Free At the Crossing Places by Kevin Crossley-Holland Page B

What happens in confession is secret, as you well know. It’s only for the ears of the priest—and God.”
    â€œDoes God have ears?” I asked.
    Haket looks rough-hewn, as if God left off making him halfway through. His cheekbones are like planks and his chin like a sawing block, and his skin’s rough as bark. He has a big red mouth.
    â€œThat’s enough of that,” Haket replied, leading the way into hisvestry, which is just as damp and chilly as the one at Caldicot. “Let me hear you read. The Book of Exodus, chapter twenty, beginning at the twelfth verse.”
    â€œHonor thy father and mother…” I began.
    My father. How can I? How can I honor him? He’s a murderer and he beats Lady Alice. He wounded me in my right shoulder and I think he may have meant to. I do honor my mother, though. I think about her and pray for her each day.
    â€œArthur!” said Haket keenly. “What’s wrong with you today?”
    â€œThou shalt not murder,” I read. “Thou shalt not commit ad…adult…”
    â€œAdultery,” said Haket.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œThou shalt not steal…”
    When I have my lessons with Oliver, it’s often quite easy to distract him because he likes the sound of his own voice. He doesn’t mind me arguing with him either, and that way I’ve found out lots of new things.
    But Haket is much more unbending. When I am reading, I have to read. When I’m writing, I have to write. Like Oliver, he won’t hear of my using my left hand, and several times he has smacked it.
    Haket is nothing like as rude about the Saracens as Oliver; but all the same, he believes they worship a false prophet and are not equal with Christians in the eyes of God.
    â€œDoes God have eyes?” I asked. “Is He shaped like a human being?”
    But of course Haket refused to change the subject. “In truth, many men who say they’re Christian…” he began. “Arthur, have you heard how King Richard defeated Saladin, the Saracen leader, at Arsuf?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBecause of Coeur-de-Lion, we do still have a kingdom of Jerusalem. But although King Richard stood and stared at the gates of Jerusalem itself, he could never enter the Holy City. Do you know why not?”
    â€œBecause his men were exhausted.”
    â€œBecause Christendom is a wasteland.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œA wilderness, Arthur. A wasteland of the spirit. Many men are behaving like animals. Think of the wildmen who imprisoned King Richard at Dürnstein. They guarded him night and day with unsheathed swords.”
    I thought of the beautiful, horrid man on my clay tile: little lower than the angels, little better than a hideous beast…
    â€œPay attention!” said Haket. “This is the truth. Many men and women say they’re Christian, but do not behave in a Christian manner. Is everyone here at Holt Christian? Is that what you think?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I faltered.
    â€œAll over Europe, people take the law into their own hands,” Haket said, “and their law is to threaten and maim, to rape and kill. Until we’re Christian not only in word but in deed, how can we enter Jerusalem?”
    â€œBut human beings can never be perfect,” I said.
    â€œThat is the paradox,” Haket said, “and I want you to think about it. That’s all for this afternoon.”
    I put my hand on top of the vestry chest and pulled myself up.
    â€œOh!” I exclaimed. “Look!”
    Haket looked.
    â€œRowena’s muffler!” I said. “I’ll give it to her.”
    Haket squeezed the muffler in one of his horny hands. “I’ll give it to her myself,” he said.
    But what was Rowena doing in the vestry? I thought Haket said she’d come to church to make her confession. He can’t have been telling me the