He turned back one last time at the burning village, not a tear shed for the people he had spent most of his life with. He was never one to shed tears, but he had his passions. His fists were clenched as he escaped the village unseen by its attackers. He never made any promises, but with the loss of many innocent lives he had come to know over the years, he made one promise, a promise to avenge them and Gilead would take that promise to heart but he would not fulfill it as quickly as he made it. Running for cover out of fear of being seen having escaped the fire was not on his mind, and while his walk was slow, he was cautious, ears on alert just as Josephus had taught him.
In the woods, he found the perfect hiding place, one he would find comfortable while also sleeping. The tree was in the middle of the forest, making it difficult to tell the difference between which tree was which, but his tree was special, in that he found the branches of it much lower than the rest of the trees in the forest and it made for the perfect cover for anyone trying to find him. Many would say that this was the opposite of anyone trying to escape one’s attackers but his head had messed with him, death did not scare him away, and if he were to only spend the next few moments alive and then captured, he would gladly let death take him, but not tonight. He thought. Not tonight.
When morning came, a trickle of morning dew found its way to his face, it had been cold and his cheeks were beginning to turn paler than usual, paler than his hair. He cracked open his violet eyes which were sometimes purple depending on where the light was. His tall frame rose up from the ground where he slept and his muscular figure stretched itself as he got ready for the day. He was known as the pale child, now he was the pale man. The boy he was the day before was left behind in the village and the man had taken over. He was unable to get anything of value, so the man began his long walk to the nearest village in order to find work and get paid as a means to break his fast. That was how it was and that was how it would be for a very long time. Once he reached the road, he remained on it until he found the nearest village, crowded with traders and was certainly larger than the village he had lived in for most of his life in.
“Are you looking for someone to help you with that?” He asked one of the passers-by who surprisingly stopped in his tracks.
“Yes.” Replied the man, his short and blunt answer indicated to him that he was someone who did not take to nonsense from those around him.
He was a tall man but not as towering as the younger man before him, and he was deathly pale and gaunt, he had snow-white hair and a beard, with eyes like black diamonds that did not glow. His face was expressionless, and that made it harder for the younger man to read his thoughts.
The older man placed the stacked wool on the ground and the younger man picked it up making it easier on the older man. He did not need to be told what to do, he had always been a hard worker despite getting himself into trouble a few times. It was when he noticed that the bearded man was wearing a black hooded cloak as if he were part of some religious order.
He was not waited on, and as usual, but he was alert when it came to working for money and followed the older man through the muddied pathway to the market.
Once they reached the market, the older man halted him to place the wool on the ground. The customer, a large man bent over on the wool and inspected it, the young man had never sheared any wool in his life for all they had in the small unknown village were goats and cows. The large man was seemingly satisfied for he fished out a pouch from his pocket and threw it to the man who caught it with ease. Another man showed up and took the wool, both customer and merchant nodded to each other and went their separate ways.
“Name?” asked the man, his voice like honeyed gravel.
“Gilead,” The younger man replied.
“Brother Eugene,” he said introducing himself without saying so.
“Are you a monk?” asked Gilead, not trying to sound judgmental just as the brother took a few coins out of the pouch and gave them to the younger man.
“In a way.” The brother replied, his expression unchanged. “I’ll tell you what, you can come work for us at the monastery, the brothers and I will pay you or you hang on to that coin I just gave you and we’ll never see each other again.”
“Give me time to think,” replied the younger man wisely. “I need to break my fast.”
The older man only nodded and Gilead went on his way in search of the tavern.
Reaching the tavern, he was greeted by a sea of patrons also breaking their fast or at least looking to do so. Once he reached the counter, the barkeep placed his towel on his shoulder and leaned closer.
“Are you looking to break your fast?” asked the man, Gilead need not know of his intentions for the barkeep was looking to make some coin in return for his services.
“Aye, yes.” Replied Gilead, tossing a coin to the barkeep.
“That’ll get you at least some meat and potatoes,” said the barkeep, inspecting the coin. “I’m saying some since we’re running out of both.”
Food was served, the meat and potatoes looked like they’d been around for a few weeks but the scent was decent and unspoiled. Gilead sat on the chair by the counter and gobbled his food until he realized that he should take it easy, savoring this meal for this may be the last time would be able to get a decent meal in a while.
Gilead’s mind returned to the old man; he expected more warmth in a monk as their order often required them to be a charitable lot. Perhaps there was something else to the old man, he told himself as his thoughts went to the offer that was given to him. He had to think practically now as he no longer had anyone else to make decisions for him.
Before he finished his meal, Gilead had decided that he would take up the monk’s offer to work for the brothers in the monastery. He had no plans other than to survive which was his priority at the moment and the offer was good enough for him.
The streets were crowded now more than ever since the people who had finished their meals in the tavern went off to the streets and then to the market square. He searched endlessly for the old man again and was thankful that his towering height had benefited him. However, he did struggle to reach the old monk as the crowded sea of people had been pushing each other out of each other’s way in order to reach their destination.
Upon reaching Brother Eugene, he paused and tapped the old man on his shoulder with a pale finger. The brother turned to see who hailed for his attention and was greeted by the figure of the albino who beamed at him. He returned this with a smile and began;
“Are you willing to take up my offer, lad?” asked Eugene softly.
“Yes, Brother.” He replied with confidence.
Little did Gilead know that his decision would not just benefit his survival but also start his journey towards his destiny. A destiny with much suffering and death in order to bring about goodness into the world. He would understand little of it now, but everything would fall into place in time including the revelation of his destiny and his acceptance of it or his decline.
The brother dressed in black had very little to say but began walking on his own. He had only walked a few feet when two other brothers dressed in black came up to him panting.
“Brother Ice! Brother Ice!” said the two monks in unison.
“What is it brothers?” asked the old monk calmly.
“Brother Mikken has gambled his share of the coin again and has lost it all,” the smaller brother with wrinkles reported.
“He’s claiming that he had been cheated and would want his coin back.”
Gilead could hear brother Eugene sigh heavily from where he stood.
“Come with me, lad.” Said the monk as he began walking again.
Gilead followed suit, keeping up with the brother’s pace.
They had found Brother Mikken in the tavern, in a showdown with who Gilead could only think of as the man to whom he had lost his coin. Then he turned his attention to the monk himself, a nervous-looking fellow who looked like the wind would blow him away. Gilead came to wonder why Brother Eugene had taken them to the tavern in the first place, none of the brothers seem like the fighting sort and that would go against the teachings of the Followers of the Son. Did his newfound companion plan to challenge the so-called thief? Or was he there to teach his brother a lesson in gambling?
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The other two monks had taken their seats at a nearby table, not wanting to bother Brother Eugene yet, Gilead himself walked over to the table and took a seat.
“You called this old man for protection?” said the gambler who had won the coin from Mikken. “What’s he going to do? Pray that I return what I won fair and square?”
The tavern erupted into laughter, and Gilead could see the brothers’ faces turn red with embarrassment except for Eugene whose complexion was still ice-cold, his face expressionless.
“What’s he going to do?” asked Gilead.
“Just wait and see, son.” Replied the bearded brother.
Gilead turned his attention to Eugene again, he had found admiration for the monk and he would hate for anything bad to happen to him. His brothers have a lot of respect for him and seem to command a lot of respect for himself. Perhaps not all is what meets the eye, he thought and waited while the monk took care of things.
“Sir, I apologize for the actions of my brother.” Said the monk, calmly but his tone was low.
“You better be.” Said the gambler, and the tavern hall laughed and snickered.
“However, my brother claims that you cheated him out of his own share of our coin.” Continued Eugene as silence fell on the patrons. “The coin is important to us you see, and it would be unfair to the rest of the brothers who did not gamble away their share.”
“What are you getting at?” asked the gambler, raising a flabby finger at Eugene.
“Let us play a round of cards to decide what happens with that coin.” Offered Eugene followed by a few moments of silence.
“Hear! Hear!” said the gambler turning to the spectators within the tavern with a grin. “I will take him up on his offer, if you can beat one, you can beat them all.” He added.
A cheer erupted in the tavern and immediately the patrons arranged a table and two chairs for the match.
The gambler was of course filled with confidence, and overconfidence at his own skill with such games and he was one to get the crowd to rally on his side. And yet he was not the only one, the brother was as cold as ever, his expressionless face and big black eyes only searched the crowd and later took his seat at the table.
Gilead observed him from where he sat, surprised at how things went down, but a card game was better than a brawl and that was how he would have wanted it if he were in the monk’s place. He settled into his chair and waited for the game to begin.
By the end of the game, Eugene had won five times and had rightfully won the coin back. The young gambler had lost and not gracefully for he had been laughed out of the tavern. Gilead followed suit and found him in an alley.
“You’re with that old monk, aren’t you?” asked the gambler, stifling his tears. “What do you want?”
“I’m sorry you lost.” Said Gilead studying the man. “Here, take this.” He fished out the remaining four coins that the monk had given him and handed them to the man.
The gambler took it from his palm and went on his way but not before turning to Gilead one last time.
“Thank you.” He said and went on his way, disappearing through the crowd.
Behind him, he heard the muffled noises of men at each other’s throats. Gilead reached the men only to be in the presence of the brothers, two of them greeting him with a nod, behind them were brothers Eugene and Mikken who were in a heated argument. For the most part, it was Mikken doing all the arguing while the former was quiet and still. Seeing Gilead for the first time since the card game was what struck Mikken and so he went silent.
“Brothers, this is Gilead,” Eugene introduced him to the three monks. “Gilead, you know Brother Mikken, the one on your right with the beard is Brother Matthias and that little one on your left is Brother Elias.”
Mikken ignored the introduction but Matthias and Elias nodded to him in greeting.
Brother Eugene led the party from the tavern to a muddied area mainly used as a water station for the horses. There Gilead saw a horse and carriage, a tarp covering the skeletal frame of the latter. The three brothers got up the cart with ease, and Brother Eugene circled around it to get the horse ready. Gilead was unsure whether he would want to underestimate the hospitality of the monks but the thought disappeared once Brother Eugene had called for him to join the others in the back.
The monastery sat on top of a mountain that had a clear path to the village, and the ride over was neither steep nor dangerous as many would say. For the most part, Gilead was regaled by the brothers with tales of their own adventures all over Ulsidor to pass the time. The tales were sometimes impossible and these were usually the ones with Brother Eugene, he had come to find out that the old monk had once been a nobleman, a lord of Ulsidor who had been born and raised in a castle. Gilead wondered why anyone born into such privilege would give up those things, he would have to ask the monk himself, he thought.
Outside, the young man could see great sights he never dreamed of seeing. The incline to the monastery was smooth under the direction of the old man, and Gilead savored the experience of nature untouched. There would be no raiders or barbarians looking for a fight or just chaos for the sake of it. He had not told the brothers what had happened the night before, he was sure that they knew or that they would find out later on but he kept the story to himself and would explain it when asked.
Once they reached the monastery, the brothers were greeted by the Abbott who managed the order. When Gilead saw him, he was like an old crow, hunched and dressed in all black with a staff in hand, his nose crooked and his figure was small like a bird. The closer he got to the Abbott, he noticed that his irises were covered in white fog, he was blind.
“And who is this young man?” asked the Abbott, his voice nearly inaudible.
“Gilead, sir.” Replied the young man who had gotten out of the cart first.
“A mountain of a name, luckily for you, you are in one.” Remarked the old crow with a smile.
“Brothers, I have good news!” Now a younger monk showed up, younger than the old Abbott anyway. “Layla has just given birth to six healthy pups!”
Just then, a black hound appeared before them. It was the largest dog Gilead had ever seen but calm as it came over to them. The closer the dog got, he noticed that he was not fully black in color, there were traces of white brindled on the side of the hound’s coat. Elias hunched over the dog and petted him as did the other brothers who crowded him.
“Abbott Gregory, this is Gilead from the burnt village.” Said Brother Eugene nonchalantly.
“How did you.---?” began Gilead but his question was cut short by the Abbott himself.
“You may stay if you wish it, lad.”
“I do, Abbott.” Replied he.
When the introductions were over, the brothers whom he met in the village went over to the barn that was located in the back of the monastery and Gilead followed behind with Brother Eugene. The walk may look like it only lasted a few minutes but it was a long one in reality and the brothers did not rush over to look at Layla’s pups in the barn, they took their time.
Gilead studied his companion; he had looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders but had decided to go on about his own business. His own father had only been a farmer and was rather timid but fought to the very end, something about Brother Eugene had reminded him of his own father but he was far more hardened. He did not plan on asking the brother any questions pertaining to his past life and so he looked on straight ahead to the barn itself.
Reaching the barn, the three monks who went ahead of them knelt over to Layla’s side and were picking up her pups. The old monk reached for one of them and presented one to Gilead. The younger man could only stare in amazement, he never expected to be welcomed in such a way.
“Here, lad.” Said the old monk, handing the pup over to him. “He will keep you safe.”
He did not know what these dogs were for, or why the brothers were raising them but he accepted the little pup into his arms. Little did Gilead know that the hounds were used for hunting, and were also used to assist the brothers with everyday tasks.
“Come, I’ll show you to your room.” Said the old man.
The brother had the face of an old man but did not move like one. His footsteps were swift and even Gilead, a young man of not older than twenty had trouble keeping up with him. They reached the hut that provided a makeshift room originally for the caretaker of the monastery. Brother Eugene turned to Gilead, his lips uncurled but parted, and then spoke.
“You want to ask me how I knew where you came from?” asked the monk.
Gilead did wonder, but he was surprised that the monk had to ask him first. Taken aback, he tried to regain his posture, the pup still in his arms.
“I…yes.” He replied uneasily, breaking the silence between them.
“You smell of burning ash and mud,” began the monk who got to arranging the makeshift room. “I’m sorry about your village.” He added and paused in front of the younger man.
“No one deserved it,” said Gilead, his face sunken from the memory of last night’s events.
“Aye, I know, lad.” Said the man, assuring him of his firm statement. “Perhaps it’s best if you talk to us about it, but not right now, I assume you’d like to be left alone at the moment.”
“Yes, please, at least for now.”
The brother bowed ever slightly to him in acknowledgment and left Gilead on his own.
There would be no use in trying to wriggle his way out of an explanation for the things that happened the previous night and he suspected that he would have to tell his story to a large group of people within the next few days. Burning a village does not go unnoticed in the kingdom of Ustidor.
Gilead placed the pup on the makeshift bed, enamored by its jet-black coat, and petted him. It dawned on him that he had the perfect name for such a pup.
“I have a name for you,” he addressed the pup with a smile on his lips. “Athanasius, Nash for short.”
The pup attempted a bark, and the young man laughed heartily taking it as a sign that the pup agreed to its name.
A few days had passed, and Gilead had learned the inner workings of the monastery together with his new duties. While working in the barn one late afternoon, he heard hooves approaching from afar and the animals with the exception of the hounds became uneasy. He straightened himself and went outside where a few of the brothers themselves have started to gather. A few moments passed, and a group of no less than twelve armored men rode up and circled around the brothers.
“Easy brothers!” said one of the riders as the circle of armored men started to calm. “We are twelve of the Crimson Battalion in search of the monstrosities that ravaged and burned the nearby village some days ago.”
“Aye! A young man who survived the burning lives with us now.” Replied one of the brothers just as the circle dispersed and went into formation again, this time in columns of four.
“Come out!” shouted the leader of the squad and Gilead approached the group.
“Tis’ I,” said Gilead, declaring his presence. “I am willing to speak up so long as the brothers are unharmed.”
“Have you not heard of us, lad?” asked one of the soldiers. “We’re soldiers of the Crimson Battalion, our duty is to protect the weak and unarmed, I assure you these brothers will stay safe so long as we are here.”
The brothers were not weak, Gilead wanted to say but decided to keep his mouth shut.
Abbott Gregory arrived, walking stick in hand and guided by Brother Eugene who stopped in front of the leader.
“Abbott, my soldiers and I are searching for the men responsible for the burned village nearby.”
“I was told,” the old crow said sparsely. “Gilead came to us from that same village, perhaps the boy is willing to tell you about these men.”
“I am.”