agreed to the marriage.
After reading all the material I had, with more to come, I thought I had found my angle. Maybe she chose Henry because she couldn't change the world through Louis, nor do it by herself. She needed a man as strong and as ambitious as she was by her side. And Henry really wanted to change the world, not keep it as it was. For Henry, changing the world meant a minor French duke, himself, becoming duke of nearly half of France and then king of all of Britain. It would make him the chiefest prince in Europe, surpassing the hated Louis and his family (who had not supported Maud's claim to Britain) and rivaling the pope himself. If she could help Henry achieve his ambitions, she would be the queen of something she had helped build: the Angevin Empire.
Forget the paneled rooms and fine silks of France. Forget having all of Europe at her feet. She would experience the danger of securing a throne if Henry did succeed Stephen. She knew she would be vilified in France if she married Henry. Out of the wild times that would surely follow their marriage, she could create order. So she turned her back on her civilized Aquitaine and sailed for the wilds of England.
* * * * *
I was writing furiously and not sleeping much, but I still presented myself at my parents' in time to leave for Mass on Sunday. I was astonished that my mother kissed me; I hadn't seen her looking this happy in years.
"David is just the smartest little boy. Come look," she said.
My father gave me only passing notice, being engrossed in dangling a bear in front of the chubby toddler. Meg's greeting was exuberant, and even Michael had more smiles than grimaces. All in all, I felt like I'd walked onto the set of The Waltons, and I didn't have any speaking lines. I played with David a little, but having never had any maternal urges I let my mother supplant me after a few minutes.
In a flurry we all piled into the enormous Lincoln Town Car that was my father's pride and joy. We were always early because my father liked to arrive before the other ushers. I saw my mother to the family pew and then walked up the long aisles to admire the stained glass from the back of the cathedral. I always did it, and I badly needed something to feel unchanged to me.
St. Anthony's congregation numbered over three thousand, making it the third largest church in Chi-cagoland. Without exception the ten o'clock Sunday Mass was standing room only. Its size warranted a head usher, my father, who supervised fifteen other men who took turns as ushers.
Meg and my mother were gathering a steady flow of congratulations on David's winsome manners and Meg's return to Chicago. I looked my fill at the brilliant hues in the stained glass, then decided I'd wait in the foyer for a while. Meg and Mom were talking a language I didn't understand, and I was better off on the edge.
I looked over the bulletin board to pass the time. I wanted a television and a bicycle, and there was a chance someone would be selling one or the other. While I searched, a young man in a clerical collar came into the church by the street door, tacked a paper to the board, and went out the street door again, rather than back toward the sacristy. Not a St. Anthony's priest, obviously, since he was wearing jeans. All of this was odd enough to make me curious about what he posted.
It was a vivid pink flyer that read, "DIGNITY is about being cherished by our church as much as we cherish it. Gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transsexuals, or any other person who needs support are welcome at our weekly meetings." An address and a twenty-four-hour hotline number were at the bottom.
In a daze, I read the flyer again. How could this group exist? Did they ignore the passages of the Bible that plainly condemned homosexuality? A support group could not rewrite the Bible.
I took the flyer off the board, knowing it would be removed as soon as one of the priests saw it. There had been something automatic about the
After reading all the material I had, with more to come, I thought I had found my angle. Maybe she chose Henry because she couldn't change the world through Louis, nor do it by herself. She needed a man as strong and as ambitious as she was by her side. And Henry really wanted to change the world, not keep it as it was. For Henry, changing the world meant a minor French duke, himself, becoming duke of nearly half of France and then king of all of Britain. It would make him the chiefest prince in Europe, surpassing the hated Louis and his family (who had not supported Maud's claim to Britain) and rivaling the pope himself. If she could help Henry achieve his ambitions, she would be the queen of something she had helped build: the Angevin Empire.
Forget the paneled rooms and fine silks of France. Forget having all of Europe at her feet. She would experience the danger of securing a throne if Henry did succeed Stephen. She knew she would be vilified in France if she married Henry. Out of the wild times that would surely follow their marriage, she could create order. So she turned her back on her civilized Aquitaine and sailed for the wilds of England.
* * * * *
I was writing furiously and not sleeping much, but I still presented myself at my parents' in time to leave for Mass on Sunday. I was astonished that my mother kissed me; I hadn't seen her looking this happy in years.
"David is just the smartest little boy. Come look," she said.
My father gave me only passing notice, being engrossed in dangling a bear in front of the chubby toddler. Meg's greeting was exuberant, and even Michael had more smiles than grimaces. All in all, I felt like I'd walked onto the set of The Waltons, and I didn't have any speaking lines. I played with David a little, but having never had any maternal urges I let my mother supplant me after a few minutes.
In a flurry we all piled into the enormous Lincoln Town Car that was my father's pride and joy. We were always early because my father liked to arrive before the other ushers. I saw my mother to the family pew and then walked up the long aisles to admire the stained glass from the back of the cathedral. I always did it, and I badly needed something to feel unchanged to me.
St. Anthony's congregation numbered over three thousand, making it the third largest church in Chi-cagoland. Without exception the ten o'clock Sunday Mass was standing room only. Its size warranted a head usher, my father, who supervised fifteen other men who took turns as ushers.
Meg and my mother were gathering a steady flow of congratulations on David's winsome manners and Meg's return to Chicago. I looked my fill at the brilliant hues in the stained glass, then decided I'd wait in the foyer for a while. Meg and Mom were talking a language I didn't understand, and I was better off on the edge.
I looked over the bulletin board to pass the time. I wanted a television and a bicycle, and there was a chance someone would be selling one or the other. While I searched, a young man in a clerical collar came into the church by the street door, tacked a paper to the board, and went out the street door again, rather than back toward the sacristy. Not a St. Anthony's priest, obviously, since he was wearing jeans. All of this was odd enough to make me curious about what he posted.
It was a vivid pink flyer that read, "DIGNITY is about being cherished by our church as much as we cherish it. Gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transsexuals, or any other person who needs support are welcome at our weekly meetings." An address and a twenty-four-hour hotline number were at the bottom.
In a daze, I read the flyer again. How could this group exist? Did they ignore the passages of the Bible that plainly condemned homosexuality? A support group could not rewrite the Bible.
I took the flyer off the board, knowing it would be removed as soon as one of the priests saw it. There had been something automatic about the
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