Days two and three came for Modette's punishment in the pillory, and just as Froella had predicted, that gypsy boy appeared to give aid. That note given to him by Paris's best Captainess was simply a ploy-gypsies don't follow the rules. They never have.
That gypsy boy sat on the ground next to her as he fed Modette from a mug. Froella hoped he didn't want that mug back. Sipping after her daughter when he could sip after her.
Froella watched it all from the window. In her daughter's room of the bell tower, where no one could see. The shape of his muscle peeked out from under the white rolled sleeve. No one could see her reach up into her habit and rub a hand between her legs. Smearing against it again and again for a whole minute.
His golden earring sparkled in the sunlight. She wanted to yank it out, reminding him what the Bible said about men wearing jewelry, then kiss his ear until it was all better.
He seemed like the kind of boy who came and went whenever he pleased. Who needed to be tied down. He seemed like the kind of man that grew up without a good spanking. She'd happily volunteer.
Disgusted, Froella yanked the curtains closed. She turned around and kicked one of those horrible gargoyles she told Modette to get rid of to the ground. It fell on the other and that one felt on the other, chipping its left horn.
Why were those gargoyles so heavy? Someone was be bound to hear her now!
Nevertheless, if it was the last thing she did as a nun, Froella was going to have herself a chat with this gypsy boy and expel these impure thoughts from the Church once and for all.
Froella knew Her Lady from the inside out and, being a loyal servant of the Lord for thirty years, she could always sniff out something that was amiss. The riffraff was in here. Sure enough, there was that gypsy rat now with that blasted goat at his heels, going about. Wandering her holy halls.
The nun wasn't about to let him get away and she slid up behind him, slipping her hand into his. "I won't tolerate any rabble in my Church," she whispered.
Esmer knew better than to struggle. "It isn't your Church."
"I'm head nun of Our Lady's highest order."
"Forgive me. Then I'll leave…"
"You and I both know you aren't going anywhere." Froella ran a hand down his back. "So typical of your kind to fly the coop at the first sign of regulation. But we could forget about it if… " And she sidled even closer to him and touched herself under her habit. She felt him stiffen and bit back a smile. "Why boy, this is the first I've seen you look uncomfortable. Don't be afraid."
"That's disgusting, Sister."
"I'll ask you to join me."
"Go to Hell."
Froella let out a short burst of laughter. "Careful, this is a cathedral. The eyes and ears of God are upon us. And I would hate if this little tryst got out to the public."
"What tryst?"
"I would hate it if you were accused of something heinous and you ended up… Hmm; would you prefer death by fire or hanging?" Froella walked her fingers up the boy's shoulder. "Well, if you were hung, that beautiful body of yours would at least still be intact." She stuck her tongue inside his ear and Esmer shoved her clean across the room.
That was fun. Froella chuckled, recovering. "That was the wrong thing to do to a nun, hon." She straightened her habit. "Touch me again and I'll hand you to the law. May the judgment of God be upon you." She started to leave, awaiting his response.
Sure enough, the boy's voice followed her. "Go ahead." It bounced off the walls. "You were coming at me."
Froella stopped and turned around. "No, boy. You came after me."
She watched the boy freeze, his eyes darting around; she watched him run. Froella brought her hands together. "Lord, forgive him. For he knows not what he does."