Hester winced, and Magnus wondered what she'd had in mind. "Yet still," he said, "I think there is freedom, though husband and wife must ever earn it by serving in bondage to one another." He frowned at his own words. "Do I make sense?"

"Nay."

"Praise Heaven; I feared I was too much like a pontiff. Nay, when all is said and done, I'll take the lesser, but more certain, freedoms."

Hester looked up, puzzled. "What are those?"

"Freedom of the mind is foremost among them. At the least, thou hast the world of books open to thee-if thou hast the good fortune to come by volumes."

"The world of books? How should we have such a world?"

"Why, by having learned to read and write."

"I have learned no such thing! What hath schooling to do with reading?"

It was Magnus's turn to stare, shaken. What kind of school was it that didn't teach people to read and write? He was about to find out; they had come to the church. Hester murmured, "I thank thee for thy company," and hurried ahead, to arrive at the clustering of children and youths ahead of them. Magnus smiled; apparently he was already suspect in the community. Was that only by virtue of being a stranger? _

The school was a small wooden building beside the church. Today, however, it was not going to be used, due to fair weather; two black-robed women came out of the cloister, took up stations before the group of youngsters, and clapped their hands. Instantly, the children quieted and assembled into straight lines. The nuns nodded, then knelt with ponderous ostentation. The children followed suit, and the nuns began the Our Father. Magnus frowned; the words had changed a bit from the ones he knew-due, no doubt, to having been passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. "Thy kingdom has come" did rather change the emphasis-and that last sentence, "Make us obedient to the priests whom Thou hast appointed to guide us," definitely wasn't in the Catholic version he knew-nor the Protestant, for that matter; and from the grating tone in which the nuns recited it, it didn't sound as though they were all that happy about it, either. But recite it they did, and finished the "Amen," and began the "Hail Mary." Again, it was not the prayer as Magnus knew it. He certainly hadn't thought of Christ as taking orders from Mary-at least not after He grew up. He decided to look up the wedding in Cana in his Bible at home.

"Thomas and Hester," said the eldest nun, "bring out the slate."

Thomas looked up with a quick smile, but Hester kept her face carefully neutral. Together they went into the school. Thomas was instantly trying to chat with Hester, in a low tone; she answered in monosyllables. The nuns couldn't have helped but notice, but they turned a blind eye.

"Today we shall speak of the Holy Trinity," the younger nun said, stepping to center, "of God our Father, and Jesus His Son-and of the Spirit of God, which doth enkindle our hearts with love. Therefore, if we live in God, we must love one another, never speaking in anger, or striking one another, or seeking another's shame or hurt." As she spoke, her face became radiant, her eyes rising toward Heaven.

Then she whirled about, whipping a birch rod from her voluminous robe and slamming it down across a young man's knuckles. A single cry escaped his lips from sheer surprise, before he bit it back.

"And thou, Neil Aginson!" the nun shouted. "Dost think I have not seen that look of hate thou didst direct, but now, at Thomas's back? Nay, glower not at me, but smile, or I'll smite thee sorely."

The young man stared back up at her, eyes narrowing. The elder nun came up behind the younger. "Think of thy father, Neil Aginson. Think of the tithe he doth owe the Church, that may be doubled. Come, let love fill thine heart, and smile."

The youth's face reddened, but he managed to draw up the corners of his mouth in a rictus.

"Think on love, and do better," said the younger nun, eyeing him with cold hostility. "But that will do."

She turned away, just as a sharp crack sounded from inside the school. Both nuns turned, eyeing the door narrowly. Then Thomas came stumbling out, bearing one end of a portable blackboard, a red mark flaming on his cheek. Hester came marching after, holding the other end of the blackboard, head high and shoulders back-but without the hint of a smile.

The nuns eyed the two of them, and the elder barked, "Hester! Be not so proud! Remember that humility is a virtue that doth become us all!"

Hester dropped her eyes. "As thou sayest, sister." She turned away to her seat on the grass.

The younger nun whirled to whack at Neil again. "Purge the hatred from thy soul, Neil Aginson! Aye, well I know what thou wouldst fain do-and I tell thee, unless thou canst school thine heart to love, and purge this hatred from it, thou shalt fry in Satan's skillet for eternity!"

Neil dropped his gaze and slumped his shoulders-but it looked to be only pretense.

"Beware of lust," said the older nun. "Beware the temptations of the flesh. I know thine heart; I have seen how thou dost regard Hester."

Now Hester's cheeks flamed. She sat at her desk, head bowed, every line of her body rigid with embarrassment. "Purge thyself of impure thoughts!" the old nun orated, one hand held high in admonition-or threat. "Cleanse thine heart of every trace of concupiscence, lest the fires of desire condemn thee to the fire of the furnace in which God doth burn all impurities from mortal souls-burn, aye, for eternity!"

Magnus noticed that the term "eternity" was already beginning to have less meaning for him. He also wondered why neither nun had said anything to Thomas about lust--or did they think that Hester had slapped him for his conversation?

"Ten Hail Mary's!" The old nun's arm came down like a whip, finger pointing at Neil.

Every muscle stiff in protest, Neil bowed his head and began to move his lips. The nun eyed him coldly, but turned away.

She drew two large circles on the board, and turned back to the class. "What are these?"

A nervous giggle ran through the class.

"Be still!" The nun glared at them, face red and swollen on the instant, eyes staring in indignation. "What wouldst thou profane! Art thou all damned, even so young? Harold! What have I drawn?"

"Why ... why, two circles, sister," an eight-year-old stammered.

"Thou liest, thou rogue!" WHACK! The ruler came down on the desk-but the boy yanked his fingers out of the way at the last second. The nun howled. "Thou wouldst, wouldst thou? Seek to avoid the punishment divinely meted out to thee? Nay, thou canst not turn away from God's chastisement, and if thou dost try, it shall be meted out to thee tenfold! Thomas, hold his hands!"

The youth leaped to obey with alacrity, a smile quivering at the corners of his lips, but contained, though his eyes betrayed his pleasure. The nun cracked the rod across the boy's hands ten times, impervious to his tears, then turned away. "Now, for one who did listen yesterday. Avila!"

"Wh-Why . . ." the girl stammered, "thou didst not speak of circles yesterday, sister."

WHACK! This time it was a slap across the cheek. "Did I not speak of God, Avila? Is not God a whole unit, sufficient unto himself? And is not a circle a whole, unto itself?" She whirled away, to point at the larger circle. "This is God!"

There was a smothered snort of laughter somewhere in the class, but the watching elder nun could see only blank, serious gazes. Several shoulders had shaken, though.

The younger nun tried again. "Why did God create us?"

"Wh-Why," the youngster stammered, "th-that he might have toys to play with."

"What! Dost thou think God to be a child? Nay, nay! Small time for play hath He-and would never think to profane the heavens with laughter or shouts of glee! The Devil is in thee; Rory! To confession with thee, and a long penance, too, whilst the others dine! Nay, God made us to love and to serve him, that he might have summat to love-for if thou dost not love Him, he will cast thee deep into the fiery furnace! Theobald!"