XVI
Orleanais rolled subtly parti-colored beneath a cloudless hot heaven: tawny stubblefields, brown hayricks, bleached green pillars of poplar, apple orchards beginning to glow red, vineyards heavy with purple clusters, widely scattered farmsteads whose buildings had walls of gray stucco, roofs of dark thatch or umber tile.
Peasants at work wore faded blue smocks and plain sabots; their ox-drawn wagons and donkey carts were gaily painted. They were a stocky, sturdy folk, who would let go sickles or spades to hail passers-by, throw a jest at a neighbor, gulp some wine from a clay jug.
There went a smell of earth and summer, but it was nearly lost in the dust thrown up by hoofs and wheels.
A coach was rattling southward behind four horses. Baggage made a hillock on the roof. One black-clad, tall-hatted man drove, another clung behind. Six more fared in saddles, their leader riding postilion, the rest strung on either side. Though likewise in civil array, except for allowable swords, they had the seat of cavalrymen.
Jennifer leaned out a window. Sweat stained her gown and channeled the grime on her features. “What do you want?” demanded Nobah Barker, who sat across from her. He was still more wilted by the heat, battered by the incessant jounce and sway, than she was; his reddened eyes resented her.
“A breath of breeze,” she snapped through rattle and creak. “Is that forbidden?”
“ ’Tis immodest, Mistress Alayne, thus to thrust one’s maiden self upon the public view.”
She grinned in unfriendly wise. “Wherefore you stay within, Reverend? Well, let me be entirely lost to shame. Let me take a horse, not suffocate here.”
“Nay. How couldst thou receive instruction? Thou. Hear, I must chide thee as I would a child.”
“Why, then I’ll address thee as I would a dog.”
“Peace!” he yelped. “Oh, if I might chastise thee with stripes, flog forth the scornful devil which possesses thee! How thou wouldst weep thereafter, and beg my forgiveness for this insolence where-with thou tormentest mine every waking hour!”
“I’ll strike a bargain,” said Jennifer. “Spend no more of thy waking hours in my presence, and thou’lt get never a bad word from me.”
“Nay. Thy guardian did charge me most strictly to have a care of thy soul and strive unremittingly to mend its illness. Methinks he was mistaken in forbidding corporal punition;’twould surely have eased the anguish inflicted on me. However, I comply, I submit. Unto the task of recapturing the wayward lamb do I screw myself. Come within. Sit and hearken. That’s an order.”
Jennifer ignored it. Leaning as far as possible, she waved at a peasant girl tending a flock of geese which cropped the ditch. “Hallo, sister, hallo!” she cried. “Je suis ta soeur—see, I learned some French o’ my dad—little sister, free sister, pray for me in my prison. Prie pour moi.”
“Wanton! Papist! In, I told thee!” Barker stormed. He threw arms around her waist and dragged.
She swung about in his clasp to rake nails across his cheek. He let her go. They both sat back, breathing hard, he dabbling at the blood-beaded scratches. After a moment she said like stones falling: “This time I warned you, Barker. Seize me again, and’twill cost you an eyeball at least.”
“I… violence… wildness… thou’rt truly afflicted—” He stiffened into a sort of calm. “Thine uncle did authorize what force might be needful to carry out my task. I hold that that may include the compelling of thy body.”
Jennifer sighed. “Liefer than have thee touch me more, I’ll stay quiet.”
Barker struggled to smile. “My child, I pity thee. Indeed, the pain I endure on thine account will earn me palaces in heaven. So fair without, so foul within—and yet, beneath that filth which wizard Rupert conjured into thee, may still abide a soul as pure as the driven snow.”
“Aye, cold enough, and driven where it would not be.”
“Cold? In this weather?” He lifted a bottle. “Here, behold how I return good for evil and offer thee water.”
“Not from a neck your lips have sucked.”
“Thou hurtest me, Jennifer, woundest me here.” He laid palm on breast.
“Aye, thou painest me too.” She touched her rump.
It passed him by. Shaking the container, he said, “Maybe as well thou refusest.’Tis nigh empty. Preaching’s thirsty work. Therefore, in God’s cause I’ll finish it.”
He did, set it on the floor, inflated his lungs, and stated: “I shall continue my discourse which was thus rudely interrupted. It is, thou wilt recall, upon the eighteenth chapter of Leviticus, having to do with unlawful lusts, and we had reached the twenty-third verse, which closes:’… it is confusion.’ A veritable sign from heaven, that I should be at this exact passage when thou didst cry out unto the goose girl—because that showed forth how thou dost commit confusions, albeit not those specified in the chapter, I hope. Worst, of course, is that thou didst ask for a Papist prayer—horror, horror—but thou hast also a worldly miscomprehension. That thou couldst call yon person free, captive as she is in both flesh and spirit, demonstrates how thou’rt wholly ignorant of matters political—indeed, of the very definition of freedom.”
Jennifer stared out the window.
“A moment, ere I explicate.” His black coat cut off her view as he himself leaned forth to calclass="underline" “Throckmorton! Dost see a sheltered spot ahead?”
“A hedge, sir, a mile hence,” the driver answered.
“Well, whip up the horses, and make halt there. The Lord’s business does not wait.” Barker sat down again, crossing his thighs rather tightly. “Where was I? Ah, yes. I have been inquiring and studying of the French situation, from that military envoy I met on the steamer and in Calais from the English consul whilst our transportation was being purchased. Industry, Jennifer, industry and an open mind are the sure eastern and western pole stars whereby we steer toward truth—worldly truth, that is, the divine sort being always a matter of revelation and special grace. Uh-h’m! Know, then, the new King Lewis is a mere child, and the true ruler of the land is an Italian cardinal. How can France be free if she wears the collar of a Roman cleric?”
Jennifer could not forbear to say, “Though’tis a Catholic land, they tolerate Protestants.”
“Ah-ha! A Catholic land. That means they tolerate Catholics, too, does it not? Wherein lies freedom there? Nay, those who would die to scorch error from their country are forced, cruelly forced to live in very earshot of its preachments. Furthermore, where’s a Parliament of godly men, responsive to the people, such as has sat in London, unchanged by any dissent, these four unbroken years, and will sit as long as is necessary to reform every citizen? France groans beneath feudal monarchy. Archaic laws and usages bind her natural leaders hand, foot, and mouth. In consequence, progress languishes. Behold for thyself, child. See how yonder old cottage stands just where’twould be advantageous to pass a railway. Hast thou observed a single smokestack or enclosure? The time lost each year in holidays and festivals is a national disgrace…
. Throckmorton, hurry along, I told thee!”
“We’re well-nigh there, master,” came the reply.
“I’ll give you this,” Jennifer said: “that to judge by all the stops we’ve been making, the French cannot prepare food—or is it drink?—that agrees with your English constitution.”
“ ’Tis the work of Satan, seeking to hinder me,” Barker stated, “and that thou art spared the flux is an ominous token.” Hopefully: “Or hast thou need to go this time, after me?”
“Nay, heaven has not yet vouchsafed me that sign of its feelings which it considers appropriate to you. But I will step out whilst you’re busy and rest me by the waters of Babylon.”