by Mark G Heath
“ Here,” said Kathryn, “ your medicine.”
She held out the small bottle of tincture and Thaindire took it swallowing the contents in one go, coughing as the burn rose in his chest again. He handed the empty bottle back to Kathryn who looked vastly different from the wanton woman that had sought to snare him in her bedroom. She was wearing a plain light blue dress, which ran from floor to collar and thus hid her comely attractions. A dark blue shawl was wrapped about her shoulders and she also wore a bonnet on her head.
“ Best be quick sleepyhead, you have slept in,” she explained. “ I will wait on the landing for you,” she gave a smile and left the room. Thaindire was slightly confused. Gone was her flirtatious manner and also he noticed there was an absence of the perfume that she usually wore, in fact he detected no fragrance at all. He emerged from the bedclothes and gave a sharp intake of breath as the cold of the morning hit him. Promptly he walked across the bedroom floor and dressed, all the while the church bell continuing to toll. He hauled on his boots, his back protesting as he bent, picked up his sword and fastened his cloak about him before entering onto the landing. Kathryn and he headed downstairs and as they reached the lower landing, Lancaster exited his room dressed in his customary fine attire, albeit in a more austere dark blue.
“ Good morning,” he greeted, showing no embarrassment or even recognition of when he had last seen Thaindire.
“ Good morning,” replied Kathryn and Thaindire in unison and they followed Lancaster down the stairs, through the empty bar and out onto the square.
“ Where are we going?” asked Thaindire as his boots stepped onto the still frosted cobbles. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue above him and the cold air pinched his face.
“ Why church of course, it is Sunday,” remarked Kathryn.
Thaindire almost spluttered in surprise given the debauchery that he had witnessed and the wanton behaviour of Kathryn. She appeared not to notice his reaction as she pressed on along the square, her arm slipped through his. Other villagers were appearing from doorways and the alleyways, a throng of people walking towards the bridge, the call of the church bell beckoning them. They levelled with Reznik’s house and he saw the Captain, clad in his uniform as usual, stood on his porch, watching the passers by as he sucked on his pipe, swirls of blue-grey smoke eddying into the air.
“ Morning Master Thaindire,” he called with a nod of his head.
“ Captain Reznik,” responded Thaindire, “ Are you not joining us at worship?” he asked.
“ My religion is right here,” responded Reznik patting the scabbarded sabre that dangled from his belt.
The crowd made its way past the bakery and apothecary until it reached the bridge and there was the low murmur of conversation. The villagers dutifully making their way to the church on the hill ahead. Kathryn said little other than to greet other villagers as they picked their way through the mass of worshippers. Past the bridge, they drew alongside the gibbet, which was thankfully still. Try as he might, Thaindire could not ignore the corpse, as it remained wedged in the cage, the broken sword still on display.
“ Who is that?” he asked of Kathryn with a jut of his chin towards the macabre monument.
“ A stranger. He came to the village earlier this year. He stayed at the inn, I cannot remember his name. Father might. Anyway, despite his friendliness and general kind demeanour it turned out he was a shape changer,” she whispered leaning into Thaindire.
“ A shape changer?” asked Thaindire.
“ Yes, he took on the shape of a wolf and had Beatrice Mallory cornered when thankfully two trappers were returning from the woods and stood their ground against the beast. It went for them but a mighty blow from their axes cut the creature in two leaving it writhing on the floor in agony, its howling could be heard all across the village. The trappers went to Miss Mallory who was cowering in the corner of the yard and when they turned back towards the beast it had become man once again, chopped into two pieces through its middle and breaking the sword he carried. So, they put the body in there with its sword as a warning to other dark creatures to stay away from the village,” she finished eyes wide, “ How I am glad it was not me,” she confessed.
Thaindire looked over at the cage and its contents and then away. Kathryn was adamant in her explanation but it did not sit comfortably for him.
They walked on, the road narrowed as it sloped upwards, the crowd pushed together.
“ Who are the trappers?” asked Thaindire.
“ Why?”
“ I would like to speak to them,” he replied.
“ Oh. Thomas Harlech and Ryddian Greenwood,” answered Kathryn.
“ Do they still live in the village?”
“ Of course. Nobody leaves Aftlain,” she replied.
“ What do you mean by that?” challenged Thaindire.
“ Exactly what I said, nobody leaves the village.”
“ That’s ridiculous, your father leaves the village or how else did he find me on the road.,”he pointed out.
“ Well yes he leaves to sell his wares, some of the other villagers do as well, but they always return here. What I meant was that there is no reason to come to Aftlain other than to be in Aftlain. You do not pass through; you do not dally on your way to somewhere else. You come here to stay here, why would you not. We have everything that anyone could want here so as I said, once you come here, you don’t leave.”
“ I see,” answered Thaindire wondering if there was anything more sinister to her assertion.
Together they passed through the stone archway into the churchyard, the church bell loud and clanging, a snaking line of villagers leading from the gate to the church door.
Thaindire saw the mound of earth where the gravedigger had been working. The soil was hardened and coated in frost. A raven alighted on the mound of earth and began to caw at the passing villagers until it became bored and it wheeled away to the trees on the churchyard perimeter. The gravedigger was nowhere to be seen. A man dressed in a dark grey cassock was greeting the villagers as they climbed the steps to the church and entered the church door. It was not Campion but an older man, with straggles of grey hair growing away from a balding pate. He gripped the hand of each villager bidding them welcome until he came to Kathryn.
“ A warm welcome Miss Kathryn,” he smiled.
“ Verger,” she answered.
“ Ah and to you also Master Thaindire, always a pleasure to have new blood join us,” he smiled and tilted his head in a gesture of respect. Thaindire shook his hand and ducked under the beam of the church arch and entered the cold recesses of the village’s church.
Thaindire was greeted by a beautiful voice that rose upwards to the vaulted roof of the church. At the front of the church in front of the altar stood a youth singing, accompanied by three musicians who sat behind him. The sweet voice climbed and fell; echoing as it soared creating an otherworldly effect, which Thaindire noticed, had caused the congregation to sit in rapt attention. Kathryn tugged on his sleeve and he slipped in beside her on a wooden pew. Thaindire knelt and whispered a short prayer as the singing continued. He found the serenade captivating and stillness settled about him, a calm that he had not experienced for some time and certainly not since he had been in the village. Thaindire observed his surroundings, recalling from his last visit that it was a larger church than one would expect for a village the size of Aftlain. The stonewalls climbed high, the pale light of the sun filtering through the stained glass windows, depicting various deeds of saints and so forth. Thaindire spotted Benjamin Dromgoole sat a few rows in front, a woman leaning into him, presumably Alyce Dromgoole. Thaindire curled his lip at the rank hypocrisy of a man who allowed such debauchery to occur unchecked within his tavern and yet here he was at worship as if nothing untoward had ever happened. He spied the smith; his large frame standing out from the other villagers that he was sat amongst, his head bowed, exposing the thick neck. Turning, he noticed the girl that had been embracing C
ampion was sat on the pew opposite from him. She leant forward and looked across at Thaindire. Their gaze met and she whispered a “hello” to him with those lips, which had been locked in a sinful embrace, before smiling and then sitting back. Thaindire shook his head at her brazen attendance.
He heard the sound of the door closing and the verger strolled past him down the central aisle, his cassock sweeping the stone flagged floor behind him. The music and singing slowly faded up into the heights of the church and then Campion emerged from the right hand side, behind the altar. He nodded and smiled as in silence he walked across to the pulpit and ascended the few steps to appear looming over the waiting congregation. His eager eyes swept across the assembled villagers as if he was checking that everyone who should be there was indeed in attendance and then satisfied he placed two hands on the pulpit walls.
“ A good morning to you my blessed brethren,” he announced his rich, deep voice carrying across the church.
“ And a good morning to you our blessed father,” responded the congregation.
“ We shall begin with the hymn, ‘ O Bountiful Land’.” Thaindire gave a frown not recognising it. No hymn sheets had been handed out and as the musician struck up, the congregation rose and began to sing. Everyone around him knew the words and sang with enthusiasm verse after verse about the riches provided by the land of Albion. Thaindire shifted uneasily, feeling somewhat embarrassed not to be joining in. He was aware of Kathryn swaying as she sang, her own voice, melodic and soft, clear beside him. The final notes drifted away and the congregation sat down once again, the occasional cough amongst the shuffling of feet and clothing. Campion remained standing in the pulpit, his eyes gleamed and his mouth was formed in an evangelical smile as he towered over the congregation.
“ On this, the first Sunday of Massentide we have been visited by the first frost. I am sure you will agree that the village looked especially beautiful this morning coated by the white as you walked up the hill. I must admit, I rose early and walked in the churchyard marvelling at the all-encompassing frost, laying its protective cloak across our village and beyond. Are we not blessed in the many ways that the One True God chooses to portray our village from season to season?” asked Campion. A low murmur of assent came from the villagers.
“ So with the first frost arrived it is entirely appropriate that I read from the Book, the Lesson of the White Shroud.” He glanced down and carefully opened a thick volume, smoothing down the pages before looking up again and smiling once more.
“ Pierce ye not the land, for it shall not yield. Look not to its womb, for that is now barren. The deep warmth forsaken. Seek ye not to drive thy tool into the flesh of the land, for it does not seek your union. Ye have feasted long upon the sweet, sweet offerings and it is time to look elsewhere,” boomed Campion. He read slowly, relishing each word as if he tasted them, his sentences cascading across the assembly. Thaindire did not recognise the reading. He was the first to admit that he was not a keen scholar of the Lessons of Nurture and the balance of its contents had not invaded his consciousness to the same extent as the Lessons of Judgement had. Still, there was no shame in that for it was by those latter Lessons that he acted and abided by. He mused to himself that if he were to look upon the priest’s copy of the Book that the Lessons of Judgment, Humility and Stricture would be most likely torn out as he saw little evidence of their influence in Aftlain. Indeed, he half expected the priest not to read from the Book at all but rather preach from some ungodly text.
Campion concluded the Lesson of the White Shroud, which to Thaindire’s mind was preoccupied with fertility and the creation of life and a second hymn was sung. Again Thaindire found himself listening, standing out from the congregation as they all knew the words to the hymn and he had never heard of it. Everyone sat once again and Campion stood in silence, regarding the villagers. Thaindire wondered what he was looking for as the priest’s gaze swept over the villagers.
“ And now Giraudus will read this week’s notices,” declared Campion. The verger rose and from between the two massed rows of pews he turned to face the congregation and carefully read from a parchment he held in his hand. Thaindire listened as he learned that there was to be a funeral on the Wednesday, somebody called Alouicious Crane having passed away, that there was a meeting on Thursday evening at the tavern to make preparations for the Feast of Maydrey and that the Hayward, Saer Harcourt would be available at the church on Friday to discuss the repairs that needed to be effected to the fencing on the outskirts of the village. The verger returned to his pew and Campion commenced his sermon.
The priest spoke with vibrant enthusiasm about the need for togetherness as the village approached its most difficult period of winter. He was effusive in his praise for various villagers as he highlighted instances of neighbourly behaviour, which included thanking Dromgoole for his rescue of Thaindire. This prompted the congregation to all turn and look at him as Campion said his name and Thaindire felt himself flush at the attention of the villagers, relieved when Campion moved on to a different individual.
A collection took place and Thaindire parted with a gold mark, placing it in the silver bowl, which was passed amongst the congregation before a final hymn took place, again leaving Thaindire floundering in ignorance. Campion led a final blessing as everyone sat, heads bowed and at its conclusion the young singer began again.
The priest strode down the aisle as everyone remained in his or her places and once he had departed through the door, the pews began to empty, from the rear first. Thaindire found himself in a line of villagers waiting to exit the church. Kathryn was stood behind him; an older lady in front of him and then the young woman that had been the recipient of Campion’s sensual embrace the previous day. Campion greeted the line, which gradually exited until he reached the girl, Isabel. He smiled benignly at her and reached out to pat her stomach, which Thaindire noticed for the first time, was a little swollen and rounded. She smiled widely, caught in the ensnaring attention of the priest as they exchanged conversation and then she moved on. The elderly lady politely thanked the priest for his sermon and continued on her way.
“ Ah, the newest member of our flock,” declared Campion with one of his customary smiles. He reached out with a warm hand to take Thaindire’s right hand, slowly shaking it.
“ Are you mended yet after your ordeal?” he asked eyes full of concern, not letting go of Thaindire’s hand.
“ Almost. I am fortunate that I have had the good offices of Kathryn as you identified during your sermon,” replied Thaindire.
“ Excellent well, I am delighted to learn of that,” enthused the holy man.
“ Actually, Priest Campion, I did come to see you yesterday. I thought I ought make myself known to you, given that I am new to the village,” explained Thaindire.
“ Yes, yes and why not.”
“ Only you were otherwise occupied and your gravedigger explained that you would be for some time.” Thaindire stared straight into the dark eyes of the priest, holding his gaze as he let his sentence hang in an accusing fashion.
“ Yes, Saturday afternoon is used for private tutoring for the young of the village,” answered the priest without blinking or turning his gaze from that of Thaindire.
“ Private tuition?” copied Thaindire.
“ Yes, for those who have a particular interest in the learned Book and the teachings of our church. You are very welcome, if there is something troubling you that you wish to seek guidance upon. My role is to guide and at times we do become shrouded in confusion and I would only be grateful to dispel any concerns that you may have. You can try the church anytime, although there are times when I am busy with private tutorials, church business and so on, or you can see Girauld, my verger and he can make an appointment for you. I am, after all, set upon this land to be a beacon for lost souls.”
“ I shall do that. Thank you,” responded Thaindire. Campion held his hand still and he looked over Thaindire’s face as if seeking an unspo
ken answer. Finally he let go and their eyes unlocked.
“ Dear Kathryn,” announced Campion taking the landlord’s daughter by her shoulders and gently embracing her proffered cheek, “ keep up your sterling work with Master Thaindire here, he will soon be one of us, of that there is no doubt. “
Kathryn laughed and began asking Campion about providing flowers for the aforementioned feast. Thaindire stepped away and descended the stone steps, moving to one side to stand on the frozen grass and await Kathryn. The other villagers were either departing along the path or stood in huddles talking to one another. Kathryn eventually broke free from the priest and joined Thaindire.
“ He’s wonderful isn’t he?” she remarked.
“ Isn’t he just,” murmured Thaindire.
Kathryn shot him a sideways glance.
“ He likes you, you know.”
“ He likes everybody.”
“ That’s what is here for,” chided Kathryn playfully slapping his arm. Thaindire watched as Campion stood in conversation with another pretty village girl. He was whispering in her ear, his right arm around her back preventing her from moving. He saw her shake, laughing at whatever words the holy man was pouring into her receptive and unchallenging ears. Kathryn moved away waving to a villager and joining them in conversation as Thaindire continued to watch the charismatic priest, touch, smile and fuss over each member, man and woman, young and old as they emerged from the church.
“ I will come for you first,” whispered Thaindire as he felt his stomach turn at the ingratiating manner of Campion.
“ Samael,” called Kathryn waving at him to come and join her. He duly obliged as she began to babble about her role in decorating the church and the tavern for the forthcoming feast. Thaindire half-listened to her as they headed back to the village, the ground still hard and frosted, despite the attentions of the weak sunshine.