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Show And then he appeared unannounced through the front door- Father Gregory turned and raised his blond, bushy eyebrows and scratched thoughtfully at his thick reddish beard. Standing at the doorway into the foyer was a man of medium height, foppishly dressed in a short doublet and hose of yellow with short, full sleeves slashed with magenta. His thick legs were splayed as he stood there, fists on hips, his face showing the ravages of too much Tartary whiskey; his oval, slightly protuberant eyes bloodshot. Soft! thought the young Anya. Is the wight swaying on his feet? She dared not look toward her father, for this pairing was insult indeed, more than she'd dreamed. . .more insult than ever she'd dreamed. They were paired a SevenDay after their pledging, Anya in her white and pale lavender, Armand resplendent in blue and rose satin, his boots of white kid, his thin hair of a pale brown encircled with a gold crown of EarthRoses entwined with ivy. And he was quite drunk, and he stayed quite drunk for all of their life together. Which consisted of a full SevenDay that spring. "What thinkest thou woman," asked Armand of the shy Anya after they were cermoniously conducted to their pairing room in the Needlesmith Hold and left there by their parents. "What thinkest thou of me?" He slapped his chest with one hand, grinning at her lopsidedly, his eyes nevertheless wary and passing fearful of this woman who was of a technicality much above him in station. "Think I . . . ? " asked Anya, puzzled at this uncommon prologue to what was expected by all to be lovemaking for the night that was just beginning. "What thinkest thou!" he roared at her, "What thinkest thou!" He tore 104 |
