Tears of a Heart

by Chase Blackwood

  “That does sound more exciting than chopping wood, perhaps I’ll try that tomorrow,” Aeden said with a sparkle in his eye.

  “I hope to be on the road again by tomorrow,” Adel said as he turned to walk back toward the monastery following the others.

  “You think they’ll be done copying the book that quickly?” Aeden asked walking alongside him.

  “Probably not, but the abbot is a little intimidating,” Adel stated in muted tones casting a quick look about.

  Thomas nodded his head as if in agreement, but his face was passive. He was always the interesting mix of youth, piety, and forced discipline. Adel on the other hand was far more youthful when around Aeden and far more pious when around Odilo.

  Aeden smiled at them. He had grown so accustomed to life among the monks that he had forgotten how different their past was from his. They weren’t forced to train long grueling hours. They didn’t have coming of age ceremonies like the Thane Sagan. Instead they had the rules and discipline of the Church of the Holy Order of Sancire.

  Aeden’s smile turned sour in his mouth as thoughts of his home permeated his mind, sending images of blistered bodies and scorched earth through his brain.

  “Are you feeling alright?” Adel asked concerned.

  “Just hungry, I think I’m not used to swinging an ...,” Aeden paused not sure of the word in the common tongue, and seeking an excuse to distract them from his thoughts.

  “Axe,” Thomas offered lightly.

  “Yes, axe,” as if he had known the word all along and merely forgotten.

  The monks began to file into a semblance of a line as they entered the white-walled building. They made their way to a room bordering a courtyard of sorts, where large basins of water rested heavily along the wall. The monks splashed water onto their faces and rubbed it over their hands in a quick cleansing ritual. The liquid spilled out of the troughs and spattered upon the stones, soaking an already wet floor.

  After washing the grime from his hands and the sweat from his face Aeden followed Adel, Thomas, and the other monks to the refectory. It was twice the size of the dining hall in Bodig and for good reason. There were far more monks here. It seemed odd to Aeden that so far from the capital city there would be such a large population of monks.

  Dinner was far more elaborate than anything they ate back in the Red City. They had barley bread, butter, fava beans, vegetables, salted pork, and sweet cakes. Aeden caught Adel’s eye and saw the smile that spread across his face was as wide as the River Lif. Adel’s addiction to sweets was almost as notorious as Thomas’ affinity for cheese.

  The monks from the Holy Order of Sancire, Bodig ate their fill as the other monks ate in greater moderation. During the meal one monk sat in a corner, abstaining from food as he read from The Book of Khein. His voice was drab and monotone, like the sound of dirt being tilled.

  After dinner it was much the same as back in the Red City. They washed their dishes in a semi-orderly fashion. The monks were allowed to speak again and the sounds of conversation rolled off the walls in waves of gossip and excitement.

  The abbot retired to his room, bidding the monks a night filled with pious dreams. A few stood watching him leave, a temporary hush falling over the group. Abbot Gilbert rounded a corner and disappeared from view. Aeden watched in curiosity.

  Those watching him leave then turned and spoke in excited tones. A wave of questioning elation swept through the group in a quick encompassing gallop. Almost immediately the small band of traveling monks was accosted with questions, as the monks from Nailsea were eager for gossip and news from the capital.

  Aeden felt somewhat like a cornered animal as they were surrounded and interrogated. It was difficult to follow who was asking what. The questions built to a crescendo until finally Odilo had enough. He clapped his hands together loudly, startling those near him.

  “My brothers, we are very excited to be here, and we wish nothing more than to share and learn, but perhaps a more organized forum would be more conducive.”

  Aeden always listened when Odilo spoke, for he had a way with words that would cut to the heart of the matter without offending. Aeden imagined the diplomats he had read about in Bodig A History, spoke in such a manner. He tucked away each mannerism and each speech Odilo gave in case he ever needed to resort to such diplomacy.

  “How are the roads,” one of the Nailsean monks blurted out.

  “Safe and easy so far,” Odilo responded.

  “How about the number of imperial soldiers? There has been talk of massive troop movements to the north,” another monk questioned.

  The Bodig monks looked at each other.

  “We have seen no such movements.”

  “We have some questions too,” Aeden jumped in, his mind spurned to action by the last question, “What have you heard of the roads to the north, toward Old Treton and northward to the city of Gemynd?”

  A few different monks spoke simultaneously making it harder to discern each thread.

  “Geobold’s son died of consumption.” “Imperial troops move to surround the city.” “A new group seeks to lay claim to the throne.”

  The words were further garbled by the murmuring voices of the monks, discussing what important gossip should be passed along, while some debated the merits of gossip altogether.

  “We’re aware of Geobold’s son’s death, what is it you have heard about a new group?” Aeden asked, garnering a look from some of his brother monks. Aeden glanced at them and shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to know if it was safe to travel north. His eyes returned to the surrounding group.

  One of the older monks stepped forward; he was clearly senior to the others.

  “We don’t wish to spread gossip that we cannot confirm,” he gave a significant look to the other monks. His expression suddenly reminded Aeden of Blaise. “But there has been talk of a group of mystics claiming to be led by the reincarnate of Dominer. They claim Elias didn’t die of the consumption, but that the hand of their true god struck him down for claiming fealty to the emperor before the king.”

  “That’s ridiculous, how can one claim to be the reincarnate of Dominer without Church authority?” Thomas exclaimed.

  Odilo took a step toward Thomas and lay a hand lightly on his shoulder before speaking, “What my brother is wondering is how you came by this information.”

  It was the older monk that spoke for the group, “We encounter travelers from the south heading north, and those from the north heading south. Nailsea is a city at a crossroads, infamous for the twin statues guarding it. People who come to the monastery for judgements talk. Of course I cannot divulge what judgments were passed or what was said specifically, Church doctrine is very clear on such matters.”

  “Nor would we ever imply that you should tread on such doctrine,” Odilo interjected calmly.

  “However, it has become apparent, even in our sheltered bit of the world that change is coming to the North. Gemynd is at its own crossroads, so to speak, and as our fellow brothers we simply wish to see you make your pilgrimage safely.” He took in a deep breath and glanced at them with an expression of forced kindness. “The rumors of troop movements are nothing more than that, rumors, based on speculation and idle banter. The mystics, however, have already declared themselves and have been actively gathering followers, this much is known for even Abbot Gilbert has stated such.”

  This garnered its own small discussion. Adel glanced significantly at Aeden. Neri took a step away from the group and Odilo raised an eyebrow.

  “We trust you in this and appreciate your candor and earnest well wishes,” Odilo said after a small pause.

  “Would you recommend a certain route north? Any precautions for safe travel?” Aeden asked, the burden of Blaise’s words “Keep them safe brother Aeden,” echoed in his mind and resonated in his heart.

  Before any of the monks could respond Odilo jumped in, “Our young brother is eager, but perhaps tomorrow is better suited to such a discussion.” H
e glanced about and nodded to a few and smiled his most placating smile.

  Aeden’s face flushed in anger. Neri was the one who placed a hand on him, whispering as he pulled him away.

  “Not now brother, let’s see who comes forward and how reliable they are,” his words were laced with emotion and stymied Aeden’s own feelings.

  There was a scattering of talk as monks splintered off from the group to get ready for bed. Aeden moved to a basin to rinse his face and was approached by Adel.

  “Don’t worry about Odilo, he is only looking out for us,” he said softly.

  Aeden wiped his face on his sleeve and glanced to Adel.

  “I know,” was all he said before finding a vacant sleeping mat and retiring for the night.

  His mind churned over the words that had been spoken. It sounded like revolution was trying to slink past undetected and settle its heavy burden upon the kingdom of Gemynd.

  Chapter 30

  “Mental stimulation accents the tedium of life.” Anthology of Gemynd

  Aeden was saddled with thoughts that night and felt sluggish the following morning. His muscles ached as he sat up. His back was sore for he must have slept on his Templas sword for a good portion of the night. He rubbed wearily at his gummy eyes as the morning bells clanged incessantly in the background.

  There was already a flurry of activity as the monks of Nailsea were up and about accomplishing chores with a fervor. Adel caught up with Aeden as they grabbed brushes and helped to scrub the stone floors of the cloisters. They struggled to keep up with the other monks who scrubbed as if banishing dirt were an edict from Salvare.

  Aeden caught a glimpse of Bosco as he hurried out of the sleeping rooms to make his way to the library. He had the ever “important” job of watching over the Book of Divinus, which meant he was unable to assist in the chores, prayers, and other daily rituals of the monastery. Aeden was certain he was avoiding chores, but he also had the lingering feeling that there was something more he was up to.

  After scrubbing they went to Morning Prayer, which was followed by a small and simple breakfast. There were fresh eggs and bread. Odilo was chosen to read from The Book of Khein as the other monks ate. Thomas, Adel, and Aeden stuck close to each other. Neri, who always seemed slightly uncomfortable with the company of others, stuck to himself. In many ways it almost felt as if they had never left the Red City Monastery.

  When breakfast was finished the monks resumed chores, but unlike the Red City, much of the chores were outdoors beyond the monastery walls. Luckily the clouds lingered that morning, forming a gray quilt that shielded the monks from the intensity of the morning sun. The air was crisp and fresh singing the Hearvest song.

  Thomas, Adel, and Aeden were chosen to help clean some wooden stalls. They were grouped with two young monks from Nailsea, Gamel and Simon. Aeden figured mostly because they happened to be standing next to each other at the time.

  They were milling about by one of the stalls enjoying the fresh air and looking out toward the city of Nailsea when the abbot approached and his voice cut through the air like a knife.

  “I want these floors cleaned, filled with fresh hay, and the dirt scrubbed free from the wooden walls. Tomorrow is an important day,” Abbot Gilbert ordered.

  His hair was neatly cropped and his face freshly shaven. His robes looked clean despite a full day’s worth of labor only the day before. Aeden wondered if he kept an extra set of robes, or meticulously cleaned and groomed every night. Either way, he realized the small details of appearance and presentation added to his aura of authority.

  Without waiting for a reply the abbot stalked off to give orders to other groups along a flat expanse near the winding road leading to the monastery.

  Once Gilbert was beyond earshot Aeden mimicked his orders, “You have two minutes to clean everything before we build a new monastery,” Aeden said earning a laugh from Adel and surprisingly a smile from Thomas.

  “You don’t want the abbot to catch you poking fun or he’ll punish you,” one of the Nailsean monks whispered, Aeden believed he was the one called Simon.

  This caught Thomas’ attention as well as Aeden’s. He had been with the Church for months now and hadn’t seen any punishments more severe than extra prayers and restricted meals, mostly because he was on the receiving end. Of course he had read about some of the older punishments meted out by the Order in one of the monastery’s library books, although he couldn’t remember which one.

  “What do you mean by punishment?” Thomas asked with genuine concern and curiosity.

  Thomas was often curious and when he wasn’t trying to live up to the sacred vows all monks were sworn to take: poverty, piety, discipline, and celibacy, he was expanding his knowledge in all things related to the church. Aeden imagined Blaise was much like Thomas when he was younger.

  “It depends, but normally it’s time spent in solitude without food or water.” The monks swallowed as he scratched absentmindedly at his back, “and if the crime is deemed harsh enough a public lashing takes place.”

  Aeden’s curiosity easily won out over any propriety he may have been feeling as he asked, “When was the last time someone had been lashed.”

  If Odilo had been around he might have interceded or apologized for him, but both Adel and Thomas seemed equally curious. It was a testament to their youth that they chose to let events play out.

  “Just two days before your arrival,” the young monks said, his tanned face wrinkling in concern.

  “What happened?” Thomas asked, dropping his usual pious reserve.

  “One of the monks challenged the abbot’s orders. He broke the vow of discipline, and was punished for it,” Simon said softly so that only those in the stall could hear. “Isn’t it the same in your monastery?”

  Aeden was about to speak but then thought of Odilo. Odilo would likely think before responding knowing that his words would have implications beyond the moment. As Aeden thought of the possible ramifications of his rebuttal, Adel spoke.

  “We have different methods …” Adel paused grasping for words.

  Thomas cut in, “it has been a while since anyone has challenged our abbot.”

  This seemed to pacify the young monk, but he still wore an expression of concern.

  “Why are we cleaning these stalls?” Aeden asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  “You don’t know? Tomorrow is Market Day!” Gamel said as Simon nodded his head enthusiastically.

  “I’ve heard of the Nailsean Market,” Thomas said, interest bleeding through his tone like ink spilled onto blank parchment, “I had always thought it was a city sponsored event.”

  “Actually it was the Church that created the market as a method to pay for repairs to the nave after it had been struck by lightning,” Simon said.

  Aeden glanced up the hill toward the great white building. Sunlight fought to blind him as golden rays of light reached around the tallest tower and through the dissipating clouds.

  “You won’t see anything from here, besides it happened decades ago,” Simon said, a smile starting to form on his lips.

  Aeden quickly looked away feeling rather stupid. Thomas smiled and Adel laughed.

  “I didn’t know,” Aeden said breaking into a smile and shoving Adel.

  “Neither did I, but you just looked so surprised.”

  The laughter died down to smiles and amusement.

  The hours passed quickly as they finished cleaning the slop from the stall floors and replaced it with fresh straw. Aeden and his brother monks along with Gamel were scrubbing away when the afternoon bell struck its musical chord.

  “There’s no formal afternoon prayer today and lunch is in our minds,” Simon said as he approached with a bucket of water and soap.

  Aeden got up and helped Simon with the bucket, pouring some of its contents into their own dwindling pail. He broke off a piece of soap and placed it next to the bucket. He dipped the bristles of his horse-hair brush into the water then rubb
ed it onto the soap before resuming the tedious work of scrubbing the wood.

  “Is it true the walls of Bodig are painted with the blood of the dead?” Gamel asked with a most serious expression.

  Adel and Thomas looked at each other. Smiles spread across their lips. Aeden knew the walls were simply stone. He had touched the red bricks himself. What was it the old master used to say, “The greatest obstacle to wisdom isn’t ignorance, it’s the illusion of knowledge.”

  It seemed no matter how far he traveled, ignorance was always there to greet him.

  “No they’re a type of sunstone,” Thomas said.

  “Then why the children’s song?” Simon piped in, equally curious.

  Now Aeden was interested. He stopped scrubbing and looked up.

  “What children’s song?” Adel asked.

  The Bodigan monks all fixed Gamel and Simon with their most studious expressions. Gamel looked to his friend. Finally Simon nodded and Gamel began to sing. His voice was soft and sweet.

  “There she blossoms, red and bloom

  Flaunting a face full o’ death n’ gloom,

  Turn from her n’ try to hide,

  As she cuts into your side

  Until bloody walls are dyed.”

  Gamel stopped almost as abruptly as he had started. The Bodigan monks looked at each other. Thomas was the only one that seemed unsurprised. He fiddled with his fingers as if anxious to say what he knew.

  “Out with it,” Adel said.

  “It’s about the Blood Queen, Kresimer.”

  Adel cut in excitedly, “the one famous for killing half the city?”

  “…and hanging their dead bodies off the city walls.” Thomas finished.

  “Why’d she do that?” Aeden asked.

  Adel shrugged his shoulders. Thomas shook his head.

  “Maybe she was crazy,” Gamel offered.

  “She must’ve been before House Benbow came into power,” Simon said expertly.