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The younger nun whirled to whack at Neil again. "Purge the hatred from thy soul, Neil Aginson! Aye, well I know what thou wouldst fain do-and I tell thee, unless thou canst school thine heart to love, and purge this hatred from it, thou shalt fry in Satan's skillet for eternity!"

Neil dropped his gaze and slumped his shoulders-but it looked to be only pretense.

"Beware of lust," said the older nun. "Beware the temptations of the flesh. I know thine heart; I have seen how thou dost regard Hester."

Now Hester's cheeks flamed. She sat at her desk, head bowed, every line of her body rigid with embarrassment. "Purge thyself of impure thoughts!" the old nun orated, one hand held high in admonition-or threat. "Cleanse thine heart of every trace of concupiscence, lest the fires of desire condemn thee to the fire of the furnace in which God doth burn all impurities from mortal souls-burn, aye, for eternity!"

Magnus noticed that the term "eternity" was already beginning to have less meaning for him. He also wondered why neither nun had said anything to Thomas about lust--or did they think that Hester had slapped him for his conversation?

"Ten Hail Mary's!" The old nun's arm came down like a whip, finger pointing at Neil.

Every muscle stiff in protest, Neil bowed his head and began to move his lips. The nun eyed him coldly, but turned away.

She drew two large circles on the board, and turned back to the class. "What are these?"

A nervous giggle ran through the class.

"Be still!" The nun glared at them, face red and swollen on the instant, eyes staring in indignation. "What wouldst thou profane! Art thou all damned, even so young? Harold! What have I drawn?"

"Why ... why, two circles, sister," an eight-year-old stammered.

"Thou liest, thou rogue!" WHACK! The ruler came down on the desk-but the boy yanked his fingers out of the way at the last second. The nun howled. "Thou wouldst, wouldst thou? Seek to avoid the punishment divinely meted out to thee? Nay, thou canst not turn away from God's chastisement, and if thou dost try, it shall be meted out to thee tenfold! Thomas, hold his hands!"

The youth leaped to obey with alacrity, a smile quivering at the corners of his lips, but contained, though his eyes betrayed his pleasure. The nun cracked the rod across the boy's hands ten times, impervious to his tears, then turned away. "Now, for one who did listen yesterday. Avila!"

"Wh-Why . . ." the girl stammered, "thou didst not speak of circles yesterday, sister."

WHACK! This time it was a slap across the cheek. "Did I not speak of God, Avila? Is not God a whole unit, sufficient unto himself? And is not a circle a whole, unto itself?" She whirled away, to point at the larger circle. "This is God!"

There was a smothered snort of laughter somewhere in the class, but the watching elder nun could see only blank, serious gazes. Several shoulders had shaken, though.

The younger nun tried again. "Why did God create us?"

"Wh-Why," the youngster stammered, "th-that he might have toys to play with."

"What! Dost thou think God to be a child? Nay, nay! Small time for play hath He-and would never think to profane the heavens with laughter or shouts of glee! The Devil is in thee; Rory! To confession with thee, and a long penance, too, whilst the others dine! Nay, God made us to love and to serve him, that he might have summat to love-for if thou dost not love Him, he will cast thee deep into the fiery furnace! Theobald!"

A ten-year-old snapped his gaze around to her. "Wh-what, sister?"

"Thou didst whisper to Harl!"

"Nay, sister! I-1 but glanced at him!"

"And he glanced at thee, and thou didst set up a whole dialogue of grimaces and leers! 'Tis as bad as whispering, or worse, since thou dost seek to make others laugh and ignore the Word of God! Thou shalt stay when all others have gone, and scrub the boards of the schoolhouse floor!" She turned back to the blackboard, visibly striving to calm herself. "Now-let us discuss the ways of charity." She took the rod and pointed to the larger circle. "Let this stand for God the Father." She drew rays coming out of the larger circle, making it look like the sun. "And this is the Holy Ghost, which is the emanation of God's feelings toward us."

She whirled around. "Theobald! Why dost thou frown?" The boy's look of puzzlement was instantly replaced by one of fright. "Why ... Why, sister-is not the Holy Ghost a separate being from God?"

"Nay, silly fool! How could God's Spirit be separate from God? The Holy Ghost is to God as my love for thee is to me!" The boy couldn't quite prevent the skeptical look that crossed his features, but you could tell he was trying, so the nun ignored it and turned back to the blackboard.

Magnus nodded; these people's beliefs were like their church service-whatever kind of Christians they thought they were, they weren't Catholic. Roman Catholics believed that the Holy Trinity consisted of one God in three separate persons, as separate from one another as the leaves of a shamrock, but even more unified than the plant as a whole. This nun, though, was saying that the Holy Spirit didn't really exist. And her next words made it even more clear.

"This Holy Ghost, as God's yearning for a son, did embrace the Virgin Mary, and enkindled in her the babe, born at Christmas, and named Jesus, the Christ. He was therefore the son of God-but do not commit the error of mistaking Jesus for God! He was a man, and only a man-a saint, and more than a saint; a perfect man, to be sure-but only a man withal."

The children sat attentively, as though they were listening closely-but several eyes had glazed over. They had heard this before.

So had Magnus-it was called the Arian heresy.

"So God filled Mary with His Love, which we call the Holy Spirit," the nun summarized, "and Christ was born.... Hermann! Keep thine hands to thyself!" She descended on the luckless boy, whose hand had twitched toward the pigtails of the girl in front of him, and whacked him sharply over the knuckles with her ruler. As he squalled, she turned toward the elder nun with a sigh. "What ails these children this day? Have we been lax in our vigilance? Hath the Devil crept amongst them whiles we taught? Wherefore? And by what means?"

"Not the Devil." The older nun gazed across the heads of the class toward Magnus. "Yet there is a stranger present, who doth watch. 'Tis thy presence, young man, that doth encourage these children to disruption!"

Magnus turned very thoughtful. She might be right, he realized, though not for the reason she thought.

"I must ask thee to leave," the elder nun said, striding toward Magnus. "An thou dost wish to discuss the Faith with us, we will welcome thy questions-but after the school day is done." Her steps faltered as she came closer to Magnus, for he had turned a hard, brittle smile on her, and his eyes were glittering in a way that caused her to come to a halt ten feet from him. As soon as she had stopped, he bowed politely. "I would not be a burden on thee, Sister. Assuredly, I shall leave." He turned and stepped into the forest-with relief, if the truth must be known; even gladly.

After a dozen steps through the underbrush, Magnus turned to the side and broke through to the track. He looked back toward the schoolroom, expecting to see Rod standing there shadowing him. Instead, he saw only the class and the teachers. He frowned, puzzled, then glanced back into the forest-but no, his father wasn't following him there, either. Well ... Maybe he had trusted the young man not to get himself into trouble. Magnus smiled, and turned back toward the village.

He found his father in the village common, handing a skillet back to a housewife and chatting. Magnus remembered that Rod had disguised himself as a tinker before, and smiled at the old-well, older-man's slyness. He waited till the conversation was done and Rod had gathered up his tools and was turning away, then stepped up to him. "Ingratiating thyself with the housewives again, my father?"

"Huh?" Rod looked up, startled, then smiled. "Oh. Yes, son. How else am I going to learn anything? How about you?"