AS THE SUN WARMED the fields on a beautiful spring morning, Amaury made his way out of the palace to attend the Lutheran service. He should have invited Vivienne, he knew, but he could not face her.
Amaury reached a shallow hillside where about thirty worshippers were gathered for the service. Roussel stood at the front. Neither the queen nor any of the luminaries from the palace drawing room were among the crowd. It was true, then. Most of the court had remained Catholic. As he scanned the congregation, Amaury spied Vivienne sitting near the front. So she had not waited for him either. Sitting next to her was, once again, Castell’buono. They were speaking, as at the dinner, in a manner quite animated. Amaury remained at the rear, and soon Roussel moved to address the congregation.
The Lutheran service had retained much from the Mass. Roussel recited the same psalms, followed the same liturgy, and offered the same Communion. The differences, however, were significant. Conducting the service in vernacular French created a more vibrant mood. Those among the worshippers who knew no Latin would feel as much a part of the proceedings as those who did. As a result, the congregation was unified, communal, seemed somehow closer to God.
Music was far more important to the Lutherans than Amaury would have expected. The congregation sang many hymns, including one penned by Luther himself, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” Amaury found the heavy German intonations somewhat ponderous and repetitive, but was nonetheless impressed listening to a composition by the very man who had founded the new religion.
Roussel, the orator who had filled the courtyard at the Louvre, possessed a power to preach that had in no way been understated. The sermon was powerful and compelling. The topic was Man’s place in the universe. Roussel spoke of Man as being master of the natural world, assigned that role by God, and therefore responsible not simply for his own destiny but for that of all around him. “Man is at the center of God’s plan,” Roussel said, “unique in the universe, and bears the weight as well as the glory of that role.”
When the service ended, the flock, Vivienne among them, moved forward as one to praise the shepherd. Roussel accepted the paeans with a shy smile. At one point, Roussel placed his hand on Vivienne’s shoulder and spoke to her directly. Castell’buono stood next to them, beaming but for once letting someone else speak.
Amaury was trying to decide whether or not to join them when he felt a hand on his own shoulder. He turned to find himself face-to-face with a priest.
“Hello, my son,” the priest said with a slow nod. He was about thirty, lean and fair, with a hawklike brow. His voice rolled gently from within him. “Amaury, is it not? I am Père Louis-Paul. I am confessor to Her Majesty.”
Amaury returned the greeting, uncomfortable with the priest’s conspicuous piety. He felt suddenly as if he was back at Montaigu.
“Did you enjoy the service?” Père Louis-Paul asked, demonstrating no rancor in asking about branded heretics. “The Lutherans have been clever in their choices to render Christianity more egalitarian, have they not? I expect our Church will be forced to make some changes to make services more . . . entertaining. Do you agree?”
“I am not qualified to judge such high ecclesiastical matters,” Amaury replied.
“After nine years at Montaigu? Oh, you are too modest.” The priest shrugged. “Then what of your own reaction? Did you find the service appealing?”
“Appealing? Yes, it certainly was that.”
The priest bowed his head slightly, so as to peer at Amaury from the tops of his eyes. “But you remain within the True Church yourself, do you not, my son?”
“Yes. Of course, Father.”
Père Louis-Paul smiled. Then he switched to Latin. “Pro moment in ullus vices.” “For the moment, in any event.”
“I have no plans to change.”
The priest nodded. “Why don’t you come for Confession, then?”
“I will certainly do so,” Amaury lied. He had no intention of confessing anything to this nosy priest within the intrigue of Queen Marguerites court.
“Come today,” the priest said softly. “Just after midday meal.”
Amaury looked at Père Louis-Paul more closely and saw that the priest was doing the same to him.
“I am interested to learn what you have discerned in your travels.”
“You are interested?” Amaury asked.
“Yes. As is Magister Ory. He is, in fact, awaiting your communication with great expectation.” The priest paused. “You do not wish to disappoint him, do you?”
“No. I will be pleased to share my observations.”
“Good, then,” said Père Louis-Paul. “I shall see you presently.” The priest smiled, although the gesture did not reach his eyes. “Do not fret, my son. You will find the experience cleansing.”