Read Online The Sanctity of Hate by Priscilla Royal - Free Book Online
Authors: Priscilla Royal
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going!” Gytha stumbled backward.
Adelard stood in front of her. The sun glinting off his silver cross was as harsh as the look in his eyes. “Did you not see me walk toward you? It is your place to step aside, daughter of Eve.” “Surely it is a small courtesy to travel along one side of the crowd rather than down the middle where others, burdened as I am with a market basket, must squeeze against the stalls.” “I was praying. All should stand aside when they meet a man
who is humbly communing with God.” He folded his arms.
I have seen roosters crow at the sun with more humility, she noted silently, then replied: “I fear you have forgotten the Lord’s teaching for your tone lacks the modesty of which you speak, Adelard.” She put her free hand on one hip. “I may be God’s lesser creation, being Eve’s daughter, but Adam’s sons are most in danger of unacknowledged pride.”
“How dare you preach to me?” His face burned with anger. “Saint Paul ordered all women to be silent and obedient, and so your words are a grave and profane sin.”
Gytha gazed upward and tried not to beg God to strike this annoying youth speechless for the term of his earthly life. When she returned to the priory, she would have to ask if this noxious being had truly requested entrance to Tyndal as a novice. Was there ever gold enough to warrant taking such an arrogant man into a place set aside for peace and brotherhood?
“Step away.” He waved at her.
Looking over her shoulder at the inn, Gytha decided that she dare not delay further and chance a meeting with the crowner. Even if she preferred flinging barbed retorts at the baker’s son, a battle she most probably would win, this was one time she knew she should retreat with feigned submissiveness. She’d humble him another day.
Gytha stepped to one side.
“Whore,” he muttered as he passed her by. “Did I not see you coupling with a liegeman of the Evil One in Satan’s darkness below Ivetta the Whore’s cottage?”
As if exposed to a sudden ice storm, her heart froze. Then fire flowed through her arms and legs as if the Devil himself had set a torch to her.
Just a few stalls down, Oseberne suddenly appeared and bel- lowed for his son to come help with the customers.
Adelard hissed something incomprehensible and ran to meet his father.
With as much self-control as she could muster, Gytha walked slowly away from the stalls and bustle of the crowds. Once she reached the edge of the village, she began to run, fleeing toward the priory like a deer escaping the hunter.
When she finally reached a quiet spot near the hut of Ivetta the Whore, a place cleansed of sin after Brother Thomas lived there as a hermit, she slipped into the brush to escape all eyes, sank to her knees, and wept.
Chapter Ten
Brother Gwydo finished binding the end of the straw coil with which he planned to construct a new skep for his bees. Setting it down beside him with the other coils, he watched the creatures flying to and from the previous huts he had made for them. One skep seemed especially busy, and the entrance must be cut larger to allow easier access. When the time came to weigh the skeps in the autumn, he was certain that one would be heavy enough with honey to allow the bees to survive the bitter cold of winter. He sighed. Although he must kill the bees in the lighter skeps, harvesting the honey that was insufficient for them to feed upon until the weather warmed, he hated applying the deadly sulphur smoke. Bees were peaceful things. They reminded him of monks with their diligence, shared community, and utter devotion to the king. Killing them seemed cruel, almost unnatural. In bibli- cal times, men took the honey and left the bees alone. Perhaps he could invent a way of returning to that less destructive time, harvesting honey and yet allowing these wonderful creations of
God to survive.
Then there was the problem of the two skeps
Adelard stood in front of her. The sun glinting off his silver cross was as harsh as the look in his eyes. “Did you not see me walk toward you? It is your place to step aside, daughter of Eve.” “Surely it is a small courtesy to travel along one side of the crowd rather than down the middle where others, burdened as I am with a market basket, must squeeze against the stalls.” “I was praying. All should stand aside when they meet a man
who is humbly communing with God.” He folded his arms.
I have seen roosters crow at the sun with more humility, she noted silently, then replied: “I fear you have forgotten the Lord’s teaching for your tone lacks the modesty of which you speak, Adelard.” She put her free hand on one hip. “I may be God’s lesser creation, being Eve’s daughter, but Adam’s sons are most in danger of unacknowledged pride.”
“How dare you preach to me?” His face burned with anger. “Saint Paul ordered all women to be silent and obedient, and so your words are a grave and profane sin.”
Gytha gazed upward and tried not to beg God to strike this annoying youth speechless for the term of his earthly life. When she returned to the priory, she would have to ask if this noxious being had truly requested entrance to Tyndal as a novice. Was there ever gold enough to warrant taking such an arrogant man into a place set aside for peace and brotherhood?
“Step away.” He waved at her.
Looking over her shoulder at the inn, Gytha decided that she dare not delay further and chance a meeting with the crowner. Even if she preferred flinging barbed retorts at the baker’s son, a battle she most probably would win, this was one time she knew she should retreat with feigned submissiveness. She’d humble him another day.
Gytha stepped to one side.
“Whore,” he muttered as he passed her by. “Did I not see you coupling with a liegeman of the Evil One in Satan’s darkness below Ivetta the Whore’s cottage?”
As if exposed to a sudden ice storm, her heart froze. Then fire flowed through her arms and legs as if the Devil himself had set a torch to her.
Just a few stalls down, Oseberne suddenly appeared and bel- lowed for his son to come help with the customers.
Adelard hissed something incomprehensible and ran to meet his father.
With as much self-control as she could muster, Gytha walked slowly away from the stalls and bustle of the crowds. Once she reached the edge of the village, she began to run, fleeing toward the priory like a deer escaping the hunter.
When she finally reached a quiet spot near the hut of Ivetta the Whore, a place cleansed of sin after Brother Thomas lived there as a hermit, she slipped into the brush to escape all eyes, sank to her knees, and wept.
Chapter Ten
Brother Gwydo finished binding the end of the straw coil with which he planned to construct a new skep for his bees. Setting it down beside him with the other coils, he watched the creatures flying to and from the previous huts he had made for them. One skep seemed especially busy, and the entrance must be cut larger to allow easier access. When the time came to weigh the skeps in the autumn, he was certain that one would be heavy enough with honey to allow the bees to survive the bitter cold of winter. He sighed. Although he must kill the bees in the lighter skeps, harvesting the honey that was insufficient for them to feed upon until the weather warmed, he hated applying the deadly sulphur smoke. Bees were peaceful things. They reminded him of monks with their diligence, shared community, and utter devotion to the king. Killing them seemed cruel, almost unnatural. In bibli- cal times, men took the honey and left the bees alone. Perhaps he could invent a way of returning to that less destructive time, harvesting honey and yet allowing these wonderful creations of
God to survive.
Then there was the problem of the two skeps
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