Work Text:
It was a cool spring evening. The kind of evening that made Aldéric glad for the large fireplace in his sitting room. He was curled up in a large comfy chair, a fire crackling in the stone fireplace, chasing the worst of the chill away as he read the good book. Outside the wind whipped against the thick windows; a storm was rolling in.
Aldéric looked up as he heard the church bell clanging in the wind. He closed his book and set it on the side table.
Carrying a candle to light his way, Aldéric walked through the halls of his manor. He glanced out the window as he passed, and paused. Outside he could see a man huddling by the gate. Aldéric felt a tug of sympathy in his heart. Something told him he should invite the man in, and Aldéric was never one to ignore what he assumed to be a sign from God.
The wind whipped around him as he opened the front door of his manor, snuffing out his candle.
“Hello!” he called out. “You there, by the gate!”
The man lurched, pushing himself away from the gate and back towards the road.
“No!” Aldéric yelled, stepping out of the door. “You can come in here!”
The man hesitated, looking at Aldéric before slowly taking a step towards him. The wind whipped around them, making the man stumble. Aldéric beckoned him forwards as the man hesitated again.
“Are you alright?” Aldéric asked as the man got close enough to see clearly. The man was an absolute mess. His clothes were tattered and barely hung on his frame. There was the start of a scraggly beard on his face, competing with shadows made of dirt. He had dark circles under his eyes and a weariness as he looked Aldéric over. “Come, you can spend the night in my house. I promise no harm will come to you under my roof.”
The man hesitated but finally nodded.
“I’m Archbishop Aldéric Dufort,” Aldéric said as he closed the heavy door behind the stranger. “What should I call you?”
“Valente,” the man replied, a thick Italian accent covered his words. He hesitated before adding, “Bassanelli.”
“You must be traveling,” Aldéric said as he led Valente back into the sitting room where the fire still crackled. “We don’t get many from farther south than Carbet.”
“I am,” the man replied, his voice rough from the cold. He sat gingerly on the edge of the settee. “I’m heading towards Bellfort. Looking for work.” He rubbed his hands together before holding them closer to the fire.
“What sort of work?” Aldéric asked. “Perhaps I can recommend an employer in one of the nearby villages?”
“Masonry,” Valente replied.
“Masonry-” Aldéric echoed, a memory tugging at his mind. “Oh!”
The man looked up sharply at Aldéric’s realization. His grip tightened on his pack as his eyes moved between Aldéric and the door.
“You’re Valente Bassanelli! You trained under Durante Marchesi! You worked on the Cathedral at Moncasa!”
“You must have me mistaken,” Valente replied, shaking his head.
“It’s a miracle,” Aldéric continued. “I wrote to Master Marchesi years ago, hoping perhaps that he or one of his disciples could come. Our last mason died before he could finish the cathedral.”
“I’m not who you think I am,” Valente said again. “I can’t help you.”
“You must have a project waiting for you in Bellfort,” Aldéric sighed. “Perhaps you would at least look at what we have? Maybe you could suggest another mason to contract with.”
Valente hesitated and then sighed.
“I suppose it wouldn’t put me too behind on the schedule to take a look in the morning,” Valente said.
“Excellent!” Aldéric replied, clapping his hands together. “Perhaps you will have a stroke of miraculous inspiration, and decide to stay, hmm? No, don’t reply, it was only a joke.” He chuckled. “Now, have you had anything for dinner? I’m sure there must be something in the kitchen if you’ll come this way.”
Aldéric led Valente deeper into the manor, rambling on as he helped his guest settle in.
---
The next morning was warm and bright.
The two of them set out early at Valente’s insistence, but after breakfast at Aldéric insistence. Valente was silent as they walked, though that did little to stop Aldéric chatter as he told the mason about the history of the town. He pointed out the rough outline of the cathedral as they drew close.
“Mason Godefroy worked for 15 years on the cathedral,” Aldéric said. “But he wasn’t a very ambitious fellow. Not like Master Marchesi. I’ve seen drawings of the cathedral at Moncasa. My cousin is the bishop there, you know. He couldn’t wait to rub it in when he finished such a magnificent project. Master Godefroy and I just didn’t see eye to eye on how grand of a project it needed to be.”
“And what happened to him?” Valente asked.
“Oh, one of the arches collapsed while he was under it,” Aldéric replied. “It was quite dreadful.”
“The mason’s curse,” Valente chuckled. “The very thing you love is the thing that kills you.”
“Right,” Aldéric replied. “I’m not sure that’s accurate. Since then I haven’t been able to find another mason willing to take on the project.”
“And why is that?” Valente asked. “Not enough money? Unrealistic expectations?”
“Unrealist- This is a gift for God! How could we put forward anything but our best?”
“All things come at a cost,” Valente shrugged.
“No cost is too great,” Aldéric argued.
“Just ask Master Godefroy that,” Valente said with a crooked grin. They finally rounded the corner.
“This is your cathedral?” Valente asked, dejectedly looking at the structure. “And you hold services here?”
Aldéric stood mouth agape as he took in the scene before him. The entire east wing of the cathedral had collapsed during the storm the previous night. The rest of the building stood at a precarious angle.
“It didn’t look like this yesterday,” Aldéric said as Valente leaned over slightly, exaggerating the leaning of the building.
“Your previous mason was an idiot,” Valente stated. “These arches need more support. Without it, your cathedral will be in ruins in a year.”
“Is that all,” Aldéric replied weakly.
Valente wandered around the cathedral’s entrance, pushing occasionally on various stones, muttering to himself.
“Your timber scaffolding is still strong,” Valente said, “which will save some time. And there are decent enough bones to build something magnificent here.” He crouched in the dirt with a stick and began to draw. A large central arched entrance, with two smaller arches beside it. In the background, he added a repetition of the arches as the outer walls of the east and west wing. The entrance arch rose high in the design, supported by flying buttresses. “We’ll add a God’s eye window here,” he muttered, then looked up sharply at Aldéric. “Are there any decent glassblowers in this village?”
“Not here, but two villages over, still in my diocese,” Aldéric replied.
“Good,” Valente grunted, adding a tall spire penetrating the sky in the background.
“Will you do it then?” Aldéric asked. “Will you build this cathedral?”
“No, I am needed in Bellfort,” Valente replied, rubbing his drawing out of the dirt with his foot.
“I can pay,” Aldéric added quickly. “More than you’ll get in Bellfort.”
“Hm?” Valente asked, trying to sound disinterested.
“My family has been looking for a way to show their devotion,” Aldéric replied. “They would be willing to fund this cathedral.”
“In hopes that you’ll move out of this backwaters diocese and closer to Rome?” Valente asked, giving him a sly grin. “I know how this game works.”
“Well, if the church found my talents were needed elsewhere, I would not object.” Aldéric chuckled. “So can I tempt you away from Bellfort?”
“I suppose I can stay,” Valente sighed, looking between the half-collapsed cathedral and his stamped out design in the dirt. “At least long enough to rebuild the east wing, and shore up the rest of the structure?”
“Wonderful!” Aldéric exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “We’ll get started at once!”
-----
It took little time for Valente to realize just how involved Aldéric intended to be with the construction of the cathedral. Aldéric set him up with an office at his own estate. There was plenty of quill and parchment to set to work designing the building, and the old blueprints Master Godefroy had drawn up to use in the original construction.
However, what Valente didn’t have was solitude to stew on his designs.
“I’ve started hiring the crew to build,” Aldéric told him a few days later. The archbishop was sitting in the chair next to Valente’s desk, the chair Valente had decreed was Aldéric’s just to keep him from hovering over his shoulder. “Most of the men in town volunteered,” he chuckled. “Everyone is excited to have a proper cathedral.”
“Most of the men?” Valente muttered. “We won’t need that many, not at first. Surely they have other jobs they should be doing?”
“But won’t more workers make the building faster?” Aldéric replied. He leaned over the desk to see the plans Valente was working on. Valente felt his eyes twitch as the archbishop’s chest brushed dangerously close to a full bottle of ink. All he needed was the meddlesome fool spilling it and ruining the plans.
“Keep the men tending their fields, the cathedral will be built in due time,” Valente replied.
“Can we add a spire there?” Aldéric asked, pointing to the top of the cathedral, where Valente had already drawn in the highest point. “Make this seen for miles.”
“If we add a spire it will fall during the next big storm,” Valente replied, teeth clenched in a tight smile. “It will be too tall, and lacking in support. “
“Through the power of God, all things are possible.”
“Through the power of gravity, your cathedral will fall,” Valente quipped back.
“Hmm,” Aldéric signed, leaning back. “I just need this to be magnificent. I was already composing a letter to Rome to tell them about our undertaking.”
“Don’t tell them yet,” Valente replied, looking up sharply. “At least wait till we have the plans finished.”
“And when will that be?”Aldéric frowned.
“Give me a few more weeks, longer if you intend to keep making changes,” Valente said, turning back to his designs.
“Fine,” Aldéric sighed. “If it can’t be helped.” He stood, his archbishop robes sweeping the ground as he moved towards the door. “I’ll have the men start clearing the collapsed east wing then, until we’re ready.”
“Wait, don’t do that yet!” Valente yelled after the archbishop, but Aldéric was already gone.
Valente sighed, wondering for the 10th time that day if he should have refused the project. But it was too late now, he decided, adding a final detail on the frontal view. He could make it work with Aldéric if he had to. Besides, eventually, the archbishop would settle down, and stop with his incessant involvement.
-------
But Aldéric remained a constant; he walked with Valente to the site on their first day of actual construction, despite the mason’s resistance.
“I really think we should consider adding a few more arches to the front,” Aldéric said, as they walked. “It would really make it the focal point of Aviluire and of the whole providence, really.”
“If you intend to change the design we should turn around now,” Valente said, walking just a smidge faster, trying to outpace the archbishop. “We can spend more time at the design and start building next year.”
“No, no, that won’t do,” Aldéric sighed.
“Besides, the cathedral already towers above everything else in the town,” Valente continued. “It doesn’t need to be larger.”
“But larger than Moncasa,” Aldéric reminded him. “Grander too. Something to put my cousin’s cathedral to shame.”
“I see your humility is well intact today,” Valente chuckled.
Aldéric frowned, walking faster to keep up with Valente.
“It’s not for my glory, but for God’s!” Aldéric insisted.
“So then tell me this,” Valente replied, pausing to turn and face the archbishop. “The cathedral in Moncasa is for the glory of God?”
“Of course!”
“And the cathedral we’re building is for the glory of God?” Valente inquired as well with a wicked grin.
“Yes, that’s the whole reason we’re doing this,” Aldéric replied.
“Then if both are for his glory, then what does it matter if this is grander than the other?”
“I- “Aldéric paused, and huffed. “We are offering our best to God, that’s what it is.”
Valente’s laughter died as he rounded the corner, the foundation of the cathedral coming into view. Milling around was the entire town’s population.
“Aldéric, what is this?” he asked softly as the archbishop came to stand beside him. “I told you we only needed a few men for the first few days.”
“Everyone is very excited to get to building,” Aldéric chuckled. “I couldn’t turn them away.”
“And I’m sure it doesn’t help that your offered wages are more than most would make in a year?” Valente asked.
“Make it work,” Aldéric replied. “I’m sure you can find something for the extra hands to do.” He turned back towards his manor. “I’m going to write to Rome and tell them of our undertaking.”
“Wait!” Valente scrambled after him.
Aldéric froze, turning to face the mason. One eyebrow raised in question to Valente’s outburst.
“Don’t write yet,” Valente replied. “At least wait until we finish the east wing. Then you can send them a more robust account of the cathedral.”
“I suppose,” Aldéric said with a frown. “But it will be easier to raise funds if we advertise the project to others of the faith. No matter though, my family is willing to back this project.”
----
They fell into an easy routine after that. Valente stayed at the manor, though he was hardly ever there. In the morning, Aldéric would walk with him to the worksite, chattering on about an interesting verse of scripture he was meditating on or an allegory related to a bird he had seen earlier. Meanwhile, Valente would try to tune him out, instead focused on what needed to be done during the day.
Most days Aldéric would return to his manor after wandering around the construction site for a few minutes, commenting on the progress, or lack thereof in his opinion. But not every day.
It was the heat of midsummer and Valente’s nerves were already at their end.
“But can’t we expand the east wing while we’re at it?” Aldéric asked. Valente ignored him, chisel in hand as he tried to fix the slope of the cornerstone of the arch. It wasn’t quite right. The angle was just off enough that he wasn’t sure it would stand, or at least not for long.
Valente was already annoyed with Aldéric for the day. Just this morning he had found out that the archbishop had hired all of the residents of Charsier to help with construction. Now Valente had too many men, with not enough experience. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. And to add in Aldéric following him around pestering him about the design, it was just all too much.
“We’ll need more stone if you want to expand the east wing, and if we do we really should expand the west as well,” Valente grunted.
“How long would that take?” Aldéric asked.
“Another couple of years,” Valente said, finally deciding the stone was as shapely as it was going to get.
“That won’t do,” Aldéric sighed. “It’s there anything that can be done? To make it bigger?” Aldéric asked with an exaggerated hand motion.
“I think finishing four walls and a roof would be a fine start,” Valente replied. “Add some sculptures, and the stained glass- Did you get in contact with those glassblowers in Charoux?” he asked.
“I’ve sent a few letters,” Aldéric sighed. “But I really don’t think they quite get the scope of this project.”
There was a commotion nearby, a few of the men had stopped working, as they instead watched Irene, one of the local women carry a basket through the site.
“Good morning, Father,” Irene greeted Aldéric. She balanced the basket on her hip, leaning a little to the side to make the curve more pronounced.
Aldéric took a partial step back as Irene invaded his personal space. He probably hadn’t even realized he had done it. Valente fought to not snort in laughter at the move. Irene shot him a dirty look before returning her attention to Aldéric. From his spot on the ground, Valente could see the other men staring at her. All of them were jealous of Aldéric, all but Valente. Irene wasn’t really his type after all.
“Hello, Irene,” Aldéric replied. “Bringing lunch for your father again?”
“Oh yes,” Irene replied, her voice soft and light. “Would you like some? I made some fresh rolls this morning, and they are divine.” She looked up at Aldéric through lowered lashes, her bottom lip pushed out in just a slight pout. Valente had to hand it to her, she was an accomplished flirt.
“No thank you,” Aldéric replied hurriedly. “But would you like some help with that basket?”
“Thank you, Father,” she replied, softly. She handed him the basket, letting her fingers linger for just a moment when they touched.
“I believe your father is just over here,” Aldéric said, turning to lead Irene away. Irene almost stumbled in her haste to keep up with Aldéric, the archbishop completely unaware.
Valente chuckled as he turned to work on the next stone. Aldéric may be dense as a rock, but at least Irene would keep him busy for a while. She would catch up with him, and the two of them would have a nice walk. Perhaps she would be able to get her charms through the archbishop's thick skull and succeed in distracting him for the rest of the day. Valente was quite pleased with the possibility of getting some work done, even if he felt a twinge of jealousy.
“I had another thought-” Aldéric started. Valente almost missed his chisel with his hammer. Apparently, Irene wasn’t as accomplished as he thought.
“I’m surprised you’re back so soon,” Valente chuckled.
“What?” Aldéric asked.
“She likes you, I thought you would spend the rest of the day getting to know her,” Valente replied.
“She- no,” Aldéric replied. “Irene’s just nice. She knows I can’t -”
“Why? Something happen?” Valente asked, pointedly looking at Aldéric’s crotch.
“No!” Aldéric replied looking away exasperated. “I’m clergy, I can’t-”
“Never stopped any clergymen I knew in Rome,” Valente shrugged. “The stories I could tell you about some of them.”
“I’m not like that,” Aldéric gasped. “I would never- I take my vows seriously!”
“Hmm,” Valente grunted. “Well if you’re done pestering me, I wanted to get this arch finished today.“
“Fine,” Aldéric huffed. “I’ll go finish my letter.”
“Is this a letter to Rome?” Valente asked.
“Yes, I suppose you have yet another reason I shouldn’t send one now?”
“No, just that you should instead be focusing on the glass blowers,” Valente sighed, “if you want to get the windows done in a timely manner that is.”
“Fine, I suppose having someone for the windows is more important. I've waited to write to Rome this long after all.”
---
It didn’t take Valente long to find a young man on the work crew that actually seemed to know something about masonry. He had studied under Master Godefrey and actually knew enough that Valente trusted him to lead some of the lesser tasks.
It worked out well for Valente; not only was he able to leave his new apprentice to deal with the influx of workers Aldéric had just hired from Charoux, but this freed up Valente’s time to work on some of the more delicate projects
He had a small shed outside of Aldéric’s manor to use as a workshop.
His work was lit by candles as he chiseled the large stone before him. Over the past two evenings, he had hewed out the rough outline. Finally, it was time to add in the details.
“What are you working on?” Aldéric asked, walking into the workshop.
Valente almost missed as he struck the chisel to the stone.
“The statue that goes over the altar,” Valente replied. “And I need silence to work.”
“I just wanted to check in,” Aldéric huffed.
“Yes, but if I mess up it will take another week to find a stone large enough to work,” Valente replied. “So quiet.”
“But don’t you want some company?” Aldéric asked as Valente picked up his chisel again.
“You can only remain in here if you’re working on something,” Valente decreed.
“Can I help at all?” Aldéric asked.
It was then that Valente got an idea. If anything would get the archbishop to let him work this would be it.
“Take off your shirt,” Valente said, nonchalantly.
“I - what?” Aldéric asked, stepping back almost as if Valente had slapped him.
“You offered to help, I need a model, so take off your shirt,” Valente repeated himself.
“I don’t really think that’s appropriate -”
“Fine,” Valente replied, setting his tools down. “Perhaps tomorrow I can find someone in town willing to model. Or maybe in a week. Or we can finish this later after the cathedral is done.”
“Well, if you need someone now,” Aldéric sighed, stripping out of his tunic. “How do you want me?”
Valente stared wide-eyed. He hadn’t expected the man to actually agree. He couldn’t help the way he looked over Aldéric, his eyes tracing down the man’s chest. Aldéric was tall and lean, this much Valente had already known, but he hadn’t expected the light toning to the muscles on his stomach, or the fuzzy trail of hair that led teasingly down to the waistband of his trousers.
“Valente?” Aldéric asked, snapping the mason’s attention back. “How did you want me to pose?”
“Arms up,” Valente said, quickly clearing his throat. “Shoulder’s down.” Aldéric tried to mimic the pose described, but it still didn’t look quite right. His arms were too stiff, his posture too straight. Valente took the pose himself, but if anything, Aldéric’s attempt to follow his example was just more ridiculous looking.
“No, let me,” Valente sighed, stepping around the stone. He carefully touched Aldéric’s arm, drawing in a quick breath as he felt a spark between them. He ran his hand down Aldéric’s arm, softening the bend in his elbow. His fingers danced across the archbishop’s skin, mapping every curve.
“Is this alright?” Aldéric asked, his own voice light and breathless as he adjusted his posture. A bead of sweat rolled down Aldéric’s form. Valente’s fingers followed it down, drawing a shudder from the archbishop. He stopped right above the band of Aldéric’s trousers. When he looked up he could see the desire in the archbishop’s eyes, and if anything it scared him.
“Mhmm,” Valente agreed, his fingers skated across Aldéric’s stomach, making the muscles beneath his skin jump as he adjusted him. He adjusted Aldéric’s other arm, making it mirror the first. Finally, he gently grasped the man’s head, turning him so that he looked downwards. Aldéric looked up at him, through his eyelashes, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to kiss Aldéric, to fall into the man’s bed and never leave.
Valente forced himself to step back before he could do something so stupid. He berated himself for even giving in for a moment. After all, Aldéric was a priest, and Valente was already well and truly fucked.
------
It was midday when the messenger arrived. Aldéric was in his study, staring wistfully out the window when the man was shown in.
“I have a letter for you,” the messenger said, with a slight bow before pulling the sealed envelope out of his sack.
Aldéric smiled as he took the envelope. He recognized the seal on it. It was from the Pope himself. He had known that this particular undertaking would get him the recognition he deserved.
“His eminence also sends words,” the messenger continued. “Cardinal Rémi Donnet and his men will be arriving two days hence, to discuss the future of this diocese.”
“I will make sure we are prepared for them,” Aldéric replied, grabbing his letter opener.
“Was there anything else?” Aldéric asked, pausing to look up at the man.
“I was just curious.” The man shrugged. “How did he talk you into it?”
“Who? What?” Aldéric asked, confused. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
The messenger was about to respond when a loud rumbling noise filled the air.
“That’s odd,” Aldéric muttered, looking out the window. It was a clear sunny day, unsuitable for thunder. A pit of dread filled his chest as he looked towards the cathedral’s construction site. He could just barely see the ominous cloud of dust rising from the ground.
“Thank you for your delivery, here’s a coin for your troubles,” Aldéric told the messenger hurriedly. He pressed a few coins into the man’s hand. “I’m sure you can find your way out.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he rushed out of his manor. He moved quickly, only breaking into a run when he saw one of the local boys running towards him.
“Father! Father! Come quickly, there’s been an accident!” the boy yelled at him as soon as he saw Aldéric.
“Is everyone alright?” Aldéric asked the boy.
“I don’t know,” the boy gasped out. “They’re still trying to clear the rubble.”
Aldéric ran faster. He reached the streets of Aviluire in record time. He coughed as he tried to breathe through the dust cloud still settling around him. Finally, he reached the base of the cathedral.
He stared in horror at the scene before him. The entire north portion was in ruins. One of the main supporting arches had collapsed, taking several of the smaller ones with it. But there was only one thing that was on Aldéric’s mind.
“Valente!” he called, looking around the crowd of workers. “Valente!”
He didn’t see the mason anywhere. Memories of Master Godefrey’s demise flashed through his mind. Had Valente succumbed to the same fate? He couldn’t bear to think of it.
“Has anyone seen Valente?” he asked the crowd. There were a few murmurs and shaken heads.
“He was working on the north last time I saw him,” Eugène, the young man Valente had taken on as an apprentice, said finally. “But that was earlier this morning.”
Aldéric swallowed harshly staring up at the building that had swallowed his friend. He ached to see the mason at least one last time, but these people needed him.
“Right,” Aldéric nodded, tearing his eyes away from the ruins. “Has everyone else been accounted for?”
“We’re still missing Thibault and Mathis,” Eugène replied. “But-”
His words were cut off as the building shifted again. There were shrieks and gasps from the gathered crowd as the west wing swayed ominously.
Suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway. Aldéric’s heart fell as he realized the man was not Valente. It was Thibault, a great beast of a man. He was covered in dust and bloodied from the falling stones, but otherwise seemed okay. He was carrying the body of Mathis.
“He’s fine,” Thibault called, hurrying down the steps. “Still breathin’.” He laid the man down on the grass before collapsing down beside him. Aldéric was so intently focused on the two men that he didn’t see Valente step out of the rubble behind Thibault.
“Well that was a waste,” Valente sighed, staring up at the building.
Aldéric started, looking up to see the mason.
“You’re alive!” he gasped, jumping up and pulling the man into a hug. He knew it wasn’t proper, but he was filled with such glee at seeing the man again that he didn’t care how many people were around.
“Ow,” Valente gasped, pulling away. He clutched at his left arm, which hung limply at his side. It only took one look for Aldéric to know it was broken. He took one last look at Valente, before finally turning back to the crowd at large
“I want everyone to clear away from here,” he ordered. “At least until we can get the cathedral stabilized again.” He motioned two of the young men forward. “Take Master Basanelli, Mathias, and Thibault up to my manor. Get them settled in there.” He then turned to one of the boys who frequently ran messages between towns. He pressed a few coins into the boy’s hands. “Run to Charoux and fetch their surgeon. Tell him it’s double wages if he can make it within the hour.”
Finally satisfied, Aldéric turned to give the cathedral one last look. This was just a setback. He had the support of Rome. Everything would work out, he knew it.
-----
Later that evening, Valente was already back in his study working. He wasn’t going to let a simple broken arm keep him from his project.
He didn’t look up as Aldéric entered his office. His candle flickered in its holder, the wax having almost entirely melted. But Valente didn’t care, he was so close to finishing.
“I think I figured out what happened; we were off on the angle of the buttress. Shouldn’t take more than a--” he said, his words trailing off as he realized the archbishop wasn’t sitting down in his chair. “What’s wrong?”
“I wrote to Rome,” Aldéric confessed.
“Oh,” Valente felt the world crash down around him. He couldn’t look Aldéric in the eye.
“You were excommunicated,” Aldéric continued, his words growing stronger. “The church cannot accept anything you build as an offering to God.”
“I’m sorry,” Valente said, his voice catching in his throat. “I didn’t mean to-”
“To what? Waste our time? Get everyone’s hopes up?” Aldéric scoffed. “You know what you were doing when you agreed to this project.”
“It was just- What can I do?” Valente would do anything if it would fix this. If he could fix the way Aldéric was looking at him, the disgust, disappointment, and anger clearly written across the man’s face.
“Repent,” Aldéric said desperately. “Go back to Rome and grovel before the Pope. Repent your sins and the cathedral can still be finished.”
“I can not,” Valente replied, shaking his head. “They’ll kill me if I return.”
“Is that the punishment for your crimes?” Aldéric asked, his voice cracking at the thought.
“Did they tell you why?”
“You broke the laws of nature,” Aldéric replied, blushing as he was unable to meet Valente’s eyes.
“I fell in love,” Valente corrected. “My only sin was love.”
“Neither the church nor the courts see it that way. You are a sinner, but redemption can still be found! Surely if you told them that you had seen the light? That I had brought you back into the fold-”
“Only those without sin may cast the first stone,” Valente quoted, harshly.
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Aldéric scoffed.
“Your vanity would have me turn over my life for your building. Is that what happened to Master Godefroy? Did you aim too high and let him pay the costs?”
“No,” Aldéric replied.
“What will your people eat come winter?” Valente asked, changing the subject suddenly.
“I -what?”
“You hired every farmer in Aviluire to work on your cathedral. Their fields lay barren. So what will they eat?” Valente pressed on, daring Aldéric to see the errors in his way.
“I told you, we’ll buy grain from Charsier.”
“You hired all the farmers from Charsier as well,” Valente continued. “What will they eat?”
“Then we’ll buy from Carbet,” Aldéric said. “Surely someone will have spare grain.”
“You hired everyone from Carbet as well. You offered them more coins than their harvest was worth. Every farmer in 20 miles has been here working for the last month. All of the fields are barren, save for a few small gardens. My sins may have cost you your cathedral, but yours will cost them their lives.”
“Then we have doomed us all, you and I. What a fine pair we make.”
Aldéric turned to the door and wrenched it open. He paused though, thoughtful for a moment.
“What will you do?” he asked, the anger flooding out of his voice, leaving only hopelessness.
“I don’t know,” Valente replied. “I suppose you’ve already called for the guard to arrest me?”
“No,” Aldéric replied. “I- I can’t.” He cleared his throat. “But the cardinal will be here in two days. I assume the men he brings with him will return you to Rome.” Aldéric thought on it for a moment. “I suppose it would be best if you moved on to Bellfort and took on a new name.”
“You could come with me,” Valente replied, softly approaching Aldéric like he was a skittish animal. Aldéric knew he should step away, disengage, as Valente said his next words. “We could go together.”
“I can’t,” Aldéric sighed, though he ached to say yes. “It seems I have a mess to deal with here.”
“Then we only have tonight,” Valente said softly leaning in. He pressed his lips tenderly against Aldéric’s, drawing a gasp from the archbishop.
"It's a sin," Aldéric said when they separated, but leaned forward to kiss Valente regardless.
Aldéric felt like he was falling as he kissed Valente. His heart hammered in his chest, but still, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he wanted more.
And in that moment, as Valente led Aldéric to his bedroom, Aldéric had to wonder how something that felt so wonderful could be such a mortal sin. He and Valente moved together in passion as Valente took him to new highs he had never felt before.
Aldéric knew he would never be the same again.
"Do you still consider this a sin?" Valente asked, twining his fingers through Aldéric’s as they lay together in Aldéric’s bed.
"I do not know," Aldéric replied. He sighed, pulling his hand back away from Valente's. He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought.
"You could claim I forced myself on you," Valente muttered. "Say it loud enough and you may even convince yourself."
"You took nothing I did not give freely," Aldéric admitted. He cupped Valente's face, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.
"What happens next?" Valente asked.
“Next?” Aldéric sighed. He wished he could freeze this moment and live forever here and now with Valente. He didn’t want the sun to rise and bring them back to reality. “I can’t leave, not now.”
“And I can’t stay,” Valente sighed, pulling away.
“I wish you could,” Aldéric sighed as Valente began to dress again. “I wish I had never written to Rome.”
“There’s nothing to do about it now,” Valente sighed. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“If you don’t have to leave till morning, at least stay here for the night,” Aldéric insisted, catching Valente’s wrist. Valente looked at him dubiously as Aldéric kissed his knuckles, drawing him back towards the bed
“Fine, but just for a few hours,” Valente chuckled, climbing back onto the plush mattress.
-----
It was a glorious spring day. The sun was shining, warming Aldéric’s weary bones as he hopped off the farmer’s cart. It had been a long winter. He had spent most of his share of his family’s money importing food for the people of Aviluire and the surrounding towns. If he never had to eat another half-rotted turnip it would be just fine by him. He took several of the meager remainders of coins from his purse and handed them to the farmer- a hefty tip for taking him so far out of his way.
“Thank you, Father,” the farmer said breathlessly as he quickly pocketed his coin. Aldéric got the vague impression that the man expected him to ask for it back.
“Oh I’m not a-” Aldéric started but trailed off as he looked towards the construction site before him.
A new cathedral was going up in Flatwick. Despite having only started in the fall, they had already constructed much of the scaffolding. He could already tell it would be magnificent.
His heart hammered in his chest as he walked towards the site. He recognized the design already; he had seen it in the drafts Valente had done back in Aviluire.
“Can I help you?” one of the workers asked as Aldéric drew close.
“I was looking for your master mason,” Aldéric replied, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.
“Not planning to hire him out from under us are you?” The builder chuckled but still turned towards the site. “Marcello!”
Aldéric followed his gaze. His heart skipped a beat as he saw him. Valente rounded a corner, papers in hand as he talked to the local bishop.
Valente’s eyes went wide when he saw Aldéric. He quickly ended his conversation with the bishop and approached.
“Marcello, this man was asking about you,” the worker said, motion towards Aldéric.
“Marcello?” Aldéric asked.
“How can I help you?” Valente asked, his voice trembled slightly as he talked. His hesitation made Aldéric ache. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here.
“I had a project I was hoping you could help me on,” Aldéric continued. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Hmm,” Valente grunted in reply. “Come with me.”
They traveled in tense silence. Luckily, Valente lived not far from the construction site. It was a small house, but sturdy.
“This is nice,” Aldéric said, looking around the main room. In the winter, without Valente, Aldéric’s manor had felt cold and lifeless. He hadn’t realized how much of a difference the man had made in his life until he was gone. As far as Aldéric was concerned, any house that had Valente was better than the finest castle.
“What are you doing here?” Valente asked, his arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”
“I took a sabbatical,” Aldéric said. “Or more so, was forced on sabbatical. When the cardinal arrived to see the ruins of the Aviluire Cathedral, and that our mason had fled in the middle of the night to escape his charges- Well, my diocese is being split up among several lesser bishops, and I am no longer in the good graces of the Pope.”
“But you’ll never get to Rome like that,” Valente said, smiling his wicked smile with just a bit too much teeth.
“I found something better,” Aldéric shrugged. “So Marcello?”
“I thought I needed something different,” Valente replied.
“Something the church won’t recognize?” Aldéric supplied.
“I still want to make a mark on the world,” Valente shrugged. “Would you like to see the plans?”
“Of course,” Aldéric nodded.
Valente spread the parchments across the table, showing the cathedral from all angles. It was magnificent, the subtle references to classic Greek architecture, the facade depicting the life of Job. But most noticeable was the center spire, which penetrated the sky.
“You put the spire on it,” Aldéric said with a grin.
“I thought you’d like it,” Valente smiled. “It’ll be supported by a center column, here.” He flipped to a page depicting the inside of the cathedral.
“It’s truly your best work,” Aldéric told him, looking up. Their eyes locked together. Suddenly Aldéric felt the butterflies swell in his stomach. He leaned forward, pressing his lips hesitantly against Valente’s.
Valente melted into the kiss. Gently, he cupped Aldéric’s face.
“You know, I have a spare room here if you’re looking for somewhere to stay,” Valente said when they separated.
“Perfect, we can use it as a study,” Aldéric chuckled.