Even this sight stirred him. He flushed and rolled onto his stomach, but it was no good. Sorrow stirred and rose to follow him as he heaved himself off the bed, stumbled against the sleeping Rage, and hurried outside. Tallia paid him no mind, or perhaps she truly did not notice him because she was too caught up in her prayers. Because she insisted on such modesty, he, too, slept in a shift. Now, in the gray dawn rising, he was glad of the covering. A stream ran by the monastery guesthouse where they had sheltered for the night. The shock of it on his legs calmed him. He splashed his face, shuddering, and then climbed out to the opposite side to relieve himself in the bushes. Sorrow growled softly, sniffing through the bracken, nosing up forest litter. The hound had a fondness for beetles, and he snapped one up now. Wind sighed through leaves. A drizzle began to fall. With his feet muddy and his hands chilled, Alain staggered back inside. He had recovered his equanimity enough to sit on the bed, although he dared not kneel beside her. She could go on for hours like this.
As soon as it was light, the servants came, washed his feet, took away the chamber pot and brought out his clothing. Tallia had to cease praying so that they could make ready to leave. Count Lavastine, riding home triumphant, did not intend to waste time on a leisurely journey.
Outside, Lavastine greeted him with that brief smile which in him signaled his deepest approval. He greeted Alain in this fashion every morning, and occasionally in a most uncharacteristic manner made labored and mercifully brief jests about becoming a grandfather. It made Alain sick at heart to hear him speak so. Surely the servants, who slept on pallets or on the floor beside the bed of their master and mistress, suspected that the marriage went unconsummated. Yet Tallia had twice now rebuked him for tossing and turning so on the bed when he was deep in sleep, dreaming, no doubt, of Fifth Son. Servants might assume anything from such small noises. Why should they believe anything else? God in Unity had made female and male in Their image, to live in harmony together, and had conferred immortality upon them in this way: that through their congress they could make children, and their children make children in their turn. In this way humankind had prospered, as had all the creatures of earth, air, and water.
In this way the county of Lavas would prosper.
He tried not to think about it too much. When he was near Tallia, his body had an unfortunate tendency to react in ways that embarrassed him. Was she so much holier than he was? Was it a sign of her worthiness in God’s eyes that she could pray half the night to God’s glory while he slept soundly? That she cleansed herself with fasting while he wolfed down his meals as eagerly as his hounds? That she begged him for a marriage of two pure souls unsullied by earthly lust while he knew in his heart—and elsewhere—that his soul was already stained by desiring her so fiercely?
“You are quiet, Son,” said Lavastine. “This is a fine morning. The rain is a blessing from God, for the crops will grow greener because of it.”
“And all our fortunes prosper,” said Lord Geoffrey, who rode at the count’s left hand. Alain glanced at him. Was his tone sour, or was that only Alain’s imagination? Geoffrey was usually scrupulously polite. “You would have been better served, cousin,” continued Geoffrey, “to tend the gardens at court more assiduously. There are many factions to be watered.”
“I see no point in gardening where I have no skills. The king supports me. That is all I need to know.”
“The king, God’s blessing on him, will not live forever. There was a rumor at court that the king means to name his bastard son as heir after him. But Princess Sapientia has her own adherents, and they will not stand by and do nothing if that comes to pass.”
“The king has favored me with the reward I most wished for. Now I will toil in those fields that God cherishes most: to make sure my fields and my folk prosper.”
“Is that what God most cherishes?” asked Tallia. “God wishes us to cleanse ourselves of the stain of darkness that has corrupted all earthly creatures, all save the blessed Daisan.”
“Even the blessed Daisan labored in the fields of earth, my lady Tallia. Is He not also known as the shepherd who brought us all into the fold? What if there were no women spinning and weaving, no men smithing or toiling to grow crops, and no lady and lord watching over them as God have ordained each to her own station? Then what would become of those good churchfolk who pray for our souls and for their prayers are given wax and wheat and cloth as their tithe?”
“Why, then, they would shed their earthly clothing—which is nothing but a burden—and ascend to the Chamber of Light!” she replied, looking surprised.
