Alicia Roque Ruggieri by The House of Mercy

guess?” she teased, coming forward into the work
area.  Bricius noticed that her hands held a half-loaf of dark bread and some
cheese.  He had worked the morning away without noticing.
    “Why don’t we go
outside, and you can guess while we eat?” he asked.  Knowing his wife, she had
probably eaten standing up while preparing his meal, though.
    “I’ve already eaten,
Bricius, and I still have much work to do on the mistress’ clothing for court.”
    “’Tis a fine autumn day,
love, and ‘twill only take minutes for me to eat,” he cajoled.  He saw her
hesitate still and knew she had a long list of things that needed doing running
through her mind.  As well as doing much of Lady Tarian’s sewing, Lydia served
as a deaconess of sorts for the Christian community at Oxfield.  From early
morning to dusk, her hands and mind and heart busied themselves with loving her
neighbor and honoring her God.  “I know you have much to do, but I would like
your company if you can spare the time,” he added.
    “Well…” Lydia paused,
and Bricius waited for her to decide.  True, many a Christian man would claim
the right to command his wife to do as he wished.  Were not wives to submit to
their husbands?  Yet Bricius wanted a wife, not a worshipper, not a bondwoman. 
Thus, he strove to love Lydia as he loved himself, not to use her as a tool to
indulge his own wishes.
    Husbands, love your
wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…
    “I suppose I can use the
break, aye,” his wife smiled.
    Her arm tucked in his,
the couple made their way out into the bright October sunlight.  Bricius
breathed deeply, refreshing himself with the scent of fallen leaves and smoke,
his heart delighting in the companionship of his longtime helpmate as they made
their way across the sun-dappled earth.  Who would settle for the role of king
when instead he could have the pleasure of servanthood?  Long years ago now, he
had offered his wife his life and she had gifted him with her heart in turn, an
exchange deemed worthy by the King of Heaven Himself.  Looking at the trusting
profile beside him, Bricius sighed.  It had been worthwhile, indeed.
    They settled down on a
grassy patch near the well.  Bricius marveled at how his wife’s inner beauty
emanated from her as the fresh perfume of a cultivated rose.  The thought
passed through his mind also that as their persons had aged, their relationship
with their Creator and with one another had come into a second and deeper
springtime than when it was new.  ‘Twas true, then.  God does let the bodies
of things fade that we may learn to love the soul of them in truth.  When I
first loved Lydia, ‘twas her bonny face that took me.  Now, I see in her
another face that will behold eternally the Almighty One, our Redeemer and God.
    “When does Lady Tarian
plan to go to court, then?” Bricius asked as he took his first bite of cheese
and bread, fine midday fare for any man.
    Lydia shrugged.  “She
says perhaps they will go for the Feast of the Nativity, but the decision
really rests with Lord Drustan, of course.”
    “Of course.  But I’ve no
doubt the lord will want to enjoy as much revelry as possible.  As is evidenced
by the upcoming Samhain feast.”  Bricius rose to draw water from the well.
    “Is it planned again for
this year, then?  I thought surely after the madness last year…”  Lydia’s voice
held heavy concern.
    Bricius snorted, his
hand going out to steady the swinging bucket.  “Some saw it as harmless
pleasure, not madness.  And some thought it helped appease the spirits for an
easier winter.”  He drank from the bucket’s edge.
    “’Twas not harmless,
Bricius.  That you know.”
    “No, and we must do as
much as we can to counteract its evil influence.”  He sighed and took Lydia’s
hand.  “That we had a lord who had the true good of his people in mind, not
only fleeting pleasure and excitement.”
    “But we do, love.