Celia gave me a quick glance as though for moral support, looked next at the crucifix on the wall as though hoping it would provide the support I clearly would not, gulped twice, and began. “Holy Father, I want to be a priest.”

This was the same surprise to Joachim it was to me. Fortunately Celia kept her eyes on her folded hands. “When did you make this decision, my daughter?” the bishop asked kindly.

“I’ve always known it,” she murmured bitterly, as though already hearing rejection in what sounded to me only like friendly interest. “Or, at least I’ve known it for several years. I was meant to serve God. I want to devote my life to bringing the absolute light of good and love to those around me. My parents expect me to get married and become a duchess, but I cannot.”

“It would be hard for you to be a priest,” said Joachim thoughtfully. “Since the time of Moses and Aaron, the priesthood has been entirely male. There has certainly always been a place in the Church for pious widows and virgins, though they can usually best serve God as cloistered nuns.”

Celia was no widow, but she was most likely a virgin-though that was not really for me to know.

“There is,” the bishop continued, “as I am sure you know, a nunnery in the kingdom of Yurt well known for its rigor and purity.”

“I am not going to be a nun,” said Celia, quietly and distinctly. “I intend to bring God’s message to laymen and women, especially women. They’ll listen to me when they would never listen to some male priest.”

Joachim looked toward me, eyebrows raised, over her lowered head. I shrugged my shoulders with no idea what to say to her-especially since I thought she had a point.

“You’re the bishop,” Celia went on when he did not answer at once, determined to get in everything she had come to say. “You’re the supreme religious leader in the area. You can accept whomever you want into the seminary without having to answer to anyone.”