by R D Blake
Erick was weak, a feeling like nothing he had ever experienced before. His memories were fuzzy, in most cases non-existent. He remembered the hunting camp but not much else afterwards. Where was he? The one who served him here said little: an old man who shuffled in and out — who approached him hesitantly and kept at a distance except to feed him, change his bandages and administer poultices at times. Oddly, this veiled, gloved man would answer no questions, only issuing rasping, short whispered commands. Erick felt he must be in a monastery of some sort, but where were the others? And why was this strange man the only one to serve him? It was a mystery that in his current frailty he could not think through clearly: just as much as this room that was constantly full of flowers.
This little bent over old man continually refreshed them day after day. Yet somehow Erick’s image of an elderly man did not match the feminine touches he observed in this chamber. Nor the constant attendance of all the sorts of animals that accompanied him in and out of the room. Not only cats and dogs, puppies and kittens but of kinds that were more properly out in the wilds. Erick had noted in his more lucid moments how they wrapped themselves about the man’s legs and arms, always touching and caressing. At odd times, the old fellow returned their obvious affections. Birds flew in and out as if this was more an aviary than a chamber for healing.
The arrival of these animals atop his bed was disconcerting at best but turned far more troubling when the first of the rats appeared. Erick had jerked back attempting to kick the pestilent creatures away. But it was an attempt only, for he writhed in pain at his first sudden efforts. His body could take no such brisk movement. Not yet. But strangest of all, these rats and the others joining them bowed in a fashion to him, almost begging his pardon for being the cause of his current suffering. As if they knew who he was. Erick almost chuckled at that thought, but he stopped himself for such an act pained him most of all. Still, such notions broached the edge of madness and Erick feared he was passing over its brink.
Weakness. So unfamiliar. He could do nothing of what he wished: just to lie here, rest, eat, sleep. Yet as the days passed, Erick came to understand the extent of his injuries. Of how he had come by them he was less sure. His left arm was broken and Erick was certain some of his ribs were as well. The deep breaths he took on occasion confirmed it. His body bore many bruises and the back of his head throbbed if he moved in a certain manner, not unlike if a heavy blow had landed there. The bandage wrapped about his head added its own proof of his diagnosis. But it was the deep pain in his lower back that kept him prone on his bed. Yes, whatever had happened had left him wounded and forced to endure a slow recovery. And that brought Erick back to pondering where he was and upon the identity of this man was who served both as doctor and nurse.
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Some days or was it weeks later, Erick was able to sit up for several hours at a time before his weakness led him down the path to sleep again. Yet other than adding to a growing list of questions that nagged at him, he was bored. The comings and goings of the birds and the animals had become too routine despite their almost human attempts to entertain him: singing, jabbering in their own languages, capering about, tussling with each other as if they were clowns and jesters. Erick wanted to rise to his feet, to explore, to find for himself the answers to his questions and to the mysteries that this man represented most of all.
So fraught with frustration, Erick had almost disclosed his true identity, to demand that it was his right to be told where he was, but he had refrained from doing such; for he had this feeling, this premonition that in this place, none of the proper rights of his station in life mattered at all — that though he was not at the mercy of this old servant he had a different position here than anywhere else. And that thought, that almost unimagined opportunity to escape who he was, held his tongue if nothing else. But his questions were an unmerciful irritant as his former health slowly returned.
Finally, the day came after this old servant had brought his food and was readying to leave (for Erick could now feed himself and this servant came to his room less and less often while he was awake, seeming only to wish to be in attendance while he slept) that Erick grabbed as his covered wrist and held on. But he was not at all prepared for the reaction he received. The man shrieked and twisted and tugged with all his might. His voice had risen from its low tones. “No! No! Let go! Let go! Please, do not! You must not! I beg you!”
He writhed so violently, as if he suffered under the most extreme torment, that Erick released the old man only to watch him first crawl and then bound from his chamber. The birds and animals which had gathered in the room flew and raced about in a flurry of wings and feathers, howls and barks chasing after the man — their plaintive sounds seeming to ask for forgiveness and to give assurance of some needed comfort.
Thus he was left alone among all the profusions of flowers. Shame rose in Erick at how he had let his need and his curiosity cause him to act as he had — intruding on what must have been a sacred vow of this old man. But that shriek and the tone of those words — was this man truly a man as Erick had first supposed? And what was he to make of what he had felt underneath that sleeve for that briefest of moments? And from that day forward, doubt grew in him.
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Some hours later, he was awoken from another slumber and discovered that two of the puppies had rejoined him. They were asleep on his bed, but they awoke not much later and crept up closer and snuggled in tighter as if to say that what had happened would right itself and that they understood him and had forgiven him — along with all the others.
Erick raised himself from his bed, so that he sat up and found his evening meal beside him. He ate not because he felt hungry; he did so only to strengthen himself. Upon reflection Erick had decided, and with a firmness that was part of his nature, that he would discover the answers himself when he could rise to this own feet and leave this chamber under his own power.
Never again did he see the old man. Meals and ointments were left for him to eat and administer himself. Only the animals now entered his room while he was alert and awake: sleeping, chirping, singing, yipping, yapping, mewing, purring — issuing out a profusion of sounds as if they were talking among themselves.
Another time, Erick had tried to pretend to sleep; but the man must have known the game he was playing and never appeared again despite Erick almost staying up an entire night awaiting his arrival. The next day he awoke near noon, discovering his food, fresh clothes and salves ready once more for his own use.
But over the following weeks, Erick began to feel more and more like his former self. The deep-seated bruises were gone, his arm feeling more mended, though it still remained wrapped — somehow changed while he slept, and his head now no longer hurt though the memory of how he had been injured remained elusive. Finally, the day came when Erick attempted to stand, discovering himself a moment later flat on the floor once he had let go of the bed. But he was determined he was done with that piece of furniture and crawled slowly on his hands and knees to a nearby rickety chair. It proved beyond his strength to climb into it, until with a loud chatter of bird noise, he felt himself hoisted up from behind into it, only managing to twist himself about soon enough to see the back end of a huge bear leaving the chamber. It felt like his heart was stuck in his mouth until Erick realized that the birds all about him were peeping and cawing in such a manner that he realized they were laughing at him.
“So the joke is on me, is it?” he asked. “Now tell that master of yours I wish to see him.” But at once the room turned silent. There was not a peep or a ruffle of feathers and beady eyes regarded him with no friendliness in them at all. Erick felt he had crossed that invisible boundary once more. He had been judged and found lacking. He bowed to the birds roosted in the rafters above him. “I apologize. I have been crass — impolite — rude — ungrateful of what has been done for me. Forgive me my imprudence.” But despite his heartfelt apology, in ones and twos, the birds began
to leave his chambers.
The satisfaction, the joy of finally having left his bed, soon abandoned him. All that was left to him was a sense of unhappiness. Erick was uncertain if it was due to being reprimanded, or the continued absence of his nurse, or almost seemingly absurdly, this new shunning by these creatures.
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Each day Erick journeyed to the chair, the few awkward steps completely draining his waxing strength, proving that his recovery was still not complete, and later, if he had fallen asleep while sitting so, he would discover himself back in his bed. But one morning a set of crutches lay near him. These he used, but discovered soon enough that he was not allowed beyond the doorway to his chamber. That bear and a pack of wolves guarded it now and would not let him pass. Erick was becoming so accommodated to the presence of these animals he no longer thought how unusual it all was. So was he a prisoner here? Erick wondered. Maybe not everything was as he thought. Perhaps the authorities who had charge of this place knew who he truly was.
But from the doorway he could espy down the hallway to the outside. The corridor itself was a ruin, the stone walls sorely in need of repair, shafts of light pouring in here and there. And he noted that the egress to the outside contained no door, only being a simple rough hole through which light poured in on sunny days or water pooled to form a puddle on others when it rained. Erick simply shook his head at all of it. None of what was about him made any sense.
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Several days later, Erick awoke in the deep evening, finding himself alone. The warm presence of puppies, cats, and foxes snuggled up against him were absent. And to his hunter trained ears, no animals lay sleeping nearby. The chamber was absolutely silent. Yet at the edge of his hearing, he detected a sound — its tones musical in nature. Tossing off his blankets, Erick found the slippers that served as his shoes and after grabbling for a few moments, found the crutches at the end of his bed. It was still proved difficult to use them what with his left arm not yet fully mended. He moved to the doorway of this room and peered into the hallway discovering his guards were absent as well.
It did not take a moment to consider what this meant. He was free. And Erick meant to make what he could of it. He crutched to the opening and carefully stepped through onto a broken pavement. The sounds were louder out here and he could easily discern from which direction they came, but that was not what caught his attention. It was the night sky. How long — how long had it been since he had last seen it? It filled his heart to survey its vast expanse once again. A full moon hung mid-height over the land lording itself over the star-filled sky. By its light he gingerly picked his way over the broken stonework moving to discover the source of the sound. It was music of a sort — but not with instruments of any kind he knew of.
Climbing up the shattered steps to the remnants of a wall, Erick could detect firelight flickering over its edge. Coming out onto another flat area and peering over a crumbling battlement he saw a bonfire below him. Circles and circles of animals were gathered about it but in its midst danced the old covered man. It was the creatures themselves that in their cawing, barking, yipping, peeping, whistles, chirps, growls and beating of their pawed feet were making a sound as sweet as anything Erick had ever heard. But it was not the music that riveted Erick to one spot. It was the movements of the old man. Though many of his steps were more like shuffles and he was bent over, yet at times, he gambolled and leapt with such grace, intimately matching the motion of his arms and his gloved hands which by some means wove a song of their own and captured the rhythm, the cadence and the mood of the music. At times, his head was upraised, as if in joy, regarding the starlight and moon above them all. And in other moments, he drew the larger animals to the fire and holding their upper arms, careened them about the open fire in a mad jig of his own making. It mesmerized Erick as he silently looked on.
It finally came to him for the first time that this was no ordinary place. There was magic here and he sensed it was old, of a kind from another time and not of the nature of which he had been taught. At the first signs of dawn, as the eastern sky lit up in glimmers of faded blue, the dance ended. With its conclusion, Erick had come to a few of his own. This was no monastery and the only two humans in this place were he and the one who had nursed him back to life and this servant was no old man, for no man could dance as she had.
And as he crutched back to his room, Erick realized he would have no peace until he knew who she was and why, oh why, she lived as she did.
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Marta shook her head as much as she wished not to offend the bishop. “I regret I must refuse. My vows to God will not allow me to attend.”
She could readily see the frustration of her superior. “But will not God allow you to merely be present? The church and His Work will be blessed by the donation the Earl promises in return.”
“Please; do not ask me again. It is a matter I have placed before God. I have given myself fully to Him and only wish to make recompense for my sins. To accept would be to sin again. This I cannot do.”
Once Marta left, the bishop bowed his head and went on bended knee before the icons set on a table on the other side of his private chambers. He prayed to God for His Hand to give His Church a solution, a means to escape the vice the Earl had placed about God’s earthly temple. For the Earl had promised the bishop two things. With Marta’s presence at the feast, a sizeable donation would be given that would clear all of the church’s earthly debts and provide for an income that would accomplish much good in this city and many others — or with her absence, a new levy would be placed upon all church lands within the earldom. Truly, the bishop knew the church would not stand many years if that were to take place.
The old man bent over so his head touched the cold stone floor asking God to forgive his own sin. For the Earl had also implied that the feast would also include a private meeting between Marta and his son, and the bishop was still well enough aware of the world and of its sin to know what that might entail. Over the next hour, this prince of the church humbled himself and pled for God to extend His Mercy for his own weakness and for strength to be as Marta and serve God first rather than man.
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Erick gathered his crutches and marched to the entranceway of his chamber, discovering the bear and the wolf pack returned to their guardianship. Deciding to try another tack with them, he bowed gravely to them. “I would ask your permission to depart this room for a time. For as you see I have mended much and the summer air would do more to aid in returning me to full health and…” He paused. “And I swear by God’s Name and by this land and by all you hold precious that I will do no harm by word or deed or by any other intention to your — to whom you serve. I so swear it to you.” Then Erick waited while it seemed the creatures before him considered his vow and promises. Then with a huff from the bear and a few yaps from the wolves they left to lead him to the outside.
Erick looked about feeling a fresh breeze flow through his long locks and the warmth of the sun embrace him. Yes, this place was a ruin. He had no remaining doubts about that. On his crutches he returned to his vantage point of the previous night and cast his sight out further. This was a vale nudged up against mountains to the south. And a gleam of a river appeared from place to place nearby as it wound its way farther north. The river. The edge of a memory was tantalizingly close at hand, but Erick could not quite grasp it.
But that was of lesser importance to him. Erick could see from the lay of the land about him that it had once been populated. There were signs of worked fields, of orchards, even lines that indicated stone fencing and mounds here and there where once other buildings had once stood. That was long ago by his reckoning. But most of all he wished to see this woman again. He regarded those that accompanied him. The bear and wolves had followed him here. “I am given more freedom and some trust but not all. Not yet I surmise.”
The creatures deigned not to answer him, simply continuing to rest on the
ir haunches. But Erick sensed they were not ignoring him. These animals held within them no common intelligence. They were his guards, yet now he understood they were not only servants but guardians of her.
But where was she? As if in answer to his unspoken words he saw her turn around a corner below him, toting on her shoulders a yoke bearing two pails of water. Bent over, shuffling as if the weight was too great for her or her limbs, her movements gave proof that the years had been long and hard upon her body. But Erick thought back to her dancing of a few hours ago feeling that premise could not be correct. No old woman would dance as she had.
The mystery about her only piqued his interest all the more. He had intended to find a way down to where she toiled, but Erick found his way barred again. The bear had risen to his feet and blocked his passage away from his vantage point. Feeling frustrated but somewhat amused by the ability of his guards to decipher his every inclination, he bowed his head to the bear. “Not yet is how I will deem your words to me. I will stay and be content, if you will permit.”
And so Erick remained and watched the covered woman (he would not deem her anything but that until proved otherwise) toil below him. Animals followed her wherever she went, as she collected more water, brought in untold masses of flowers, and toted about a few small baskets of vegetables. Often they were underfoot and she had to amble along carefully at times, and at others, she would pick up one of the smaller ones and carry it in her arms as if it was a babe. And once, just once, he thought he heard her laugh — though it was low throated, much akin to what little of her speech he had heard from her before. A mass of birds had swooped and flown about her as she travelled and had risen to do the same about these ruins. Then one broke off and flew up and above him, causing him to duck as if this was all just an amusing game. Erick took the time to see if the woman had noticed, but she had disappeared from sight — likely having gone inside this broken fortress by some lower entranceway.