This Rough Magic

Then she added, very softly: 'We don't think you have nearly enough joy in your life. And you can't do without it, you know. It reminds you why you have to face the bad parts.'

For a moment, she wondered if she'd insulted him. Then amazingly, the grim, stern, rather frightening Eneko Lopez reached up and wiped the merest glitter of a tear from his eye.

'Thank you,' he said simply. 'I would be delighted.'

* * *

The Church of St. Hypatia di Hagia Sophia was silent, that silence that speaks of emptiness. For a moment, Kat wondered if she'd come too early. Still, it was supposed to be the night before her wedding day. There would be much to do, if she did go ahead and marry Marco. Part of her, the part that was pragmatic, the part that most people saw, said that she was being ridiculous. At this point, the thing had a momentum of its own, and would carry her along whether or not she wanted it to. But as Patriarch Michael had said, humans were creatures of spirit as well as mundane flesh. And her spirit was troubled. It was always here that she came when she needed to sort that out.

Ah. Yes, there was a solitary Sibling in her white robes. Kat walked to the counseling booth, sat down and waited. A few moments later a female voice said: 'Peace be with you, my child. How may I counsel you?'

Kat sighed. 'By telling me I'm being stupid, probably. I am supposed to marry tomorrow.'

The dress is ready. It fits like a second skin, and where Francesca found all the bits on no notice at all, I will never know. I look like a queen in it, and Maria looks like a princess in hers. The feasting has already begun, the Basilica is full of candles and flowers and priests. Everything is in place for tomorrow. Only I—only I am suddenly afraid!

'And? Do you love this man?'

'More than anything on earth.'

'Is there any reason why you should not be married, daughter?

'No.' Kat twisted her hands. 'The Patriarch himself has sanctioned the marriage.'

'I see. Does your husband-to-be abuse you?'

'Marco? He's the gentlest soul in Venice! The kindest, softest, bravest . . .'

'Then what is the problem, daughter? Is it sexual . . .' The woman hesitated, an element of doubt in her voice. The Siblings were all sworn to chastity and celibacy. Perhaps her counselor felt she might be out of her depth here.

'No. It's . . . It's nothing like that. It's spiritual, if anything.'

'Ah. Marriage is a holy institution sanctified by our Lord himself. It is intended to be a union of bodies, minds and spirits.'

Kat took a deep breath. 'The man I am going to . . . supposed to . . . marry, is possessed. Sort of. Um. Part of him is a pagan magical creature. I am a Christian.'

There was a silence. 'I think, Katerina Montescue, that it would be easier if we went out into the church and I used those murals you sometimes sit and admire to advise you.'

'You know who I am?'

There was a gentle snort of laughter from the other side of the scrim. 'Katerina, all Venice knows who you are, now. But I have seen you come to this church for many years. I knew exactly who you were when I sat with Eneko Lopez and listened to you tell of your problems with the smuggling of supplies for the Strega. I listened with some amusement when you put him in his place with questions about Dottore Marina. Then, as now, I listened under the seal of counsel. I did not betray you then. I will not betray you now, just because I step outside of the booth.'

Kat went out, to find the Sibling waiting for her. 'Come. Let us go to the Chrysostom murals. They are not your favorites, but they make my point well.'

They walked down until they stood below the first mural. The golden preacher was portrayed as a gaunt man with the eyes of a hawk. His painted gaze was unrelenting. They seemed to stare through her.

'He reminds me of Signor Lopez,' said Kat, quietly.

The Sibling nodded. 'I think they were cut of the same cloth. He was, like Eneko, a very intense man. And very charismatic. Not always right, however, nor always wise. Narrow-minded and even outright bigoted at times. Yet, with him our Hypatia formed one of the most influential alliances in the history of the Church. It was the meeting of those two great minds that set the course of the Christian Church from thenceforth, and put an end to —well, ameliorated, at least—what had become an increasingly entrenched tradition of schismatic dogmatism and heresy-hunting.'

She paused for a moment. 'I will not attempt, here and now, to explain the theological complexities of the matter. In the millennium that has gone by since, their tradition has become known as 'Petrine,' just as that of Saint Augustine has been called 'Pauline.' But, as is so often true, the names obscure as much as they reveal. Both creeds within the church are more like umbrellas than fences. Do not forget that if Sachs was a Pauline, so was the courageous young prince who broke the back of Chernobog's monster—and his companion Erik belongs to the Gaelic creed, which has its own history and doctrines altogether.'

Her mouth grew a little tight. 'Nor should you think for a moment that simply because a man calls himself a 'Petrine' that he is not capable of the vilest sins and crimes.'

The Sibling pointed to the next panel, which showed the two, back-to-back. 'There you see Hypatia writing, developing the philosophy, and Chrysostom, brilliant orator that he was, expounding it. He provided most of the driving force, she—when necessary, which it often was—provided the diplomacy. Because of that alliance, Hypatia and Chrysostom were able to formalize a doctrine of compassion and acceptance that emphasized wisdom and learning. But—'

She chuckled. 'Not without a multitude of clashes, and even more in the way of compromises. And both of them left their own traditions, which are somewhat distinct. I represent one, Father Eneko Lopez another. The Church needs both, you know.'