With the watermill on one side of the village, the church stood at the other, past one of the wooden bridges that gave path to that side of the stream. The church stood taller and was the sole building with glass windows.
It had its own garden and shed, all enclosed by a low stone wall, the humblest castle there was.
Those who worked there were the sisters, the saintess' blessed, who went around handling all menial tasks when the time of prayer had passed.
Inside, near the saintess' basin, the head priest mother Magdeline was scolding.
"It is out of question! You, at the castle? Never!"
In front of her brother Aymon was shrinking more and more. He had just come out of his bath with a new robe and hadn't finished tying the rope around his waist. The sisters had dragged him out too soon so he could tell mother Magdeline about what had happened.
"Is it that bad?" He asked with a half-hope and low shoulders. "If the bear wants it..."
"A castle is no place for a priest! And you, you are with mother Clothilde! Do you intend to just abandon her, after all she has done for you?"
Mother Magdeline was almost as young as he was, with rough hair like hay flowing on her neck each time she rocked the head. He was slightly taller than her but she beat him in every other aspect.
Even after being bestowed this church's service, her skin still retained the harshness of daily labor.
"Well..." he squirmed, "when will mother return?"
He meant it as a title.
"Why are you not with her?" Mother Magdeline shot back. "The woods are fine, people go in it all the time!"
"I head a beast attacked someone..."
"You would have been with Grisval! Grisval!" She could not believe him. "Now there is a real man who would have kept you safe!"
"He kind of scares me."
His eyes kept falling on the tiled floor, but then kept coming back to hers with that renewed hope she had never seen in the brother. It was so unusual of him to stand up to anyone.
And now the same sisters who had brought him to her bunched up and held him tight.
"Please, mother, don't bully brother Aymon! He is too precious to be risked in the wilds!"
"Yes, mother, he should be singing songs and writing poems instead."
She knew all too well what they meant and stepped back, stinged.
"Well, do you want to lose him to the bear?"
They all went silent, shook their head while their hold tightened on the priest. Once mother Clothilde returned to the monastery they would lose him regardless.
Yet Aymon, even feeling their hands and eyes on him, stood somewhat firm.
"If mother Clothilde agrees to it, then I can go?"
"She will never agree to it. Brother, it isn't just about you. Not only can we not allow the bear to order the saintess around but look at your sisters! They have been at Pivert for years and you would take precedence? Have you no heart?"
They weren't just discussing him visiting the castle; in truth the priest didn't know if he would even stay there; he had just declared that he would.
His wishful thinking had turned that simple request into a whole affair.
"But..." He tried. "If we anger the bear..."
"We anger the bear all the time, it's a tradition! Especially with lord Mercier, he threatened to burn us down more than once. Now, brother, be reasonable, your duty is to the saintess."
And to say that she had approached, with a softer tone, to touch his cheek with her fingers.
She had only known him for two days and already braced for the moment they would be separated. The head priest herself had found no excuse to retain him at their church. Her heart just melted for those soft eyes and that sheepish expression.
If only he hadn't had those freckles, she thought, he would have been the perfect company.
What little resolve had built up in him evaporated at her touch. He would usually tremble, agree to anything so troubled as to almost apologize for some perceived boldness.
This time he simply looked down, almost humble to a fault.
"You are right..." He rubbed his hands. "Yes, mother Magdeline, I will do as you say. I will go and tell the castle I cannot agree to their demand."
"It is for the best." She reassured him with a kind tone. "Sister Anne, will you accompany him?"
"With pleasure." The sister rejoiced.
And she took his hands to pull him across the hall, away from the priests who felt a tinge of jealousy. They had to return to their chores instead, watched him being pulled away.
His own head was turned toward the saintess' basin, at the statue of the one who had vanquished the wolves and pacified the realm. Water flew at her feet, so pure.
It was hard to tell what kind of sadness blurred the brother's eyes.
But they were barely outside when the sister holding his arm stopped and looked at the stone wall where another had stopped her work to converse with a peasant.
The man she was speaking with was much older, standing away with a frank smile while she sat on the stone with a reserved expression.
"Sister!" Sister Anne called.
There was no fault there but still the priest stood up, excused herself and returned to her work. Brother Aymon had not paid any attention so her sister pulled closer to him.
"She likes his son." She whispered for him. "We once caught her slipping out at night, can you believe her?"
"It... it would be bad if mother Magdeline..."
"Oh, she knows. Life in a church is very different from a monastery."
Sister Anne enjoyed watching this young man shy at any word she said, like fresh butter. They had all realized in what short time he had been there that he would do everything they said.
And so he missed how completely changed his expression was.
When they arrived at the castle's gate, a lone guard told them how sir Corentin had already returned. He made no mention of a lady, only that brother Aymon was expected at the keep.
"About that..." Sister Anne started.
"Thank you," brother Aymon interrupted her, "we will go there."
Two things happened at once. The guard would not allow that sister to follow and that sister, surprised, held him back when he walked passed him.
"There is no need, actually," sister Anne was trying to tell both, "we are here to decline."
"Sister..."
The brother's voice had started to shake. He could not bring himself to look at her. But his body was pulling away.
"Sister, I have to mend things, so I must address the lords themselves."
"But..." She tried, then found nothing to retort.
Sister Anne could not imagine the brother being rebellious. Certainly, she thought, he meant it and would come back soon enough. She watched him venture into the yard, among a crowd of the castle's servants.
She would wait here until one of those would come and tell her not to wait for the brother anymore.