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Kubyenka sat by the fire on the opposite end of the room. He had everyone present captured by some bawdy story about Adder bedding a wealthy German dowager. Hans, having polished off Treadlight’s pitiful supply of red wine, sat slumped against the wall, half-leaning against Henry beside him. His eyes were fixed on Kubyenka as he swayed in his seat and pantomimed some lewd act with his tongue and fingers. The shouted words and the cries of laughter drifted past without impression.
Henry, noticing that Hans was being quiet, gently pressed his toe onto Hans’ shoe. He expected some playful gesture in return, but was disappointed. Only when he finally gave up and pulled his leg back did Hans speak.
“Does it bother you? That we’re… sinning?”
“Hm?” Henry turned his head, blinking. “What do you mean?”
“You know. Us—” He held up his hands in front of them and crossed his index fingers.
“Oh, that.” He sipped his ale and pondered the question, tuning out the sacrilegious turn in Kubyenka’s tale that had the place in an uproar. “I’m not bothered, no. Why? Does it bother you?”
“I mean… maybe. A little.” Hans scowled and crossed his arms. “You’re telling me you haven’t even thought about it?”
“Not really. You, though? Doesn’t seem like you, to let that kind of worry stop you from enjoying yourself.”
“I haven’t let it stop me, in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s just… it’s not the sort of thing you can bring to a confessional, is it? Especially when you intend to keep doing it.”
“You could try telling Godwin.” Henry gestured over to where the priest lay slumped over his table. “But odds are he won’t remember, unless you get to him first thing in the morning.”
A cheap joke made at someone else’s expense was usually a reliable way to lighten his lord’s mood, but the man made no sound in response.
“Hans? Are you alright?” Henry peered at him and was unsettled to see him furrowing his brow and chewing his lip. “Oh, come on, Hans, it’s not that big of a deal, is it? How’s it any different from boozing and wenching all the time?”
Hans exhaled slowly, digging his fingers into his sides. “It’s different because it’s not… normal. Every man with silver to spare spends it on ale and women. Hells, even Hanush indulges in some debauchery from time to time.”
“Isn’t that a little hypocritical? Considering how he’s always on your back about it?”
“He doesn’t care what I do, so long as it doesn’t embarrass him. That’s all any noble cares about.”
“So he’s not worried about falling out of God’s grace?”
“Why would he be? St. Nicholas’ wouldn’t be standing without his—my—groschen.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
Hans smirked and shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you spent your life picking turnips up until a few months ago.”
“Perhaps my learned lord would care to enlighten his humble subject?”
“Why not?” Hans drawled. “You see, when a man sins, he accrues a debt to the Almighty, which he must pay back in the next life. That is, unless he atones and pays penance. You’re surely familiar with some forms of penance, like giving alms or making pilgrimage, but nobles prefer doing good works. That is, donating generously so that the church may go on spreading the gospel and pissing holy water on the masses.”
Henry mulled over this information in silence. The barmaid came by to refill his tankard. He thanked her, then downed half in one long swig before setting it carefully on the table.
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
Hans blinked. “Stupid? It’s the way of things.”
“Aye? Since when? I never heard of Jesus trading favors for coin.”
“Since when? Since… well, since always, I’m pretty sure. Don’t make me remember my ecclesiastics, Henry, I’ve suffered enough recently.”
“Ekleezie-whats?”
“Never mind. How about you tell me, then, what you think is the appropriate penance for our… transgression?”
“None.”
“You don’t think sin should be atoned for?”
“No, I just don’t think it’s a sin.”
Hans rolled his neck along with his eyes. “Henry, I don’t know what kind of unlettered itinerant made stops in Skalitz to give mass every other Easter, but the church teaches—”
“I know what the church teaches. The church isn’t right about everything, though, is it? Did you know they’ve got some whole other Pope in France now?”
“Huh..?”
“It’s true, Godwin told me! And what about that time in Sassau, when the inquisitor came to have Johanka whipped and hauled off, just for telling folks she saw the Virgin in her dreams?” Henry’s ale sloshed in his tankard as his speech became more impassioned. “Or that awful vicar in Uzhitz who wanted to have those farmers branded as heretics just for praying weird?”
“Hal, that’s not—”
“Priests and monks think everything is a sin. But you should see how they behave when they think no one’s looking. I’ve seen bathhouses less sinful than the cloister. And they have the nerve to call whores sinners!” Henry drained the last from his tankard and set it down hard enough to make Hans snicker.
“Don’t tell me, whoring’s not a sin either?”
“Well… no. Sometimes. It depends.”
“If it’s not a sin, then why does the church have such a problem with it?”
“It’s because… Look, it’s not that simple, is it? Bathwenches, courtesans and the like, they’re just trying to get by. And there are men out there who take advantage of them just because they can. Like that arsehole at the Wagoner’s Inn. Or that piece of shit from Ledetchko. Or that animal who was holed up just south of here. Adela, Anna, and Smolka are all kind, decent girls. They didn’t do anything to entice that savagery. That’s what the church ought to be worried about.”
Hans heaved a sarcastic sigh. “Do you find damsels to rescue at every bath you visit?”
Henry scratched his chin. “At about half of them, aye.”
“Christ alive. Seriously? What about Rattay? Zdena, and, er…”
“Klara?”
“Aye, her. Did you ever go brawling to defend their honor, then?”
“I have other damsels to worry about in Rattay.”
“If you’re referring to the incident with Arse-n-Balls,” Hans began, puffing up his chest, “I could have handled the situation without you.”
“You remember ‘Arse-n-Balls’ but not ‘Klara’? Didn’t you say you were in love with her?”
“Insolence, Henry!” Hans jostled him with his shoulder, slipping lower into the space between Henry and the wall. “Not all of us have your rapport with the commonfolk.”
“If that’s not the truth,” Henry replied with a much gentler nudge. He waved the barmaid over to refill his tankard and waited until she was out of earshot before speaking again.
“But look, my point is, priests and such… they like to tar everyone with the same brush. Not all those girls are actual sinners. You know, the kind who tempt virtuous men. And not every man who visits them is a bully or a brute. It's not like you ever mistreated Klara, did you?"
"Me? Of course not!"
"Well, there you go. You're not a sinner. You're kind, honest, and just. God's truth, I wish every noble was more like you."
Henry raised his tankard into the air before drinking deep. Hans’ grin slowly shrank into a frown as he digested Henry’s words.
Across the room, the scene changed. Kubyenka was now lying unresponsive on the floor, and the Den’s patrons were stirring in a way that suggested last call. Hans stared blankly as the movement picked up around them.
“...That’s not what the scripture says, though.”
“Hm?”
“Leviticus, I think. The one with all the rules. Adultery, and—the rest. It’s not just priests making it all up.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Henry said, scratching his head. “I haven’t read it.”
Hans groaned. “You’ve been literate for how long now, Hal? All those weeks you spent shut up inside the monastery and you didn’t think to take a peek at God’s holy word?”
Henry shrugged. “I had a lot of other things on my mind. Does it really matter?”
“‘Does it matter?’ Are you joking?”
“I mean, I know all about Jesus and everything. Pa never read the scripture either, I’m pretty sure. Ma definitely didn’t, and she was the truest Christian I ever knew.”
“That’s well and good, Hal, but I doubt she’d have condoned our particular fall from grace.”
Henry fell quiet for a moment before answering. “I don’t know. She always said she never wanted anything more than for me to be happy. I think she’d understand.”
“I… oh.” Hans looked down at his lap and felt his face glow hot.
Henry threw back his head to finish off his ale, burping loudly for good measure. When he spoke, it was with the fine, drunken fervor that once scandalized the Uzhitz parish.
“Of course, I may not be a man of learning, not like those prelates and bishops who think they can sell absolution to the commonfolk. But I know Jesus well enough, and he just wanted people to love one another. He feasted with prostitutes and rabble-rousers and even made them more wine when they ran out. D’you really think he gives a toss when two men have a nice, friendly go at each other?”
“Henry! Be quiet—”
“We’re not perverts, like that madman Eric and that bastard Toth. We don’t use each other to justify hurting people. God knows our hearts, that’s what ma always said. He knows how I feel about you, and He knows it can only be good.”
Hans’ pulse spiked, his head swimming. He glanced nervously across the room, but fortunately, no one was listening. Did Henry really just say—
“Besides, how do we know what God really told all those folks way back in Judea? And why did they write it all down in Latin? Latin is fucking impossible. Még a magyar is könnyebb!”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me!”
Hans laughed until it broke into a wracking cough. He slid down Henry’s side until his back was flush with the bench and his head rested on Henry’s thigh. Henry smiled down, holding still to let him catch his breath.
“Oi! Lovebirds!” A gravelly shout made them both jump. The Dry Devil leered at them from behind Godwin, whom he was attempting to hoist out of his seat. “Take your hands off each other’s cocks for half a second and come help lug these bastards to bed!”
Henry immediately began stirring, but Hans threw up his arm to stop him.
“Fuck off, Hynek! We’ll get up when we damn well please!”
“Just a few minutes?” Henry addressed the Devil sheepishly, who merely growled in reply.
Hans huffed, then let his head sink back onto Henry’s lap. The barmaid came by to wipe their table. Once she was gone, Henry began to brush his thumb idly through the man’s hair and listened to his breathing slowly even out.
“Feeling better?” Henry asked after a minute.
“You know what, Hal?” Hans answered, his eyes fluttering shut. “I think you’ve convinced me.”