“Fine,” said Diana, who was standing nearby. “It’s even more dignified to be married in the royal chapel than in my own castle chapel. It’s a good thing I thought to bring along my best dress.”
After dinner Joachim asked me up to his room. He lit the candles, then sat down on one of his hard chairs. “Would you like to tell me,” he said, giving me a long look, “what really happened in the cave?”
Even though I had earlier decided not to tell anyone, it was a relief to do so, a much bigger relief than I had expected. The act of telling alone moved the events into the external world, made it all less of a continuing nightmare that affected only me. But unfortunately I knew that the monster was also part of the real world.
Joachim said very little while I told it. “Maybe I should never have become Royal Wizard,” I finished. “All I’ve done is make other wizards act foolishly in trying to show off to me how well they can do magic. The old wizard, once he was retired, may have started making a monster in part to impress me. And you saw Evrard in the cave yesterday. He’s going to get himself into trouble by trying to convince me he can have good ideas of his own.”
“If it hadn’t been you, it would have been another wizard.”
“For the two years I’ve been Royal Wizard, I’ve always had in the back of my mind the thought that if I ran into a problem too difficult for my own abilities, there was another wizard to call on. Even though it didn’t worked out like that, the thought was reassuring. And now there is no one to call on in the kingdom but me.”
The chaplain shook his head. “I’ve already told you: each person must answer for his or her own soul before God. We have to do our best not to lead others astray, but ultimately we must allow them to sin or do good on their own.”
Although I hadn’t been talking about leading anyone into sin, Joachim’s words were oddly comforting. But then I thought of something. “Wait a minute. Back when I first came to Yurt, you said that you’d had to take responsibility for my soul with the bishop.”
Joachim looked at me as though I was speaking nonsense. “But that’s different. I’m a priest.”
There was one more thing that bothered me, that I had not before dared bring up. “It doesn’t seem fair, Joachim,” I said at last.
He lifted his eyebrows without speaking.
I took a deep breath. “If Saint Eusebius was willing to save my life, why didn’t he save the old wizard?”
“There are several reasons I could tell you,” said Joachim slowly, “and other reasons that lie beyond the understanding of mortals. The easiest answer would be that you had prayed to the saint with a contrite heart, and the old wizard had not, but that would wrongly suggest that relations between living men and the saints were simply mechanical.” His deep-set eyes met mine for a second, then he looked away. “I was praying for both of you.”
He felt silent. I did not answer, waiting to see if he would go on.
“When we live and when we die,” he continued after a minute, “is not ultimately due to the specific prayers we do or do not say, though the Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. Our destiny rather lies in the hands of God. You can’t speak of what is ‘fair.’ All of us, ever since Adam, are sinners, and deserve death and damnation. That God, from His mercy, allows us to live and even be happy at all should fill us with profound gratitude.”
“I still don’t think it’s fair,” I said. “If I were in charge of things, I would make them much less arbitrary.”
“You sound like Job,” the chaplain commented. He moved slightly, and his eyes came out of the shadows. “‘My righteousness is more than God’s.’” I had no idea what he was talking about. “But God answered Job out of the whirlwind, ‘Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? Or who laid the corner stone thereof, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?’”
“Well,” I said grumpily, “I should have known better than to try to discuss theology with you.”
Joachim did not answer, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.
I thought it ironic that he, who rarely smiled, should do so when I felt I might never smile again. “What’s so funny?”
“You are. That sounds like what I’m supposed to say to you.”
In the morning, wearing my best blue velvet suit and feeling almost human again, I stood with the chaplain beside the royal throne of Yurt in the castle’s great hall.
It had been an enormous comfort to be able to take a bath in my own bathtub and to fall asleep in my own bed. Even the illusory frog which Evrard had put on my pillow did not keep me awake for long.
Dominic now sat on the throne, glowering, waiting for the duchess to appear. His ruby ring in its snake setting glistened on his finger. In the distance I could hear a great deal of urgent shouting from the kitchen; the cook and Gwen were madly preparing for a wedding feast they had only learned about last night.
The duchess appeared at last, dressed in a wide-skirted dress of white lace that she must have had along in her baggage the whole time. The old-fashioned high neckline and the slightly yellow tinge suggested she was wearing her own mother’s wedding dress. The delicacy of the lace contrasted sharply with the hammered gold of her wide bracelets.
Dominic too was dressed in finery, in his case black velvet trimmed with the blue and white of the royal coat of arms, and he wore a heavy gold chain around his neck. But Nimrod, who had come to Yurt as a huntsman and was much too tall to wear anyone else’s clothes, was still dressed in rough green. But with a newly-trimmed beard and a sober face, he still managed to look more dignified than most of the court.
Several of the knights of Yurt seemed to have decided that they too might have a chance with Diana, for they had put on their best and were laughing and teasing each other. But Dominic was absolutely serious, and a deep frown quickly silenced the knights. He seemed, I thought, much sulkier than anyone should who would be getting married in half an hour. He beckoned to the duchess with a massive hand, and she came quietly to stand before him.
“The purity of the kingdom depends on the purity of its women,” he announced in a deep voice.
Joachim startled me by saying, “And the same is true of its men.”
“A kingdom is not merely a piece of land,” the regent continued, “or a political unit, but a group of people, who are both guarded and guided by their aristocracy.”
Diana’s cheeks reddened slightly as she listened. Those who had stayed behind at the castle had received, I was sure, a highly speculative but nonetheless detailed version of what had actually happened that night on the plateau.
I tried to contemplate, difficult as it was, Dominic and Diana actually married to each other. The regent had maneuvered her into this position, of having to marry to preserve her honor, but she had been willing to be maneuvered. I still didn’t know what her intentions had originally been toward Prince Ascelin, but now that she had-quite wrongly, I thought-decided he was a coward, she would certainly not marry him. But she would now have the household she had decided she wanted when she hired Evrard, and she and Dominic could live in her castle on her rents.
“Therefore,” Dominic continued, “any suggestion, any rumor, of impurity by one of its leading women must be rectified at once.” He paused briefly, as though overcome at the last moment with reluctance. But he thrust out his chin and continued. “My lady, you have already agreed that certain of your activities have become sources of scandal, and that only marriage, immediate marriage, will wipe this scandal away. Do you still agree?”