Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save
And give them victory o’er the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
“Rejoice,” the song instructed. How would everyone react if she suddenly burst into an exclamation of joy? She imagined the rest of the crowd gasping in astonishment and Sir Matefrid’s face turning red with outrage, that purplish vein in his neck bulging.
But the song commanded it. Did God want her to rejoice? Was that in the Holy Scriptures? O Father God, give me a Bible. Please let Sir Matefrid say yes.
As the boys’ choir ended their singing, the paunchy, middle-aged priest began to speak. They all stood. Rather than becoming respectfully silent, however, the crowd of a hundred or so began chatting among themselves. A baby cried lustily, drowning out the priest’s words for several moments. A brother and sister a few feet in front of Annabel began to fight, punctuating the sermon with squeals of anger before the mother clouted them both, her blows echoing through the high-arcing nave.
Sir Matefrid didn’t seem to notice these distractions. He began in the usual way, making the point that women were evil, enticing men to sin with their wily feminine ways. It was the same way he began all of his sermons.
Annabel kept her eyes on the floor so no one would see the anger and contempt that coursed through her and probably showed in her eyes. Was this how the Bible read? Surely not. Surely it did not revile and condemn in such a manner. She wanted to know. She had to know.
He went on, as always, to denounce unmarried men — forgetting that he was one himself?—speaking of their passions and lusts, of how they only sought to satisfy their flesh.
She was glad when he finished his sermon and began the Eucharist. He spoke in Latin, which Annabel understood easily, but she knew the rest of the congregation did not know what the priest was saying. Glancing around, she noticed that the few people who were not talking to their neighbor had a glazed look in their eyes.
She chided herself for her own wandering mind and closed her eyes to better concentrate, to imagine the Christ on the cross, dying for her sins.
After Holy Communion, Lord le Wyse turned and strode out the door as quickly as he’d entered. The rest of the parishioners began to file out in a more leisurely manner, continuing the same conversations they’d engaged in throughout the service. She stood still, hoping no one would notice her in the shadows about the wall. She watched the priest as he puttered around, putting away the elements of the Eucharist and speaking with the boys of the choir and altar.
Finally, after everyone else had exited the building, she scurried forward to catch Sir Matefrid before he quitted the sanctuary.
“Yes?” He stared at her, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.
Her heart fluttered up to her throat and her face flushed hot, but her intense desire overrode her nervousness. She curtsied as her mother had taught her to do before a man of rank, and when she glanced up at him was careful not to look him in the eye, since she knew he found this disrespectful. “Sir Matefrid, sir, I wish to know what God has said in the Holy Writ. If you would but loan me your Bible, I will swear an oath not to harm it and to return it as soon as you wish. Will you allow me to borrow this book?” She lowered her head, awaiting his reply.
“Young woman.”
She glanced up again. He raised his eyebrows, but her momentary hope was crushed as he brought them down in a harsh glower.
“I cannot imagine where you picked up such a fanciful notion. That I should turn over a precious Bible to you.” He snorted and shook his head.
“But please, you don’t understand.” She felt panic rise inside her. She clasped her hands and leaned toward him. “I promise my motives are pure. I only want to read it. Surely there can be naught wrong with that.”
He backed away a step, his face beginning to turn red.
She realized she was staring and cast her eyes down at the stone floor.
“I am not at all sure your motives are pure. A woman reading the Word of God? Are you able to interpret the Scriptures? You aren’t even dedicated to God. Never said your vows. Nay. You are to rely upon your priest to give you the interpretation of God’s Word. I will tell you what you need to know.” He gruffly cleared his throat.
What? That men and women are disgusting in their lusts and care for no one but themselves? “I wish to read it. Please.” Her voice began to tremble. “Will you not allow me to come to the church, to read it here on Sundays after Mass?”
“Girl, you are impudent. Remember your place.”