“He ... she ... they ... I was Mother and Father, groom and bride, not even those poles, it was all encompassing, it was just ...”
“Just what?”
“Oh, words are but watered wine. I could saylight, I could sayglory, I could sayHoly, Holy, Holy. I should sing. Only music could approach his beauty.”
“Show me your face.”
“What?”
“If he has visited you, if he has entered your cell ...” She detects a note of jealousy. “I need to see your countenance.”
“Why?”
“I have to report this. If you have indeed received our Savior’s touch, it will show itself on your body.”
“I cannot.”
“Aleys.” He is impatient. “You vowed chastity, not invisibility. Don’t make a disobedience out of virtue. Show yourself.”
She swallows, pushes aside the curtain, and they are face-to-face. He recoils, blinking, like a man who has stepped from a cave into sunlight. As he inhales, the anger drains from his face, replaced with longing, as if he is seeing the sacred, as if she is the silvered angel in the January woods.
“Aleys,” he moans.
“Father.”
“You are alight with spirit.” He closes his eyes. When he finally opens them, they are wet.
She can feel it is true.
“He has been with you,” he says. “The King has brought you into his chambers.”
She bows her head, feeling a blush on her cheek, unable to meet his gaze. “Father, what I have understood, I hardly dare say, for how can I explain it?”
“Tell me. You must.”
“They showed me.” She speaks in awe. “All is God. All. The good, the bad, we have misunderstood. There is nothing else. Nothing exists but is God.” She pauses. “Father,” she whispers, “mymeis God.”
43
Friar Lukas
It’s more than he can bear.
He lets the black curtain fall back into place.
She prays, Christ answers. He begs, she receives. She asks, she receives. He preaches, people turn away. He blesses with cold hands. She strokes a brow, it heals. He asks, he begs, nothing.
Nothing.
Why? He’s been obedient. Poor. Chaste. He’s founded an order. Why would God raise the student above the teacher?
Aleys speaks of a love he’s read about, yearned for, but has never felt. Christ kisses her. Lukas knows he shouldn’t watch, that madness follows such jealousy. Yet he can’t tear his eyes from the courtship of his protégée and his God.
Lukas knows his duty. He should be a joyful servant, not a covetous spouse.
And how is he supposed to respond to her ecstasy? He doesn’t dare open his mouth for fear of what he might say, for fear that he might spew venom over the sill between them. He knows this is wrong. Envy is an error. A sin. He places his hands on the stone frame of the window, bends his head into the fabric of the curtain. She’s just on the other side. For a moment, he thinks he should confess to her. But the shepherd does not confide in the sheep. He turns away.
When Lukas leaves the parlor, demons jump from the ledge to follow, keeping to the fringed shadows of the street. He glances at them and wonders that others can’t see the darkness trailing him.
