Chapter 329 - 239: Cecilia (2)

"Hall, I believe you have more pressing matters to attend to. I think I’ve made myself clear. You should be washing your smelly socks. Then go look after your mother. I have my own work to do." Cecilia, eager to end the conversation, stepped onto her small boat.

His attempt to grab at her clothes, combined with his incessant chatter, finally annoyed Cecilia. The oar came down directly on his head. Hall yelped in pain, lost his footing, and tumbled into the river.

Seeing Hall struggle out of the river, sneeze a few times, and then scurry home in disgrace under his mother’s furious roars, she let out a shameless laugh.

She then put the unpleasant incident behind her and officially began her work.

For Cecilia, the weather today was acceptable enough.

She clasped her hands together and began reciting a prayer that was uniquely hers.

"Oh Lord, loving Father in Heaven,

Please hear Your daughter’s plea in the cold of Winter.

Before I set foot upon this frozen river,

May Your holy hand guide me and grant me safe passage.

Jesus Christ, Holy Son and Savior,

You who once walked upon the water,

Please grant me wisdom and Courage,

That I may skillfully break the ice and clear a path,

To escort all who must cross to the other shore in safety.

Virgin Mary, please intercede for me,

May your merciful heart be with me."

Eric had written it just for her. It was originally in Latin, but at her protest, he had changed it to English.

She loved this prayer.

However, she would never recite it in his presence, lest he get too smug about it.

Once finished, she swung her oar, shattering the ice on the river’s surface.

The ice wasn’t too thick. When the oar couldn’t break through, she would use an iron hammer.

She would stop periodically to breathe warm air onto her hands, trying to keep them warm. She had even coated them in beeswax for this purpose.

It took Cecilia about an hour to clear a channel in the ice from one side of the river to the other, wide enough for her ferry to pass through.

By this time, the sun had fully emerged from behind the clouds. The warm sunlight fell on her, dispelling some of the chill. Though the warmth was uneven and wouldn’t last, for Cecilia, it was comfort enough.

Cecilia decided to rest in her boat for a while.

Before long, however, she spotted someone on the riverbank. The person was leading a horse and waving at her—clearly a passenger.

As she paddled the boat toward the bank, she was startled to see who it was: Eric.

She quickly concealed her surprise, however, trying her best to act as she normally would.

"Where’d you steal this getup?" Cecilia asked, stroking the fox fur that lined his Cloak. It was plush and warm.

Eric was not dressed like a Cultivator at all. He wore a bright blue Cloak lined with luxurious gray fox fur. His boots were made of cowhide, dyed to match the Cloak, with laces that went all the way up to his knees.

His hat was adorned with a dark red gemstone, its brim intricately embroidered with silver thread. A feather with shifting colors was tucked into the right side.

He also had a tall, majestic horse. Its mane and tail were impeccably groomed. The horse wore a Leather harness with silver fittings across its brow, from which dangled small, delicate silver bells that chimed with every step.

"What do you think?" Eric said with a grin.

Eric took the hat from his own head and placed it on Cecilia’s.

The hat was so large that it tipped forward, covering her eyes.

"Feels like you can afford my fare now. Though I can’t fit that horse of yours. If you insist, I can only hope you don’t mind if it falls in the water. Where’s JOJO?

You didn’t leave him behind when you took off, did you? I hope he hasn’t been turned into a bowl of steaming donkey soup, though I’d like him better that way." Cecilia gave Eric’s shoulder a few playful punches, then glanced around, searching for JOJO.

"Right here. JOJO!" Eric snapped his fingers. A small donkey darted out from the bushes, came up to Cecilia, and lowered its head. The white Cross marking was still visible on its forehead.

Cecilia stroked its head.

"He’s been treated far too well lately. Just look at that belly." Eric nudged the donkey’s stomach with his riding crop. The donkey snorted, clearly displeased with Eric’s behavior.

"Don’t tell me you’ve become an Abbot already. Quick, tell me, which Monastery is so unlucky?" Cecilia laughed, nudging Eric in the chest with her elbow.

"I’ll tell you in a minute. But first, you have to let me on the boat," Eric said with a smile, pinching Cecilia’s cheek.

"Three pence. Your Grace, the Abbot." Cecilia stepped onto the small boat. As Eric followed, she held out her hand and wiggled her fingers.

"In my capacity as an Abbot, I shall apply your ferry fee toward the salvation of your soul. The customary donation for salvation is five shillings. But, since we’re acquaintances, I’ll give you a twenty percent discount. Therefore, you owe me three shillings and nine pence." Eric held out his hand to Cecilia, wiggling his fingers just as she had.

"How do you make robbery sound so righteous?" Cecilia gave Eric an exasperated punch on the chest. Then, she expertly pushed off the bank with her oar, and the boat began to drift toward the center of the river. "Please, I’m begging you, don’t worry about my soul."

As the boat neared the middle of the river, Eric pulled Cecilia into an embrace, drawing her down to lie with him in the boat.

Her robe was made of simple homespun cloth, freshly dyed a Forest green. She smelled of the distinct woody smoke of a fireplace, a scent that brought an almost immediate feeling of warmth in the Winter, but her fingers were still icy from swinging the hammer to break the ice.

Eric tried to warm her, wrapping his Cloak around her.

Eric remembered the first time he’d seen her. It had also been in Winter. She had been kneeling in her boat, dealing with ice much thicker than today’s. She was barefoot, her hair a mess, softly singing a song even as the cold turned her fingers red.

Cecilia’s hair tickled Eric’s chin. ’She couldn’t figure out why he kept a beard. She remembered that Clergy were supposed to be clean-shaven. She didn’t know why she was even thinking about it; her own father didn’t shave either.’

As always, she chattered on about trivial things: the price of lambs at the Xialing Market, the old fox on Lip Mountain that stole an entire flock of geese overnight, and some drunkard who claimed to have seen an Angel on his roof.

All the while, she was hoping Eric would tell her an interesting story.

"A few days ago, one of my father’s cousins came by. He came to ’borrow’ money from my father, but really he was trying to collect wages he was owed. My cousin is a carpenter, and my father had him build a cabinet a while back but never paid him. In fact, my father always does that.

He either pays half or nothing at all. My cousin’s a good-natured man and sees my father as his cousin, but my father always pushes it, taking every opportunity to make him do work.

This time, the strong winds from the day before yesterday blew his house down, so he had no choice but to come to my father for the money. But my father has no money; any coin he gets his hands on is spent on ale. So, guess what my cousin ended up saying about my father?"

"That he’s a cheapskate? A stingy old rat so cold that even the flames of Hell would freeze over?"

"That’s what Aunt Mary calls him. It’s too direct, no creativity. My cousin said this." Cecilia cleared her throat twice as if preparing for a speech, then adopted what she imagined was her cousin’s voice. "He said, ’When you have the Psalms, you’ll want a book of daily prayer. And when you have a book of daily prayer, you’ll sit in your chair like a lord and order your brother about, saying: ’Brother, bring me my book of daily prayer.’’"

The two of them laughed at the joke.

His fingers traced the curve of her cheek, and he could feel it flush with heat.

In the past, their kisses had always been stolen and furtive; this one was possessive. She didn’t protest as he began to undo her neat braid. She just shook her head playfully, once again becoming the river girl from his memories.