Magnus forced himself not to flinch from her gaze, though he felt as much repelled as attracted. "The Heaven thou dost speak of on Earth is Heaven as I understand it to be hereafter-yet enduring forever, not for minutes only."
She started, shocked, and turned away. "Thou dost blaspheme!"
"Nay; for the bliss of the saints is even greater than that of the sinner in his fleshly preoccupation."
Hester eyed him warily. "The good sisters tell us 'tis a bliss of the soul only."
"I doubt it not," Magnus returned, "yet I tell thee of mine own knowledge, that the ecstasy of the flesh alone is a great anticipation and ascension into a moment's thrill that is far less than its expectation. 'Tis therefore that lechers forever pursue new conquests-they are ever in search of that which can only be gained by those in love. I cannot speak of the fullest ecstasy that is accorded true lovers, but from what I hear of it, it surpasseth mere lust as the ocean surpasseth the lake."
Hester stared up at him, shaken but fascinated. "Thou art a sinner!"
"That I am, to my sorrow-earthly sorrow of the here and now, not of the afterworld alone. There is great virtue in virtue, even that of chastity, though mayhap not as thy teachers tell thee."
"What thou hast said is not of their teaching."
"Gramercy for that. Yet in having any sort of school, thou art fortunate."
"I would trade such fortune gladly, for the chance to be free!" the girl said passionately.
Magnus was instantly on his guard-here was the ulterior motive. "Free? Why, what wouldst thou gain thereby?"
"Why, freedom!" She stared at him, open-mouthed. "Freedom to do as I pleased, without parents and teachers forever telling me what I must and must not do! Freedom to dance, to sing songs other than hymns, to taste of the delights of this world." She looked very directly into his eyes as she said it.
Magnus felt her gaze down into the pit of his stomach, but he tried to ignore it. "We all yearn for such freedom," he agreed. "It doth come with age."
"Nay-it doth come with marriage. And then art thou fettered to a husband's commands."
"Or a wife's." Magnus remembered the henpecked husbands. "In that, I am naive, Hester. I yet dream of a union in which husband and wife are so firmly delighted in one another that they act in concert, and take so much pleasure in one another's company that the bondage of never doing what one wishes, but ever tempering thine own desires by another's whims, seems of little moment."
"I, too, dream of that." Again, the eyes turned huge, the lips parted. "Hast thou seen such?"
"Aye, though it did not last," Magnus admitted. "As they aged, the one of them chafed the other."
"Age will make some difficult and contrary," Hester agreed. "I have seen such."
"And those of great anger grow to be of shorter and shorter temper," Magnus said with a sigh. "Yet still bide they, joined to one another, in hopes that the friction will cease."
"Before the love doth." Hester turned away, troubled. "Is there no freedom, then?"
"None that can be won once, and never striven for again-as I have heard, at the least. Freedom must ever be won over and over again."
"As must love?" Hester whispered.
Magnus nodded. "From all I have seen and heard, a wedding is not the magic charm we think it. A priest's blessing, and an exchange of rings, will not make a wild boy instantly into a prudent husband, nor transform a flirtatious lass at once into a demure and loyal wife. And, assuredly, a wedding will not make two folk who are unsuited to fall in love."
Hester winced, and Magnus wondered what she'd had in mind. "Yet still," he said, "I think there is freedom, though husband and wife must ever earn it by serving in bondage to one another." He frowned at his own words. "Do I make sense?"
"Nay."
"Praise Heaven; I feared I was too much like a pontiff. Nay, when all is said and done, I'll take the lesser, but more certain, freedoms."
Hester looked up, puzzled. "What are those?"
"Freedom of the mind is foremost among them. At the least, thou hast the world of books open to thee-if thou hast the good fortune to come by volumes."
"The world of books? How should we have such a world?"
"Why, by having learned to read and write."
"I have learned no such thing! What hath schooling to do with reading?"
It was Magnus's turn to stare, shaken. What kind of school was it that didn't teach people to read and write? He was about to find out; they had come to the church. Hester murmured, "I thank thee for thy company," and hurried ahead, to arrive at the clustering of children and youths ahead of them. Magnus smiled; apparently he was already suspect in the community. Was that only by virtue of being a stranger? _
The school was a small wooden building beside the church. Today, however, it was not going to be used, due to fair weather; two black-robed women came out of the cloister, took up stations before the group of youngsters, and clapped their hands. Instantly, the children quieted and assembled into straight lines. The nuns nodded, then knelt with ponderous ostentation. The children followed suit, and the nuns began the Our Father. Magnus frowned; the words had changed a bit from the ones he knew-due, no doubt, to having been passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. "Thy kingdom has come" did rather change the emphasis-and that last sentence, "Make us obedient to the priests whom Thou hast appointed to guide us," definitely wasn't in the Catholic version he knew-nor the Protestant, for that matter; and from the grating tone in which the nuns recited it, it didn't sound as though they were all that happy about it, either. But recite it they did, and finished the "Amen," and began the "Hail Mary." Again, it was not the prayer as Magnus knew it. He certainly hadn't thought of Christ as taking orders from Mary-at least not after He grew up. He decided to look up the wedding in Cana in his Bible at home.
"Thomas and Hester," said the eldest nun, "bring out the slate."
Thomas looked up with a quick smile, but Hester kept her face carefully neutral. Together they went into the school. Thomas was instantly trying to chat with Hester, in a low tone; she answered in monosyllables. The nuns couldn't have helped but notice, but they turned a blind eye.
"Today we shall speak of the Holy Trinity," the younger nun said, stepping to center, "of God our Father, and Jesus His Son-and of the Spirit of God, which doth enkindle our hearts with love. Therefore, if we live in God, we must love one another, never speaking in anger, or striking one another, or seeking another's shame or hurt." As she spoke, her face became radiant, her eyes rising toward Heaven.
Then she whirled about, whipping a birch rod from her voluminous robe and slamming it down across a young man's knuckles. A single cry escaped his lips from sheer surprise, before he bit it back.
"And thou, Neil Aginson!" the nun shouted. "Dost think I have not seen that look of hate thou didst direct, but now, at Thomas's back? Nay, glower not at me, but smile, or I'll smite thee sorely."
The young man stared back up at her, eyes narrowing. The elder nun came up behind the younger. "Think of thy father, Neil Aginson. Think of the tithe he doth owe the Church, that may be doubled. Come, let love fill thine heart, and smile."
The youth's face reddened, but he managed to draw up the corners of his mouth in a rictus.
"Think on love, and do better," said the younger nun, eyeing him with cold hostility. "But that will do."
She turned away, just as a sharp crack sounded from inside the school. Both nuns turned, eyeing the door narrowly. Then Thomas came stumbling out, bearing one end of a portable blackboard, a red mark flaming on his cheek. Hester came marching after, holding the other end of the blackboard, head high and shoulders back-but without the hint of a smile.
The nuns eyed the two of them, and the elder barked, "Hester! Be not so proud! Remember that humility is a virtue that doth become us all!"
Hester dropped her eyes. "As thou sayest, sister." She turned away to her seat on the grass.