Read The Lady of the Sea for Free Online Page A

we do. And you are a faithful servant, He knows that.”
    The old man’s fingers were as fine as twigs, his flesh translucent in the wintry light. Dominian felt a sudden lurch of fear. How many more winters could Jerome survive? And what would become of him when Jerome had gone?
    From the time Jerome had found him, left to die in the wood, the old man had been the only father he had ever known. Cast out by his mother, a Goddess-worshipper, both for being a hunchback and for being a boy, he had had Jerome’s love and guidance all his life. And if Jerome left him . . . Dominian wanted to weep, to scream, to tear his flesh. Suddenly he understood how the great saints could scourge themselves hour after hour till they passed out from loss of blood. Anything was better than the pain of losing God, and Jerome was all he knew of God on earth.
    “Oh, my son . . .” The old man felt his despair and tried again. “Remember, Dominian, we must keep the faith.”
    The faith—
    Dominian thought of the ardent, intimate love Jerome shared with God. He had often overheard the old man chattering away as if to a lover, and he had no doubt that God was answering him. He searched his master’s face, racked with the excruciating envy he always felt for children who enjoyed such love from their mothers in his wretched youth. Bitterness overwhelmed him. “Compared with you, Father, I have no faith!”
    The old man leaned forward. “Do not deny your God.”
    “But He denies me.”
    “Never!” Jerome declared. “God loves us all, as I have loved you. And that love will never leave you. Even in death, I shall walk by your side.”
    “But God knows I have failed!”
    “With Queen Isolde, perhaps. But you have not lost King Mark. He will never return to the Mother-faith as long as he is Queen Igraine’s vassal and resents her power.”
    Dominian pondered. That at least was true. He felt his spirits stir.
    “Take heart, son,” Jerome said feelingly. “God sees your suffering and has given us the words of prayer for times like these. Come, sing with me.” He struck off in a high, gnat-like tone.
“De profundis, Domine—”
    Dominian felt the tears rising again, but this time with a sweet healing flow. Stumbling, he began his part of the psalm. “Out of the depths, O Lord, have I called upon Thee: Lord, Lord, I beseech you, hear my voice—”
    The old man reached out and felt for Dominian’s hand. “Remember when you were a child and I told you of the Father who loved little ones like you?”
    His heart bursting, Dominian clung to Jerome. “You said that our Lord had marked me out as one of God’s chosen,” he said hoarsely, “destined for a special place in Heaven.”
    “All true.” Jerome nodded. “And truer than ever now. Hear me, Dominian.” The reedy voice rose to a sonorous chant. “God is love. He loves you, as I love you, world without end.”
    Dominian’s head was boiling. “Father—”
    Jerome stared at him with his milky, blue-white eyes. “Remember, Dominian, you were not named in vain. Dominion will be yours. God will give you mastery. You and others like you will root out the Great Mother in these islands and destroy all her works. In years to come, no one will know her name.”
    “But how can this be?” wept Dominian. “King Mark was mine when I won him to the Christian faith. I was his confessor, his guide, his all-in-all. Yet for twenty years I have been working in vain while the pagan Isolde holds sway as Cornwall’s queen.”
    There was a pensive pause. Then the gentle papery voice rustled again. “The King is still married. Could there yet be a child born to him?”
    A child?
    Born to Mark and the Queen?
    Dominian burst out into a savage laugh. “Never!” he said scornfully. “I bore down on him for years to do his duty and the work of God. But the whore closed her thighs to him on their wedding day. For almost twenty years now she has shunned his bed.”
    “But could you not bring him to