She was his saving grace.
Epilogue
The chamber was stale and musty with the scent of dying flesh. The room was filled with priests and students who surrounded the bed on all sides. They held candles up and chanted prayers over their esteemed bishop.
Hallwick was dying. His breath was shallow and uneven. He didn't have enough strength to open his eyes. Across the room was a round table covered with coins the priests had collected from the congregation to pay for indulgences for their bishop. They thought to buy his way into heaven, and the gold would be given to the church as assurance that any past sins the holy man might have inadvertently committed would be forgiven.
Hallwick had never tried to hide his hatred and his disgust for women. Yet the priests he'd trained didn't believe those views were sinful. They accepted as fact each and every dictate the bishop gave them and were determined to preach his beliefs to their own subjects so that Bishop Hallwick's good word would be carried down through the generations.
Yet in death the bishop contradicted himself. He died crying his mother's name.
