They had driven into town to have lunch and run errands at the local shops. It was an early spring day, vestigial dampness hung in the cold air, and the fields were still muddy. They had been to their favourite bake shop and were leaving with a full load of bread and pastries when Abelard suddenly turned and threw both his arms around her and the bags she was carrying, squashing in his embrace their delicate contents. He began, right there on the shop’s narrow stoop, to awkwardly kiss her on the lips; really more of a mashing than a smooch. Her alarm lasted only a moment, her sense of indignity even less and she responded with an exuberance fueled by months of pent up passion.
But her unexpected happiness was not to last. In her thrall she failed to notice that Abelard may have had other things on his mind than an irresistible urge to possess her. He had been intently watching their reflections in the shop’s glass door panel, as people passed along the crowded sidewalk. When he had seen what he was searching for he let go of Felicity and hurriedly whispered, “please forgive me, but we must hurry, I’ll explain as we move,” leaving her breathless and, like a drowning wretch, clutching the eviscerated pastries.
“That man wearing the long leather coat, just approaching the corner, we have to follow him.”
Here we go again, she thought, a little dismayed that she was perhaps dealing with a borderline psychotic. “Why are we following him,” she ventured, hoping to bring him back to the blissful place they had been only a moment earlier?
“That’s the same man I saw and who also saw me at the Malvue just before they tried to kidnap me. If he was the one who incited them to take me, it would be better if he didn’t see us. I’m not saying there is a connection but the coincidence is mighty suspicious. We should try and learn what he is doing here, so far from home.”
Trailing behind Abelard, Felicity was still a little uneasy with his new conspiracy as they followed the dealer from Sarlat. He headed along the main street and soon turned down a narrow alley which led to a grimy industrial area. There he finally entered a small, one story building with large gothic lettering across the front, Reproductions Artisanales Philpot et Fills. They did no have to wait very long, keeping out of sight, before he came out. Not long enough for Felicity to prod Abelard another kissing episode. They followed him back to the large municipal parking lot at the town center, where he had left his small, late model van. Abelard suddenly eased up and broke into a narrow smile after reading the lettering across the van’s panels as it pulled out of its spot, Antiquaries, J. Chartrand.
“Just another coincidence,” Abelard finally said. He probably gets his supplies from here. And he was likely at the Malvue to look at some of the junk they had pilfered, including my armour. He was not looking for me.” Then, inexplicably, relief gave way to panic in Abelard’s wide eyed stare. He put his hand to his mouth and looked intently at Felicity.
“My dear Felicity,” he more groaned than said, “can you forgive my unforgivable behaviour?”
“I can’t remember exactly what it is I’m supposed to forgive,” she said, puckering her lips and proffering her face to Abelard, “would you mind showing me again.”
“Please don’t mock me Felicity, I have taken a solemn vow and cannot at a whim break it.”
Felicity was not going to pass on this opportunity. She would fight for another embrace, one with unbridled passion rather than purposeful resolve. She had read about the logic of oaths to oneself and now she would put that interesting but until now worthless bit of philosophical obscurity to good use.
“Abelard, who gave you the authority to bind yourself to a vow?”
“I don’t need any authority to set standards for myself,” he hesitantly answered, unsure as to just what she was after.
“That’s right, the authority to make decisions that affect only you is part of you. It is an authority that is completely unrestrained by any rules or laws but those you choose to set or, as the case may be, undo.”
“I cannot undo a rule I have set for myself. That would leave me in an aimless wilderness.”
“In that case, what would happen if you found that the rule no longer made sense or that you had made an error when you first set it?”
“I suppose that I would have to change it. But I would have to be convinced that it should be changed.”
“There is my point. You have equally the power to make and to break any binding future obligations you may have set for yourself. And I know a great one to start with.”
Here she again moved closer, stood on her toes and proffered her pouted lips to a momentarily confused Abelard. But not for long. They were soon busy enjoying Abelard’s new and improved code of behaviour, which was a good thing, since much would happen to test their steadfast and mutual loyalties.
*
The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book Page 34
