Lapvona(50)

‘I suppose,’ Barnabas replied warily.

The two watched Agata’s bum as she turned to dress. There was a redness on her cheeks where she had pressed her buttocks against the wooden table so that they could examine her pubis. Villiam didn’t dislike the look of her bum, which was dimpled and small, the bum of a teenage boy, more or less. But her hips were wide, and her body was swaybacked and thin, except for the strange roundness of her abdomen. Marek was watching through the crack in the door, fuming with jealousy.

‘A man without a wife makes everyone suspicious,’ Villiam went on, as though to convince himself. ‘A virgin birth is a great boon. It will put Lapvona on the map. The high church will give us money, won’t it? Imagine all the pilgrims who will come here to see the child, to be blessed, and all of that. They’ll need inns to sleep in, food to eat. The town will grow, and it will all be mine.’ Villiam looked as giddy as a little boy.

‘Congratulations,’ Barnabas said fretfully.

‘Should we build a theater?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ the priest nodded.

‘And a circus?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘Will I be famous throughout the land?’

‘You’ll be as famous as Joseph was with Jesus. And the nun will be your Mary.’

‘That settles it. I’ll marry her,’ Villiam said, clapping his hands.

‘Excellent,’ the priest grimaced. This would all mean more work for Barnabas. He had no idea what to do in such circumstances.

‘Bless her, Father,’ Villiam told him.

Barnabas blessed Agata as she pulled her dress back on. She hung her head in shame. To the priest, this gesture looked like humility, or real devotion. He was nervous. Surely the nun saw through his act to the man of sin he truly was. If those of the high order came to visit, Barnabas might be questioned. His hypocrisy could be exposed. ‘Thank God the nun is mute,’ he thought. Still, he would have to spruce up the church. The congregation would need to be reoriented. He barely knew the villagers’ names.

‘I’ll tell Jenevere to make her a nice dress,’ Villiam said. ‘And to stitch a picture of my face on the belly in golden thread.’

‘Should we announce it?’ the priest asked.

‘A proper wedding in a church, and invite all of Lapvona. I’ll give them each a bit of money and they’ll come kiss my hand. Won’t that be nice?’

‘As you wish,’ Father Barnabas said.

The two men strolled out into the hall, forgetting Agata, who was still getting dressed in the room. She was strangely calmed by this turn of events. The nuns at the abbey, those who survived the famine, would be sorry they’d treated her so poorly once they heard the news.

Marek, red in the face with rage, slipped inside the room where Agata was rolling on her stockings.

‘You’re having a baby?’ Marek asked Agata, drool and tears sputtering from his lips.

She shrugged.

‘If you love that baby more than me,’ he said, ‘I’ll kill myself. Then you’ll be sorry.’

Agata shrugged again.



* * *




*

All the flowers Lispeth had to pick were red. Red, the color of blood, of life. Agata’s dress would be white and virginal, but the flowers were to express the nobility of Villiam’s bloodline, however irrelevant his blood was to the virgin birth.

‘Do you think the nun is really pregnant?’ Jenevere asked, collecting the flowers in her basket.

‘You should know, you’re her maid,’ replied Petra.

‘She has more fat than when she arrived,’ Jenevere said, ‘and she eats enough for two.’

‘She’s certainly pregnant,’ Lispeth said. ‘I’ve done her wash since she came and she doesn’t bleed.’

‘You don’t bleed either,’ Petra said.

‘I’m not like other women,’ Lispeth said.

‘Don’t tease her, Petra,’ Jenevere said. ‘She’s still a little girl.’

‘We’re the same age,’ Petra said.

‘Don’t tease her,’ Jenevere said again.

Villiam never wondered who had sired the unborn child. He accepted in his imagination, as he was a man of fancy, that the baby was indeed divinely created and divinely given to him. To Villiam, ‘divinity’ was a synonym for his own good fortune. He believed that wonderful things came to him because he was wonderful and therefore deserved them. Good that Agata was no great beauty or wit; he would not have to pretend to cherish her in front of company. He would not have to compliment her, as he’d had to with Dibra at first. He wouldn’t have to woo her father. He wouldn’t have to contend with a jealous brother. Ivan had still not replied to his letter. News of his upcoming nuptials, Villiam worried, might steer Ivan into rage. He could imagine his fury: ‘My sister disappears, and now you’re God’s favorite?’ Jealousy was all it was. But Villiam knew he would have to be more careful now that he was marrying the mother of Christ. He couldn’t have young guests visit to play games alone in his chambers. He couldn’t clown around or make any mistakes lording over Lapvona. He would need to increase security—no more visitors, no more fun. He would have to satisfy his appetite for sex with tansy. It was the only thing to quell lust. Little yellow flowers. They were good for everything. A single blossom down the throat could cure a fever or a flu, and a handful would kill you. Any amount in between could do anything you wished.