The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [91]
“I didn’t have a choice, they—”
“We always have a choice, Niklaus!”
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I just kept, kept imagining it was, it was …”
“It was what?!”
“I kept imagining it was you under the sack they’d covered her with, or Lydie. And when they were going to rape her I kept thinking it, I couldn’t stop, and I thought you’d want me to help her, whoever she was, and I, and I—” Manuel’s voice broke, knowing his wife was right, that he had risked her, the most kind and wonderful person he had ever met, and his growing family besides, for a fucking witch, and only the hand of Providence had saved him; had the Inquisitor not been excommunicated they would all be dead, or worse, von Stein was a barbarian, and —
“Oh, Niklaus,” Katharina whispered, taking her husband’s head in her arms and stroking his hair. “It’s alright, it is, and I’m proud of you, really I am, you just scared me—”
“I know!” he moaned. “I know I—”
“Shhh,” she said, her own eyes filling not at her husband’s tears, which were not so uncommon as some men’s, but at the invisible sword he had hung over her head for who knew how many days until that Inquisitor had been discharged from the Church. “I love you, Niklaus; you’re just too sweet for your own good. I’m proud of you, though, I am. I don’t know if I would have saved her, if it meant risking you and our family.”
“Katharina,” he sniffled. “You’re so good … you’re so … so good, and I knew you’d, I knew you would be waiting for me, if I didn’t, if I didn’t lose my soul. It was a test, it had to be, and I passed, I did, and to prove it He cast out the traitor in His Church, He got rid of him.”
“Who cast him out of the Church, Niklaus?”
“God,” said Manuel, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.
“Now, that’s impossible,” said Katharina, and when this stunned her husband into silence she waited only one, two, three heartbeats before saying, “I’m an adulteress, you’re a killer, and we don’t pay nearly enough to the Church for Him to intercede on our behalf, you filthy artist.”
They laughed in the dark, both scared and guilty for what they had thought, and then they finally went to sleep, the husband and wife forgetting everything but their love for one another as they fell into their dreams together.
Breakfast in Bern
While Katharina and Manuel spent their night engaged in wanton fucking and earnest conversation, Awa and Monique only did the latter. Both apologized, though each felt they really should not have to, and in the morning they were closer to friendship than they had been for days, if not quite warm. They ate fresh biscuits that Lydie had made, Katharina and Manuel coming down from the second floor midway through the meal.
“Nun sacks!” Manuel picked up one of the cocoon-shaped confections and bit into it with relish.
“Bozolati,” Lydie said, glancing at Awa and blushing. “Nun’s bozolati, uncle.”
“Fu—fantastic, is what it is.” Monique waved her biscuit at Manuel’s niece. “Real choice, Lydie. Sweet, too.”
Awa snorted, wondering what Manuel thought of the gunner flirting with his niece. Then she realized that several sets of eyes had settled on her, and she coughed, taking a sip of water. “Very sweet, young miss,” said Awa. “Thank you very much.”
“Manuel was telling me you both will be leaving for Marseilles at once,” said Katharina as she got herself a plate before joining them. “A pity we did not have more time to get to know each other.”
“Well, time’s a fickle bitch,” said Monique, biting into another biscuit.
“She is indeed,” said Katharina mildly. “She is indeed.”
A servant came in, only to take a step back at seeing Awa. Then he sheepishly hurried around the now-quiet table and whispered in Manuel’s ear. Katharina heard what the man said and promptly dropped her biscuit, her eyes growing large.
“Pardon me,” said Manuel, but Awa saw he had gone quite pale. On his way out after the servant he paused, looked at her, and then quickly exited into the hall. Even though he closed the door behind him they