Ghosts of the Past

[Evie]

((Reposted here from OOC thread on behalf of revanne))

Columcil saw the covert smirks of his two remaining companions but years of needing to cover his amusement under the appropriate priestly demeanour stiod him in good stead, so he contented himself with remarking  "Well, Sirs, I'd best be about fitting out Spean with the new harness m'Lord Abbot has kindly provided me, if we're to be off within the hour, as his young  Lordship orders,"  before turning and heading towards the monastery stables.

As he went he pondered as to where he had seen that blazon, if only he could remember! It was clear from the casually given instruction which expected unquestioned obedience that he was a young man of some rank. He would have to find a way of tactfully suggesting a more humble demeanour, if the monkish subterfuge was to succeed - though he had no desire to give offence to one of the nobility. This looked like being an interesting journey. He amused himself briefly with the idea of returning to the Abbot and begging for an easier penance - there was an island somewhere of the coast of Meara with a summit which penitents climbed on their knees. He snorted in amusement at his fancy and turned towards the whicker of greeting that Spean gave him. He ran his hands through the horse's mane and took comfort from the physical contact and the loving touch of the animal's mind.

[Evie]

Aliset stifled an all-too-girlish giggle at Darcy's stubborn defiance.  Traveling out of doors with his woolen hood up in the heat and humidity of a Mearan summer, he was likely to wilt like day-old spinach! She hadn't meant to cause such consternation in her attempt to make her own disguise seem more believable, but she'd take what few occasions for humor she could find just now.  God knows she needed whatever boosts to her spirit she could get!

Following the priest's lead, she headed out to the stables to find her mare Papillon and saddle her for the journey ahead.

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron mounted his horse more awkwardly than usual; he was not used to monk's robes!  Father Columcil mounted more smoothly, likely due to many more years of practice.  Darcy was stuck with the disguise for now, so he might as well get on with it.  Once they were out of sight of others on the road, he could toss the hood back out of his way.  He did not like the way it restricted his side vision.

Not that it was a perfect disguise for their party.  Sir Washburn's fine mount with its red leather bridle was hardly suited to a poor monk!  Lord Alister's mare, while not as flashy, was still finely bred.  Nevertheless, to most travellers on the road, who had no reason to look more closely, they would pass as brethren out on whatever errand the church had sent them.

The sky was almost cloudless; it would be a warm day as they travelled.  A good breeze would be welcome, but so far there was no sign of one.  Darcy turned his horse to ride beside the others out from the monastery's courtyard.

He took note of the people going about their daily tasks as they departed.  Just in case one of them would appear again along the way.

[Laurna]

The road between Culdi and Rhemuth was a well traveled road. By agreement between Kelson King of Gwynedd and Dhugal Duke of Cassan the road was kept in good repair after each winter's thaw. The full distance could be traversed as fast as three days.* Such as traveling day and night, not caring that he broke his steed doing so.  A more leisure travel, taking care to rest their mounts each night, could take a full week.+ There were a few noble houses along the way from whom hospitality could be requested.  Washburn was certain their small number would not be refused. Also sleeping under the stars on these warm summer nights should not be a hardship.

The hardship was there was a young woman in their midst, whom the others thought to be a man. How to keep her from being pushed beyond her capabilities without giving her secret away. The best answer was a priest of middle years who had likely not been in a saddle for days on end since his youth.

"Father Columcil  would you please lead us at a good pace for monks on a journey. Master Darcy, I'll ask that you stay up front also so as to keep us on the right road." He and Aliset followed close behind.  In this way the energies of the two noble mounts would be tempered to a steady pace, rather than run full out to Rhemuth as Wash would have allowed, were he alone.

((Foot notes:
* The Kings Deryni Chapter Six. A messenger traveled from Culdi to Rhemuth in three days to bring news of Duke Andrews illness.
+  same chapter: Llion escorted the youths Alaric and Duncan from Rhemuth to Culdi at an easy pace  taking seven days.

I am using these travel times rather than the unreasonable travel time of Duke Alaric and Father Duncan traveling from Dhessa to Culdi in only three days. as is seen in Deryni Checkmate))

[Bynw]

Lord Oswald sat on his horse thinking as they rode towards Culdi. From there his query could be in Rhemuth within a week or sooner if they are not stopped. Time is not on his side and his men should have made sure everyone was dead at the manor before claiming victory. He is only one of many self-styled Mearan Freedom fighters. They are loosely banned together with the common goal of rekindling the Mearan independence movement. And as long as their are Mearans in Meara there will be Freedom fighters willing to take up the sword against the Gwynedd usurpers. The previous generation of Mearan Freedom fighters made a mistake that cost them dearly when Kelson of Gwynedd came to press his false claim on the Mearan throne. They had allied themselves with the ousted anti-Deryni Bishop, Edmund Loris and that allegiance cost many Mearan lives. So now that the new generation of Freedom fighters has arrived. It is time to rethink the Mearan position. And it will need Deryni help to combat the Deryni King of Gwynedd and his Deryni allies. Oswald knows he may have to move up other plans if the baron's heir reaches Rhemuth. The pursuit will have to be abandoned if the brat is not delt with soon. Riders are already well under way carrying messages to various Deryni Lords outside of Gwynedd.

[revanne]

Columcil knew what was in the young lord's mind - Let the old priest set a gentle pace, but not what lay behind it. He'd rather gained the impression that there was some urgency. He found his temper, normally held well in check, begin  to rise. He didna do much riding that was true, but the life of a country priest was hardly one of idleness, with the need to tend his own wee bit garden and help out betimes wi' the harvest. Not to mention walking between some of the further flung holdings of his hilly parish. He'd had a good seven days of riding to harden him to the saddle before entering Culdi and though Spéan was a good solid work horse, with no nobility about him, he could give these fancy-bred mounts a run for their money. He was sorely tempted to try. Biting his lips to restrain his temper, he bethought himself of a way to gain a subtle revenge for the well-meaning patronage.

After a few hours travel he judged by the sun that it must be midday and gently easing Spèan to a halt he made to dismount. Darcy pulled up too, and enquired, "Is there anything wrong, Father?"

"Nay lad, but 'tis time for the midday office, and gi'en that I'm setting the pace, best do it properly It'll not take long." So saying, he reached in the breast of his habit, pulled out a leather bound book and sank to his knees.

"Lord, have mercy!", ejaculated Darcy, then muttered a hasty apology. He was relieved to see that the priest was suppressing a smile, though he spoke gruffly enough. "Let's hope he does, lad, for all our sakes."

As Alistair and Washburn drew level they both looked enquiringly at Darcy who explained, "The good Father is saying his office. He says he won't be long. Shall we make a halt here, My Lord?"

"We've may as well get down and stretch our legs" agreed Washburn equably,  but as we're all meant to be monks...." His words tailed off as he bowed his head but Darcy caught his meaning and he and Alister swiftly followed suit. Washburn's prayers were genuine enough, they could certainly use some help, but he couldn't  help noticing with curiousity the prayer book which the priest was using. The book he was using for his prayers was small, but covered with finely tooled leather. Surely few country priests had such treasures. As Columcil finished his prayers, crossed himself and rose to his feet, Washburn  reached out his hand and said courteously, "That's a fine bit of workmanship you have there, mind if I take a look.?"

Columcil knew a command when he heard one and handed the book over, though  he could not prevent his dutifully lowered eyes flashing with an anger he was otherwise careful to shield. Something in the other's silence warned Washburn that he had overstepped a boundary, though even laymen were surely allowed to handle prayerbooks, so he forebore to open the pages but contented  himself with feeling the leather before handing it back with a muttered "Thank you, Father,". Something nagged at him, though. The book had a feel, almost a mental aroma, that reminded him of someone, someone he knew well, though he could not think of whom, and the priest's shuttered face denied further questions.
Amended because I forgot they were all dressed as monks

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron glanced from Sir Washburn to Father Columcil.  He saw the momentary tension between the two.  The Deryni knight was accustomed to a position of authority, so no surprises there.  The good Father, on the other hand, was perhaps not as humble as one would expect from a simple country priest.

No matter to him either way as long as they reached their destination safely.   Darcy made his way to the trees a short distance away and took the opportunity to relieve himself.   Dratted robe was in his way.  How did ladies manage with their long dresses?  He smiled inwardly; that certainly was not one of his concerns!

He rearranged his habit and turned to return to the group but stopped.  He though he heard movement farther in among the trees.  Silently, he moved forward, staying hidden in the trees as much as possible.  Yes, there was a man and horse ahead; odd that he stopped within the trees with the animal.  Darcy studied him carefully; there was nothing remarkable about him.  Average height, plain clothes; had he seen him before?

((Results of dice roll:  6 + 3 = 9 verification zm0lcckph4))

He had seen him!  The man had been lingering outside the monastery courtyard as they had left.  But even more disturbing, he had seen the man on the road as he and Lord Alister had approached Culdi.  That was too much circumstance to suit Darcy.
Taking care to make no sound, Darcy returned to his small group, pulling his hood well up over his head. 

"Sir Washburn, Lord Alister, a word if I might," Darcy said.  Washburn looked at him with interest. "We are being followed," Darcy said briefly.  "I think we may want to pick up our pace a bit.  Not too much to draw interest, but we might want to reach Rhemuth sooner than later."

[Evie]

As the party quickly remounted and headed further down the road towards Rhemuth, Aliset surreptitiously reached out with her senses, trying to detect the follower that Darcy had mentioned. She thought she could detect someone in the periphery of her senses. Hastily withdrawing that mental probe in case their pursuer might be able to detect it, she centered herself, focusing on her party's need for stealth. Could she use her Deryni gifts to help them pass unseen?  Concentrating her will upon that thought, she focused her energies on helping her party slip away from their pursuer unnoticed.  She knew she could not keep up the subtle cloaking of their passage indefinitely, but hopefully it would throw off the pursuit for a short while.

((Dice roll 4 + 5 [success!], Verification Number: z1vbxgr09h))

[Laurna]

The afternoon steady ride continued on into the late daylight hours of summer. Washburn had forgone any prolong stops during the day, including Father Columcil's afternoon office. This did nothing to ingratiate the noble knight/pretending-to-be-a-priest in the eyes of the true priest.  Had there been proper time for Sir Washburn Morgan to speak privately to Columcil he was sure they could find common ground. The young Morgan wasn't exactly unused to the ways and habits of the clergy. He was family to the Archbishop of Rhemuth, after all. The trouble was, there were far more pertinent concerns weighing on his mind as they rode through the afternoon. Staying alive was a major one.

As for Aliset. To keep her protected, it was necessary that she stay with her companions in their sleeping arrangements. No more rooms for her alone. Far too dangerous for her to be out of Washburn's protection. And for her reputation's sake, better that she be with all three of them than with just Washburn. This meant they could not spend a night in a noble manor house where either Sir Washburn or Sir Alister were known. The host would take offense to the two noblemen wanting to sleep in the common room with their companions. It was never a good idea to offend any host who offered generous hospitality. There were rules of society that just should not be broken nor even bent. Under the circumstances, Washburn considered camping the night under the stars. Only as the sun nested into the branches of the western trees, the humidity rose and clouds gathered in the east. The summer months were no strangers to rain.  Even Darcy commented that by the next morning it would be raining. Sleeping in the wilderness was therefore, out of the question. And what to do about their pursuer?

Since the noon break, during a long portion of their afternoon journey, Lady Aliset 's riding posture had been one in a state of mediation. She barely caught her balance when her horse made a bad step. Washburn did not stray from her side, just in case her horse decided to side step out from under her. He probably needn't have worried, but still, he felt responsible for her.  As to what ever it was she was concentrating on, it seemed to do the trick. There was no sign of anyone following them, at least not one Wash could sense. He did cast out  at two different times to locate if anyone followed them. Though he sensed no one, he wasn't convinced they weren't there. They rode on through the dinner hour nibbling on baked bread. Aliset's exhaustion from her use of magic was evident in the way she took tiny bits and chewed slowly.

Not far ahead was the manor house Washburn had stayed at only two days ago. Nodding to himself,  he made up his mind what they needed to do.

"Follow me," he said to Darcy, as he rode up alongside the two front horses. He took the lead, heading off the main road onto a smaller road that would end at that particular manor house. However, he really had another idea in mind. When the road turned around a clump of trees, it briefly passed alongside a slow moving creek. Washburn pulled his horse off the road and stepped him into the cool waters of the creek. The others looked at him hesitantly. Father Columcil may have even thought the knight's tonsuring had caused the top of the man's brains to have become sun-fried during their journey. Yet no one dared to question Washburn's hand signals for them to continue south, down the middle of the shallow creek.

As soon as the three other horses had moved into the water, Washburn turned his focus into the depths of the glistening surface. Just a little concentration to splash the water up on the bank to wipe away the evidence of the horse's hoof prints.

(( 2d6 roll 2 and 2, failed - Verification Number: 7ttbbwtjp7))

Damn, he must be more agitated than he thought. The water moved a little, but not enough to cover their passage. Frustrated with himself, he reached into the bushes at the sides of creek, pulling out a few long branches with leaves on the ends. Back to the spot where they had walked off the road, he leaned over the neck of his horse and did his best to sweep the hoof prints away. When he was satisfied, he backed his horse into the water then turned to catch up with the others. For nearly a mile, he had them walk through the shallow waters. About the time his companions were ready to complain about the unsure footing for their horses, Washburn turned and climbed the eastern bank of the river. They traveled a short distance through a tall ashwood forest, before they came upon the backside of a small country church and a village just beyond the parish gardens. The church was of thick stone walls and steep slate-tile roof lines. Washburn lead the way past a hedge row with a pen of sheep. On the far side of the pen was a shed row barn with one end for the sheep and the other end for two plow ponies and a half stack of loosely bailed oats and barley.  There was just enough room in the center for their four horses and plenty of fodder for them to nibble on through the night.

The tallest of the four monks, dismounted first. His head was uncovered, his wide tonsure among a bristle of short golden hair displaying his vocation. "Father Columcil, Father Alister, would you be so kind as to ingratiate our party to our hosts within." He nodded toward the church. "If they have a room for us all to stay in, would be ideal. Else wise, we will be happy to sleep in the Nave." Washburn turned to Darcy who was the only one to have his hood up. "Father Darcy, stay with me and help put the horses up for the night." That duty did not seem to displease Darcy at all. Washburn briefly caught Aliset as she started to follow the priest inside. "Get yourself some dinner and some rest, we will rejoin you after compline." Washburn noted how Father Columcil gave him a look, as if to say, you may be impersonating a priest, but you will never be one of us.

When the two were gone, Washburn and Darcy changed their horses bridles for halters, loosened their girths, but left the saddles on. Just on the bad chance, they would be leaving quickly. They feed the horses from the stack of barley and rubbed their horses wet legs down with straw. When this was done, Darcy's eyes went wide as Washburn slipped off his monk's attire, pulled his longbow and greatsword from the bed roll that had been tied under the right flap of his saddle. With ease he swung the long sword over his shoulder onto his back and he reached for the bow string. From years of practice, he had the bow strung in less than a minute. Grabbing last his quiver of arrows. He looked at Darcy with a smile. "How would you like to go hunting with me?  You can recognize our pursuer when you see him, yes?"

Darcy gave a half-look back at the church, then a half-smile to the knight in black. "Yes, I can. Let us discourage him from his pursuit."

[Evie]

Once they had been offered a room away from curious eyes, Aliset knew she needed to catch up on her rest--it was tempting to consider using a fatigue banishing spell, but that would only cause more problems for her later once the need for sleep and proper energy replenishment caught up with her--but there was one thing she felt she needed to do first before her other travel companions returned. Flashing a weary smile at Father Columcil, she sized him up privately. He had sensed her use of her Deryni powers the day before, but she had not sensed any judgment from him in her use of magic, simply approval at what she had attempted to do to help the injured cook.  Perhaps, then, she could trust him in this matter.  Especially if her sharing was done under the seal of the confessional, which no priest of integrity would ever dream of violating.

"Father, while we are alone together, I would have you hear my confession, if you would.  It has been...longer than I would prefer since I last had the opportunity, and the journey ahead of us might prove... somewhat hazardous, since I am being pursued by men who will likely stop at nothing to prevent me from reaching safety in Rhemuth at the King's court.  I would not have you accompany us without being aware of the risks, and if there is a chance I might die before reaching Kelson's protection, I would not meet our Lord unshriven."

Father Columcil slanted her an inquiring look, but said nothing, merely giving her an understanding smile as he reached into his pouch and pulled out what appeared to be a well worn travel stole, slipping it around his neck.

"I will hear your confession, my son," he finally said as he settled into place comfortably beside her.

She gave a quiet chuckle. "And that, I suppose, must lead to the first thing I need to confess, Father. I am Caer Mariot's heiress, not its heir.  I regret the necessity of deception, but I felt it was necessary for my survival. Is it a sin, Father, for me disguise myself so?" As she spoke, she attempted to let the glamour briefly fade away that concealed her true form, planning merely to allow him a glimpse of her true form before resuming her brother's guise, but much to her consternation, she could not!  Jesu, she must be more exhausted than she'd realized! 

((dice roll#1= 1 + 1, dice roll#2: 5 + 2; verification 214k89bc8z.  Since I rolled "snake eyes" [two 1s] on that first roll, should I consider that a spectacular failure?  Yeah, that could be fun.  )) 

Her eyes widened in alarm, as the priest's also did in matching alarm and confusion. "Oh, sweet merciful heavens, Father, I'm ...I'm stuck!"

"You're...stuck?" Father Columcil echoed, looking uncertain of her meaning, not to mention a bit dazed at the sudden appearance of a young woman before him.

"I'm...oh, damn and blast, I can't get back into my brother's form!  And I must, you know, before Master Cameron and Lord Washburn get back!"

Despite the gravity of the situation and the priest's slow head shake, she thought she caught a faintly amused glint in his eye, along with a swift twitch at the corner of his lips that belied a sternly suppressed flash of humor mingled with the more evident dismay written large upon his features.  "No, that most certainly will not do!" he affirmed.  "Might I suggest, before you continue on with your confession, that we rectify this situation immediately?" As he spoke, he lay a calming hand upon her forearm, lending her enough of his own energy to help her feel better refreshed and more capable of the focus necessary to resume Alister's form. "Is that better?"

She closed her eyes, calling up Alister in her mind, and resumed his illusory form.  "Much!  Thank you, Father."  She opened her eyes, meeting his questioning gaze.  "That was awkward," she said with a self-conscious laugh.

The lips quirked in a visible almost-smile that time. "Quite.  And now, my daughter, I believe there was something you meant to share...."

Taking a deep breath, Aliset unburdened herself of all she'd had to do in order to protect herself after Oswald's slaughter of her family, and confessed to the bloodshed she'd found it necessary to spill and the deceptions her circumstances had forced to maintain in order to escape from his clutches.

[Bynw]

((

((dice roll#1= 1 + 1, dice roll#2: 5 + 2; verification 214k89bc8z.  Since I rolled "snake eyes" [two 1s] on that first roll, should I consider that a spectacular failure?  Yeah, that could be fun.  )) 

))


(( There is  nothing about such a critical failure in the core rules but anything can be house ruled. We could  have a lot of fun with all 1's being rolled. ))

[Jerusha]

No encouragement was needed for Darcy Cameron to shed his own monk's robe.  His short sword had remained hidden beneath the robe as they travelled, so he was already armed.  He followed Sir Washburn back past the hedgerow to the ashwood forest.  They avoided the creek this time and followed the regular path.

They kept a quick pace but not so fast as to draw attention along the way. The few people they passed nodded respectfully to the tall knight, but gave no significant notice of their presence.  Perhaps they remembered him from his previous visit.

When they reached the main road, Darcy paused.  "Let me scout around a bit," he suggested.  "If the man I saw is truly following us since before Culdi, he should recognize me.  It may draw him out."

"Or cause him to run," Washburn countered.

"And that would be a bad thing?" Darcy asked with a slight smile.

Sir Washburn gave him a sharp look but nodded.  Darcy moved casually out onto the road, surreptitiously looking around.  The man could have passed them, but if in doubt of their continued travel, he was more likely to be close by.  He would have travelled a bit farther ahead, hoping to sight them if they stopped and then travelled on.

There was a thicket not too far ahead; Darcy strolled forward and casually noted the broken thorns.  Someone had gone through, moving off the road.  Darcy decided to circle around behind, hoping to avoid detection and painful scratches.  He turned to make sure Sir Washburn was watching his progress.

Beyond the ticket a horse was grazing, the bridle tied to a low shrub.  A man crouched low, picking through the contents of his saddle bag.  Darcy recognized him instantly.

He strode boldly forward, hand on the hilt of his sword.  "I suppose you have been looking for me?" 

The man drew his dagger, rose up to his feet and faced the intruder warily.

Darcy's sword was already drawn. "It seems introductions are required," he said.

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron pursed his lips and emitted a piercing whistle, his signal to Sir Washburn that their quarry had been found.  It also suggested to the man standing before him that Darcy was not alone.

The man standing before him was remarkable in his unremarkableness.  No distinguishable feature caught Darcy's eye.  Medium height, plain brown hair under a cap, a face that was neither handsome or ugly.  Average horse.  A man who could easily lose himself in a crowd.

"Why are you following me?"  Darcy asked.

"What makes you think I am following you?" the man replied.

"What should make me think you are not?"  Darcy countered.  This could go on for too long.  "Explain yourself."

"Should I?" The man looked at Darcy carefully, noticed how steady and sure the sword was in his hand. "Very well, I travel to Rhemuth to beg work from my uncle."

"You keep well to the sides of the road and the bush.  Why?"

"There are those I would avoid."

Perhaps a man running from his master, trying to make it to Rhemuth to spend his year and a day?  A man who might not want to reveal his name.  Was he telling the truth?

((dice role, 1 dice, results 1. Verification 72qx8jbhjt))

Darcy could not tell.  It could be plausible, or it could be not.

Darcy heard movement behind him.  He did not trust the man before him enough to turn his head to see who approached. He hoped it was Sir Washburn.

[Laurna]

The Lendour knight could appreciate the seaman's tracking skill. Something instinctual about the way his companion saw the lightly pushed back and broken twigs of the thicket. Wash was as much curious about the way his friend took charge, as he was anxious that Darcy had gotten out of his sight, when the seaman stealthily went around the backside of the thicket. That would not do!

Quick steps brought Wash across the road to the thicket. As he went, an arrow was knocked to the bowstring, readying the weapon in the event it was needed.  Level with the thicket, he could just make out a horse and figures beyond it. This would not do! Indeed!

At Darcy's whistle, he sensed caution, but it was not a sound of emergency, not yet. So Wash traveled as Darcy had, around the thicket and a tree. He heard the men talking...

"I travel to Rhemuth to beg work from my uncle."

((2d6  roll 1 & 1,  spectacular failure, Verification Number: 4rwv7180bq))

"You keep well to the sides of the road and the bush.  Why?"

"There are those I would avoid."

As the men kept talking, Washburn shook his head. Not only could he not tell if truthful words were being said, but he felt a sense of being blocked. Of the two men before him, only the stranger would have such an ability and a need. Who was he and what was he about?

Washburn stepped into view, near the back of his companion. His bow was held in play, his arrow taught in the string, yet not pulled back. Not just yet.

"Why don't you tell my friend and I, just who you are avoiding. And then answer me- honestly- what you know of the heir of Mariot, and a man named Oswald?"

Just on the off chance his arrow was not threatening enough. Washburn let, a for just a second, a flash of scarlet aura encircle his head. Darcy with his back turned did not see. But the fellow with the dagger took note of it.

[revanne]

Columcil spoke the words of absolution over the young woman's bowed head, and mentally chided himself for even thinking of her as such. He had been wearing his stole when the disguise was revealed to him and such knowledge was therefore under the seal of the confessional and  must be hidden even from his own conscious mind. Besides his own need of concealment, if somewhat less hedged with mortal peril, was enough to make him inclined to be protective of another's, even without his priestly vows. To have called Aliset "My daughter" once was an acceptable way of acknowledging what had been revealed, twice would be foolish.

"Your sin has been set aside, my child, go in peace. And pray for me who am also a sinner."

The face of a young man looked up at him gratefully, although the corners of his mouth quirked in recognition of the Priest's careful way out of his dilemma.

"We'd best get what rest we can while we wait for the others" Columcil continued and matching actions to words he rolled himself in his cloak and settled down with his head on his pack. Sleep though was impossible; as time went on he became increasingly anxious for their two missing companions, but separating further would be foolhardy, even if he felt brave enough to disobey M'Lord out there. He wouldna want to face that one's wrath. He considered extending his Sight beyond the walls of the church - Aye, he knew that what he possessed were Deryni powers but the old language of the Borders still came more naturally to him - but thought better of it.

(( 1 dice roll. Result 2+4 verification code 5b2gjssr0t)).

Who was to say that the one tracking them didna have powers of his own. He'd best be about his prayers and hope that the Lord had forgiven his ill-tempered show of piety earlier in the day.