Tears of a Heart

by Chase Blackwood

  “Aeden?” came the hushed whisper.

  Aeden sighed as he gathered his thoughts and stuffed his feelings back down his throat. Within a moment he was back in the courtyard behind some fruit trees. The familiar sweet scent of blood orange hung heavily about him as he glanced about for Odilo.

  “Let’s go, there’s going to be an announcement at dinner,” Odilo stated from behind, startling Aeden.

  Aeden must have been more out of sorts than normal. If he had been back in S’Vothe he would have been chided for his lack of awareness. Here it was nothing more than normal.

  “After you,” Aeden said with a gesture.

  Odilo nodded and limped off.

  Dinner was normally a quiet affair. Gray-robed monks would sit and eat. Most began meal with a silent prayer and most would finish by taking their bowl to the kitchen. Today, however, was something different. There was tension in the air. It wasn’t the desperate feel of worry that befell a group upon news of someone’s loss. Instead it was the gossamer feel of hidden anticipation. Monks sat fidgeting in their chairs breathing in the nervous energy that had settled over the table like a pall.

  Aeden’s eyes glanced briefly at those he knew and finally paused on Blaise. The older monk sat near the head of the table and wore a placid expression. This in itself was telling for his normal countenance was that of a man mildly amused at some unseen joke. Without further hesitation he took a seat between Odilo and Adel.

  There were two baskets filled with barley bread adorning the center of the table, as of yet still untouched. Creamy butter sat enticingly in pewter bowls. Fresh candles flickered and burned along the walls. Their oscillating flames danced like restless snakes.

  Clearly something important was about to transpire. The only gossip Odilo had heard was there was to be an announcement. He wasn’t a good source for monastery chatter, for he rarely partook in such guilty pleasures. Aeden did recall a few monks whispering of drastic changes lurking in the shadows as they played and gossiped at the kayles tables. Of course, as with most gossip, there was nothing substantial to be gleaned.

  Aeden glanced once more at Blaise. A shadow of fiery discontent had settled about the older man in an uneasy aura. He wondered if the announcement had something to do with the visit of the archduchess a few days before. An image of the archduchess frolicked in his vision. Her dark hair was splayed across silken sheets as her eyes danced and played in the light.

  The footsteps of a heavyset monk scraped their way into his mind tearing him from his imagination. A few eyes turned toward one of the entryways to the dining hall. It was the abbot. His thick body was momentarily cast in equal parts light and shadow. The faint wisps of gray on his balding head swayed as if bowing their own subtle greeting. The purple tinged bags under his eyes spoke of a night without sleep.

  “Senior,” the voices of the surrounding monks broke the silence.

  “May the Holy Order rise again,” the abbot said in response.

  Abbot Filbert’s voice was tired and weak, like burnt parchment. His thin and nasally voice spoke up again. Every monk turned to listen with eager thirst as if they had been waiting for months.

  Monahan glanced briefly at Jerome then to Aeden. His bloated face was redder than usual like the angry mask of a blood moon. Monahan squinted his narrow eyes and shook his head as a crooked smile fought its way onto his mole-like face. Was this about Aeden attacking a brother monk? Suddenly a small sense of panic welled up inside of him. Aeden quickly glanced about, but no one else seemed to notice the exchange.

  “Times have changed. It seems there no longer is the peace that was promised to us,” Abbot Filbert paused and looked at each monk in turn. His eyes lingered for a moment on Aeden. Aeden squirmed in his seat thinking of how he should defend himself. Really it hadn’t even been his fault, but he knew that both Jerome and Bosco would have their own version of events. How could he have been so stupid as to let his temper get the better of him? The abbot continued. “The brotherhood of the Holy Order of Sancire once stood strong, united, and resolute. It is now fractured and broken like too much glass. Petty bickering and infighting has cast the Order in shadow,” again he paused.

  Aeden took in a breath to speak. Monahan caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Jerome fought to hide a smirk on his face, and Bosco did his best to wear an expression of pained regret. Just as Aeden was about to stand and plead his case, Adel cast a hand on his shoulder.

  “Wait,” the younger monk whispered.

  Aeden was rarely one to heed another’s advice. His failure to listen had often gotten him into trouble in S’Vothe. He glanced at Adel and saw his earnest expression. Aeden swallowed a lump in his throat and remained seated. The abbot continued oblivious to the exchange.

  “It seems that now we must strive to remove ourselves from this shadow and renew our faith by looking to the past. The past holds the key to the future. The strict rules of the First Age that bound us shall remold us into the light.”

  There was a quiet murmur that swept through the room like an ocean tide. The swelling current of thought overpowered the traditional silence of the dining hall.

  “Silence!” The booming voice belonged to Blaise. His face was masked in the red glow of angry displeasure. “Listen to the words of our dear abbot and reserve judgment for once understanding has dawned on your thick heads,” Blaise said with emotion bleeding through his voice.

  Filbert glanced toward him. Surprise rolled over his features like a cloud passing through an otherwise clear sky. Aeden was growing more anxious with each passing moment. The Thane valued honesty, integrity, and honor. In their culture it was important to be the first to admit wrongdoing. It was considered cowardice to remain silent as others spoke of their misdeeds. Guilt sat heavily upon his shoulders as he once again decided to speak up. The abbot beat him to it and all he could do was sit and listen as he was accused.

  “That’s why we must go forth and solicit those to the north and south, before the strange and twisted customs of Sawol claim our ways as their own. We must remind the people of the power of faith, the strength and unity of the Church, and that the Emperor doesn’t rule all things on heaven and earth. We will shine a light on our strengths and cast the corruption of the Empire and their heathen ways to the seventh level of hell.”

  This was not what Aeden had expected. As a weight was lifted off his shoulders confusion muddied his mind and cast a pall over the other monks at the dining table. Only Blaise seemed to fully understand the meaning of the abbot’s words.

  “I don’t understand,” Aeden whispered to Adel.

  He was rewarded with a stern look from his friend and the abbot’s pinched voice.

  “Of course, let me simplify,” he said a mild look of annoyance crossing over his face, “The Holy Order of Bodig will set forth on a quest to spread the word of Dominer the Pure.” He paused and took in a shaky breath before announcing, “The Book of Divinus has been found.”

  Aeden raised his eyebrows and mouthed the word “pilgrimage” to Adel. Adel shook his head and struggled to hide a smile.

  The hush of a moment ago was broken as monks clamored to be heard. Voices rose and fell as a dozen debates sparked to life across the room. The abbot slunk quietly out of the room as confusion, fear, and anger grappled for supremacy.

  Aeden observed the confusion. A strong hand grabbed his arm, ushering him away. It was Odilo. Aeden quickly grabbed a loaf of bread and followed his friend out into the cool stone hallway, away from the agitation of the dining hall. The candles’ flames bobbed and twisted at his passing.

  “I can’t believe they found the Book of Divinus!” Adel exclaimed.

  He had followed Odilo and Aeden as soon as they had stood.

  “There is much going on here, and we are glimpsing but the surface of a larger pond. It appears the ceremonial gift from the archduchess was of greater value to the Church than anyone could have guessed,” Odilo said contemplatively.

  “Not everyone,” A
eden whispered.

  Adel and Odilo turned to look at Aeden. They both held a look of curious doubt.

  “Blaise, didn’t you notice him a little more agitated than normal? He must have known.” Aeden said.

  “That means he probably knows more than half of the bickering lot in there,” Adel replied.

  Odilo cast a hand on Adel’s shoulder, “they are our brothers, each and every one of them.”

  Adel cast his head down as if in apology, “you’re right, I forget myself.”

  “Ok, so we’re all forgetting ourselves right now,” Aeden said with exasperation in his voice, “maybe we can find Blaise and see if he can remove some gray from the matter.”

  Odilo smiled and Adel looked at him quizzically.

  “Remove some gray?”

  Aeden paused, knowing his Heortian was still juvenile at best.

  “You mean clarify? You could always say ‘shed some light on the matter’,” Adel offered.

  “Shed some light on the matter?” Aeden said as if testing out the words on his tongue, “that sounds stupid.”

  Adel shrugged as Aeden caught sight of Blaise. An angry shroud hung about him like a curtain. Odilo placed a hand on Aeden.

  “Perhaps now is not the time for questions.”

  Despite curiosity’s tugging inquisitions, Aeden agreed and let Blaise slip past disappearing around the curve of the stone corridor.

  Chapter 22

  “Competition at times is bred from the fear of not belonging.” Saying of the Gemynd

  Aeden had difficulty sleeping that night. His mind was alight with curiosity. It whittled the hours away under the weight of cognition. He lay unmoving as the morning bell rang out making a sound similar to a thousand monks chanting. Aeden was exhausted and felt little motivation for the early morning routines. It was a light kick from Adel that caused the excessive thoughts in his mind to scatter like a flock of startled birds. He placed his feet onto the cold stone floor and began the monotonous routine of rolling his sleeping mat. He then folded and stowed his blanket.

  As he stuffed his blanket into the trunk he allowed his hand to grace the soft fur of the shroud cat skin within. Memories accosted him entering through his fingertips and swept through his mind like an afternoon storm. He closed his eyes and saw Devon mocking a younger student fumbling with the gevecht. He remembered the hours of dark solitude he spent locked away in a stone room. Images of sitting on an outcrop overseeing S’Vothe and the S’Velt valley lingered like Dannon’s kiss. The memories soured in his mind. The twisted and burned remains of his village, the Master, Borin, Dannon, and the kovor singed their way into his thoughts. He closed and locked the trunk casting his memories into shadow.

  With a heavy heart he followed the other monks to Morning Prayer. The courtyard adjacent to the cloisters was a watery gray. A cool mist clung to the morning with a hidden tenacity mirroring the clouded aspect of his heart.

  The silent line of monks weaved their way past the courtyard, down a long corridor and to the grand central nave. There was the usual scattering of the unusually devout in attendance. They sat quietly watching the procession of gray-robed monks enter the lofty space and settle onto their simple floor cushions. Small clouds of dust lingered heavily in the empty spaces within.

  Aeden recognized most of the older faces. Each was cast in the pale light of early morning. Without fanfare, as was routine, they began their chanting prayers. Aeden had learned much of the routine and language quickly, the chants being one of the first things he learned.

  “Ready light burns anew with each branching day

  Whispering the lord’s crystal song, spreading flame

  Scattering ash, and revealing his sacred verity

  “Remember us, the children of flame,

  Who cast out those of obvious blame,

  Reining fresh the breath of light

  For all of us to gaze upon his awesome might,

  “And deliver us from those angry lips

  So that glory sharpens and purifies us

  From the ever lurking hidden depths.”

  The prayers were repeated three times in low voices. Aeden was still reminded of the rumbling growl of the shroud cat. The reverberating voices echoed hollowly within the chambers of his chest and off the cool walls of the monastery.

  The monks then stood, formed a line and quietly exited the nave. None glanced back as they moved down the corridor through an open wooden door and toward the dining hall. The weight of silence remained with the group as they brought out foods from the kitchen for the morning meal. Steamed oats, bread, and milk were placed upon the dark wood of the table.

  Halfway through their meal Abbot Filbert showed up bringing another small plate of bread and butter for himself. A few eyes looked at the tired old monk, while others simply focused on their meal. Aeden glanced up out of the corner of his eye finding it strange to see the abbot again. The abbot often took food in his room. The rumor was he received fresh goat’s milk, berries, and sweet rolls from the Red Market. Purchasing food, however, was strictly forbidden.

  Filbert waited until the monks finished their meal, but before they began their chores to address the gray-robed group.

  “There will be a pilgrimage,” Filbert began, his voice taking on a new pitch of nasally discomfort, “The honor of accompanying the Book of Divinus beyond the Red City is an important task. I will only choose a handful of you.”

  The abbot closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his forehead. He glanced about, seeing over two dozen eyes trained firmly upon him. He began to speak again, but his voice faltered. On his second attempt he squeezed out a few words, “By the next moon I will have decided. Devotion, discipline, and dedicated piety are the route to salvation.”

  The old monk then quickly stood and walked out. It was a rather undramatic close to his half-hearted attempt at a speech. His half-eaten bread lay unceremoniously upon his plate, hinting at his frame of mind.

  All eyes watched him leave. None spoke, a sharp contrast to the night before. Adel looked to Odilo who remained seated, slowly finishing his meal. Blaise gazed about the table as if daring anyone to talk. He then grabbed his plate and that of the abbot and took them to the kitchen. Monahan, Jerome and Bosco stood in unison, removing their plates and moved toward the kitchen. Their faces wore the placid expression of forced piety. The sudden change in demeanor was almost humorous to watch.

  Aeden again got the feeling that more than he could understand was transpiring. Despite being confined to the white walls of the Sancire Monastery, he was beginning to glimpse the greater world. It was as if Verold itself was forcing itself through the untended cracks and fissures so as to freely walk the corridors and whisper its changing tide into Aeden’s young, deaf ears.

  Afternoon couldn’t come soon enough. Aeden had been waiting since the day before to ask Blaise questions. He had hoped to work near him in the gardens, but Blaise, as the sacrist, had other chores to attend to. The day seemed even longer because most monks were doing their best to show their discipline and devotion. Most did this by working in silence. Many doubled their efforts, especially when others were watching. A few took it upon themselves to chant prayers as they worked. The change was startling. There were always a handful of monks, like Odilo, who were strict with their practices, prudent in their decisions, generous in their actions, and warm hearted in their dealings with others. This, however, wasn’t the norm.

  The most obvious reason for the sea change was likely the result of the recent restrictions still emplaced on the monastery. The monks wanted their freedom. Within the walls life was sheltered from the political machinations and daily activities of the outside, but not completely. It was getting harder to ignore the whispering of the wind. Change was no longer relegated to back alley shadows. It had reared its ugly, diffident head, and people were reacting the only way they knew how, with fear and rumor. People spread the seeds of gossip across the Red City and beyond the maroon hued walls to the greate
r kingdom of Bodig. The monks knew change was coming and many wanted the opportunity to explore or leave before things grew worse.

  Word had made its circuitous way southward that the peasants and nobility were unhappy with the tithes charged in the north. Monks were growing fat off the people in exchange for prayers and the promise of salvation.

  To the south whispers of reform swept across the land striking fear into those who opposed change. Imperial soldiers marched and camped along the wide border to the southern kingdom in a diplomatic show of force.

  From his secret alcove Aeden watched and listened to his slice of the city. More often Aeden would see imperial soldiers walking the streets in addition to an increase in Bodig Guards. People seemed more anxious. Judgments lasted longer after Afternoon Prayer and ate into the free time of the monks. It was enough to make most anyone believe a pilgrimage had to be better than life within the monastery walls.

  “I found Blaise,” Adel whispered loudly sounding out of breath.

  Aeden glanced about to make sure no one else heard. No one had. In fact, the area was strangely devoid of people. He worked his way down from the roof and joined Adel by the fruit tree.

  “Let’s find out more about this pilgrimage and book,” Aeden said, extending his hand as if gesturing for Adel to lead the way.

  Adel gave a quick mocking bow before leading the way with an excited Aeden in tow. Aeden wore an aura of enthusiasm about him like a newfound cloak. He barely noticed as they passed other monks and walked up the wide stairway to the second floor. They made their way to the library where Blaise sat flipping through a book with the focus of a hawk. Warm light filtered in through glass pane windows in a rainbow of color.