III "Sit down Miss Delia.  Here, the chair right here by me so we can talk easily.  That’s right."  Lady Mary kindly smiled at Delia, and Delia smiled back, still too nervous to speak in anything but short phrases.  Lady Mary of Kent was middle aged, but so aristocratic and attractive that she nearly defied aging.  Her attire was grand and yet not superfluous; she seemed comfortable in her dress, comfortable in her apartment, comfortable conversing with this girl she knew nothing of, other than she was the wife of Roger’s new clerk.  "You are not too tired I hope.  Such a journey, as well I know, is not easily made and recovered from," she said this and folded her hands in her lap having used them to gesture as she spoke in a graceful manner.  Delia realized that a response was wanted: "I am not too over-fatigued, milady, thank you.  I rested well."  "Well, I was very eager to meet you, I must confess.  Having met your fair husband I could only imagine you would be a very agreeable girl.  I have so far not been disappointed."  Delia blushed and looked down into her lap.  "Now tell me, while I am not responsible for your apartments, I would like to know as to whether you find them suitable.  Sir Roger has spoken of perhaps finding you a house outside of the royal apartments, if that would be more agreeable to you and your husband."  "If I may speak for my husband, which I think I might confidently do on this point…we find the rooms…I can’t even tell you how beautiful."  Delia’s eyes were earnestly turned up at Lady Mary, who smiled happily.  "There is nothing missing then?  I have some leverage with the queen.  I could see to it that something be added, if so."  "I don’t see as anything could be thought missing.  We are very well cared for."  "Very good then." Lady Mary then turned her attention to Hilde, who was sitting in the corner not so far away working on some bit of sewing.  She gestured minutely with her delicate hand, and immediately Hilde looked up.  Hilde’s brows arched questioningly.  "Come and sit with us Hilde.  Delia has met you, therefore we are all friends."  Hilde obligingly drew up her chair and nodded once again at Delia as she had upon her entrance.  "Hilde has been my maid since I was but a very silly girl, so there is no reason to hold pretensions."  Hilde granted Lady Mary a small laugh and shook her head.  "I think good Hilde has dutifully forgotten what I was like when I was young, and therefore objects to my classifying myself as a bit of a flit.  You must excuse her for being so good as to do so.  Otherwise we are all completely honest here." Lady Mary then leaned over lightly touching Delia’s hand, "now Delia, if I may so call you.  Tell us something of yourself so that we may feel as if we have been long good friends.  I am, truthfully a good deal older than you are, but I see no borders being crossed in such a friendship.  I can see that you are a good gentle girl."  "Thank you, milady, but I am at a loss as to what to share with you.  My husband and I have been married over a year now…"  "So young!" Lady Mary interrupted quietly turning to Hilde.  "How old are you, dearest?"  "I am but sixteen."  "Indeed, and married more than a year.  I did not think that you had been married so long.  Yet, you have a very devoted husband, and one very young as well."  "He is older than you are, miss.  Is he not?" Hilde added.  "Yes, by two years, and he is very good to me.  I am a fortunate girl."  "Are you from the town of ______?"  "No, milady, we are not.  We are from a small village."  Delia began to blush, still fearing questioning about Mark’s earlier life.  "Yes, your husband did tell me that your father was in the millenary business, as you and he were when I came upon your beautiful work."  "Yes, but he was a merchant…I learned the trade from his artisans."  "You are very gifted."  "It is not so difficult." Lady Mary stood up.  "Will you take a turn with me?  We can look about and you can see some things along the way."  She put out her arm, but before Delia took it, she looked down at her own dress.  "Am I attired correctly?  What I mean to say is, shall it be necessary for me to smarten up for where we are going?"  The clothes were not yet ready for Mark and Delia.  "No indeed, you look very nice as you are.  Was the tailor very helpful though?  I had my own sent."  "Oh, indeed milady.  Thank you."  Lady Mary rested her arm on Delia’s and Hilde walked behind them as they exited the apartment "We are only a staircase away from a lovely outdoor path.  Yes, here we are.  Can you remember where this is?  I want you to feel very much at home here.  Nothing but the royal apartments themselves are strictly off limits.  Otherwise you must wander around and enjoy yourself.  Your husband should do the same, but I’m sure Sir Roger has made that abundantly clear to him."  "Sir Roger has been very good to my husband, milady."  "Excellent, I’m glad to hear it.  Sir Roger is a good man.  We have known each other since we were children together on his family’s estate."  They stepped out into sunshine, and Lady Mary slowly brought her free hand to shade her eyes.  "The gardens here are very pretty.  We’ll walk among them."  Delia had never seen a garden cultivated for mere enjoyment.  She was drawn to the trees and flowers, and Lady Mary took delight in them through her expressions. "Ah, here is my wife and yours, Mark," Sir Roger said, hands on hips in front of one of the open windows.  Mark glanced up at him from his desk, where he was sorting papers and generally organizing things which had fallen into disorder since to dismissal of the former cleric who filled the job.  "Well, come on then," Sir Roger said waving his hand to beckon Mark over to join him at the window.  Mark rested his hands on the windowsill glancing down below into the courtyard where Lady Mary, Delia, and Hilde were slowly taking a turn.  "There you see my wife from a distance, but then you have met her already."  "Yes, sir."  "You needn’t worry about your wife with Lady Mary to watch over her, and I’m sure she will be very good to the girl as well.  Lady Mary, my wife, is a very smart woman and gentlewoman-like as well."  "I am very sure of that, sir."  "They make a nice picture to look at as well, don’t they?" Sir Roger said turning to Mark as an equal would with an equally beautiful wife.  Mark nodded warmly, "yes, sir.  That they do.  I hope very much that Delia will find much happiness here.  She hasn’t as of yet in the places we have lived."  Sir Roger walked back away from the window; "we’ll do our best to see that this is the exception then."  "Thank you, sir.  I would greatly appreciate that." *** "Sir Roger and I saw you and Lady Mary this afternoon walking about the courtyard."  "Did you?"  Delia and Mark sat at their own small table where food had been set out in their room.  They were not expected to join meals in larger groups until their clothes were fitted up.  "Yes, Sir Roger said many good things of his wife.  Did you like her then?"  "I did, very much."  "I thought you would."  "She is very elegant, and yet I did not feel threatened by her, or lessened."  "Well, you shouldn’t, so I’m glad of that."  Mark smiled as he put a bite of lamb into his mouth.  "Excellent food here too," he said with a full mouth.  "I think you’re still growing," Delia said laughing.  "Do you mean horizontally!"  "Indeed, I do not!  You misrepresent me, sir," Delia said laughing even harder and covering her mouth with her handkerchief.  Mark gave her a playful evil eye until the laughter ceased, and then she said very quietly, "you know there is nothing at all the matter with you, dearest," and she leaned across the table to grasp his hand.  "You are too sweet.  But we have wandered from the topic.  You were saying about Lady Mary."  "Yes, well…she said I was to eventually come into company with the other nobles and even the queen while accompanying her.  I think I’m a little frightened of that."  "Ah, that is a bit daunting.  I know you are capable though, sweetness.  You do very well in difficult situations, and then very soon it will all seem very common place for you."  "I should think not!  But I began to think that Lady Mary meant for me to be her companion, but she made it very clear that I would not be."  "What do you mean by that, Delia?"  "I would not be a maid or lady in waiting as the case might be.  Instead I would be among company on my own merit as your wife."  Delia colored upon pronouncing herself as Mark’s wife.  "Do you still blush at the notice of being my wife?" he said leaning across to pinch her pink cheek.  "No one can surpass you in innocence and beauty my dear."  "Mark…" Delia pleaded twisting her handkerchief in her lap.  "All right…you are also very bright and talented and…"  "Enough!" Delia said coming to plant a kiss on his lips and end his teasing. IV Delia and Mark sat next to each other in the large stone cathedral.  They had now been in settled in the town for two months.  Delia and Mark had been in the company of the king and queen, although not introduced, since that would have been inappropriate.  But they were known at court.  Delia knew many of the women and likewise Mark knew many of the men, and he was respected for his intelligence and helpful council.  The room was somewhat warm being late in the summer, and Delia was trying her best not to fan herself, knowing it wouldn’t be very graceful, but her new gowns were heavier than anything a simple girl would wear and she felt as if she was melting. Mark still didn’t feel at ease during mass.  For one, he didn’t feel as if he was safe within the house of God.  And then he didn’t feel like it was worth much.  If there was a God, he had seemingly forsaken Mark much earlier.  Yes, their lives had taken a much better turn of late, but he didn’t trust the generosity of the Lord.  Still he knew it would be looked upon, as beyond strange if he and Delia did not attend.  He felt as if Sir Roger felt much the same way, as he had a very negative view of clerics, but he was there as well, sitting some three rows ahead of Delia and Mark. The priest was rather old and had been given his position by the king’s father.  He stood up at the altar preaching, but it was obvious no one took much to heart what the old man said.  He didn’t seem to take what he was saying seriously either, but every once and awhile he gave what he thought was an ‘inspiring’ lesson for his herd and perhaps even life altering, if anyone was listening.  In order to draw his herd’s attention during these grand speeches, he would punctuate his most striking statements in a loud voice that verged on a yell.  He might have been old, but this gave his voice only more of an eerie power to it.  Still, most people did not seem to be much effected by his ranting.  This was one of those occasions, and Mark had never thought such preaching within the power of this small man: small in stature and seemingly small in true intellect or calling. Mark sat more upright in the wooden pew, and quickly glanced at Delia as he pronounced loudly: "lasciviousness is among us!"  Delia didn’t look back at him, but bit her lip, seemingly paying close attention to the priest’s screeching voice.  "It is among the court, it is among the town, it is among our peasants, and it is among the country of England at large.  Lust, carnality, illicit coupling of the unmarried, adultery, all of these things are a blister upon Our Lord’s Christian flock known as England!"  Mark looked back down at Delia and saw that she had grown sickly pale and was slightly shaking.  He touched her hand lightly, drawing her gaze.  "Are you all right?" he whispered in her ear.  She did not answer, only breathing heavily.  Mark stood up, pulling her with him, but the priest continued unheeded.  The people sitting nearest them looked up, and seeing Delia looking so ill, began to question Mark: "Is she all right?"  "Can we assist you?"  "The heat is a bit much."  As he led her out of the pew, Mark quietly answered all by pleading that heat was the cause of her distress.  They walked along the outside aisle, Mark supporting her as best as he could by holding her arm tightly.  As they came from out of the large wooden doors stuck open during the service, they saw the growing darkness outside from within the large entranceway, and Mark grabbed both Delia’s arms to better support her. "Are you all right Delia?  No, I know you are not!  What is wrong, dearest?" he wiped her clammy brow with his sleeve.  "I…I’m not sure.  I was a bit hot, and then I was just overwhelmed.  I shall be all right in a moment."  "Here, sit down over here on this bench," he said leading her towards a stone bench.  Memories came flooding back to Delia, and she nearly fainted in Mark’s arms, Mark was barely able to catch her and steady her on her feet.  He picked her up and carried her over to the bench where he sat her down.  He wiped her brow again and looked nervously at her.  "Shall I leave you for a moment to get some help or at least some water."  "No, please don’t.  I’ll be all right.  It is not a brain fever, as I see you fear.  I’m all right, love."  Mark said nothing, and sitting down next to her, he took her hand, lightly pressing it with a worried look. Delia leaned her head back against the stone wall, cool as it was, and closing her eyes began to speak softly, "Do you remember when we first met?"  "Of course."  "Do you remember those moments in the wood…before…before we professed ourselves to each other."  "Indeed I do."  "Has anything been right since then?"  Mark leaned over to brush her lips with his own.  "Delia, you are being too harsh.  There have been trials, but we are very much in love.  There is much good in that.  Things are for the better now."  "I did not like that man’s words."  "I didn’t think you did, dearest.  He is just a man though.  Put no thought to what he says.  No one else does."  "But is that right?" Delia asked sitting upright and looking into Mark’s eyes questioningly.  "Mark, I trust you in everything, so if you say that we needn’t put faith in the words of holy men, then I won’t."  "Who is to say this man is holy, Delia?"  "Perhaps he is not.  You would know better than I would.  And yet, our relationship is based in many evils.  You left the monastery to be with me.  We were not married in the sacred ceremony.  I have been with another man since our marriage.  Our child was not properly baptized before it died.  We have lied all along to everyone."  Delia seemed to grow feverish again as she spoke, and finally Mark put his hand over her mouth.  "I must beg you to stop, Delia.  You are speaking as you should not, and as you should regret in time." He pulled his hand away from her mouth, and Delia looked down into her lap, seemingly already ashamed, since her husband had suggested it might be so.  "Tell me how I have been wrong, Mark.  Ease my mind.  You are my teacher in everything."  He waited a moment before he began softly, in a soothing tone.  "I am not the authority in all things religious.  At least not the way things are presented to us in such a form as we have just heard.  Perhaps in the eyes of such people, we are wrong, and our whole time together has been damning.  But my personal thoughts are very different.  Yours may be anything you choose them to be of course."  He paused taking her hands.  "Delia, when you and I were first together, both of us were complete innocents, and as such we fell in love.  There was nothing wrong with that.  You said so yourself at the time, believing it very much to be true.  It was your strength that convinced me I could no longer live a lie within the walls of the monastery.  My place in life was with you, where I could make a real difference.  I have not always treated you as I should, but this is the only fault in our relationship."  Delia tried to interrupt here, but Mark silenced her with some quick nods of his head.  "As to the sacredness of our marriage.  There are very few who perform the marriage ceremony as more than a verbal oath.  It is even recognized by the Church, such as it is.  But my opinion, which is not determined by such men as stands within these walls, is this: by giving my solemn vow to you, and you giving me yours, that alone binds us together.  Our love is more sacred than anything, besides our oaths, and I considered myself bound to you as soon as I stated my love for you."  "Oh, I love you too, Mark.  Don’t think I don’t know that is sacred," Delia said squeezing his hands and resting her head against his chest. He held her head with one of his hands and sighed, "no, I have no doubt of that, Delia.  I don’t even want to discuss what happened to us during that time when we were earlier among nobility.  It has been discussed too much by now for you not to know how I feel about that."  Delia nodded, still held against Mark’s chest.  Tears began to drop as she felt her heart aching for having doubted their righteousness for even a moment.  "The baptizing of Elena I performed as well.  If it is necessary to save the innocent life of a child, which such men as these profess, then I believe that my doing it should have been enough…as unholy as I am.  We have lied though; this is true.  For the simple reason that there are men such as these who believe blindly that everything we have done is wrong, without the consideration of situation or intention.  I have no respect for those people.  I will personally fight anyone who wishes to bring shame upon you or us, Delia, and therefore it is better, in my opinion, to simply keep such things that might bring derision, to ourselves." Delia sat back up, wiping at her face smoothing her hair back in place.  She sighed, and Mark leaned in to kiss her lightly once more.  "Shall we go back in?"  "We can simply walk back to the palace if you prefer, dearest.  I fear I’ve upset you even more."  "No, you have settled me.  What you have said is what I knew to be true, and I only needed to hear you say it, I suppose.  Forgive me, Mark."  "No, forgive me if I have been harsh."  "Indeed, you have not been.  You are very good to me, and I feel at ease now.  Your mind and mine are as one.  It shall look better if we return to the mass," she said standing up, and putting out her hand for Mark to take.  "You are sure then?"  "I am sure." So they reentered the chapel, coming to sit in the back, so as not to disturb the rest of the mass.  As they walked out, Lady Mary and Sir Roger came to walk next to Delia and Mark.  "Are you all right, Delia?"  "Yes, thank you, Lady Mary.  I was overcome by the heat for a time, but I recovered with some air."  "Very good," Sir Roger said, heartily patting Mark on the back.  "It’s too hard on the ladies to stay upright so long in the heat.  Mass should not be so long," he added seriously.  "I would agree that some changes need to be made," Mark offered vaguely, and Lady Mary attended him by tilting her head. V "Your wife looks very handsome among the other ladies, Mark," said one of the other knights he had come to know during their three months at the palace.  Mark, having learned that while it was all very good for people to give out such generous compliments, it was better for his wife if he simply accepted them and complimented the other ladies in turn.  "I believe Lady Cecilia is your cousin?"  Sir Richard nodded assent.  "She is a very charming addition to the court.  I’m sure she was well received by the queen."  "Indeed, they are not so far apart in age," Sir Richard added.  "No, I suppose they are not.  The queen looks very well as usual."  "As always," Sir Richard nodded, "but if it is not unfair to say so…I would venture to say that these newer faces to the court, such as Lady Cecilia and your wife, are of more interest in the long run."  Having said this, Sir Richard lifted his eyebrows, and Mark glanced in the queen’s direction, who was flagrantly drawing the attention of the young knight, Sir Gerard, who was from the Continent.  Some of the other ladies and a few of the women at court who were not of the nobility were dancing with each other to the sound of a lyre.  As they would pass each other they would dip down and press the palms of their hands together at chest level. It was a festival, and everyone was given a day of rest and enjoyment. Queen Eleanor was only twenty years of age, while King William was a contemporary of Sir Roger’s.  While it would not seem an insurmountable age difference, Queen Eleanor seemed to believe that it was, and surrounded herself with the youngest at court.  She was not wise, but she was not cruel either, only more immature than suited the queen of England.  Sir Roger considered her a bad mark upon King William, "throwing herself at any male under the age of five and twenty while in King William’s presence no less," he had bemoaned.  Mark had raised his eyebrows at this comment and quietly added, "perhaps better in his presence than out of it, wouldn’t you say, Sir Roger?"  Who the king chose as a queen was his business, and how he controlled her was also his business. Delia came to sit at one of the long tables set up in the great hall, grasping a goblet in her hand, thirsty from the lighthearted games she had been engaging in with the other ladies.  Mark came to stand by her chair and leaned down to talk with her.  "Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?"  "Yes, Mark, I am.  Shall you dance with me later?"  "I would look foolish doing so, sweetness, or I would.  I prefer to watch you grace the floor from a safe distance."  Delia laughed and sipped her wine again before adding, "there will be other games I’m told, in which you might partake."  "What would that be, my love?"  Before she could answer, Sir Roger came quickly up, "excuse me, Mistress Delia, but I need to have a word with your husband."  "Oh, certainly, Sir Roger," Delia said setting her goblet down, a little disturbed at the nervous look Sir Roger wore.  It was unusual for Sir Roger to be disturbed by anything. Sir Roger gestured by a shake of his head that Mark should follow him to a small group of knights that had formed around a messenger Mark had failed to see enter the hall.  He followed a step behind Sir Roger, who turned to only say "bad business is afloat," before they reached the circle of men.  They made room for Sir Roger and Mark, and Mark saw that all the men wore expressions not suited for merrymaking.  The messenger was holding a piece of heavy parchment in his hand with a number of black signatures on it.  The messenger had a very dark look on his face, but stood tall among the glowers of the knights.  "Perhaps you should stand to the side, sir," said Sir Richard to the messenger.  "As you will," he said handing the parchment to Sir Roger, who had put his hand out to receive it, and then removed himself away from the group a few steps. "As you all can see there are ten names on this piece of treachery," he said striking the parchment with the back of his hand and handing it over to Mark, who began to read the names at the bottom of the document aloud, without knowing as to what the document pertained.  "Lord Hugo, Lord Walter, Lord Denis, Sir Berenger, Sir Gervase, Lord Eustace, Sir Guy, Sir Theobald, Sir Alwin, and…" the last name gave Mark great pause, and he said more quietly, "Lord Rocelin."  "Treachery against the king?" asked Sir Richard of Sir Roger.  "Yes, indeed, they are declaring their lands their own and separating under the leadership of Lord Hugo."  Mark stared blankly at the parchment.  So, their former lord was a part of a revolt against King William…he had never thought to hear of this man again.  Or perhaps he had only hoped not to, once he saw how insignificant he was in comparison to the men here at court.  "Has the king been informed?"  "Not yet.  Should we interrupt the holiday feast?  The ladies will be much upset.  War shall be declared no doubt."  "No doubt."  "But it must be told to the king.  Don’t let this messenger leave!"  "I shall go to the king," said Lord Adelard.  "This miscreant, Sir Theobald is my brother, and I share his shame.  It is my job to break it to our good king."  And so Lord Adelard carried himself proudly towards King William, where he had managed for a few minutes to engage the attention of his wife, unwillingly it appeared. The room grew quiet as the king stood up, calling for the music to stop, and he left the room beckoning his trusted lords and knights to follow him out of the room.  Mark hastened over to Delia, who was also now on her feet, looking nervously after the king.  "Come love, let us go back to our apartment," he said taking her arm.  She hurried along with him.  "Mark, what is wrong?"  "There has been a revolt," he said in a hushed voice.  "Oh!"  "Yes, but we must be alone."  He would say no more until they were within the apartment.  "Delia, Lord Rocelin is involved."  Delia sat down, or rather, dropped down into the chair nearest to her.  "Lord…"  "Yes.  Don’t think I ever wanted to speak his name again, but it is so."  "Oh, but he could have come to court or anything, and I didn’t even ever think it."  "It was too awful to imagine.  There is certainly no danger of his coming here now.  But do you know what this means?  There will be civil war.  Ten nobles have declared themselves free of the king and taken his lands for their own."  "Civil war!  Here?"  "Yes…I worry I will have to go." Delia stood back up, grabbing Mark’s sleeve.  "What do you mean, have to go?  You are a clerk.  You are not a knight…you are not…" she could not go on, and Mark pulled her to himself.  "Now, Delia, I wanted to warn you, so it wouldn’t come as a shock.  As Sir Roger’s clerk, I might be needed along, and he thinks of me as a very good advisor.  The other men at court know me.  I am trusted, and not a religious man…do you see how this might be helpful during battle?"  "No…God, you can’t be taken off to war!"  "Delia, I wouldn’t be fighting.  Be brave my girl.  I know you can be."  "I shall try," Delia said, sounding very uncertain.  "How long though Mark?"  "I don’t know.  The king is with his advisors now.  I’m sure we shall know by tonight what is to be done.  I could be gone for more than a year."  "A year!" Delia’s eyes grew large with fear.  "I am sure it won’t be so long though.  I certainly hope it won’t be."  He hated to see how upset Delia was being made by such an announcement.  "We only fight for your protection, Delia.  Should upstarts like this be allowed to break away, they would not be satisfied with the power they held for long.  This must be quenched as soon as possible."  "Mark, you can’t be away a year," Delia said, a silent tear running down her face.  "Shhh…I don’t want to see you upset.  Promise me you will be brave, Delia.  Think of your health, darling.  This can come to no good if you don’t steel yourself against nervous attacks."  "I can take care of myself…I’ll be all right," Delia said straightening up, giving power to her words by their utterance.  "I know you will be darling.  And you can be proud of me."  "Oh, but I’ve always been proud of you." But before they left their room again, she had to pull him back.  Mark hoped it was for the purpose of another one of her sweet kisses, but then he saw her serious countenance.  "I have to know something before they take you away."  "Anything, my love, but you make it sound as if I’m being dragged off to jail."  "Well, you won’t be here…Mark, you must answer me truthfully, because I don’t know what to think."  "All right, what is it?"  "Mark, do you believe that God will help you on the battlefield?"  She seemed very serious, but Mark was taken aback, and could not think quickly what to say.  Not only had Delia never shown any propensity for such philosophical discussion, but he also was not so sure himself of the answer.  Delia read the confusion in his eyes. "I hoped you would say ‘yes’ without much thought, Mark."  He took her hand, but still remained silent.  "Perhaps you don’t understand my question.  Perhaps saying on the battlefield was too exact.  What I mean is…Mark, do you think there is a God to protect any of us?"  Mark had wondered if she merely meant whether he believed God approved of violence, and therefore would support a military cause, however secularly ‘right’ the cause was.  "Delia, do you question your faith?"  He had always supposed that she held a simplistic unquestioned faith.  "I was not raised in a very pious environment.  My father was more interested in making money than praying.  I’d say most of the townsfolk are similar in that respect, but we all figure that the clerics are pure enough to make up for our faults."  Mark began to see what she was getting at.  "But, you do believe then, Delia?  You believe in God?"  "I thought everyone did.  How can there not be?  But Mark, sometimes I think that you…that you…"  "You are more perceptive than I gave you credit for, sweetness," Mark said sadly.  "I don’t think that I can let you leave when there might not be someone watching over you.  If you don’t believe then I don’t see how I can either.  You know so much more than me, dearest, and it frightens me."  She did look frightened, and Mark knew not how to assuage her fears.  He smoothed a lock of hair that had fallen out of place behind her pink ear and leaned in to press his cheek against hers.  "I believe in you and me, my love.  Beyond that…I have many questions.  I hope there is a God, more than you could understand, Delia, since you have never doubted His existence.  I hope very much, and I hope that he isn’t cruel or uncaring."  "A cruel God?" Delia said softly turning her lips to her husband’s cheek.  "A vengeful God, sweetness."  "That would be absolutely awful Mark.  Everything we’re taught says otherwise."  "Yes, everything taught to us does teach otherwise.  You’re right, my dear." Mark knew that Delia’s faith was not effected by events in her life, because she had never thought to question her beliefs to begin with, and he almost hated that he had introduced this fear in her.  He knew one thing that was true, one thing that always convinced him that he was wrong to question the existence of a kind God:  "I’ll come back to you darling, because someone gave you to me.  He has never sought to divide us before, even though we have been tested."  "Oh, that we have each other is a miracle, isn’t?" she sounded satisfied, and Mark admitted to himself that the thought was very satisfying to himself too.  Having her in his arms at the same time solidified the overall feeling of well being. *** "Forgive me this afternoon for breaking up the festivities.  It was not what I intended on doing, and it would not have been so had there not been good reason."  The king paused and took the hand of the queen.  "While I do not wish to upset the ladies at court, I do feel that everyone here should be notified as soon as possible that our forces will be leaving early tomorrow morning."  There was mumbling amongst the crowd, and many of the women held handkerchiefs up to their faces.  "We have received word of a rebellion to the North."  Now there arouse a cry, and King William held his hand up to request quiet.  "My men will bring this to an end.  In that, you may have faith, my people.  Tonight rest and tomorrow those of you who will not be coming with us may see us off.  God rest." Sir Roger made his way through the crowd towards Delia and Mark.  Lady Mary was close behind.  "Mistress Delia, I trust you are all right?"  "Yes, thank you, Sir Roger.  That is very kind of you.  And Lady Mary, are you all right?" Delia asked taking Lady Mary’s hand worriedly.  "Yes, I have been through similar worries, but you, my child, have not.  I will see to it that Delia is taken care of while you are gone," Lady Mary offered to Mark, who bowed gratefully.  "Thank you so much, Lady Mary.  That will relieve much of my worries."  "Be ready as early as you can, because I shall need your help prior to leaving."  "Yes, Sir Roger.  I will be ready."  Lady Mary added before they turned away, "and both of you sleep.  You will be of no help if you do not." While Lady Mary had given her instructions, Delia found they could not be as easily followed as usual.  She lay awake staring at Mark’s face in the semi-darkness.  She did not know when the next time she would see his face again would be.  Mark was not asleep either; instead, he was fitfully somewhere in between the waking world and the dream one, thinking of all he would need to do, and how much he should miss his wife while he was away.  Her warm breath just inches away from his face kept bringing him back to the dark room, but he refused to open his eyes, wanting instead to convince Delia that at least he was at peace.