“Brother Heribert?” cried Antonia, astounded by the accusation.
“Heribert? Nay, I speak of Prince Sanglant.”
“Ah, yes. He is much attached to the flesh, I believe.”
Zoë shuddered.
“None of us can escape the flesh.” Brother Severus emerged from the tower, lantern in hand. “Not while we still walk on this earth, at any rate. He’s a bad influence on the girl. As long as he is around, there is no hope she can learn with a focused mind. Pregnant!” He said the word with distaste. “She is not what we were led to expect.”
Zoë shuddered again. “It’s disgusting. I can hardly stand to look at her, with that swelling belly. It’s a deformity of the clean flesh she might have, had she kept herself a pure vessel.”
“Who among us has been given leave to cast the first stone?” asked Antonia mildly. “Not one of the women in this valley is unstained, even Anne, who gave birth to the girl, after all. For the men, of course, I cannot speak.” But she often wondered about Severus, the old prune. He had the kind of self-important arrogance that in her experience might cover a multitude of sins, now since conveniently forgotten.
He only raised an eyebrow. “That is of no matter. We expected a pure vessel, but now we receive one that is broken. It is not just this carnal marriage that has made her so, but her entire association with that creature. The prince is a danger to everything we’ve worked for. See how the servants cluster around him when they ought to be engaged in tasks for us.”
“Better under our eye than where he can work mischief hidden from us,” retorted Antonia.
“An argument Sister Anne has used. It may even be true. But it seems to me that we could simply rid ourselves of him once and for all time, and that would be the end of it.”
“He is not so easily killed,” said Sister Anne, emerging from the tower with Sister Meriam walking slowly behind her, “although I am in agreement that his influence on Liathano works counter to our purposes.”
Meriam had become increasingly frail over the past several months, and her voice was scarcely more than a whisper, thin and dry, but her mind had not lost any of its penetrating strength. “We were all young once, and the young are most susceptible to temptation. I sometimes think that only our absent Brother Lupus may have remained faithful to his vows.”
“A commoner!” Severus looked toward the hall, now lit by wands of light that glowed as softly as will-o’-the-wisps. “Hardly the creature such as we ought to measure ourselves against, Sister Meriam.”
“We had a saying in my country, Brother: that a rich man might as easily become a slave as a poor man might, if God so wills it. Fortune is fickle, and a poor man might become rich, or a slave become a general, by God’s design.”
“The sayings of infidels can be of little interest to us,” retorted Severus coolly.
“Let us go in to supper,” said Zoë, standing hastily. “Then perhaps we may eat our fill before the dog returns. I hate having to watch him eat.”
“You must strive for detachment,” said Sister Anne in a calm voice. “What disturbs you is not his presence but some lingering touch of the Enemy within your own soul.”
Zoë flushed. Since the arrival of Sanglant, Zoë had begun habitually, and no doubt unconsciously, to smooth her robes down against her body whenever she spoke of the prince. She did so now, brushing white, soft hands never marred by manual labor along the azure linen of her robe. In a way, it was a relief to Antonia; Heribert might have noticed Zoë’s lush charms, but it was now manifestly obvious that she had never noticed him. His purity was safe from her, at least. He noticed Liath, of course. Antonia had observed human nature for many years, and she had known at once that Liath had the unconscious warmth of beauty that attracts males as moths to the flame that will kill them. But Liath was pregnant, and her husband hovered at her side in all his bestial glory. Heribert would not interfere there. Males were easily led precisely because of their inclination to submit to any one of them who seemed stronger; that was why God had chosen women to administer Their church, because women were more rational.
“He has brought discord in his wake,” said Severus, “but that, I suppose, is the legacy of his mother’s blood.”
Poor Sister Zoë was a passionate being, despite her wish to live the contemplative life. Still flushed and flustered, she set off for the hall. Antonia could smell roasted lamb and freshly baked bread. Anne glanced toward the open door to the tower, made some internal decision, and followed Zoë. Severus waited only long enough to accompany Sister Meriam at her slow pace. For once, Antonia missed Brother Marcus, who for all his haughtiness had more conversation than the rest combined and was not afraid to speculate on the goings-on in the world outside, but he had left weeks ago to travel to Darre.
