“Your mouth is open,” Gar informed his friend.
“What …? Oh! Yeah!” Dirk turned away, reddening. “Sorry. Just kind of strange to hear ‘dear’ and ‘my love’ after what we’ve been seeing.”
Only two groups of men sat at table; Gar and Dirk had a wide choice—so why did they choose the corner farthest from the door? True, they were by a window—but why did they sit with their backs to the corner, instead of facing the panes? Even more mystifying, they went on with their talk as they sat, not even seeming to think about what they did. Strange indeed!
The landlord came up with a tray, three bowls on it. “Your ale, gentlemen. I’m sorry it’s an old brewing, but the reeve hasn’t sent me my ration of barley and hops yet. It was a bad harvest last year, of course, but his clerk says it will come any day now. As to your food, my wife will have—”
“Your meat, guardsmen! One side, husband!”
The innkeeper stepped aside quickly, then took the plates from his wife’s tray and set them before the men. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he turned away, hurrying back to the door, where two more men were just coming in.
Dirk stared, stunned, and Gar said, “You seem fortunate in your marriage, goodwoman.”
“Aye, sir.” The landlady, pretty even in her mid-forties and her plumpness, blushed a little. “He has been a good husband to me these twenty-seven years, thanks to kind fortune.”
“Or to a good match. You seem to have been as good to him, and as loving.”
“How could I be less, with so gentle and affectionate a man?” she said, keeping her voice low and her gaze downcast. “I haven’t seen very many couples as happy as you two,” Dirk said. “In fact, none.”
“It’s so strange.” The woman shook her head. “We seem to be such ordinary people, but when I hear what other folk have to bear, I realize we’re rare indeed.” “How did you do it?” Gar asked.
The wife shrugged. “We’ve done our best to be kind to one another, sir, but that hasn’t been very hard. I was lucky enough to fall in love with the man the reeve chose for me, and luckier still that he fell in love with me.”
“Maybe the reeve knew you well enough to choose wisely,” Dirk suggested.
“No, it couldn’t have been that. We hadn’t met the reeve very often, only the usual ceremonies, when each of us had to stand before him at seven and again at fourteen, that he might witness we were well and thriving, and his clerk register that we had passed from infant to child and again from child to adult. And the man who appointed us to wed one another was the fourth reeve we’d known.”
Dirk shivered. Miles wondered why—surely the custom couldn’t be strange to him. After all, it was the law.
“But the reeve knows all about everyone in his county,” the landlady went on, “and chose us wisely, by our good fortune. You did want bread with your meat, did you not?”
“Of course,” Gar said politely, and took the dark brown loaf she held out. “Thank you, goodwoman.”
“Oh, I love to watch folk enjoy the food I’ve cooked, sir! Call if you need anything else!” She turned and swept back to the kitchen.
“Two very lucky people,” Gar said, watching her go.
“And you think it’s sheer luck, huh?” Dirk asked, watching his face. “Of course, it could be keen insight into character and good record-keeping.”
“Then why’re so many of them so miserable with each other?” Gar turned back to the table and shrugged. “The net of probability occasionally scoops up a treasure. If a few marriages are absolutely deplorable, the bell curve balances them with another few that are heavenly.”
“But most of them are varying degrees of the mixture of good and bad? Yes, I think so.” Dirk shrugged. “Just hope I draw one that’s closer to the happy end than the miserable one.” His face darkened. “Come to think of it, I won’t get married if it’s not.”
“And you’re the one who said we can only guess!” Gar said, with a hard smile.
Dirk shrugged. “If you’re both head over heels in love, you’re starting with all the advantages you can have—if both people are being as honest about themselves as they can be.”
“Even then, it’s a gamble.” Gar warned.
“I know, but at least you’re playing with better odds. No, I won’t settle for anything less than head over heels.”
Listening wide-eared, Miles thought privately that Dirk would never marry, then—but he was scandalized that the man seemed to think he had a choice. Had he fallen in with a couple of madmen?
“So their happy marriage is just good fortune,” Gar summarized.
“No, it took a lot of effort, too,” Dirk corrected. “You heard her—they both tried as hard as they could to be kind to one another.”
“They’re good people,” Miles murmured, frightened at himself for intruding.
Dirk nodded. “Yes. That helps. Still, I’d have to say it was mostly luck—or Providence.”
Gar frowned, his gaze suddenly keen. “Come to think of it, they didn’t mention Providence, did they? Or the saints, or God.”
Miles wondered what the unfamiliar words meant.
“No,” Dirk said slowly, “and now that you mention it, even here on the ground we definitely haven’t seen anything resembling a church.” He turned to Miles. “Have we?”
Miles stared, completely at a loss. “What”s a church?”
CHAPTER 7
That’s what I thought.” Dirk waved to the innkeeper. The man looked up over a double fistful of tankards to give Dirk a quick nod, then turned away to another table, distributed bumpers of ale, and came back to Dirk, wiping his hands on his apron again. “Your pleasure, guardsmen?”
“Our hearts are in need of uplifting, mine host,” Dirk said. “When and where can we find services?”
The innkeeper looked surprised, but said, “Ah, you’re in luck, sir! The magistrate will lead the philosophy discussion tomorrow night! He’ll remind everyone of the basic ideas of their duties to the State, and its to them, for half an hour, then go on to more advanced ideas for those who want to stay.”
“Bad fortune!” Gar said. “I would very much like to hear that—but we’ll be on our way before nightfall, or surely tomorrow morning.”
Miles devoutly hoped they’d be out of town long before then.
“That’s the trouble with being assigned to travel,” Dirk agreed. “It keeps us from attending discussions as frequently as we’d like.”
“Indeed,” Gar agreed. “Why, we haven’t been to a single session since that one a month ago.” He turned to Dirk. “The one about the falseness of religion, wasn’t it? I wanted to learn more.”
The innkeeper looked interested. “What does ‘religion’ mean? We’ve never heard of it at our services.”
“The magistrate didn’t quite make it clear,” Gar admitted. “No wonder you wanted to hear more! It’s a refreshing change from hearing the same ideas again and again every few years. One grows hungry to learn more—but I know we have to be constantly reminded of the need for government and the logical reasons why a people need a Protector to shield them from the worst excesses of human nature.”
“Yes,” Gar agreed, “and the need for that Protector to have weapons to use against the wicked, so he can prevent them from hurting the good folk.”
“As you guardsmen do,” the innkeeper agreed, “but that’s why we common folk mustn’t have swords or pikes ourselves, for the wicked mustn’t be able to win against the Protector of the good folk.”
“So that the number of the wicked will always grow smaller,” Dirk said, “which is why people need to strive for good and righteous behavior.”