shall offer me eternity as well?"

With an amused chuckle, Simon added, "The gates of heaven doth open, but only for a price."

"Aye," Paxton said, smiling at Linness. "But then I believe the lady already pointed out the fallacy of the statement."

Father Thomas's eyes blazed, his face reddened with humiliation. The bishop would be furious, and this fury would spill over into his growing certainty that this was a sign of impending Armageddon. He believed the faithful were fewer, their numbers diminishing daily, that new blasphemous ideas kept creeping into the holy doctrine; holy men and laymen everywhere were questioning the strict teachings of the church, and with arresting ideas. Despite his enormous faith, Father Thomas found himself struggling in secret with many of these new ideas.

He searched for the scathing answer his superior would deliver to these good people, but for several tense moments no reply came to mind. Of course, no one, not even the pope, could guarantee eternity, but that did not mean service to the church was not measured.

"Do you dare mock the grace of godly fear?"

"Nay," Paxton said as he shook his head slightly, leaning over his strong arms on the table. "Yet neither do I quake with a peasant's ignorance and foolish superstition. But I tell you this: Look neither to me nor my brother for monies to finance the bishop's hopes. If it is to be done at all, I suggest the church reach into their own vast and boundless pockets. And that, my good man, is final."

Linness watched as the man paused, then nodded curtly. She sensed his own struggle, but there was a darkness surrounding him, pulling him into...pulling him into a crisis of faith, into despair…

“
Bishop Peter Luce will not be pleased, but I shall put the matter into his infinitely more capable hands."

The sound of that name shot through Linness like a hard blow to her chest. Her face went pale her hands numb. Bishop Peter Luce. Bishop Peter Luce.

Dear God, she could not have heard right!

"Show the good father to Father Gayly's old room behind the chapel," Morgan was telling Michaels, wanting to get rid of the unpleasant man. "If there are any of that dear man's things left there, have them bundled up and..." He paused to look at Linness. "And bring them to my wife to dispense to the poor or keep as heartsakes." Morgan's brow creased with confusion. "Milady, you look so pale a sudden. What’s wrong? If it's Father Gayly's things—"

Paxton had come round to her side.

She had turned to Father Thomas and, staring hard, asked, "What name did you say?"

"Why, the noble Bishop Peter Luce. Do you know him, milady?"

'Twas what Mary had been trying to warn her of in the dream of Father Gayly's death! 'Twas the reason she kept carving his face in the wood! He was coming here, to Gaillard, to damn her!

"Nay." She managed a whisper. "I have only heard of him."

Father Thomas nodded and turned to follow Michaels. Michaels, who cared for his lady, stood looking at her with concern a moment longer before escorting the man out. Linness waited until he was gone.

"Milady, what is wrong?" Morgan asked.

"Please, I...I need a private audience."

That was all she had to say. Morgan signaled the people, all but the family, to leave. Everyone but Paxton and John filed out of the room, and then she dropped to her knees before Morgan.

For no reason he knew, John turned from the lady to Paxton. He suffered a confused moment's shock as he recognized the harsh emotions on Paxton's face, saw Paxton's fists curled into tight balls at his sides. He looked back to Linness, kneeling before Morgan. Understanding dawned as he realized with a sharp intake of breath that Paxton was in love with his brother's wife.

"Milord," she begged, ignorant of everything but the threat of Peter Luce coming to Gaillard, to her home. "If you care at all for me, you will not let this Bishop Peter Luce come here!"

"What's this?" Morgan looked down with confusion. "Do you know this man?"

"I...I have heard of him. In the convent. He is hateful, well known for cruel and harsh judgments. He will never make the people of Gaillard happy or content with his relentless preaching of evil and its damnation and never telling of heaven or salvation. You know his mold of man—filled with fury and anger. Oh, please, Morgan, do not let him come here!"

"Milady, I cannot stop him from coming here. The cardinal himself has already made the selection, it says right there." He glanced at the thin sheet of parchment as if it were stone. "Oh," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "you know how it goes in the church corridors—the cardinal no doubt owes this man a favor, or perhaps this Bishop Luce has paid handsomely for our small, rich tithe...well..." He sighed, amending this with another scowl. "What they think is a rich tithe anyway. They will see soon enough that Gaillard is like all other places in the world these days—"

"Please, milord, please. I cannot live in a household with this man. Nor do I want him or his priests tutoring Jean Luc; they would poison his young mind with hate and fear. I know this man's reputation. I know he would choke the happiness from me!"

"I believe I could help," Paxton began calmly, expertly managing to keep his desperation at bay, "I am good friends with Lorenzo Lotto, duke of Nantes, high steward to King Francis, to say nothing of my standing with Francis himself. And old Duprat, the rascal. Perhaps I exercise some influence there, as well. I would certainly be willing to try. For the lady and Jean Luc."

Morgan's smile widened. "Could you, brother? Think you that Lotto would intervene for Gaillard?"

"Aye," Paxton replied smoothly. “He would for me. I believe he owes me a few favors."

Gratitude shone in her eyes as she turned to Paxton. "Please, whatever it takes," she whispered, a hidden message passed to Paxton in her words. "I must stop him from coming here."

Morgan stared down at her with worried affection. While he had little hope of understanding the turns of her mind, especially the depth of her faith and religiosity, he had no doubt her happiness could be stolen by someone cruel. "Aye, you must, Paxton. Whatever you can do. For, you see, my wife has never asked me for anything. I believe we can all agree that she, of all women we know, deserves her happiness."

"Thank you," she said to both men.

* * * *

The rain fell unceasingly through the afternoon. Jean Luc and Pierre made a fort in the stable's loft and were determined to eat supper there as well "Only after vespers," she had agreed, hiding her anxieties, always managing to hide them from her boy. "And no matter what," she added in a strict voice, "no mirth! Absolutely no laughing!"

The command immediately rewarded her with the sight of two young boys trying desperately to suppress a giggle of mirth, their small chests puffing with the effort. Their quick and certain failure threw them into stitches of laughter. Vivian had agreed, as well, and set about making them some special treats.

After asking the two night guards to keep their eyes on the children, Linness finally returned to her room. Though it was not dark yet, the fires had been lit, casting the room in a dim golden light Clair was not to be found. Clair often enjoyed supper in the knights' barracks, playing cards and dice as well as any man, and due to her lively spirits and keen wit, she was ever popular among the men.

Tonight Linness was glad to be alone.

She desperately needed the peace she found through prayer.

Linness moved to the hearth and withdrew a kindling stick from the box. She set it to flames and cupping the flickering light, she hurriedly brought it to her candles at Mary's altar. She lowered the flames to one wick, then another and another. She saw him when she lifted her eyes.

She stood frozen for a long moment, staring at his candlelit features, trying to assess his intentions. The blackened pools of his eyes reflected the small flame. "Paxton ...”

He leaned toward her and blew out the kindling stick just before it would burn her fingers. Scented smoke rose between them. He gently slipped his long, warm fingers over hers and removed the scorched stick and tossed it into the fire. Staring down at the flames, he asked in a whisper, "Tell me what you really know of this bishop."

She forced her gaze from his to collect her thoughts. Of course he would have known there was more to her fear than she claimed. She could keep nothing from him.

"When I was but ten and one, he arrived at my convent to examine me. I told you of the old abbess and how she loved me, and I, her, how she was a mother to me. When she died the new abbess arrived from faraway Florence. I think she hated me upon sight; her animosity growing as she perceived the other sisters' affection and growing more as she heard more and more about my…sight.

“‘
Twas Peter Luce whom she called to the abbey to examine me. He was already well known for routing out the devil's infiltration into the holy church, a task he committed himself to with the unreserved enthusiasm and determination of a zealot."

She paused before adding in a subdued whisper, "I overheard the sisters' worry. The numbers stuck in my mind all these years. He was known to have executed eighty-eight members of the clergy; his reputation reached all the way to the German states."

Paxton swore softly, viciously,

"When I first saw him," she continued distantly as she remembered, "he was so tall and handsome, magnificent and noble in his fine crimson robes. I remember thinking that he would do me no harm, that he could do me no harm, despite the sisters' worries. He was too fine..."

Linness stood by her bed, her hand idly smoothing over the crevices of the carvings on the post. "I remember kneeling before him and that he held out his jeweled fingers to kiss. I was filled with a young girl's excitement upon meeting a powerful and handsome man. I never had a father, you know. I suppose I was thinking to charm him and win his affection as I had with the good sisters and the dear old abbess."

In a changed voice she finished, "I kissed his hand. He withdrew it, as if I had scorched him. Harshly, so harshly, he demanded an explanation of how I made his crucifix tremble. I was so frightened by this. The sisters hurried to withdraw me from his presence. He arranged a formal ecclesiastic investigation. With many tears the sisters helped me escape, and that night I stepped out alone into the world."

Paxton saw this was a dangerous situation. He had only one question by the end of this sad story. "Would he recognize you, Linness?"

"I don't know!" A distressed hand went to her forehead. "I keep thinking aye, he would know me immediately and remember me at once, but then rationally, I realize I was only one of hundreds of people he tried to condemn. I was only eleven too. He is large in my mind, but surely I would only be a fleeting encounter in his." She understood the huge mistake at once. "If only I had kept Belinda's name instead of using my own ..."