found it that day before they had left for Harfleur. The doorway stood open, as it had then,
although now it opened under a newly painted sign: James Emery, Carpenter.
James had settled down, it seemed.
And, as the last time, a shadow lingered in the cool dimness of the shop.
Except this time the shadow was Mary, not the carpenter.
She smiled, a little sadly, as Neville hesitated under the lintel of the doorway.
―Hal is dead,‖ she said, adjusting the weight of the infant wriggling in her arms.
―Aye,‖ Neville said. He paused. ―What happens now?‖ he whispered.
She walked forward, allowing some of the light from the doorway to spill over her face.
Her black hair was wound about her head in a heavy rope under a trailing lawn veil, framing the
translucent skin of her face and her deep blue eyes.
Neville‘s breath caught in his throat: this beautiful woman, this Mary.
How he loved her.
―I should not have come,‖ he said.
―You are wrong,‖ she said, and leaned forward to kiss him briefly on the mouth, ―for it is
good that you have come. James is waiting for us in the courtyard, and I have set out some bread
and cheese and a jug of cider. Will you join us?‖
Then she looked down to the child in her arms. ―See my son? James and I have named
him Christopher.‖
Neville glanced at the child, but the baby did not interest him.
―Mary—‖
―Come to the courtyard, Tom.‖ She turned, her movement lithe and unknowingly
seductive, and led him through the workshop, the kitchen and storerooms behind it, and into the
small, sunlit courtyard.
James was waiting there, and he stepped forward and embraced Neville.
Neville surprised himself at how fiercely he returned James‘ embrace. ―I should have
come earlier,‖ he said as James finally stood back.
James nodded. ―Aye, that you should have.‖ His eyes, still as dark as Neville
remembered them, were nonetheless very different. It took Neville a moment to realise what it
was: James‘ eyes were soft and humorous, unburdened by the cares that had once tortured him.
―You are happy,‖ Neville said.
―Aye, I am happy,‖ James said, indicating that Neville should sit on the bench on the
opposite side of the trestle table covered with food and drink. As James sat himself, Mary put
their son into his arms, and James smiled at the baby, finally lifting his eyes back to Neville.
―How could I not be happy? I have my wife, and my son. Home with me. Finally.‖
Mary poured both her husband and Neville some cider, then sat herself and picked up a
cup that she was already halfway through.
―No one hunts us now,‖ she said softly. ―Not the angels. Not the Roman soldiers. Not the
priests. We can pick up our lives where once they had been interrupted.‖
Neville took a sip of cider, then allowed himself to relax in the sun, watching James play
with the baby, and Mary watch her husband and son.
―You were killed, too,‖ Neville suddenly said to Mary. ―Soon after your husband died on
the cross.‖
―Aye.‖ Mary‘s face and body went very still as she remembered. ―The soldiers, driven
along by the hatred of the priests, came for me in the hour after they took down my husband‘s
body.‖
She stopped, and Neville suddenly, horribly, knew what she was going to say.
―They stoned me to death, shattering every bone in my body.‖
―Mercy,‖ whispered Neville, and looked down unseeing at the rough wood of the table as
he remembered Mary Bohun‘s shattered, dying body. They stoned her? They stoned the most
wondrous woman the world had ever known? And then…then they dared to build a Church of
lies about both Christ and his wife?
―It is why Hal‘s Mary could not carry a child past six months,‖ she continued. ―I was six
months gone with Christopher,‖ she nodded and smiled at the baby squirming happily in his
father‘s arms, ―when I died.‖
She turned her glorious eyes back to Neville. ―And then my husband existed in torment
within heaven, and I existed in torment without him,‖ her eyes filled with tears, ―until this most
remarkable of men loved me, and was my friend, and freed my husband.‖
―And now I think Tom more than half wishes he had not freed the husband,‖ James said,
his eyes crinkling humorously and his voice filled with laughter.
Neville stared at James, then at Mary, and then burst into laughter himself, all his sadness
and regret gone.
―And you and Mary?‖ he said. ―What now?‖
They glanced at each other, and it was Mary who answered. ―What now, Tom? Why, we
raise our son, and any other children which bless us, and my husband works at his craft.‖
―We live and die as any, Tom,‖ said James. ―We are a husband and a wife, and that is all
that we are.‖
―Then you are to be envied,‖ Neville replied. He sampled some of the cheese that Mary
had laid out, and discovered himself ravenous. ―And the angel-children? Those such as Margaret,
my wife?‖
―Their link with the angels is broken, Tom,‖ James said, passing his son back to Mary
and helping himself to some of the bread and cheese that Neville was now munching down.
―They will live out normal, mortal lives.‖
He paused, toying with some of the food, then continued. ―You gave mankind control of
his own destiny that day you kissed Mary. The link with the angels is completely broken
asunder. They raven, trapped in hell, while mankind chooses his own path here on earth. What
man chooses to do with his life,‖ he shrugged, ―is now his own burden to bear.‖
Neville relaxed even more. ―Then we are all but husbands and wives, living out our
lives.‖
James smiled gently. ―Aye.‖
Neville nodded, feeling happier than he thought he had ever felt before. ―Margaret is
expecting twins,‖ he said.
Mary and James grinned delightedly. ―When you next come to visit,‖ Mary said, ―you
must bring her.‖
Neville shot her a wry look. ―I do not think she will come. But I will, if I may, and bring
my children from time to time.‖
He looked up at the sky, realising that the light had thinned. Dusk was not far off. ―I
should go,‖ he said. ―No doubt both my uncle and my wife wonder where I am.‖
They stood, and Mary and James escorted Neville back to the street door.
The bells were still ringing, and their sound made Neville turn one more time to James.
―What of the Church?‖ he said. ―It is useless—there is no God…while you…‖
―No doubt it will continue for the time being,‖ James said, clearly not very interested.
―Too many men have too many ambitions tied up in it. But eventually it will fail and fall into
irrelevance. Neither you nor I should worry overmuch about it, Tom.‖
Neville studied James‘ face, then he nodded. ―And so I will not.‖ He took his brother‘s
hand, then kissed Mary on the cheek.
―I am glad you are both contented,‖ he said, ―and so shall I learn to be. I will go home to
Halstow Hall, and raise my children, and learn to be a good husband for a wife who loves me
very much.‖
He paused, introspective, then his mouth curved in a very small smile. ―Somehow I do
not think that her love will be a wasted thing.‖
―Love never is,‖ Mary said. ―Go home and tend your garden, Tom.‖
Glossary
For more information on characters and places, please visit:
www.saradouglass.com/crucibworld.html
AGINCOURT: Small village (approx. 180 kilometres) to the north-west of Paris.
ARCHIBALD: fourth Earl of Douglas. His son is ARCHIBALD, Earl of Fife.
ARCHIBALD: Earl of Fife, son of the Earl of Douglas.
ARMOUR: the armouring of a knight was a complex affair, done in different ways in
different countries and generations. Generally, knights wore either chain mail or plate armour or
a combination of both, depending on fashion or the military activity involved. Chain mail was
formed of thousands of tiny iron or steel rings riveted together to form a loose tunic (sometimes
with arms); plate armour consisted of a series of metal plates fashioned to fit a knight‘s body and
joints—the full suit of armour was rarely seen before the fifteenth century. Helmets (whether
BASINETS or the full-visored helms), mail or plate gloves, and weapons completed the knight‘s
outfitting.
AQUITAINE: a large and rich province covering much of the southwest of France.
Aquitaine was not only independent of France, it was ruled by the English kings after Eleanor of
Aquitaine brought the province, as part of her dowry, to her marriage with Henry II.
ARUNDEL, WILLIAM: Archbishop of Canterbury.
AVIGNON: the French-controlled town which is the seat of the rebel popes.
BALLARD, AGNES: maid to MARGARET NEVILLE and nurse to ROSALIND.
BASINET: an open-faced helmet (although many knights wore them with a visor