In Which Roderick Humbles Himself

April 26, 1156

"Well, your majesty, my lords," Father Quintus addressed them, "what do you think? Did the men do an acceptable job of restoring this old church in the Dovian style?"

It wasn't the most spectacular church Roderick had ever seen, he had to admit, but it would have to suffice; there were several babies in Naroni who were well overdue for a christening, his own daughter included. Besides, it certainly did have seating for a decent amount of people, as well as the white candles and wooden alters that were staples in all Dovian churches. The men had, at the very least, made an effort to restore the old church in a fashion very much reminiscent of home.

"I suppose it will do for now," he sighed; he couldn't afford to give the impression that he was actually satisfied with the work of mere peasants.

Beside him, Dalston smiled. "I like it. It's rather homey, is it not?"

"If you like that sort of thing," Roderick yawned, just before turning around to face his other companions. "Well, have either of you anything to say?"

"Well, it's not a masterpiece or anything," Octavius admitted, "but the men put their best efforts into it, I'm sure, and they did exceptionally well with the little they had to work with. What do you think, Severin?"

Severin nodded. "I like that it's not particularly fine. I always found a lot of the big churches back home rather imposing, and maybe somewhat pretentious in appearance. They were so beautiful that I always felt as though it was a sin to sit down too fast or breathe too loudly whenever I was in one. This church is much more comfortable."

This had been exactly what Roderick had loved about those Dovian churches, but he figured it was only natural that he would have better tastes than these men. Had he not been a prince back in Dovia? Dalston had only been the second son of a lord, and Octavius, the eighth. Severin's father was a duke, but his mother was a pagan whore, so really, he couldn't be any finer than a gentleman farmer. However, Roderick was feeling generous; he would allow them to think that their opinions were actually worth something.

In a manner quite fitting of a lord's second son, Dalston promptly seated himself in the front pew. "Well, now that that's over with, I'm going to tell anyone who will listen that my son has already thrown his first punch."

"Really?" asked Octavius. "Who was the recipient?"

"Well, me. But fortunately, he's small enough that I barely felt it. Regardless, I'm sure he will someday be an unrivaled brawler."

Severin laughed, setting himself down next to Dalston. "Perhaps he will. However, I know for a fact that your son has also received his first punch; I'm surprised Celina didn't tell you."

The duke frowned. "When was this?"

"Last week, I believe," Severin replied. "Celina brought Lorn over, and he stole a toy rabbit my stepmother sent for my daughter, and Raia hit him. She also punched my steward, come to think of it. It was her way of telling him she didn't approve of his new hairstyle; naturally, he's back to wearing it the same way he did before."

"Well, at least you know she'll be able to deal with any unwanted suitors when she's older," teased Dalston.

"And stewards with ugly hairstyles," added Severin with a grin.

Octavius, who had occupied the pew directly behind them, sent a glance Roderick's way. "Any interesting stories about Ietrin or Leara, Roderick?"

"No," he answered bluntly. His own children, like Dalston's son and Severin's daughter, were nowhere near the age at which they began to become even somewhat interesting. "Anyway, there is a matter I must speak with Father Quintus about. Feel free to continue discussing babies like a roomful of women."

"Will do," Severin promised. "So, Octavius, how's Medea finding pregnancy?"

Octavius shook his head. "She's hating every minute of it. You see..."

"Anyway, while they're distracted," Roderick began as he approached the priest. "I have confession to make--I have sinned. I know that sounds impossible, since I am a king, but I assure you, Father, that we kings do sin too."

"Oh, I know that, your majesty," Father Quintus assured him. "I have read the Bible, after all... well, not Numbers. Numbers is a very dull read. Oh, and I skipped Leviticus too... and maybe Deuteronomy... but nevertheless, I still have read enough to know that kings do sin. Anyway, your majesty, what is this sin of which you speak?"

Roderick sighed. "Well, you see, my wife seems to enjoy our lovemaking, so..."

"Her majesty takes pleasure in sexual intercourse?" inquired Father Quintus. "I believe that is a sin, but I think I should read Deuteronomy before I say so for certain. But that is her sin, not yours, so please, continue."

"Yes, Father," Roderick obliged him. "Anyway, I wanted to know what it was like to make love to a woman who had a reason for submitting other than her own amusement, so last Tuesday, I spent my afternoon in the company of a prostitute."

The priest drummed his fingers across his bearded chin in a thoughtful manner. "I see. Was she good?"

"Not particularly. She did this strange maneuver with her legs and very nearly threw my back out. I would definitely not say she was worth what I paid her."

"Oh. Well, that certainly is disappointing."

"Is it not? I see now that I should have paid her after, based on her performance, just like you would tip the landlord at a tavern."

"Yes, that would be a smart way to ensure that you get your money's worth. Well, I would normally give some form of penance for the sin of adultery, but you are a king, so... my son, your sins are forgiven."

"Thank you, Father!" exclaimed Roderick. "You would not believe how good it feels to finally get that off my chest. I know, I know, I'm a king and I can do whatever I want, but I did feel rather guilty; after all, I do have a wife and children."

Father Quintus nodded. "Thank you for your display of humility, your majesty. It is a charming thing, for the king to be the first confessor in his kingdom."

"The first?" the king repeated. "But you've been here in Naroni for over half a year!"

"Well, what can I say, your majesty? It would seem that the more godly of peasants chose to remain in Dovia," surmised Father Quintus.

"True. Oh well, I trust you to shepherd these lost lambs, Father."

"I hope I do not fail you, your majesty."

Father Quintus tilted his head slightly. "Your majesty, I must thank you for confessing your sins to me. It was very responsible and humble of you, and the Lord is surely smiling down upon you as we speak."

"Well, what can I say?" piped up Roderick, hoping that his sudden pride was not an absolutely horrible sort of sin. "I am king; I must set a good example for my subjects."

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