The Robin and the Kestrel - Chapter Ten

[kalinara]

So last time, our heroes made it to Gradford. Now to get information!



Usual reminder for this book, there are interchangeable names. Gwyna=Robin=Our female lead character. Jonny=Kestrel=Our male lead character.

We start the chapter on the streets of Gradford. There's apparently a LOT of street preachers around. It's also very clean and very plain. As we see here:

Buildings on both sides of the street loomed at least three stories in height, built of stone with tiny windows in the upper stories. Roofs were of a brownish slate, or of sandy tile. There wasn't a great deal of color, even in the dress of the passersby. Only the brilliantly blue sky above gave any relief to the unrelenting gray and brown. Nothing delineated the changes in Gradford quite so clearly as that; elsewhere, people reacted to the coming of winter by bringing out as much color in their clothing as they could afford. Presumably the people of Gradford had once done the same, but no more. The city looked sober, as if it already hosted nothing but Brothers and Sisters of various ascetic Orders.

The characters end up noting for us that there are three kinds of street preachers. The first is the usual wild-eyed, disheveled, doomsday type prophets who likely suffer from some kind of undiagnosed mental illness. It is noted that these street preachers are treated a little more respectfully than in other places. While they do get some mockery, it's mostly from rough looking teenagers who get shooed away by the guard.

The second type are country folk who aren't ordained priests, but feel a calling. They generally come out during Faire times, and Kestrel compares them to buskers. Unlike in Faires though, they seem to have a few appreciative listeners.

The third type...

Then there was the third class of preacher—a type that Kestrel had never seen preaching in the street before; real Priests, in immaculate robes, who clearly did not need to be out here and in fact had no collection plates at their feet. These men—they were always men, even though women could aspire to the Priesthood as readily as men—were clean, erudite, and well-spoken, pitching their trained, modulated voices to carry their words over the heads of the crowds.

It was this third type of preacher that had the messages that were very disturbing.

We get to hear some examples. The first is ranting about magic. All magic is evil, and those who say that priests practice magic are lying. Priest's powers are from God. Kestrel admires the rhetoric style though he's chilled by the words. Especially when the Priest starts talking about evil magicians getting punished.

There's a bit of optimism: the anti-Magic priest is losing some listeners. Kestrel assumes this is because a lot of people likely have experience using a Healer or employing a mage for minor work. Since magic is such a normal part of life, it is harder to successfully demonize. For now at least.

But some people are nodding along.

Another of the priests is talking about the soul. Since God created humans in his image, then they're the only ones that have a soul. And "creatures" who don't have a soul can't be saved and must, by definition, be evil. This priest is chillingly calm and wise, with a demeanor like he's encouraging his listeners to discover the truth for themselves. The speech ends up veering into pro-Genocidal talk about destroying those who would destroy them first.

There's a last priest. This one is really popular, and his listeners are blocking the street entirely. His voice is hypnotic in the way that implies some training similar to a musicians. This one is a bit different.

"Because of this, anything done purely for pleasure or for simple enjoyment is also evil because these are things done in idleness. The only fit occupation for a true man is work; either the work of his hands and mind, or the work of God and the Church. Those temptations of hollow pleasure must be eliminated, and those who will not give them up must be taught the error of their ways. Gently, if possible, but if not"—he concluded, darkly—"then by whatever means necessary."

Ew.

Robin and Kestrel realize that they were very lucky to be warned. If they'd casually entered the city as bards, especially if they'd been too irreverent, they could have gotten into real trouble.

Back at the inn, they ask if there's a special occasion bringing out all the preachers. Sadly no, this is normal. Ick.

The next morning, Kestrel wakes up to church bells. It's notable for him since he hadn't heard this kind of bell since he was a kid at the Guild Hall. He seems a bit more comfortable with the memory - he's happy that history has basically vindicated his poor mistreated teacher. And he's feeling refreshed - in a city like this, there's not much to do after sundown except go to bed.

This leads to an interesting, and sadly relatable thought:

I'll bet they have a population explosion around here in a few months—depending on how long this has been going on, he thought, pulling open the shutters to let the sunlight in. Robin groaned again. I wonder if the herbs that protect against conception have been put on the proscribed list too? That would be a logical move, if the Church really was interested in restricting people's interests. If a girl had a real chance of getting pregnant, she might be a bit warier about distributing her favors. And if a wife was burdened with one baby after another, she wouldn't have a great deal of leisure for anything else.

Like thinking for herself . . . .

Yeah, like a few other books I've read for this blog, some of this hits harder than it did when I was a kid.

They wake up and dress - very sober clothes, avoiding any Roma finery. Robin is thoughtful: now that they've heard the poison, they need to figure out the source. Why is everyone so fanatic? She points out something else: some of the new policies have made it into law. That doesn't happen overnight and requires a lot of influence.

The breakfast at the inn sounds nice though. Lackey's good at making me hungry. And when they head to the market, Kestrel asks Robin about the trick she'd done with the fire in Westhaven.

Robin explains it as a "[Roma] trick", involving a special kind of paper that ignites with a spark. She'd slight of handed a flint-and-steel. She's not allowed to teach an "outsider", though. Even her husband. Jonny understands and is fine with that.

Aw.

The Cathedral is pretty swanky and gets a LONG description.

He guessed that the four round steeples, one at each corner, must have been at least fifteen stories tall, maybe more. They spiraled up like the shells of some sea-beasts he had seen, coming to a point at their peaks. They were pierced by a fretwork of windows, and looked as delicate as lace. There were no sharp angles in these towers, nothing but curves; curved arches, round windows, spiraling, ramplike exterior ledges that ran from the bottom all the way to the top. The towers were covered with a network of carvings as well, cut in shallow relief into the pristine marble and alabaster. None of the towers were carved alike. The tower to his right was encrusted with waving kelp and seaweed, sinuous eels, spiny urchins, undulating waves, and delicate fish. The one to his left bore clouds in every form, from wisps to towering thunderheads, and among them sported all the creatures of the air, from birds to butterflies. Rainbows arched from cloud to cloud, and the delicate seeds of thistle and dandelion wafted among the flying insects on the lower level.

It actually goes on for like three pages. Kestrel seems quite overcome, wondering how, next to this building, the Priests can preach things that are so small-minded and petty. Dude might have a kink.

Anyway, they settle into the square with the other wagons and stalls. A Constable comes over with paperwork (Robin does the talking) and they get their certification to sell. It's pretty thorough too, containing a very detailed description of seller and goods.

Robin notes that they have a higher tithe because of the location, but Kestrel agrees that this is the best spot to keep an eye on things. He just hopes they break even.

Actually, it quickly becomes clear that they're a hot commodity. They're getting a LOT of traffic, particularly for the little stars that Robin made. Kestrel eventually figures out why. Gradford had historically been a place famous for jewelry work, but the current religious climate means that the women have had to give their jewelry up. But god-stars are perfectly pious!

So basically our heroes have stumbled onto a gold mine. They eventually observe quite a few people in much finer clothes observing them, and Kestrel realizes that they're probably metalsmiths and jewelers. There will likely be some brand new, very fancy god-stars being sold tomorrow morning.

That gives Kestrel an idea that he whispers to Robin - she ends up bringing back one of the metalsmiths and showing him (and his daughter/apprentice) how to make the stars. It's part of a deal, the metalsmith will give them some raw materials in exchange for the instruction. The metalsmith will then make much fancier and more expensive jewelry to sell to the much richer folk. They even exchange some good jewelry ideas: Robin suggests making chains of tiny stars or suspending the stars from fancy chains they already have, while the metalsmith (named Tomas, though I don't think it really comes up again), suggests they put glass beads on the posts and in the center of their own stars.

Robin's actually a little sad that they're not here for profit reasons, even with the tithe, they're making bank.

But they are here for information, and Robin (having done most of the talking to customers) has some: supposedly, the High Bishop works miracles. The chapter ends with the church bells announcing the beginning of service - which means they'll get a chance to find out for themselves...

Next chapter. Hah.