November 27, 1184
Casimiro was not any more religious than the average young man of his age--the church was hardly welcoming to those like him, after all, so why should he have paid them any more mind than social obligation demanded?--so he hadn't bothered to make much use of the small chapel in his own castle. Hadn't been much point, really. Neither he nor Ellona were the epitome of so-called good Christians, and having a chapel in their own home would have only served as a reminder of that, like some nagging elderly relation they lacked the heart to evict.But his little daughter had been sick the week before, sick enough that he'd feared the worst in the darkest hour, but she'd made a turn for the better and was now well on her way to a full recovery, or so Widow Fedurin and Aerina Frey agreed, and that was why he'd ridden over to the chapel at the duke's keep. If God had a hand in that, Casimiro supposed it was only polite to thank him.
But the scratch of paws against the hardwood and the thud of a tail against the pews and the wet nose just in view did little for his concern over whether or not it was the right time. "Um... hi, Jadin."
Jadin yipped. At first, Casimiro had been baffled by Lorn's decision to name his dog after his brother-in-law, but the last time he'd seen the mutt, he'd been attempting to hump a barrel. The resemblance had been more obvious since then.
"Oh, don't mind him."
Huh. How had he missed the holy man? "He likes to keep me company during the quiet hours.""Right." In his pocket, Casimiro fiddled with his wedding band. The clergyman was young for a parish priest--he couldn't have been more than twenty--but he had a calm air of wisdom about him that Casimiro had yet to see in any other priest in the country. Old beyond his age, maybe. "Uh... I don't think we've met."
"No, I don't think we have. I'm Brother Sieron." He stepped around the altar and approached with a whimsical smile. Old beyond his age, but still young in spirit? "I've only been here a few months."
"And I haven't been here... um, probably since the duke's brother got married." And yet, there was no hint of disapproval or condemnation in the priest's eye. "Casimiro de Cervantes. I live in one of the castles close to the border of the royal shire."
"You're a knight, then?" Casimiro nodded. "I thought so. Strong of body, noble of face.""Well, my brother Bernardo was always the good-looking one, but thank you."
"Men of God are not called to lie to their flocks, Sir Casimiro." One hand flew to Brother Sieron's chest, maybe in search of a cross hanging beneath his robe. "But surely you didn't come here for flattery. How may I help you?"
He asked of his own accord? That was quite an improvement on the other priests. "Just a prayer, I suppose."
"Of course. What sort of prayer?" Another crooked smile broke out across his face. If Casimiro took in his features, only his eyes were remarkable on their own, but in combination, they somehow sang."A prayer of thanks. My daughter was sick, but she's recovering now."
Brother Sieron nodded. "A worthy prayer indeed. Shall I add her health to my list of prayers for tonight, or would you like to pray together now?"
Huh. Half-decent priest or not, Casimiro wasn't sure that anyone had ever asked him that. Certainly no one had made it sound appealing. "I've got time."NEXT CHAPTER:
