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Back Margery Kempe Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
  1. Cover
  2. Biographical Notes
  3. Title Page
  4. INTRODUCTION
  5. MARGERY KEMPE
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. Dedication
  8. Front
  9. PART ONE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. PART TWO
  27. 17
  28. 18
  29. 19
  30. 20
  31. 21
  32. 22
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. 26
  37. 27
  38. 28
  39. 29
  40. 30
  41. 31
  42. PART THREE
  43. 32
  44. 33
  45. 34
  46. 35
  47. 36
  48. 37
  49. 38
  50. 39
  51. 40
  52. 41
  53. 42
  54. 43
  55. 44
  56. 45
  57. 46
  58. PART FOUR
  59. 47
  60. 48
  61. 49
  62. 50
  63. 51
  64. 52
  65. 53
  66. 54
  67. 55
  68. 56
  69. MY MARGERY, MARGERY’S BOB

When they had finished eating, John laid his head on Margery’s chest, his throat extended, face tilted back. He was surprised by her heartbeat. His stomach felt tight; small signals beeped in his cock and thighs and merged with the lavish ache of needing to shit. He was clinging to the moment. Soft heat raked the treetops, the sharp tang of resin and a woodwarbler’s shivering call. “If a man with a sword chopped off my head unless we made love . . .”

Margery protested, “We’ve been chaste eight weeks.”

“. . . . . .”

“I would rather se thow be slayn,” as Margery wrote.

Shock raised John’s eyebrows. He considered the endless renewable pleasure in her nipples; their aureoles were wide, a wealth of dark-pink tissue. He had a friendly attitude towards humanity.

“When we touch, I get so scared I’m paralyzed. You’re a dragon, a fire breather.”

“Admit it,” she laughed, “I shed more water than fire.”

“It’s the beer.”

Margery snorted, “Through my eyes.”

She looked at John; he was recognizable. Margery found she was a tourist at heart; without a backward glance she abandoned a sex life most people would be grateful for. She was tired of his hairy butt, his big feet, and the way he laughed with his mouth wide open. He was not satisfying to quarrel with since he didn’t mind being wrong.

As though defending himself, John cried, “How can you be a teacher when you never listen?”—a strange grievance since he didn’t speak for hours on end. “Grant my desires and I’ll grant yours. First, sleep with me in one bed. Second, pay my debts. Third, eat and drink with me on Friday.” He held a petty municipal office; their money came from her side of the family.

“No, I’ll never break my fast.” But John lost the contest by offering to negotiate. He wore the pleading expression and searching eyes of a beggar. Margery was moved and slightly repelled. His humility conveyed the depth of a love she was rejecting.

Jesus was a breath of crushed strawberries: “That’s why I ordered you to fast—to trade it for your chastity.”

So Margery made a counteroffer. “If you take a vow of chastity at a bishop’s hand, I will pay your debts and eat with you on Friday.”

John’s acceptance contained the end of his marriage, poverty, senility, and death.

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