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Page 88
because she was a woman, she should permit a friend and companion to be swept away by the undertow.
There were only two subjects upon which they did not have high words. When Simon stood on the great gray walls, looked out to sea, and ordered some change in the positioning of weaponry or the manning of the guard, Alinor nodded her head curtly in approval without even a glance at Sir Andre for reassurance. In matters of war, she held her tongue and placed an implicit faith in Simon's ability. And when, in the long summer evenings, Alinor sat before her embroidery frame, which had been moved to a convenient window in the Great Hall, Simon lounged on the nearest bench, his eyes on the exquisite work and the flying needle that produced it.
"I cannot do that," he had said softly one time.
Alinor looked up from her work and laughed. "What? Embroider?"
"That too, but I meant I cannot produce beauty of any kind."
After a moment of silence in which Alinor studied Simon's face, she said, "That is not really true. There is a beauty in justice. Often and often, I have heard tell, you have made fair and just what was foul and corrupt."
Simon turned his head to look out at the long shadows cast by the slanting, golden light of the setting sun. "Perhaps," he agreed wearily, "but it is so mixed with blood and terror Something lacks in me. I cannot believe what many priests tell us, that the pain and terror of evildoers is beautiful and a joy to God. Beauty cannot be besmirched by fear."
A week drifted by and then another. Alinor thought no more of a summons to Court. Simon tried not to think at all. He did not quite succeed. When he could find no more reason to delay, they went on progress to the properties held by castellans for Lady Alinor. To Simon's initial surprise and delight, this changed

 
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