Tears of a Heart

by Chase Blackwood

  “If I lick it, will it bring me greater luck?” Neri asked sarcastically.

  “He’s only playing brother.” Adel said.

  “Is it only that particular spot?” Aeden asked to distract Brother Thomas from his irritation.

  Thomas couldn’t help himself. He was well read and only enjoyed a well-aged cheese more than sharing his knowledge.

  “In Gemynd there’s a saying for these statues: ‘only a dunce shall rub once, although twice shall suffice, thrice will grant god’s everlasting advice.’”

  “There are more than these?” Adel asked.

  “Of course, but most have been destroyed. According to Herlewin’s Anthology of Gemynd, it was the Heretic King that ordered them to be broken to pave the way for Salvare.”

  Curiosity and worry fought for control of Aeden’s young mind. It was worry that settled upon his shoulders and wrinkled his brow. He knew the power of the old gods. He glanced at his brother monks for a moment before jogging back to the well-worn toe of Baal. His fingers traced an invisible sign along the smooth stone as he whispered quietly to the old god.

  “Please take no offense, spill no blood, for he’s but an ignorant child before your grandeur,” Aeden then touched his finger to his chest after uttering a prayer of forgiveness in his native tongue of Sagaru.

  Images of his broken village bled into his mind and tore at his heart. He hardly noticed they’d arrived upon the city of Nailsea. It rested in the shadow of the great gods of Anat and Baal. It was a city that had long ago spilled past its initial city wall. A larger city wall had been built to encapsulate the growth and it too failed. Now a town rested beyond the walls of the city. Many of the buildings had the permanence of stone and the weathered appearance of age.

  “Watch your pockets and your purses, this part of town has more than its share of pickpockets and thieves,” Odilo said with certainty.

  The other monks looked at him with mild surprise. Bosco clutched at his purse as Thomas looked around as if he could be robbed any moment. Aeden let his thoughts slip. He grew more vigilant, watching over his adopted brothers the way a mother bear does over her cubs. He had grown fond of these men and was beginning to regard them as family. Weak family, that needed the protection of a keen eye and sharp sword if need be.

  Despite his ever-watchful eye, the gentle tug of curiosity begged to be heard.

  “How does Odilo know of this place?” Aeden asked Adel in a hushed whisper, his eyes glancing about.

  “Like you, he has a past and is covetous of his secrets.”

  “Covetous?”

  “It means he protects them like a mother would her child,” Adel explained.

  Aeden nodded and looked toward Odilo. He walked in front of the group, confident and serene. So much so that it was easy to overlook his mild limp. It reminded him of when he had first met Odilo in the Red City. Odilo had been in the square, praying for a brother monk in fiery protest of Imperial rule. It was Odilo that had led him to safety, introduced him to the Order and vouched for him. Another thought chased his initial one.

  “I’m covetous of my secrets?” Aeden asked affecting a hint of surprise in his voice.

  “Please, you’re one of the vaguest people I’ve ever met!”

  “It’s true,” Thomas said in concurrence with Adel, his hands fidgeting ever so slightly as he slowed to join their conversation.

  Aeden didn’t know how to respond and felt himself grow quiet. He reflected on their words and tried to think of times he’d been purposefully vague. Was it when he was asked about family? His home?

  The six monks passed through the spillage of Nailsea without issue and travelled into the heart of the city. Taller stone buildings lined the streets. Each wore the same faded skin as the last, facades worn with age and use. Merchants had carved out niches on the lower floors of many of the buildings. The city proved to be a welcome distraction from mental wanderings.

  In certain respects Nailsea reminded Aeden of Bodig, with one major exception, the color of the stones. There was very little red to be found here. Most buildings were a boring, dull gray. The more exquisite buildings were whitewashed and smooth. Storefronts abutted the street in a vain attempt to ensnare the passerby. Clothiers catering to both Bodigan and Gemynd fashion fought for space on the busy street.

  Aeden was temporarily distracted by the setting. He watched people go about their business. He imagined their daily lives. He then imagined Odilo within the city at a younger age and his curiosity blossomed like a flower to the sun.

  “How long have you known Odilo?” He asked.

  “He came to the monastery about eight years ago,” Adel said as if recalling something someone else had told him.

  “Do you know where from? The abbot said Bodig.”

  Adel cast a glance toward Odilo. Odilo walked further ahead unaware of the exchange. Neri was near him followed by the lanky figure of Bosco.

  “Bodig is used to describe the central kingdom as well as the seat of the king in the Red City. It can get confusing at times, but normally most people refer to Bodig as the kingdom that stretches between the two rivers, and the capital city as the Red City.”

  Aeden felt rather ignorant. He had read of the Red Castle, knowing it was the seat of the king. He knew it was within the walls of the Red City and that the Red City was within the kingdom of Bodig between the River Lif and the Dath River. Despite this he couldn’t help but feel he was only scratching the surface.

  Thomas cut in, not wasting an opportunity to educate. “Actually not all the claimed land belongs to the kingdom. The Empire lays claim to a part, Sawol another, and Gemynd yet another still. It gets pretty confusing, especially once you make your way westward toward the delta and northern islands.”

  Aeden nodded his head. Thomas looked ready to say more, but Adel beat him to it.

  “You wanted to know about Odilo right?”

  At times it seemed like there was a mild competition between the two.

  “I don’t know what city he came from. Do you?” Adel asked Thomas.

  Thomas merely shook his head.

  “There was gossip that upon his arrival he was rather,” Adel paused looking for the right word to describe the scene without offending, “wild.”

  “Like me,” Aeden said feeling a hint of pride at sharing traits in common with Odilo.

  “You were more like stray cat, disheveled and unruly,” Thomas cut in.

  Both Aeden and Adel looked at each other before laughing. Thomas had a way of accidently implying humor. His matter-of-fact way of speaking was awkward and at times entertaining.

  Thomas looked at them quizzically before catching sight of a creamery.

  “Oh no, we’re going to lose our brother,” Adel said mockingly.

  Thomas didn’t hear him. Aeden merely chuckled.

  They walked in silence for a spell each dwelling on their own thoughts. Aeden’s thoughts wandered to those in his group. He was still curious about Odilo. In a way Odilo reminded him of his old master, a quiet, wise man, filled with experience that was wrapped in a blanket of mystery.

  If he couldn’t find out more about Odilo perhaps he could satiate his thirst by bothering Adel with more questions.

  “Have you ever made it this far north?” Aeden asked as he looked about.

  “Once as a child before I joined the Church,” Adel turned away so that his expression was lost to Aeden’s reaching eyes.

  “I never asked why you joined,” Aeden suddenly asked as if he could sense the weight of memory upon Adel’s chest.

  Adel didn’t reply at first, instead he watched as the people ambled past. They wore simpler clothes than those from the Red City, and it appeared beards were the fashion. It made sense as they were closer to Gemynd. Men of Gemynd wore their beards proudly once they were of age. They were the mark of wisdom and manhood.

  “My family fell on hard times after the emperor raised taxes a third time, to fend off the weakened income from a multi-year d
rought. I was the youngest child of four and they could no longer afford me. I was a burden instead of a help, unlike my older brothers and sister. So they sold me to the Church for a silver dinar.”

  If Adel was bitter it wasn’t apparent in his voice. His expression was neutral as if he had been relating someone else’s story. Finally after a long moment he looked to Aeden.

  “What’s your story?”

  Aeden swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. He had a feeling Adel would ask and had been debating how to respond. This was likely one of the moments that defined him as vague, yet how could he tell him a draccus fiend had attacked and destroyed his homeland? Adel wouldn’t believe it. More than likely he’d think Aeden was making light of the situation. If he left the part out about a draccus fiend, he’d still have to include the minor detail of where he was from.

  When Aeden first arrived at the monastery he got the strong impression that it was wiser to hide his origins. Only Odilo seemed to know, yet he never alluded to it or said a word. Aeden followed Odilo’s example and whenever asked he would redirect the question as best as he could. It made for some hurt feelings and awkward conversations. This seemed to be another one of those times.

  “You don’t need to tell me now, when you’re ready is fine,” Adel said reading Aeden’s expression.

  Relief washed across Aeden’s face. Adel was a better friend than he deserved. He allowed Aeden to walk the rest of the way through the city in silent contemplation.

  The monastery of Nailsea was situated on the top of a small hill. Unlike the Red City Monastery it was surrounded by plots of cleared land. A well-worn dirt road made a circuitous route up the hillside from the main body of the city. Sheep dotted the northern slope looking like puffs of white clouds had landed upon the countryside.

  As the group approached the monastery a young monk ran down the rutted roadway to greet them. Clinging to his robes were bits of bramble and wool. Sweat was upon his brow and his young cheeks were flushed.

  “Welcome,” he said as he stood stooped before them struggling to regain his breath.

  “Thank you, I assume you know who we are,” Odilo said eyeing him in amusement.

  “We’ve been expecting you,” the young man resumed, his breath returning to normal. “Please, follow me.”

  The building was similar to the monastery in Bodig. Its walls were white and the central nave was tall and wide. A tower stood off to one side with a copper circle capping its high peak.

  Within the nave two circles carved into the roof let in the afternoon light. The nostalgic feeling of home swept over Aeden. It was a strange sensation because he’d only been away from the monastery of the Red City for a few days. Furthermore it wasn’t his real home, the home he’d grown up in. That home had been ripped from him so savagely that at times he wondered if it had ever existed.

  “The abbot is most excited to see you and the book you bring,” the young monk said leading the group farther into the heart of the monastery.

  They passed a few open rooms, each filled with sleeping mats still upon the floor. These were obviously the cloisters.

  “Many of the monks are also eager to know about life in the Red City, it must be fascinating living in the heart of the kingdom, near the seat of the king.”

  “I’d know more if we were allowed out,” Aeden said under his breath.

  “You live so close to Family Benbow, you may know more than us,” Odilo said trying to divert attention from Aeden’s words.

  “The Benbow’s are a secretive lot senior,” the young monk responded deferentially before looking to Aeden, curiosity sparkling in his wide eyes. “You’re not allowed beyond the monastery walls?”

  Before Aeden had a chance to stick his foot further into his mouth Odilo interjected.

  “Our brother is looking forward to learning about the differences and similarities between our monasteries.”

  The young man nodded his head. He rounded a corner and stopped so abruptly that Bosco bumped into him, grumbling under his breath as he did so.

  “The abbot would like to see you now,” he said looking at them, curiosity carved deeply into the shallow lines etched onto his otherwise youthful face. He gestured toward an open door.

  “We’re excited you’re here,” he whispered to the younger Bodigan monks before scurrying off to some unknown task.

  Chapter 29

  “Change is fundamental to life, whereas resistance often leads to failure.” Saying of the Bodig

  The abbot was unusual in appearance. He was the juxtaposition of Abbot Filbert. Instead of soft, rounded features, he had a sharp vulturine visage. His shoulders were broad, speaking of the hours of physical labor he undertook alongside his brother monks. He was tall and it was likely that women would have found him attractive if he were wearing robes other than that of the Order of Sancire.

  “Welcome,” the abbot said in a strong, masculine voice. “I’m Abbot Gilbert.”

  The monks drew their hands together and nodded their greeting.

  “We’ve been looking forward to your visit, both the archduchess and the abbot of the Red City have sent word of your arrival,” he stated.

  At mention of the archduchess Aeden’s face lit up. Part of him wondered if he had been mentioned, if she remembered the stolen glance they had shared. It was fanciful thinking of course.

  Gilbert looked them over, his eyes finally settling on Aeden. He studied his tall, broad frame, then his youthful face, burdened by life, before continuing. “You must be hungry and tired from your journey. I would like nothing more than for you to eat and get some rest, but what kind of example would that set for your brothers toiling outside?”

  A smile crept onto Aeden’s face as he watched Bosco physically blanch at the idea of hard physical labor. Thoughts of the archduchess faded quickly and were replaced by curiosity.

  “Of course, before we enjoy the work of Salvare, let’s stop by the library. There are scribes eagerly waiting to copy the Book of Divinus.”

  “Of course Abbot, we’ll follow you,” Odilo said in gentler tones.

  The abbot nodded solemnly and walked out of his simple chambers. He led them down a corridor toward the library.

  “Everything looks so clean,” Aeden commented to Adel.

  Gilbert responded, despite being several steps ahead of the group. “We take our mission to Salvare seriously; piety is only seen through action. We therefore strive to prove our worth in all our actions,” he looked back toward Aeden, “which includes silence when there is nothing of value to be said.”

  Aeden wasn’t stupid and understood when he was being told to be quiet. His ears burned in embarrassment as if he had been corrected for urinating in the hallway. Adel glanced at him then to the others. A few surprised expressions were momentarily evident.

  The abbot led them through a tall archway and into a room with soaring, graceful windows. The late afternoon light fell upon the scene in curtains of luminescence. The light touched upon each desk, which stood tall and narrow upon the carpeted stone floor. Scribes sat on simple stools immediately behind these desks, hunched over open books. They had the look of predatory animals, half-starved, with curved backs protecting their prey.

  Wooden shelves lined the walls filled with texts and scrolls. In the corner was a chest filled with bound books, empty, waiting for words to grace their pages. The air smelled vaguely of leather, dust, and a metallic scent that Aeden couldn’t place.

  Gilbert stopped before one of the desks. An elderly man took a moment to finish whatever he had been copying before carefully placing his quill into a pewter well. He looked up with watery eyes.

  “Our brothers from the Red City Monastery are here,” he said gesturing to the small band of monks. The old man looked over, his eyes struggling to focus, as if anything beyond a few feet was a blur. “All other work can be put on hold for now,” Abbot Gilbert stated matter-of-factly.

  “Of course senior,” the old man’s voice was like
stretched parchment, brittle and ready to crack.

  Without further hesitation Bosco stepped forward holding the Book of Divinus in his overly long fingers.

  “I’m tasked with watching the book senior, I will therefore remain here,” he said casting a darting glance to Odilo.

  Odilo raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t respond.

  “So be it. The rest, please join me in god’s work,” Gilbert said as he strode past the old scribe and back into the hallway. They weaved their way through the corridors to a side exit. The fresh air brushed past like a trailing silk scarf. It brought the sounds of monks toiling in the soil, splitting wood, and the shearing of sheep.

  The hours passed in arduous intervals of backbreaking work. Clouds drifted overhead lazily indifferent to the drudgery below. And a Hearvest wind swept in from the east, bringing the smells of turning leaves and the subtle hints of moisture.

  The work was grueling, but enjoyable. Something about pushing his limits made Aeden feel alive. His muscles ached, he was covered in sweat and a smile graced his lips.

  Aeden had been tasked with splitting wood. The heft of the axe felt familiar in his hands, even comfortable. It was a subtle reminder of home, the way the scent of freshly baked bread reminds one of home. The memories tugged at his heart and threatened to rob him of the moment, but something about smashing iron through wood staved his sadness.

  The evening bell rang loudly, beckoning the monks to dinner. As Aeden put down the axe his stomach rumbled heavily like the growl of a young shroud cat. Aden caught sight of Adel and Thomas jogging up the hill toward him. He waited for his friends.

  “How was splitting wood?” Adel asked.

  “Great,” Aeden replied rubbing his hands together. “What were you two doing?”

  “Odilo, Thomas, and I were helping sheer sheep. More like running around trying to catch them and hold them down, it was more exciting than I would have hoped for,” he said, pulling some brush out of his robes.

  “You should have seen some these sheep, it was like try to hold down an angry cow,” Thomas piped in, his breathing still heavy from exertion.