#11
He was determined to do what he could for the suffering woman. He was going to study and find an idea meant to help them in the Church Court, at asserting their case and get a quicker decision.

Now if their love stories brought them closer than the friends Agustin had for a lifetime, and to whom he could never tell anything, there was an unusual kinship feeling, growing between the tall French sailor roughened by many storms and the average-built clergy man, with a tendency to being rather delicate.

Agustin was surprised that a common sailor had heard of courtly love, even if he said he was born in the Midi, where those courts of love had actually existed five hundred years ago or more. But it made sense, according to the so appropriate example he had given, as the Arthurian legends had been first found in French Chronicles.

”I received from her fresh baked bread – as you say, baked with love - and a tea mix,” he confessed. ”It had spices from far away in the mix, it tasted wonderfully. You are right, it is more than many other men could ever get. The Church rules and the society rules cannot forbid the existence of love between two people. They can forbid only its outwards manifestations, to keep the social order as it is. So we can keep our love in our hearts and find subtler ways to show it.”

He smiled both to Fernand by his side and to Michela in his thoughts.

”Thoughts and dreams can’t be forbidden, while words and actions can. They can remain the queens of our hearts, no matter if it isn’t possible for them to ever be the queens of our homes, and we can have conversations with them in our minds, in lonely nights, making them less lonely, if conversations face-to-face can’t happen. This is the fuel many poets, writers, minstrels or artists had drawn their art from. And the irony of fate makes that Beatrice’s husband remains an anonymous, while she is known to the centuries beyond through being immortalized in Dante’s poems. So are the heroines of the French ballads you might be thinking about,” he suddenly realized that Fernand couldn’t be familiar with the Italian literature.
word count: 400

#12
Fernand found soothing in Fra’Agustin’s words. They could indeed keep their love in their hearts, because the ladies of their hearts would understand anyway. It was nobody else’s business to know. (If hopefully they succeeded to keep the secret – but Fernand knew his expression had been too obvious for his crewmates to leave anything for denial.)

”I am glad I found in your advice a reflection of my own thoughts, only better expressed,” he said. ”Too bad that God hasn’t given me any artistic talents!”

Singing Margareta’s beauty, or being able to draw her how the Captain was drawing, would have been nice, and a comfort in their situation. It seemed neither his new friend had been blessed in this way.

Actually Fernand had a talent, just that he didn’t see it as such. His talent was wood working.

They kept talking about the women in their lives - or rather in their dreams - on a lower voice, for a while, both of them opening up for the first time into another kind of confessions between friends.

<div align="center"> - THE END - </div>
word count: 188
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