Mainoa waved her apologies away. “All families have their upsets, Lady Westriding. I understand your husband and daughter rode to hounds yesterday.”
“How did you know?”
“That information spread across Grass within moments of their leaving Klive,” the friar replied. “A servant called a friend on the tell-me. The friend called someone else, who called three others. One of the Brothers came to tell Brother Lourai and me, bringing the news down into the Arbai street we are currently unearthing. Oh yes, Lady Westriding, everyone knows.”
“The two of them have been fighting over it,” she confessed unnecessarily. “Tony and I are afraid for them.”
“As you might well be,” the Brother agreed.
Since Stella had left them, Rillibee had stood looking after her, an expression of wonder on his face. Now he sat down abruptly. “She’s determined to go on?” he asked.
“Rigo is determined to go on. Stella is no less determined, though not for Rigo’s reasons. My husband thinks she should not. The reasons he gives her for not riding are the same reasons I give him for not riding. He says in his case it is different.” She sighed, throwing up her hands.
“It’s all become rather nasty and boring,” said Tony, trying to make light of what had been a very hostile encounter. “Everyone telling each other the same things, and no one listening.”
“I’m told that Rowena, Obermum bon Damfels, is at Commons,” Brother Mainoa remarked. “I hear that Obermun bon Damfels does not seem to know she is gone.”
“You hear everything,” Marjorie said ruefully. “Have you heard what any of it means?”
“As you do, Lady Westriding. As you do.”
“Call me Marjorie, Brother. Please. Father James wants to see you while you are here. He particularly asked to be included.”
Brother Mainoa nodded, smiling. He had wanted very much to talk with either of the Fathers.
When the time came, he spoke to the young priest, quiet young Father James—Rigo’s nephew, Marjorie informed them—and also to Father Sandoval, and to Tony and Marjorie as well. Their luncheon was served on the terrace in the mild airs of spring. Neither Rigo nor Stella joined them. Neither Rigo nor Stella could be found.
“I wanted particularly to speak with you Fathers,” Brother Mainoa confided in his comfortable voice, “because I have a philosophical matter which I am seeking advice upon.”
“Ah?” Father Sandoval acknowledged in a patronizing tone. “You wish an answer from a religious point of view?”
“I do,” said the Brother. “It pertains to creatures which are not human. You may regard the question as hypothetical but nonetheless important.”
Father Sandoval cocked his head. “You mean in a doctrinal sense?”
“Precisely. A matter of no practical relevance whatsoever, but important in a doctrinal sense. To ask my question, I must ask you first to suppose that the foxen here on Grass are sentient beings and that they are troubled by matters of conscience.”
Tony laughed. Marjorie smiled. Father Sandoval seemed only slightly amused. “I can accept that as a ground for ethical argument.”
Brother Mainoa nodded, gratified. “It is a question of original sin.”
“Original sin?” Father James looked as though he was genuinely amused. “Among the foxen?” He looked at Marjorie with a smile, as though reminded of their recent conversation on the same subject. She looked down at her plate. She was still troubled by the things he had said, and was not sure it was a laughing matter.
Brother Mainoa saw this interchange but pretended not to notice. “Remember that you agreed to accept that they are thinking beings, Fathers. Accept it. Regard them as fully sentient. As much as you yourself may be. Now, having done so—do not laugh, sir,” this to Tony—“we are supposing that the idea of original sin oppresses the foxen. They are carnivores. Their bodies require meat. So, they eat meat. They eat the peepers, the larvae of the Hippae.”
“You know!” exclaimed Marjorie. “You know what the peepers really are.”
“I do, madam. Not many know, but I do. And let us suppose the foxen do, as well. They eat them.”
“And the foxen consider this sinful?” Tony asked. “Well, young sir, it is an interesting point. If these were men, you yourself would consider it sinful. If a man or woman kills an unborn child, your faith and Sanctity both consider it murder, do they not? The larvae of the Hippae are not thinking beings. They are as near mindless as makes no matter. However, when they grow great and fat and unable to move, they make their first metamorphosis and emerge as hounds.”