Sybelle (RC 6) by Gellis Roberta

Author:Gellis, Roberta [Gellis, Roberta]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780843937343
Publisher: Leisure Books
Published: 1995-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Walter did not know what to do with himself when he came out of Marie’s chamber. Sensitized by what he thought was her fear, he made very sure that not even a servant saw him, and he left the area completely. In all his life he could not remember feeling so sick of himself and so miserable. All he could think of was finding Sybelle and pouring the whole thing out to her. She would comfort him, for it had all been a horrible mistake caused by his unsatisfied lust.

However, he had given his oath to Marie that he would tell no one, and as the visual impact of Marie’s misery dimmed and his pain and shame diminished a little, he recognized that the last person to tell was Sybelle. Not only had he been warned that she was of a jealous nature, but he knew it from his own observation. Had she not agreed to their betrothal in a spate of jealousy of ... oh, God ... of Marie? And must he not, for Marie’s sake also, keep this incident from Sybelle? The bitterest gall of all to the failed aspirant is the fact that the successful contender knows of the failure.

The moment he realized that he could not confess to Sybelle, Walter became utterly terrified of meeting her. There was no way he could act normally until he shed his burden, but he had sworn he would tell no one, and if he could not speak of it, he could find no one to share or lift the load from him. Among all the sins he had committed, there were several regarded as far more heinous by priests .... Then Walter’s thoughts were checked suddenly by a comforting realization. There was God.

As carefully as if he were on a secret night raid, Walter made his way to his chamber and found his cloak. Then he stole out of the keep altogether, not even stopping at the stables for Beau, so he had to walk to the village. He would not confess to the priest of the castle chapel. That was too nearby. Walter knew that to betray the secrets of the confessional was anathema and sure damnation for the priest who did it, but priests were men, and some of them feared damnation less than they should.

The village church was poor and mean, its stone walls without ornamentation, its windows mere slits in the fabric so that only narrow bars of light felt on the floor. Near the entry, when Walter had closed the door behind him, it was almost pitch-black, but diagonally across, just a few feet from the altar table, there was a lighter patch, which Walter realized was an open door into some outer building. Knowing Wales, Walter assumed it was the shedlike structure in which the priest lived.

“Father,” he called.

Almost immediately the patch of light was blocked, and a voice replied. Although Walter did not understand the word, he assumed, since it was a single syllable, that it was a general question, such as: Yes? He was relieved.

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