The Warlock Heretical (4 page)

"Wise—and I hope you won't have to, Father," Rod said.

"Yet thou dost anticipate it." The priest gave Rod a searching look. "Wherefore dost thou so?" Rod shrugged. "He's just always struck me as the kind who can resist anything but temptation. And as you say,

he's found some rationalization that will let him stop resisting. But I don't think he came up with those excuses

all by himself."

The house was finally quiet, and Rod sank down in a chair by the fire with a grateful sigh. "Well, they're wonderful, but it's always a relief when they're down for the night." His brow clouded. Gwen noticed. "Aye. Thou wilt not be here to join in it tomorrow night, wilt thou?"

"No, but I should be back two nights after, with smooth

roads and fair weather. Even if the Abbot wants to take a hard

line. That should just make the conference shorter, in fact."

"Thou dost suspect meddling from our enemies tomorrow,

dost thou not?"

Rod noticed how the futurians were "our enemies," now. Nice and reassuring, that. "Ah. You caught me."

"Knowing thee and the contests we have waged in the past, 'twas open and clear when thou didst say the Lord

Abbot had help in the devising of his excuses. Who else wouldst thou think did aid him?"

"Well, yes, but suspecting futurian influence is becoming a reflex now. I'm beginning to look for them
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everywhere. If a sunny day turns cloudy, I see their hand in it."

"Not so bad as that. In truth, thou dost suspect their intervention only once or twice in a year, and thou art usually

in the right half the time. Yet in this case I am minded to concur with thee."

"Oh?" Rod looked up. "You see the hand of the future totalitarians in this, too?"

"Aye, though I would favor those who seek to abolish government altogether—for look you, the Abbot's action

can only bring war, and strife between Church and Crown can but work toward chaos." She hugged herself,

shivering. "Eh! But when the Church is shaken, all are! Nay, I've dark forebodings indeed, my lord."

"Well, share, then." Rod stood up and went over to settle down beside her on the floor cushions. "Why hug

yourself when there's a volunteer available?" He illustrated the point by slipping an arm about her. She was rigid for a moment, then relaxed against him. "My lord, I fear."

"I know what you mean. But remember, dear—whether or not our home is solid has nothing to do with the

Church." Gwen was still a moment, then shook her head. Rod frowned, lifting his head. "What? Do you think

that if the Church shakes, our marriage fails? That's superstition!" "Mayhap, yet 'twas in the Church we were

married." "Yeah, but that was our idea, not the Church's. No priest can create or destroy our unity, dear—only we

can."

She sighed and leaned against him. "Well, there's truth in that, praise Heaven. Even so, the Faith can give aid."

"You don't believe that!" Rod stiffened in indignation. "Yeah, sure I know the Church doesn't allow divorce—but

you don't think that's why I'm still here, do you?"

"Nay, I do not." Gwen turned to look up at him with a slow, heavy-lidded smile that bespoke reams about her

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opinion of herself.

A few minutes later Rod lifted his head, took a deep breath, and said, "Yes. Well, so much for religious prohibitions. No, dear, I can't help but think that we'd stay married even if the Church said we didn't have to."

"I have some suspicion of the sort myself," Gwen agreed, snuggling up. "Yet still, my lord, I grew up believing

that marriage is a sacrament, as did all here in Gramarye—as something good and holy in itself; and I cannot

help but think that 'twas therefore I did not burn to marry whosoever I could, but did wait till I'd found he whom I

wanted."

"Well. My self-image soars," Rod whispered into her ear— as far into her ear as he could. "Remind me to thank

the Church."

"Why, so I do, now, " she said, in full seriousness, and Rod drew back a little, sobering. Gwen went on,

" Tis also

the honoring of the sacrament, my lord, and the wish not to profane it, that hath made me strive to preserve the

harmony between us. Must thou not also admit to somewhat of the same sense?"

"Yes, I would, now that you mention it. " Rod frowned. "And, come to think of it, some of my more worldly

acquaintances, back in the old days, did seem to regard marriage as more of a convenience than a privilege. Still,

I don't think that attitude is totally dependent on the Church, dear—it comes from the home; it's passed down

from parent to child. A family heirloom, you might say. "

"And the most valuable of them all, " she agreed. "Yet didst thou not find that those who thought thus did also

cling to the Faith?"

"Which faith? There were so many where I grew up, and some of them were very definitely not religious.
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And

no, I never did do a statistical analysis on any of them. Religion isn't the kind of thing you discuss in polite society, back home. In fact, I even knew a few people who lived very Christian lives but never went to Church.

People can read the Bible without a priest's help, dear. "

"Aye, yet how many of them do? Yet also, my lord, thou

dost forget that the greater number of our folk cannot read. "

"Yeah, so they have to take the priest's word that what he

reads is what the Book really says. That's why I'm so big on

education, sweetheart. "

"As am I, my lord, for I'm aware that what our children do learn outside our home hath great influence indeed on

them. And what would that learning be, were there no Church for them to learn in?"

"They'll learn more from their playmates than from the priest, dear. You know that. "

"Aye, and that is why I am so concerned that their playmates also learn what we wish them to. How could we

assure that, if there were no Church?" •;

"I see, " Rod said slowly. "If the Church becomes the Church of Gramarye, who knows what else they'll change?

Maybe letting the priests marry. " He nodded. "And if the priests start marrying, how long will it be before they

find a good reason for condoning divorce?"

"My lord! I scarcely—"

"Oh, no, sweetheart, I didn't mean it that way! But you've got to admit—if a priest is going to be unprincipled

enough to forget his vow of celibacy, isn't he apt to start condoning divorce, too?"

"Aye... thou hast summat of truth there. Yet not all priests do think of expedience. "

"No, " Rod said slowly, "most of them are just ordinary men, like the rest of us, trying to be good but still
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be

men— hopefully with a little greater success. But there are the ones who go too far that way, too. " Gwen was puzzled. "How can a priest go too far toward being good?"

"By working too hard at it. It doesn't come naturally to any of us, you know. There are the priests who go to

extremes and become fanatics. They're bound and determined that they're going to come near anything that might

be even remotely sinful—and they're bound and determined that the rest of us won't, either, so we can't contaminate them. So they decide anything pleasant is sinful—songs, dancing, theater, sex—"

"And love, " Gwen murmured.

"They don't go quite that far, or at least, they don't dare say it aloud. But they can sure as hell make a child feel

guilty about loving anybody but God, and make him feel like a total sinner if he has the least lascivious thought.

Not to mention making think that he should spend every spare minute in prayer— don't laugh, dear, I've met 'em.

'My lord, ' they say, 'have you read The Lives of the Saints? "

"Aye, my lord. They were good and Godly people. "

"They were a bunch of psychotics! Do you want your son to pull off every thread he's wearing and shove 'em at

you so he can tell you that now he has nothing to bind him to you anymore? Or to have your daughter have sores

on her knees 'cause she spends too much time kneeling on hard granite floors, praying?" Gwen shuddered. "My lord! These are sacrilegious words!" "Sacrilegious, my donkey! They're darn near direct

quotes from the saints' lives! And have you noticed how few of them were parents?" Gwen winced, but she said doggedly, "I mark how few of (them hearkened to the blandishments of the worldly,

my lord, or let themselves be led into sin so that evil folk might use and abuse them. "

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"There is that, " Rod admitted. "There were only a few of them who let some pimp seduce them into prostitution,

then turn them into virtual slaves—and that was before they became saints. It's awfully hard to victimize someone who won't even let other people come near them. But you've got to admit, dear, that you can't do much

about helping other people if you spend all your time praying. "

"I scarcely think 'twas true of the saints. "

"But it was true of some of them! They went off and turned into hermits. The ones who really worry me, though,

are the ones who kept on living in their villages, but had to suffer through ridicule and ostracism, and had to

ignore everybody around them. Sure, that was because they were only one out of two or three moral people in

whole depraved towns—but is a seven-year-old really going to understand that?" Gwen reddened, but she pressed her lips tightly together.

"Oh, yeah, sure, our seven-year-old! But don't give him credit for too much maturity, dear. Just because he

understands everything the first time it's told to him doesn't mean he'll understand the things he's not being told!

Say what you like—it is possible to be victimized by piety!"

"Mayhap, " Gwen said, lips pressed tight, "yet I have never met one who hath suffered thus. "

"Maybe not, but you must admit you've met people who don't dare do anything their parish priest has told them is

wrong, for fear they'll die the next minute and spend eternity writhing in hellfire. " Gwen was silent, almost rigid.

"Admit it! You've met them, scores of them—poor peasant folk who have no choice but to trust the priests,

because they've never been taught how to think for themselves. "

"I cannot deny it. " Owen's voice was low, but also dangerous. "Yet I have met more who are not. "

"Maybe, but what really scares me is the number of educated people I've met who have the same hang-up! They

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know how to think, but they're afraid to—because, after all, the priest must really know what's right or wrong,

since that's his job. They haven't found out yet that if you ask two different priests the same question, sometimes

you get two different answers. "

"Why, how treacherous!"

"Maybe, but it works. "

"Yet 'tis also dishonest! 'Tis deceptive, 'tis—" "What was that? That word you were going to say there?

'Sacrilegious, ' was it? Or maybe 'blasphemous'? As though questioning the priest were the same as defying

God?" Rod shook his head. "No. A priest is just a man, and as human as any of us. When we forget that, we start

asking him to take care of our consciences for us. "

"What sayest thou!" Gwen glared up at him. "Why, when someone isn't sure what's right or wrong, and he's

afraid to try to figure it out for himself—because if he guesses wrong, it's hellfire, for the rest of eternity!—he

asks the priest to give him a verdict. And the priest just gives him an opinion, but the poor sinner takes it as

Gospel truth. No, dear, I'm afraid I'd have to say that most people I know turn chicken when it comes to their

souls. They'd much rather trust them to a specialist. "

"Thou art but an arrogant knave, Rod Gallowglass!" Gwen leaped to her feet. "Thou dost but resent any who may

be in authority over thee!"

"You know that's not true. " Rod stood up slowly, matching her glare. "I take orders when I have to—when I'm

convinced the other guy knows more about the matter than I do, and I have to take action. But I'm also capable of

making up my own mind. "

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"As are all! Thy slanders of other folk in this are born of overweening pride!"

"There, you see?" Rod pointed a finger at her. "You're talking about hubris—thinking you're better than the gods.

But a priest isn't a god any more than I am!"

"And canst thou claim to be as close to God as one who doth devote his life to prayer?"

"Yes, considering that I'm trying to live every part of my life as I believe God wants me to. " Rod paused.

"Where did all this piety come from, all of a sudden? You've never exactly been the 'kuche, kirke, and kinder'

type before. "

Gwen turned away, her anger darkening into brooding.

"Mayhap that I have become so whilst thou didst not notice. "

"Apparently, and I thought I was pretty good at studying

you. " Rod frowned. "Certainly my favorite subject of contemplation. When did this happen?"

; "When I became a mother, my lord," she said slowly, "and I it hath grown as my children have. And I must