Tears of a Heart

by Chase Blackwood

  “Here is plant foods,” Odilo said pointing to rows of plants in the large courtyard. “We make many foods here and eat them.”

  Aeden nodded as though Odilo had just explained the phases of the moon. They didn’t linger long as Odilo led them down a corridor to a set of stairs. They worked their way to the second floor, where Odilo pointed out the rooms for the sacrist, the cellarer, the tithe counter, the abbot, and the almoner.

  “Monahan,” Odilo made the impression of narrow eyes and a fat build, obviously indicating the angry mole-like man they encountered yesterday, “he stays here, you and him better not together.”

  “What did he tell you yesterday?” Aeden asked.

  “He no want you here, tell me not allow more new people,” Odilo stated matter-of-factly.

  “What is his position? Does he have authority?”

  Odilo regarded him oddly for a moment as if trying to understand his words before finally replying.

  “He counts money. I find new people. We have same power,” the last word was a struggle upon his ungainly tongue.

  “It seems there are a few unhappy monks here,” Aeden said thinking on the faces he saw at prayer and around the dining table.

  “Happiness lives in here first,” he pointed to his head, “then here,” he pointed to his heart, “too many forget what it is.”

  Aeden nodded his head but said nothing. Odilo reminded him of one of his gevecht teachers. His teacher often used parables to relate a tale. It was within the story that the greater nugget of wisdom resided, like a gem within a stone.

  Aeden thought on his words as they walked down an open-air corridor lined by columns looking down upon the cloisters. They rounded a corner and came upon the library.

  “Here live books,” Odilo said.

  Aeden was curious. He had heard of books in stories and once seen his father working on parchment, but he had never seen a real book before.

  “Can I see?” he asked as he made his way inside.

  “Yes, but no talk.”

  Aeden stepped into a relatively large bifurcated room. On the far end were small desks with two scribes busily writing upon virgin sheaths of paper. On his end of the room were two tall glass windows casting morning light upon the rugs on the floor and the chairs lining the walls. It felt inviting. Two large wooden shelves were filled with books. Aeden marveled at them and reached for one before Odilo placed a hand on his arm.

  “No read now,” was all he said.

  Aeden was led back downstairs and shown the kitchens, the storage area by the refectory, the area behind the cloisters, the central nave and adjacent prayer areas before being taken down into the crypt.

  The crypt was accessed through the kitchen on one end and the grand nave on the other. It was a large basement filled with grains, simple spices, religious symbols, and supplies. It was an organized mess where everything appeared to compete for space.

  It was therefore odd that Aeden caught sight of a solid door at one end. There were no storage bins, no bags of grain blocking it. In fact the area around the door was devoid of anything, as if it preferred to be free of clutter.

  It was strange, out of place the way a lone flower in a field of grass was. A thrumming energy seemed to radiate ever so lightly from the door, beckoning him. Whispering voices echoed ever so faintly in the shadowy recesses of his sleeping mind.

  Once again he found himself drawn toward something. Without asking for permission Aeden strode toward the door. It took a moment before Odilo noticed Aeden wander off.

  Aeden glanced at the door and noticed faint script upon the frame. It wasn’t in a language he recognized. It had a feeling of permanence the way the carved statues of the gods at the Sacred Pools did back in S’Velt.

  Aeden reflected on the door for but a moment before placing a hand upon the handle. That’s when Odilo shouted.

  “No!”

  Aeden froze with his hand on the door, much like a child caught with his hand in the apple barrel.

  “You no go there. No one go there,” he said sternly. Any hint of a smile that had once graced his eyes was replaced with two hard, cold pools devoid of laughter.

  Aeden’s hand slipped away as his faced reddened. He felt ashamed. Already he had insulted the only person here who had spoken with him, the one man who had shown him kindness in nearly a year.

  He was desperate to ask what lay beyond the door, but he knew the rules were different here. Aeden stifled his curiosity in an effort to appease Odilo’s displeasure.

  “I’m sorry,” Aeden finally managed as he stepped away from the door.

  “How do you feel?” Odilo asked with concern, grabbing Aeden’s hand and examining it.

  Aeden was surprised by the question. He felt bad for going where he wasn’t supposed to on his first day there. He felt bad because it seemed this man was trying to help him. His mind tingled with curiosity. He was tired and lonely. Sadness clung to his heart and threatened to overwhelm him. But he said nothing.

  Odilo dropped his hand and watched him intently before speaking, “You no need sorry. This place is not for you,” he said a touch of warmth returning to his voice.

  Chapter 15

  “Games are what adults play to remember how to be children.” Saying of Sawol

  A couple of weeks passed and Aeden was becoming more comfortable with his new routine. Life at the monastery was simple. It was filled with prayer, chores, plenty of eating, and as Aeden had come to find out, games.

  The days themselves passed slowly at first. Every day was very much like the day before. He would wake to the sound of ringing bells just before the crack of dawn. He was used to waking at odd hours from sleeping in the forest.

  After the morning bell the monks would start by rolling their thin sleeping mats and then they would place them behind their assigned chest. This was followed by the folding of blankets, each placed carefully within their respective trunks.

  Everything at the Monastery was filled with ritual, ceremony, and meaning. Willowing through the rituals was at first challenging for Aeden. He was accustomed to mimicking the movements of another for that was integral to his martial studies. Here there was less guidance. As a novice monk he was expected to complete chores and tasks that no other did.

  At first he was resentful of the added chores. But as the days passed, so too did his anger. The hazing instead became a pattern to fill his mind. Anything was better than excess idleness. It was during those hollow moments of empty respite that his mind echoed with resounding thunder.

  Vivid images of the final moments of his village’s collapse replayed themselves in an endless loop in his mind. The scenes carved a molded path until finally there was a template of self-indulgent thought that consumed him.

  He therefore grew to dread the meditations and hungered for companionship. Anything to fill the awful void of pictured death. For Aeden his days didn’t start until after the first meditation and the end of breakfast.

  Breakfast often consisted of a single egg, bread, and some old cheese. As was normal with each meal a strict silence was observed. Aeden noticed the monks communicated through furtive hand gestures during mealtime. Gestures he was slowly learning.

  Following the meal were more chores. This was when the monks were finally able to break their silence. Words, laughter, arguments, and camaraderie filled the air. It was music to Aeden’s ears.

  Depending on the day, half the group cleaned the kitchen and dining area as the other half went to the gardens in the courtyard. Aeden preferred garden duty. Something about digging in the dirt grounded him and settled his soul.

  By midafternoon all the monks were required to attend and participate in Noon Prayer. This took place in the main nave of the monastery and was conducted for the attending public. It was a grueling two hour event filled with chants, meditations, and judgments. The first few times were fascinating. The new ceremonies were fresh to his young eyes. The attending populace was a slice of Bodigan life. The freshne
ss soon wore off, and the monotony of monastery life soon set in.

  Late afternoon was Aeden’s favorite time. It was the time immediately after a small meal and before dinner in which the monks were free to pursue leisure activities. There were board games, a library filled with volumes of books, and painting. Most monks took the time to get in a nap. Aeden spent his time with Odilo learning Heortian, the common tongue of the Three Kingdoms and the language of the Heorte Empire.

  He was learning more and more of the language each day. From sunrise to sunset he was beside Odilo. He would ask the word for everything he could point at and anything he could think of. The result was that within two weeks he knew enough words to make a fool of himself. More importantly, he had earned a spot at the nightly table of a card game called kayles.

  The games grew most rowdy after dinner. The senior monks retired to the second floor rooms as the junior monks played. Gambling, strictly forbidden by Sancire scripture, was evident in hidden corners as card games flourished like flowers under the sun.

  Kayles was normally a six person game played in three teams of two. Although it was a source of entertainment and a method to pass the time, it was above all else the lynchpin to understanding the social dynamic of the monastery. It was through this game that brother monks would rotate teams amidst a few tables and share gossip, complaints, and poke fun of each other.

  Aeden had been allowed to watch as the monks became more comfortable with his presence. It was a monk named Adel that had invited him to watch and finally to join them at the table. Adel was one of Odilo’s recruits. He was young, but still older than Aeden by a couple of years. Aeden recognized him as the monk who had caught his eye on the first day at Morning Prayer. He had been one of the few to smile and show compassion.

  Odilo had encouraged Aeden to participate in kayles, saying “this is best way to learn about brother monks and monastery talk.”

  Interestingly Odilo was nowhere to be found during the games.

  Aeden presently sat next to Adel, his team member. Thomas, a pale, cheese-loving monk sat opposite him, and was teamed with Neri. Neri was interesting. He rarely spoke and when he did Aeden noticed a distinct accent. He was darker complected than any of the other monks. Neri rarely made eye contact and despite occasionally being quite physically close to the other monks, he was rather distant in all other respects, save for one. Aeden remembered seeing him one day hunched over his trunk whispering sweet words. He was dropping in small pieces of bread at the time. It had seemed strange until Aeden had seen what Neri was doing. He had been feeding a squirrel. It had jumped into his hand. Neri’s secret pet. It was one of those secrets that everyone knew but didn’t much bother to spread.

  The other team consisted of the monks Bosco and Jerome. They were a strange pair. Where Jerome was short and stout, Bosco was tall and lanky. They were always found together. It was rumored they bathed, ate, and shat together. They were lackeys of Monahan, the fat, mole-like monk that seemed to have it in for Aeden. Consequently both Jerome and Bosco could be rather annoying.

  Bosco had the strange habit of constantly wiping his nose on his robe when he thought no one was looking. He also had a way of insulting without appearing to do so, like an old woman complementing a younger, prettier lady. Luckily for Aeden he still didn’t understand much of the language and most of their insults simply slipped past like meaningless shadows.

  It was Aeden’s turn to shuffle the cards and deal for he and Adel had won the last hand. He quickly dealt out five cards to each player and finished by flipping over two cards. One card marked the trump card; the other card revealed the triolet, a card indicating which three of a kind would win the play pile.

  Thomas quickly snatched up his cards and fidgeted with them as he put them in order and then went over them once more as if five cards were too many to keep track of. He reminded Aeden of a mouse working meticulously on a piece of leftover food.

  Neri glanced once at his cards and collapsed them into a single pile held closely in his dark hands. He looked about with suspicious eyes as if constantly on the verge of taking offense. Aeden then watched as Jerome and Bosco spent a minute or so looking at each other’s cards and whispering indiscernible strategies to each other.

  Once everyone had settled, the lowest card began the game. Each person in turn produced their lowest card and then took a card from the face down deck to replenish their five-card hand. The five of arrows, the three of swords, a six of hearts, and a three of shields was played.

  Aeden eyed the pile a moment trying to remember the rules. He had played the three of arrows. He knew in terms of suits that arrows was the lowest when compared to the other suits. He quickly double checked that he had the lowest number. He did, arrows beat swords for the first hand. He took the pile and played out a card. Adel graced him with a smile and a pat on the back. They were off to a good start.

  “The barbarian can think,” Bosco grumbled to himself.

  Jerome chuckled, causing his rolls of fat to jiggle as he struggled to retain his cards in his bloated hand. Thomas seemed off put by the remark but said nothing. Neri merely glanced at the card played, scrutinized his hand for a quick moment before playing a high card, the queen of swords. Thomas followed with a low sword card.

  Jerome’s brow furrowed and he played a seven of swords. Bosco laid the king of swords with a smirk. Adel’s thin face lit up as he struggled to hide his delight. He glanced at each in turn before slowly laying down the emperor of swords.

  “Barbarians are winning,” Adel said taking the pile.

  Thomas glanced up, fidgeted and smiled. It appeared he didn’t much care for Bosco or Jerome either. Aeden watched Thomas a moment. Thomas didn’t seem to notice as he reached into a fold of his robe and took out a small piece of cheese and began nibbling.

  Adel led with a weak card, the two of hearts. Aeden glanced briefly at his cards. He only had one heart and played it, the eight. The others followed, with Neri taking the pile. There were no clever rebukes as he organized his winning pile between him and Thomas.

  And so they played into the late hours of night. This was the nightly habit for most of the monks. It had become as much a part of Aeden’s routine as prayer. Slowly Aeden’s repertoire of insults grew and his knowledge of the monastery, its social structure, and political system began to unfurl itself, like a rose unfolding to the first kiss of Lenton.

  Chapter 16

  “Ignorance feeds irrational confidence.” Saying of Sawol

  Odilo had tasked Adel with the tutelage of Aeden. It was no easy task. Despite Aeden’s curiosity and inherent intelligence, there was a stubborn streak that resided deep within him. It was like a vein of anger buried under a mountain of ore.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Adel said.

  Aeden sat quietly, observing his newfound friend. They’d spent a lot of time about the kayles table, but this was different. The dynamic felt more akin to teacher and student. It was strange because they were so similar in age. And for some reason Aeden already felt slightly resentful that someone as young as Adel had been tasked with teaching him. Why couldn’t Odilo do it?

  Back in the S’Velt things were different. Only children were taught by the inexperienced. Aeden had already taken a new name, passed his coming of age rituals, and left behind the threshold of childhood to become a man. It was insulting.

  Adel’s voice droned on interrupting Aeden’s cyclical thoughts.

  “Before there was anything there was the breath of God. It filled the void and sounded out in resonating tones, I am Salvare…”

  This was stupid Aeden thought. Although his Heortian was still juvenile at best, he understood enough of the story to know it didn’t make any sense. Adel continued to read, oblivious to Aeden’s internal rants.

  “…with each new breath Salvare created the plants, the animals, and finally man. He…”

  “How could one god do all this work,” Aeden interrupted.

  Adel paused from
his reading and looked quizzically at Aeden. It was the look one had when they heard a statement of unbelievable stupidity. It was the look Devon often gave him when they were in the middle of one of their arguments. Adel, however, quickly masked his surprise and took in a breath before responding. Clearly he took Odilo’s orders seriously.

  “People once believed there were other gods, long ago, and they were punished for it. Salvare, the one true god, spoke through the voices of his prophets and declared it so.”

  He looked at Aeden for a moment longer before delving back into his lesson.

  “And He gave man female companions to help him bear children. He created animals to serve him, fruits to satiate him, and music to entertain him...”

  Aeden nodded his head to indicate he was listening. In reality he was thinking about the game of kayles they had played the night before. It had turned into an interesting night. Although there was often some form of interesting gossip, last night one of the monks drew them out of their shells into the realm of momentary shock.

  Thomas had been paired with a monk named Pate. Pate looked older than he really was. His balding head and portly features spoke of a life of idleness and a lack of discipline. He and Aeden were a bit like oil and water. Even though they were not on poor terms, like he was with Monahan, Bosco, and Jerome, they weren’t on friendly terms either.

  Thomas and Pate were leading for the majority of the night. Bosco complained throughout most of the game to the point where even his constant companion Jerome was getting irritated. Adel did his best to ignore Bosco’s underhanded insults. It was Neri, the dark skinned southerner, from the table over who had finally had enough.

  Neri had thrown down his cards, turned to Bosco and stated in a whisper loud enough that the whole room fell quiet.

  “You’d be shackled and sold as a dog to the lowliest woman in Sha’ril, who’d cut your tongue just to taste the sweet sound of silence.”