“Yes, of course,” Father Prodido proceeded cautiously. “But, I need to know why there was confusion last evening with Kaleo’s sentencing.”
“Confusion?” Tyran asked. “Why don’t you say it like you really intend it? Why was there hesitancy, Tyran? Isn’t that what you meant to say? Are you not questioning my resolve as a leader?”
“Oh no. Of course not, your Excellency,” Father Prodido said in an attempt to regain his balance. “You are reading this entirely the wrong way. Clearly, you came through and made the right decision in executing Kaleo. It is just that we are in a very precarious situation, and the stakes could not be higher right now, as you well know.”
“Oh really?” Tyran asked. “Why don’t you tell me about the stakes, Father? Why don’t you tell me about the threat lurking beyond our perimeter? Why don’t you tell me why there hasn’t been a single guard who has seen this mysterious enemy while patrolling the woods? Why don’t you tell me why you feel so comfortable taking these walks in these woods if there is such a great threat?”
“Ah! There it is!” Father Prodido exclaimed. “The seed of doubt. Surely planted by your father and that pathetic worm of a person Kaleo.”
“I would advise you to remember who you are speaking to,” Tyran warned.
Tyran’s threat stoked Father Prodido’s internal fire, which came raging out in his words.
“Remember who I am speaking to!” he shouted. “You have got to be kidding me! I made you! Your father abandoned you, and I was there. Teaching you! Training you! Building you up as a man of God! But when your defining moment came to be fearless and strong, to stand up against impropriety, and to resurrect a weakened Patrida, what did you do? What did you do, Tyran! You tell the guards to put him in jail, just like your…”
“If I were you, I would choose my next word very wisely, Father,” Tyran threatened.
Abruptly turning from the young leader, an enraged Father Prodido marched back toward town.
As tiny, wet dots began to discolor each stone along the Monon, the westward horizon proved to the townspeople that a more ominous storm would soon be approaching. Men closed their houses’ wooden shutters while women and children began moving briskly indoors. Father Prodido, unbothered by the darkening clouds swirling above the waters or the hurried activity of each household, walked through Sanctuary with fiery intention.
The religious leader noticed as he neared his house that his shutters had already been closed. Upon entering, a single oil lamp had been lit and placed on the square, wooden table. Sitting behind the tiny flame battling the room’s shadows, Velos greeted her brother and asked him to sit with her.
Closing the door and then locking it, Father Prodido turned and blew out the candle on the table. Looking down, the religious leader noticed something under his sister’s duplicitous hands, placed between her and the smoking candle. Supposing it was the purpose for her visit but believing his encounter with Tyran to be a more immediate concern, Father Prodido sat down and began detailing their conversation.
“If I am to be brutally honest,” he started, “I was dismayed with Tyran’s decision last night. Maybe dismayed isn’t the right word. Disappointed may be a better way to describe it. Lord knows how much time I have spent with him over the years preparing him for this moment. And as the stars aligned for him to exert his power and influence in Patrida against a full-fledged traitor, he became his father.”
“I think you’re overreacting,” Velos said. “It’s true you’ve invested so much of yourself into Tyran. But as you’ve watched Ochi stray from the faith, you’ve become overly sensitive with Tyran. You are terrified that he will become his father. This is Tyran’s first time as a leader. With you and me guiding him, he will be fine.”
“He threatened me, Velos,” Father Prodido shouted as his voice began to quiver. “He told me to remember who I was speaking to, for god’s sake! I can’t be sure where his allegiance is right now. For all I know, Ochi and Kaleo have persuaded him. Each of them secretly met with him and made their case against me. And you sit here and tell me everything will be fine!”
“Trust me, brother. He will be fine,” said Velos.
“Maybe after I send Fovos to his house! Which I feel inclined to do at the present moment,” Father Prodido said.
The religious leader pushed away from the table and stood abruptly.
“Whatever you have come to discuss, it will have to wait until later,” he said. “I feel everything I have worked for slipping away, and I will not stand by helplessly and watch it happen.”
“Sit down,” Velos demanded without any explanation. “And do not make me ask a second time.”
The religious leader already had his hand on the door handle. But he released it when he glanced back at his sister and saw her looking at the ornate object on the table.
“Very well, then,” Father Prodido said, sitting down once again. “What is this beautiful box you have before you?”
“My husband’s undoing,” Velos replied, caressing the hand-carved cedar box with her hands.
Father Prodido leaned forward without answering, placing his hands on the table and raising his gray, wiry eyebrows.
“After the prisoners escaped and before Ochi left to find Thura,” Velos began. “I noticed him fumbling through his closet suspiciously. I didn’t know what he was doing at the time, but I began to look around after he left. In one corner of his closet beneath a piece of the floorboard, he had hidden a keepsake box.”
“And the contents of this box?” Father Prodido asked.
“There were two items in it,” Velos continued. “I found a knife, which I believe was given to him years ago during a commemoration ceremony honoring him for his service. With the knife, I found this journal.”
“I assume his undoing is contained within the pages of this journal. Is this a correct assumption?” Father Prodido asked.
“Everything you’ve suspicioned over the last year is contained within these pages,” Velos said. “His ambivalence, his half-hearted- ness, his lack of resolve … all of it … is spelled out here in great detail, even as recently as the other day. There’s no way he could have ever imagined anyone finding or reading it.”
“Please, do tell. Read something to me,” Father Prodido said. “Pull back this mysterious veil Ochi has been hiding behind this entire time.”
Velos slowly opened the box and removed the journal. Opening it to his last entry, she began to read.
Patrida is lost. While we desired a place of peace and freedom, we have become a people of fear and antagonism. We say we are holy, but I’m not sure we even know anything about God. My heart is not here anymore. I hate what we’ve become. I hate what I’ve let us become.
Father Prodido rubbed his wrinkled forehead and leaned back in the chair, considering every word Velos read.
“All this we have known,” Father Prodido said. “At least this is what we have discerned from his actions. Is there anything more damning?” “I haven’t finished reading,” Velos said, looking at Father Prodido and then down at the journal once again.
I hate Father Prodido. I hate his ideas. I hate his influence. I hate his words. I hate the way he turns people against one another, especially my family. His ideas turned me against my parents, pushed away my daughter, and corrupted my son. As I sit here and write these words, I have so much hatred and regret in my heart. If it would change my relationship with my family, I would surely kill Father Prodido. If that single act would somehow free my son from his grip, I would not hesitate. But I’m afraid it’s too late. Tyran is too far gone. I saw it in his eyes earlier this evening at his house. I tried to tell him the truth about Prodido, but he was blank and listless. He would not hear any of it. He is hopeless and lost.
“The Lord continues to provide, dear sister,” Father Prodido said. “What a bounty. Our feelings and observations of Ochi could not have been more accurate. But I now regret my misstep with Tyran. You are correct. I should not questi
on his resolve. He needs nothing more at this time than our support and gentle guidance.”
“I prayed you would see it that way,” Velos said.
Father Prodido backed away from the table and stood. His dark countenance appeared darker behind the smoldering candle.
“However, that one line you read has me especially curious,” said Father Prodido. “That part about Thura.”
“Me, as well. But let me add to the intrigue,” said Velos. “Look closely at the lining of this box. Do you not see the faintest imprint of what looks like a key?”
Turning the box so that what little light was left in the room could assist in discerning the truth, Father Prodido examined the velvet lining with his eyes and delicate fingers.
“I need you to pay Tyran a visit,” said Father Prodido without looking up from the box. “Remind him of who he is and why he has our support. In the meantime, I will instruct Pali to assemble the guards. I will also have Fovos spread these new details among the townspeople. This missing key confirms my suspicions.”
Water began to pool on the floor inside the front door as Velos removed her soaked sandals. She noticed Tyran’s house was dimmer than Father Prodido’s, as a single candle on the counter struggled to keep its flame. Tyran had already walked back into his bedroom after letting his mother into the house. His demeanor made it evident he was still reeling from his earlier conversation with the religious leader. Reaching inside an oversized black raincoat, which she borrowed from her brother to keep from getting wet as she crossed the street, Velos removed the cedar box.
“Tyran, I’ve spoken to Father Prodido,” Velos said, hoping to engage her son. But there was no response. “Let’s start this another way. I found a box hidden below the floorboard in your father’s closet that contains a journal of his most intimate thoughts. Some of the things he wrote, Tyran, are unforgivable.”
The young leader walked into the room with his mother but appeared skeptical and aloof. Velos opened the journal and thumbed through its pages to find the passage she read earlier to Father Prodido. Finding the page, she handed Tyran the book and pointed to the beginning of the sentence. The room’s silence indicated Tyran was reading every word his father had written, even beyond what Velos had read to the religious leader. Tyran quietly closed the journal and handed it back to Velos before sitting down in silence.
“Tyran,” Velos began. “Your uncle and I believe in you. He said that he deeply regrets questioning your resolve. You know he has always had your best interest in mind. He took you under his wing, Tyran, and trained you up as his own. When he began to see your father’s weakness, he knew you were Patrida’s hope.”
Turning his attention from the diminishing flame of the candle, Tyran looked up at his mother.
“Your father has chosen another path,” Velos said. “It is a path of deception and lies. He walks in blindness to his eternal destruction. But you, Tyran, have the opportunity to stay on the path of truth. And this truth will always keep you from evil and help you discern what is right and wrong. As your mother, I see the truth by which you live your life. You have grown into a god-fearing man who desires a righteous and holy community seeking God’s blessing. Your determination to preserve peace and freedom in Patrida is evident, and we believe you will fight the good fight toward that end.”
Velos knelt in front Tyran as if to add emphasis to the next thing she said.
“Patrida cannot, I repeat cannot, exist on the same island with those who have left the faith, those who have chosen to profane the truth. God help us if we turn a blind eye again to their corrupting influence on us.”
Tyran remained silent, but his posture changed as he leaned forward from his chair to hear everything his mother told him.
“You are not your father, Tyran,” Velos said. “You will return Patrida to greatness. You will restore our heritage. You will have this town’s respect when this is all over. Father Prodido instructed Pali to assemble the guards. They will be along the Monon awaiting your instruction, your Excellency.”
Tyran stood with his mother and embraced her.
“I am proud of you, Tyran,” said Velos. “One last thing I should tell you is that it appears your sister took a key from this same cedar box and used it to let the prisoners out. It’s not only your father who has betrayed Patrida. It’s also now your sister.”
The Patridian guards, dressed once again in all black with hoods covering their faces, stood in formation at the center of the Monon. Every Patridian citizen lined each side of the road, roaring in cheers and applause not even rain could silence. Pali, standing beside an approving Father Prodido, barked out orders to the guards. In unison, they shouted back.
In full regalia, Tyran opened the door and, with his mother, walked between the guards standing in front of his house. When the towns- people saw them join Father Prodido and Pali in front of the assembly, the cheers and applause erupted into a crazed and delirious uproar.
“Your father’s a traitor!” Fovos screamed as he paced back and forth along the Monon in front of the caustic crowd like a mad dog. “He’s out to kill Father Prodido! He hates everything about Patrida! Bring him back here and make that coward face us!”
No one laughed at Fovos, as he had abandoned comedy for all that remained in him, which was only fear-mongering and accusation. The agitator was fueled by the spectacle, but primarily by shouts of approval and people inciting his verbal violence. Pulling a Patridian flag away from an onlooker, Fovos held it above his head in triumph and led the masses in a chant demanding the return of their defected leader.
Overwhelmed by his positive reception but still considering his mother’s words and what he read in the journal, Tyran nodded at Father Prodido and motioned with his hand for the religious leader to give the invocation. Stepping forward, Father Prodido raised both hands to the heavens, nodding his head up and down. While one could not imagine the crowd growing louder, it did very quickly. In the history of Patrida, never had there been such widespread animus and unanimity at the same time among the populace. This kind of resurgence was exactly what Father Prodido desired and had painstakingly worked toward.
With one single hand remaining in the air, the crowd immediately quieted.
“Beloved, if any of you have doubted whether the hand of God has been upon us, I pray this day proves his faithfulness,” Father Prodido began amidst the chaos of the crowd. “Surely the Lord has heard the petitions and cries of the faithful. What we suspicioned was lurking in darkness has now been brought into the glorious light. As you may have heard behind closed doors, there has been a coordinated effort by our forsaken leader and his daughter to not only aid and abet the enemy by helping them escape, but to undermine the integrity of Patrida by planning my assassination.”
An eerie seriousness and silence befell Patrida. All anyone could hear was the thunderous crashing of waves in the distance, washing over the sandy shore. Seven hundred people stood in the pouring rain knowing what they desired, but their desires were tragically misaligned. They were sheep longing for direction but content grazing in brown and barren pastures. Peace and freedom were on their lips but remained far from their hearts. Before them, in the vacancy of wisdom, stood Tyran, a man beholden to the mob-like desires of his people but who secretly empathized with his father’s regret.
“Let us march to retrieve my father and sister,” Tyran proclaimed, once again awakening the insatiable beast along the Monon.
CHAPTER 18
White waves washed between the community of boulders assembled on the shoreline. The mid-morning tide receded momentarily from its contouring work. Over and between the rocks, Ochi eagerly followed Sophia upon the unimprinted white sand, while birds sang their refrains nestled in pine. No one had spoken a word since waking at first light, only the sounds of a leather satchel swaying and the gentle crunch of each step on the drying beach accompanied mother and son.
“Sorry to ask, but how do you know where you’re going again?” Ochi c
alled out, breaking the silence.
“The signs have been all around us for the last few days,” Sophia said as she raised her walking stick and waved it in front of her. “We both desire to reach Salome, but neither of us has ever been there. I suppose we could walk aimlessly and hope we eventually get to our destination. Or, we could follow the signs that have been left for us to follow.”
“Is everything a lesson?” Ochi asked with a light-hearted laugh.
“Of course,” Sophia said as she turned and placed her walking stick in the soft ground with her wrinkled hand. “Everything around us is a lesson, Ochi, if we have the eyes to see it. But what I meant was that Odigo has been leaving signs for us to follow ever since I first met up with you.”
“Ah!” Ochi exclaimed with a hearty chuckle. “I thought it was a bit too early for another deep conversation. You were talking about Odigo, not giving me another lesson. I never can tell when you are serious and when you’re not.”
Cracking a very slight smile, Sophia responded.
“No, Ochi. No lesson,” she said. “Odigo has been bending plants, leaving footprints, and placing small cairns for us the entire way. Have you not seen them?”
Ochi scratched his dark, sweaty head and turned as if surveying everything he had missed along the way.
“We still have some work to do yet, don’t we?” Sophia said, turning around and walking toward a magnificent rock wall standing at least fifty feet tall.
“So what happens when your signs lead you to a dead-end?” Ochi called out from behind, staring at the impenetrable fortress in front of them.
Sophia hobbled up next to the wall without immediately responding and touched the cool, smooth surface with her hand. Ochi caught up and watched her quietly from behind.
“Do you know of this place?” Sophia asked.
“I’ve never been here if that’s what you’re asking,” Ochi said. “A few others from Patrida have mentioned this giant wall, however. They supposed it was where the island stopped.”
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