Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [62]
Sometimes I felt as alone and islanded as he.
I had my chevaliers, it is true, and their ever-burgeoning, swaggering pride; Remy and Ti-Philippe, at least. Fortun was always steadier. I used to gaze at him, sometimes, and the way his dark hair curled on his brow, and thought of taking him as a lover. Thought, and chose not to, time and again. I liked Fortun, very much, and trusted him not a little.
But he did not make me laugh. And there was Joscelin.
One day our paths crossed at the yeshiva, although he knew it not. The Rebbe had sent for me, and Ti-Philippe had driven me; I gave him leave to dally at a nearby wineshop while my lesson was concluded. It was a long ordeal and draining; I saw in the Rebbe's eyes the mingled pride and despair, that a pupil of his should exceed so well, and have so little faith. And, too, I was hearing tales by then spoken openly in D'Angeline circles of the schism among the Yeshuites. I had not forgotten what I saw in the courtyard, the young men with swords at their hips, arguing fiercely in Habiru for harsh glory to be won in a far-off land.
The Rebbe dismissed me that day, lowering his hoary old head with weariness. I went quietly, stooping to kiss his withered cheek and seeing myself out of the yeshiva to await Ti-Philippe's return. I knew the way well, by then.
Impossible to mistake a D'Angeline voice in that place, even in hushed tones.
I have not forgotten my earliest training. I can move silently when I choose, and make myself as unobtrusive as a shadow. With noiseless steps, I followed the thread of Joscelin's voice, until I came nigh upon them, conversing in
urgent tones in an empty study chamber. I had heard her speak before; it needed only once, for my memory. A young woman's voice, speaking softly accented D'Angeline. She taught the children, and had given him a khai pendant.
Hanna, her name was. It meant "grace." I knew, because I studied her mother tongue.
"Don't you see, Joscelin," she pleaded in her charming voice, "this pain, this pain you suffer, you cling to it; it is the pain of separation from Adonai, who is Lord of us all! You have only to make an offering of this pain, lay it upon the altar of Yeshua, and He will take it away. Can you not see it?"
Joscelin's voice was tense. "You speak of it as if it were a thing separate from me. It is not. I am Cassiel's, and vowed to his service. It is all that I am, this pain."
"Do you think Adonai would demand less?" Her voice took on passion, the shaking passion of a true believer. "Your pain is your pride; do not think He does not see that! But He is compassionate, and loves you all the more for it. I tell you, the Mashiach lived and suffered, to redeem the pain of us all. Would you belittle His sacrifice? Even so, He loves you, and awaits you like a bridegroom. There is a place prepared for you at His table, I tell you! And it awaits us, so close we might touch it, not even beyond the gates of death, but here and now, if only we dare seize it! The Diaspora has begun, Joscelin, and Yeshua's kingdom lies to the north. Will you deny, even now, your place in it?"
"Yes." His voice was harried, and I heard his vambraces rattle against his dagger-hilts. If he had bowed, it must have been with unwonted awkwardness. "No. I don't know, Hanna! I must think on it."
Another rattling bow, and the quick rush of his long strides departing, carrying him away. I sank back against the dim-lit wall, and he never saw me; all the turmoil he felt reflected in his face. I heard her sigh, and make ready to leave.
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