Chapter 19
Paul was very sure he had made a mistake. One beer had become two, which had become three, and by the time the owner of the tap-house had (politely) asked he and Sean and Kristopher to leave, he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings.
Yes,
he thought, trying to focus on the high priestess through the pounding in his head and the roiling of his guts,
I have made a big mistake.
It was difficult enough to try to match wits with this woman without his head being muddled. To try to do so when he was much the worse for drink was asking the impossible.
"Are you well, Brother Paul?" The voice of the priestess was soft and sweet, and, Paul thought, very faintly amused.
"No," he replied. He gave up the charade. They had been conversing about the various miracles performed by their respective deities, but his heart was not in it. He closed his eyes and slumped back into the couch in his rooms, where they were talking. "I now know why there is a warning against strong drink. I feel like the adversary himself is using my head for my own personal Hell."
"Poor boy," she said. "The last time I saw someone look as ill as you, my son had decided the best way to grow tall was to eat as much as possible for five meals running. By the time I realized his plan, he was in the process of losing the last four." She stood and went to the door. Summoning a guard, she said, "The priest is ill. We need a pitcher of cold juice, and as many buckets of hot water as you can manage."
The juice came quickly. Ariana poured a mug for him.
"Drink," she said.
Paul looked at the mug and shuddered.
"Drink," she said again, "You are dehydrated and need to replenish your liquids. Don't think you can try to out-stubborn me either," she said, catching the look in his eye. "I've been dealing with sick children since before you were born. Drink it."
Paul drank. Gingerly at first, then with growing thirst. When the mug was empty he placed it on the table. Could it be that he felt just a tiny bit better?
"Poor lad," the Ariana remarked. "Now we know better than to go out drinking with soldiers, don't we?"
"Yes, my lady."
Ariana sat beside him on the couch. She was dressed in a dark blue dress edged with silver at the hems of the sleeves. She sniffed disapprovingly "Have you bathed today?"
"ummm..."
"Have you bathed in the last two days?"
"Well..."
"Have you bathed
this week?"
"..."
"That settles it," she said disgustedly. "No wonder you feel awful. A belly full of bad beer and fried food, and clothes full of rancid night-stink? Well," she sighed, "Let's start at the beginning. We'll get the Deity to get rid of that hangover for you and then we'll work on the rest."
"Um. What?"
"Well," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "we were talking about miracles, weren't we? Here is your chance to see an example." Without any more fuss she laid her hands on either side of his head, turning it towards her own. She gently placed her forehead against his, closing her eyes.
"Mighty Deity, He who guides and protects us all, please grant your servant's prayer. Please see fit to remove the pain from this man before you, and to give it to one more deserving of your scorn and spite. We fully admit our errors, and will strive to more fully embrace Your will in the future. Please forgive our weakness, and aid us in our quest for strength."
Bless you, boys.
Ariana thought. If Sean and Kristopher had been before them now, she would have kissed them both. How better to teach Paul of the Deity's power than to have a miracle, even a small one, manifested upon him. The warm glow in her mind told her that her prayer had been answered. Even if that had not been there, the look of Paul's face would have told her, as the headache-induced pallor faded and a more healthy shade of pink crept in.
While this had been going on, a procession of maidservants had been filing in and setting down buckets of steaming hot water. With a look and a pointed arm, she directed them into the bathing area to fill up the granite tub set into the floor, blessing all the while the hedonism of generations of rulers who had made sure that guests in the palace would have the advantages they gave themselves. No simple copper tub, the bathing pool was fully four feet deep at one end, eight feet long, and nearly half that wide.
Plenty of room for two,
she thought with a smile. She took Paul by the hand and led him into the bathing area. She pointed to the tub, now nearly full of hot water.
"Strip," she said.
Paul looked at her, then down at his clothes, and then at the tub. His eyes were wide and panicked. Very like, Ariana thought, like a spooked cow.
"My lady, I..."
"Oh, do shut up. And don't be silly if you can help it. I am a woman newly-wed only these past three months, and you are young enough to be my son. Nearly. Well, no, you aren't, but do you think I will ravage you here in a desperate attempt to seduce you to betray your god?
"The gift of love-making is a blessing of the Deity. I will not profane His grace by using it in this way. When you come to Her, as you must, there will be no taint on my soul.
"So take of your damn clothes and get into the tub."
God, she is more strong-willed than my first abbot,
thought Paul.
Better looking, though.
