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"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered.
chapter twenty three
I desire to be present with you now, and to change my voice; for I stand in doubt of you.
 Galatians 4:20
"I'm not sure I understand, Sire," Camber said, after a slight pause, afraid that he
understood far too well. "Aren't these Father Alfred's vestments?"
"No, they're mine. Father Alfred has never used them."
"But you have," Camber said, in a flat, stunned voice.
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"Yes since the day you were consecrated bishop, every day, faithfully, even as I used to
do."
With a sigh, Camber leaned one elbow on the edge of the trunk and rubbed his forehead,
trying to decide how to respond. How had he not foreseen this? No wonder Cinhil had
seemed to settle down, of late.
He knew what his response should be, of course. Alister Cullen could quote chapter and
verse of canon law and why Cinhil, as a laicized priest, was courting serious sanctions by
resuming the exercise of his office. Even Camber, in the relative newness of his own year-
old priesthood, was well aware of the ecclesiastical implications of what Cinhil had done.
Any priest would be.
But he could not find it in his heart to condemn Cinhil. Had he not already brought
enough unhappiness to the pious king? What harm did it do for Cinhil to resume his
priestly functions in private? A priest was a priest forever, never mind the words of a now-
dead archbishop who had commanded this particular priest to set aside his office and
assume a crown. If celebration of his love for God helped to ease Cinhil's mourning for his
stolen vocation, and made the bearing of his royal exile easier, then who was the
supposedly dead Camber MacRorie, in his own hypocrisy, to tell the king he must not do
it? Could this not be Cinhil's secret, as Camber had his?
"You're shocked, aren't you?" Cinhil whispered, when he could stand the silence of
Camber's contemplation no longer. "God, you must think me some kind of a monster!"
Camber looked up at the king with a start. He had not realized how his silence must be
feeding Cinhil's guilt as if the poor, beleaguered king needed a further portion of
remorse. What Cinhil had done was unwise, and could have drastic repercussions if his
secret were ever learned by anyone else, but he must not be allowed to add this failing to
what he already considered to be a shattered life.
"Monster?" he murmured. "Good God, no, Cinhil! That was the furthest thing from my
mind, believe me. I confess, I was surprised. You know the law in this regard as well as I
better, perhaps, for you surely considered very carefully before doing what you did."
Cinhil nodded miserably, too overcome to make a verbal response.
"Tell me, does it give you comfort, what you do?" Camber asked gently.
"It is my life's blood!" Cinhil choked, head bowing over the chasuble in his arms.
For a moment, Camber said nothing, not daring to disturb the balance which Cinhil was
so precariously maintaining between longing and near despair. He watched Cinhil's thumb
caress the folds of creamy silk, caught the trembling of the hand Cinhil thought he could
not see. He wondered whether Cinhil thought he would try to take the chasuble away from
him.
"Cinhil?" he finally said, leaning closer but not touching the tensed body. "Cinhil, I want
you to realize that I understand what has brought you to this. I understand, and I do not
condemn you for it. I will not even forbid it. Nor can I think that Our Lord, in His infinite
comprehension of all men's hearts, would hold such love of Him against you."
Cinhil swallowed and raised his head slowly, dazed eyes seeking visual confirmation of
what he had just heard.
"Do you really mean that?"
"I do."
Cinhil seemed to ponder that for a moment, but then he glanced at Camber's bishop's
ring and sighed as he began folding the chasuble once more.
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"Well, you may be right about Him I want to believe that you are. But what about the
bishops? What will they do to me when they find out?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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