Perhaps it would be better for everyone if Evangeline left Glynval. If she moved on to another village, then Muriel could have a clear conscience by telling the king the truth about where she was. Evangeline would simply have to leave when no one else was watching so no one would know where she had gone. That would involve leaving at night, with no escort to protect her.
But she knew how to protect herself now. She could use a longbow, she was learning how to throw a knife, and she knew how to fight back if someone attacked her. Still, Reeve Folsham had warned her that she might prove to be no match for a man who was determined to harm her. And if there was more than one man, it would be even more difficult. She had to rely on surprising them, hitting them quickly, then running away and screaming for help. Unless she was able to use a weapon, of course.
She was only half listening to the priest’s homily when his words caught her attention. “Jesus carried your sins to the cross. Why, O man, do you insult the Lord God by continuing to carry the burden of your sin? Lay your burden down.”
When the church service was over and everyone began filing out, Evangeline whispered to Muriel, “I want to be alone for a few moments to pray.”
Muriel nodded and left with the others.
Evangeline moved into the corner of the nave, into the shadows. When everyone was gone, including the priest, Evangeline went to the place where she had carved into the stone wall at the back of the church. She traced the words Absolve me with her fingers, then traced the three crosses underneath. “I can’t bear this awful feeling of guilt,” she whispered. It was as if she carried a tree trunk on her shoulders.
But Jesus took that guilt away when He sacrificed Himself. Wouldn’t He feel hurt to know she was refusing to lay it down? That she was still carrying it?
“I believe You took my sin, and I am forgiven.”
Air filled her lungs, and she felt so light she might have lifted up to the ceiling. “Thank You, God.”
She waited until the feeling passed, then she whispered, “What will happen to me, God?” She placed her finger on the middle cross. “I’m afraid to ask.” She closed her eyes and Westley’s face loomed before her mind’s eye. “Is it a sin, God? To ask for Westley’s love?”
A tear slid down her cheek. “I won’t ask You to make him love me. He should have the freedom to choose whom he wants. But I’m all alone, God. I need . . .” What did she need? A friend? A husband? Disquiet filled her heart at the thought of asking for either. It didn’t seem right to need a person.
“I need an all-powerful God who cares for me. I need You.” Her spirit quieted within her. “You’ll never leave me or forsake me, and I’ll always trust You. I know I’ll be safe with You in my heart. I’ll not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day.”
Her tears dried on her cheeks. She would miss Muriel, and she did not know what would be her fate, but somehow the fear and guilt and pain were so weak and faint, they no longer oppressed her spirit. She was at peace.
Eight days later, Evangeline awakened to Muriel standing over her, shaking her shoulder.
She held a burning candle, which spread just enough light to illuminate Muriel’s face in the darkness of the predawn. “I wanted to bid you farewell,” she whispered.
Evangeline sat up and hugged her friend. “I will pray for you.”
“And I you.”
After a few more whispered words, Muriel disappeared, leaving with three of Glynval’s men carting a load of cheeses to Berkhamsted Castle.
Evangeline lay awake until it was time to get up, thinking about Muriel, praying for her, and praying Shiveley would give up and stop searching for her.
Later in the day, Evangeline was taking all the linen sheets off the beds and bringing them down to be washed. When she walked out the back door, Sabina sat beside the washtub talking with the servants who were doing the wash.
Evangeline’s stomach clenched and heat boiled up inside her. She pretended not to see her. The last time she’d seen Sabina was the night when she gave her the poison mushrooms to put in the pottage. All the emotions from that night rushed over her, sending her heartbeat into a strange rhythm.
“Good morning, Evangeline,” Sabina said, smirking.
“Good . . .” Evangeline let her voice trail off. She could not in good conscience tell Sabina she wished her a good morning.
“What’s the matter? You aren’t mute again, are you?”
Several of the other maidens giggled.
Evangeline dumped the sheets on the ground and turned to leave.
“Oh, don’t go away like that,” Sabina called after her. “You are not still angry with me about the mushrooms, surely.” She ended her words with a laugh.
Evangeline turned back and said, “Next time you pick mushrooms, I hope you eat them.” She walked away to the snickers of the other servants, hurrying before Sabina could say anything else.
When Evangeline was on her way back outside to take the last of the linens, Westley stepped out of one of the rooms along the corridor.
“Sabina is back today, I see. I can send her away if you wish.”