Her gaze now moved to Olga Frissault, who was listening to the music with rapt attention. “I’m afraid I’ve not been introduced to your companions,” the Abbess said pleasantly.
Greyboar and I both flushed. Well, he did. So I can only assume that I did also, since my skin is about as fair as any redhead’s ever gets.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Then, I hesitated. On the outs or not, the Abbess was still part of the Church. I wasn’t at all sure how she was going to react to the presence of outright heretics—especially Joeists!—even if Olga had insisted that there wouldn’t be any problems.
As it happened, Olga herself took the plunge.
“I’m Olga Frissault, and these are my daughters,” she announced quietly. “I’m the widow of—”
“Dreadful!” exclaimed the Abbess. “Absolutely dreadful!” She reared up to her full towering height, glaring furiously. I braced myself for a ruckus.
“Bad enough the Inquisition should treat anyone in that manner!” the Abbess snapped. “But to have done so to one of Grotum’s greatest artists! Dreadful!”
A moment later she was giving Olga that giantess embrace. Then, the girls. As huge as she was, Hildegard managed to hug all three of them in one swoop.
My jaw was probably hanging loose. The Frissault woman was the widow of an artist? A famous one, to boot? Plump, cheerful, unassuming Olga? The same Olga who had a thing going with a rude and crude barbarian?
What was the world coming to?!
Then I remembered the way Olga had browbeaten the lackeys in that exclusive lodge, and all those weird little ways in which Hrundig didn’t fit the image of a proper Alsask. And then—finally—the name registered.
Frissault? That Frissault? One of the few artists I’d ever actually heard of?! One of Grotum’s most famous national martyrs?! Olga’s husband?!
I was probably muttering to myself. I hate being caught unawares, like some kind of country bumpkin. However, while I was staggering to catch up, things were progressing apace.
“You’ll be seeking asylum, of course,” the Abbess announced. “In the Mutt, eventually, I should think. But, for the moment, welcome to the Abbey. You’ll be quite safe here, until whatever arrangements you need can be made for your further travels. Or, if you prefer, you may stay here indefinitely.”
Olga was smiling now. Then, chuckling. “You do understand, Abbess, that we are Joeists. So we’re in the odd position of seeking asylum in a Church institution from—ah, from—”
“The Lord Almighty Himself,” finished Hildegard. “I fail to see the problem. Really! Sauce for the gander, sauce for the goose. It would be quite unethical for the Old Geister to insist on being made an Exception to His own rules, now wouldn’t it?”
My brain groped with the peculiar logic involved with that last remark. I’m no theologian, to put it mildly, but I always thought the whole point of the exercise was that God was the exception to the rules.
But Hildegard didn’t leave me any time to flounder. She had already embraced Hrundig and Jenny and Angela, and was turning away, motioning all of us to follow.
“Come,” she commanded. “Let me introduce you to the others.”
When we were introduced to the Blockhead, he gave us a polite but distant greeting. A fierce-looking man, he was. I was awestruck, myself. Everybody says he’s the world’s greatest composer. Except when they say that Gramps is the world’s greatest composer, and he was the one we were introduced to next. Now Gramps was another kettle of fish entirely. He was one of the nicest and friendliest old gents you’ll ever run into, whether or not he or the Blockhead is the world’s greatest composer. Which is what everybody argues about except when they’re arguing that the Deadbeat is the world’s greatest composer, and he was the one we were introduced to next. Huh! Maybe he is the world’s greatest composer, I wouldn’t know. But he was certainly a silly little chap. Vulgar, too.
But the truth is, like most lowlifes, my taste runs to opera. And so the big thrill of the evening was being introduced to the Big Banjo and his old lady.
We’d met before, actually, but under the circumstances at the time I was sure he wouldn’t have noticed us in the crowd.