After those words he had stalked off in a cloud of disgust.
“Are you even listening?” Adel cut into Aeden’s thoughts.
“Yes,” he said sheepishly, caught in a daydream.
“What was I saying?” Adel asked.
Aeden glanced about the room searching for the answer.
“Something about a prophet?” he said.
“Not just any prophet, the prophet, the man who led the Church out of shadow and into the light.”
Aeden nodded his head. He didn’t want to be rude, not to his new friend. He didn’t want to make life more difficult than it already was, yet a part of him couldn’t help but rebel. Part of him didn’t want to hear how there was only one god. It invalidated his beliefs. If Adel was right, then his real family, his village, would never ascend to the afterlife and eat amidst the gods.
“Can you name me the prophet?” Adel asked, momentarily sounding like Thomas.
“John?” Aeden shrugged.
Adel simply glared at him.
“Wait, no, it’s Fendrel, or Geoffrey or something.”
Adel’s face went pale as his eyebrows knit together in anger.
“You mock the Order,” he said flatly, grinding his teeth and twiddling his fingers.
Aeden had noticed when playing cards that Adel twiddled his fingers when he had a bad hand or when they were losing. He also seemed to do it whenever he was corrected. So despite not understanding the word “mock,” he understood Adel’s meaning. It was written in the set of his shoulders and across his face. Still, Aeden felt compelled to plead his case, to defend his people.
“You ignore the old gods, the true creators, and lecture me on a history you made up!” Aeden retorted.
“I didn’t make anything up, it’s written right here,” Adel emphasized by jabbing a finger at the book open before him, “Bosco was right, you’re a barbarian who cannot read, and cannot concede the truth when it slaps him in the face.”
“This barbarian has earned his name!” Aeden practically shouted.
Just as Adel was about to respond Odilo entered the room. He didn’t say a word. Instead he folded his arms across his chest in clear disappointment. He studied them a moment before speaking. He addressed Adel first.
“Brother, I chose you to cultivate your patience and deepen your understanding of the Book of Khein, but now I worry I chose poorly,” Odilo paused and favored Adel with a stern look, “Perhaps you’re too young.”
Odilo’s words were gentle but stung like the tip of a whip. Adel winced and dropped his eyes in shame.
“As for you,” he continued, turning his gaze to Aeden, “I brought you in, sheltered you,” he switched to Sagaru, “help you join new family.”
It was Aeden’s turn to feel shame. His face reddened and he glanced briefly at Odilo then to Brother Adel.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper before stalking out of the room and seeking his rooftop alcove.
Chapter 17
“Bribery is the sin of the unimaginative.” 14:9 Book of Khein
Aeden sat upon the rooftop for a long time. He worked through the events of the previous day over and over again. The more he thought on it the more he realized he’d been out of line. Adel was merely doing his job. He was simply teaching what he believed, right or wrong, it didn’t matter. And now Aeden had stepped upon that burgeoning friendship with a heavy boot.
He wasn’t invited to kayles that night. Not that he would have gone, for he knew it was far too soon to ask for forgiveness. Adel loved games and was the one largely responsible for organizing the kayles tables and teams. And Aeden had just managed to squash one of the most important socializing events at the monastery.
In fact, the two monks hardly spent more than a minute together since the argument. Odilo took over his tutelage of the Holy Order of Sancire. The stories Blaise often told at night became his escape from reality.
As the days stretched into weeks, Aeden fully began to realize how deeply he’d hurt Adel. There were few exchanges between them. So Aeden set out to rectify that.
Aeden spent the next few days finding out everything he could about the brother monk he’d offended. He found out that Adel loved pastries. One called king’s delight was his favorite. So in an effort to win Adel back into his favor he sought out Bosco, knowing that he had connections to the Monastery’s black market.
In exchange for unwanted chores Aeden received drams. Once he accumulated four drams he’d paid off Pate. He was one of the few monks allowed to go beyond the monastery walls. Pate was tasked with community outreach. His main function was to entice wealthy patrons to visit the church and have their sins prayed for. This was all done for a small sum of money of course.
Pate smuggled in king’s delight for Aeden. In turn Aeden would gift them to Adel. Adel would accept them. In fact, it was hard for him to refuse them. This allowed for a more friendly exchange of nods and such as they passed each other, but it didn’t overcome Adel’s discomfiture.
Aeden needed a better plan. He decided then to shadow Adel to find out more about him. He stalked him through the corridors like a cat stalks its prey. He remained hidden in shadow and concealed his step as he’d been taught for years by the masters in the S’Velt. It paid off.
It took nearly two weeks, but Aeden had uncovered Adel’s hidden passion. A secret he’d somehow managed to keep buried from the prying eyes of ever nosy monks. He learned that Adel was a skilled artist and loved to draw. He didn’t just draw anything, he drew his fellow monks.
One day Aeden waited until Adel was done drawing. He watched as Adel placed sheets of parchment back into a small box and slid the box behind a loose brick. Once Adel had checked the corridor and left, Aeden slipped into the room and uncovered Adel’s secret drawings.
Aeden flipped through the pages of sketches. He saw a drawing of Neri huddled over his pet squirrel. There was another of Thomas nibbling on a piece of cheese. Adel had drawn Bosco and Jerome whispering to each other. It was the last drawing that had caught his attention. It was a sketch of himself.
Adel had depicted him with long hair, body armor, muscular, and warrior-like. It was odd seeing himself in his old garb and brought on a stab of emotion. Aeden dropped the sheets back into their hiding place. A hint of sadness stabbed at his insides. Sadness for having hurt Adel, and a deeper, hidden sadness for all that he’d lost.
He left Adel’s secret drawing spot and resolved to win him back. In a last ditch effort to earn coin, Aeden worked every unwanted chore of the monastery. He prayed longer than the other monks. Aeden already knew a certain number of prayers had to be accomplished per day to ward off the sins and avarice of the wealthy. He emptied the slop buckets, something that not even the well-paid monastery servants wanted to do. He worked the grinding stone to mill wheat for bread and spent hours mending torn robes, pricking his thumbs more times than he could count.
After nearly three weeks Aeden had earned enough money to bribe Pate once more. This time it took more convincing. He had to persuade Pate to purchase supplies from High Street, a nicer part of Bodig that resided next to Rat’s Alley. Pate said he disliked Rat’s Alley and was afraid of getting robbed and detested the number of whores that would offer themselves to him. In Pate’s words, “whores are Salvare’s test of servitude, a pleasurable abomination if there ever was one.”
Rat’s Alley was a neighborhood of servants for the rich and a large number of bastard children. It was a place of pickpockets, thieves, and prostitutes. He told Aeden the only way he’d go was if he had a full bit. A bit was a quarter of a silver dinar. It seemed excessive and it was more than Aeden had. It also seemed strange that a man who feared being robed wanted more money.
Only through excessive bargaining, did he convince Pate to sell his leather armor from S’Vothe and use that money for whatever activities he desired. Strangely, at mention of this Pate’s eyes lit up and a strange grin fought for control.
It had taken three days for Pa
te to sell Aeden’s armor and use the money to purchase the supplies Aeden had asked for. Three days of Aeden waiting impatiently, wondering if he’d wasted his time and effort. Three days feeling ashamed at selling the armor his father had given him for his last trial. But in the end it had been worth it.
Pate finally came back with the art supplies Aeden had requested. It then became a different waiting game. A game, in which, Aeden waited for the perfect time to present the supplies to Adel. Yet, the longer he waited, the more he realized there was no perfect time. So instead of making it awkward he sought help in crafting a note in his own hand and left the gift along with the note in Adel’s secret drawing place.
Chapter 18
“Beauty can be misinterpreted as love with such frequency that the object of desire becomes a fixation that only love can cure.” Canton of Sawol
Two long months passed before the beginning of Hearvest. There were celebrations in the streets of Bodig. They were celebrations that Aeden was only able to view while sitting on a roof under a small overhang near the main courtyard. The ceremonies were a welcome distraction from the idle thoughts that seemed to always circle back to his lost home and family.
It was a strange cycle of self-torture. He’d want to remember, for he felt his thoughts and memories served as a way to honor his people. If he kept them alive in his heart they would be safer and happier until the day he could avenge them. The memories would always lead to him arriving upon the charred remains of S’Vothe. Twisted, blackened bodies with outstretched hands that reached for the sky as if seeking to fend off terrible deaths. They were images forever fused into his young mind. His throat would constrict with emotion as he choked back tears in a valiant effort to hide his emotion from others. Distraction was the only way for him to remain sane.
Learning to speak Heortian had become his greatest distraction, with kayles a close second. Adel had finally accepted his apology. He had discovered the pencils and paper he’d bought, with Pate’s help. They never spoke of it. Instead one day Adel invited him back to the kayles tables. It was as though nothing had ever happened.
He had improved drastically in spoken Heortian and understood more than he could speak, but reading was another story. The characters used to represent words were confusing, too similar to each other. The whole affair was rather tedious. He was struggling to learn in an effort to read through the volumes of books available in the monastery library. Aeden figured the books would be a welcome escape from the drudgery that had become his life. His efforts were slow going and frustrating.
Far easier were the hand gestures used almost exclusively during mealtime. Aeden learned the signs for all the different foods, a dozen simple phrases, and a few dozen objects. Therefore, despite the silence observed in the refectory, lively conversations would take place in a symphony of hand movements.
Aeden’s newfound language skills were allowing him to make friends. With every word learned a new piece of gossip unfolded its ugly head. Aeden had learned that the monk who had burned himself in the plaza was from Sawol. He learned there was a growing rift between the Church and the Emperor as a struggle for power ensued. The most obstreperous of which was to the north.
He learned that the older one he had seen leading prayers and who would on very rare occasion join them for meals was the abbot. Abbot Filbert was seemingly bored and had a very hands-off approach to running the monastery. His lackadaisical attitude was never more apparent than in the sloth-like nature of the monks, the disrepair of several sections of the grand nave, and the small number of Bodigan residents in attendance at Noon Prayer. It was rumored he was busy with a side business that he hoped to retire to once done with the monastery.
Monahan had only become more obnoxious in his efforts to embarrass Aeden. It seemed his goal to be ever-present whenever he fumbled in his attempts to communicate more complex subjects and his missteps in Sancire protocol.
Aeden’s worst guffaw was at Noon Prayer a few weeks before. He had been guided through the process of judgements. It had seemed simple enough. The attending patron would sit through prayers and approach a monk of their choosing afterward. The attending monk would then listen to their woes and inform them of the number of prayers that would relieve their suffering. The patron would make an offering, the monk would refuse. The man would insist, and the Church would become a few coins richer.
Aeden had mistaken sigloi for dinar, not realizing the difference between the currency of D’seart and Heorte. Furthermore, he misjudged the wealth of the customer and had offered prayers far too cheaply. Monahan had witnessed the transgression and reported it to the sacrist. That night Aeden had spent hours prostrated before the other monks. It hadn’t been his first offense. The only benefit from recited prayer was that he found himself learning the language more quickly.
Monahan wasn’t alone in disliking Aeden. Jerome and Bosco seemed to do their best to irritate him during the day, and whenever they were rotated to the same kayles table at night, they did their best to belittle him as they played. Aeden, however, felt sorry for them. One was too fat, the other too tall and skinny. They didn’t seem well liked and he figured they were simply more inclined to take out their frustrations on him. Perhaps it was that he was an easy target as someone different, young, and foreign.
Aeden spent plenty of time with Odilo and came to respect him and like him. He learned that Odilo hadn’t always been a monk. Aeden got the feeling there was more to his past than he let on, but whenever he would ask too many questions Odilo would simply smile. Despite this mystery, Aeden could tell he was a simple man that was straightforward and honest. Qualities that he realized were of great importance to him.
Odilo formally introduced Aeden to Blaise, a friendly monk, who despite his older age, took a liking to the young Aeden and often spoke of church history with great passion and late into the night. There was often a small group that would sit and listen as Blaise spoke of history and told stories just before bed. It was through his stories that Aeden was able to practice his listening comprehension and simultaneously learn some Sancire lore.
Life was improving as he learned the role he was to play. Ceremonies began to make more sense. The daily routine became a blanket of security in a world full of unknowns. Therefore, it was strange and memorable when the routine was broken.
It was an uncommonly cool day when the Holy Order of Sancire of Bodig hosted a unique event. It seemed rarer these days that the Holy Order was able to do much of anything. The monks were still restricted to within the walls of the monastery. The magistrate of Bodig wasn’t pleased by the last demonstration. Immolation caused too many to talk, to question, and to disobey. Today of all days was not a day for disorder.
Aeden had finished Morning Prayer and completed his chores. Presently he could be found sitting in the small alcove on the roof that had become his refuge. The wind was gentle and spoke of greater things. It whispered as it swept past the white-stoned corner. It whistled as it traveled through the rain gutters and it caressed as it graced his cheeks.
He was watching the foot traffic beyond the monastery walls. His curiosity of what lay beyond grew with each passing day. Although he had seen much on his first day, it now felt long ago. The images were faded and watery. The wide street out front, the red-bricked buildings, and the alley around the corner had become his outside world. It was too small for his liking.
Today, however, he was content. There was enough activity to keep his mind occupied. Below on the cobble-stoned street guards were at their posts. They formed a staggered line on either side of the road, spaced evenly apart. Their tall spears were capped by polished steel heads. Red shirts with the images of a single oak and a single sword were worn over chainmail armor. Their helmets were tall and mildly reminiscent of a particular part of male anatomy.
“Pssst, Aeden!” came the hushed whisper of Adel.
Adel and Odilo were the only ones Aeden trusted enough to disclose the location of his secret alcove. The
only other time Adel had come was when Abbott Filbert had requested to speak with him. That was in regard to him placing a lock on his storage chest. Apparently possessions were communal and he wasn’t supposed to have anything of value that he needed a lock to stow away. Luckily the abbot was so disengaged with the daily running of the monastery that Aeden simply told him he must have been mistaken. The abbot had shrugged and walked off as if the whole effort had been a great waste of time.
Adel had slowly replaced Odilo as Aeden’s primary companion. Adel was closer in age, yet had been at the monastery long enough to know many of its secrets. He didn’t speak Sagaru, which only forced Aeden to learn Heortian faster.
Despite spending a great deal of time with Adel, Aeden still sat with Odilo during meals. He found his peaceful nature to be calming. He also realized Odilo was a great source of wisdom and information. Sometimes Aeden wondered how he knew so much. A monk’s life seemed so sheltered that he knew Odilo must have led a more secret life before joining the monastery. It was a hidden desire to uncover that secret that also drove Aeden insane with curiosity.
“Come on,” Adel whispered up to him.
What could it be this time? Had Monahan said something else in an effort to get him into trouble? Aeden was curious and frustrated. He slid down a smooth section of roof, slipped down a column and landed near Adel in a corner of the courtyard hidden by fruit trees.
“We need to get ready!” Adel whispered, impatience painting his features with a look of concern.
“Ready for what?” Aeden asked as they peered around the trees before stepping briskly across the courtyard.
“The High Priest of Bodig and the Archduchess of the Second House of Bodig are coming,” he said with a goofy grin.
Aeden didn’t understand the individual words but knew enough to gather their meaning. Someone important was coming to the monastery. That meant chores and their best robes with the ceremonial red sash.
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