by James T Wood
“There’s a spot over here,” Adrocus pointed to a gap in the crowd on the other side of the table.
As they approached, people made eye contact with Peek and smiled at him, but behind each smile lingered the same questions and fear that Locambius had shown. Peek had no idea how he was supposed to respond, so he plastered a smile on his face and nodded to each person. By the time they reached their space at the table he felt as if his neck was a cattail bobbing in the breeze.
They hadn’t been at their seats a moment before food was passed. Peek gasped as he saw the delectable choices. Roasted lamb was in the center of the table, the leg roast was nearly black on the outside and crusted with spices and herbs, but as soon as someone cut into it, Peek could see the steam rising from the pink meat within. His mouth started to water yet again. Surrounding the meat were bowls and platters with glorious food. The bread was golden and shining, the butter soft and fresh. Potatoes were roasted in crispy chunks along with carrots that had just started to burn on the edges.
He looked around at all of the monks. Far across the table he saw the gardeners, but they were too distant for him to make out their conversation. Everyone passed plates and piled the food high as they joked and laughed about the events of the day. The mirth was infectious; Peek sat and watched with a bemused grin. Adrocus observed this for a moment before stealing Peek’s plate with a flourish.
“It’s supper time; your plate shouldn’t be empty.”
Peek simply watched as his plate was passed around and filled with all of the delights from the table. He watched as the monks took his plate and spooned or dished or ladled food onto it. Some of the monks were aged, worn, and bent by time. Others were hale and strong with booming voices. Still others were retreating, thoughtful types, but they all shared food and smiles as Peek’s plate passed them by. The monks wore a sort of uniform of brown robes over simple linen tunics. The men wore beards and hair tied back in a braid. The women piled their hair atop their heads in tight buns.
By the time Peek’s plate got back, the food was piled high and starting to spill over the edges. The moment the plate touched table in front of Peek, he picked up his knife and fork, but everyone else grew silent. The gregarious conversations stopped in mid-sentence. It took a moment for Peek to realize what had happened and he hurriedly put his utensils down. He followed the eyes of everyone to see Locambius, who was smiling and waiting. When Peek was looking expectantly like everyone else, Locambius raised his hands to the sky.
“Great Melody, we honor you for this day. We join you in song and we long for you to change that which is out of tune. Our meal is yours as our bodies are yours. Bless us to be a blessing to this world.”
At the end of the blessing all the gathered monks said, “Truth,” in unison and then fell to eating the meal. With just the slightest hesitation, Peek reacquired his tools and then set to work on his heaping plate. He heard Adrocus chuckle, Peek blushed, but this time he could laugh too. Peek flashed a smile over to Adrocus and then began eating in earnest.
The flavor transported Peek. He was accustomed to the bland, boiled food that was left to him when he was finally done with his chores or to the food of necessity that would be flavored with his sweat as he hastily devoured it in the spare moments between tasks. This was a banquet, a feast meant for celebration. Peek was torn between savoring and shoveling. Each bite was magnificent, but by habit he ate as quickly as possible. After the third mouthful, Adrocus started asking him questions.
“How did you arrive here?”
“Mmmm,” was all Peek could manage, which caused Adrocus to bark with sudden laughter.
“Don’t worry, I can wait a moment for the reply.”
Peek swallowed his food and found himself looking up for a cup just as Adrocus finished pouring. He handed Peek the cup, bade him drink with a smile and a gesture, and waited for the reply to his question.
“Sorry. I paddled my canoe here. It was a difficult journey.”
“Who gave you the key to approach?”
“No one,” Peek said with confused hesitation, “I came from the coast. I paddled my canoe. I left at daybreak. I’ve been training to beat the current.”
Adrocus’ eyebrows followed Peek’s story, they dropped into a deep furrow and then shot up high at the end. He quickly glanced around the table, the only one looking in their direction was Locambius and he was too far away to hear the conversation.
“Young sir,” Adrocus said in quiet tones, “Did you bypass the current? Who gave you the key? No need to hide, now.”
Peek looked at him full in the face and saw the concern that Adrocus had. The same question, and Peek had no response. Had Locambius bid Adrocus to ask again hoping for a different answer? The tang of fear stole the flavor of the food. Peek felt distant from the jocularity that surrounded him.
“I paddled,” Peek shrugged, “I had no key, simply my arms and back.”
Adrocus looked at Peek, stole a glance back at Locambius and gave the slightest shrug. Peek, long accustomed to reading Vlek for the smallest signs of vicissitude, read their silent conversation. Adrocus had tried, said the shrug. Locambius nodded, frowned, and then shook his head.
Adrocus changed the subject, “What did you do before you came to us?”
“I was a servant,” Peek said more abruptly than he intended.
“Ah, quite young to be a servant, you must have some desirable skills.” Adrocus took a bite of his food while awaiting Peek’s reply.
After a pause, Peek considered the prohibition against lying and then decided that he would abide by the rules of this place. “No, I was born a bastard and my mother’s father made me his servant to compensate him for the food I ate.” Peek rushed the words.
“Ah,” Adrocus looked at him with compassion, but strangely no pity and there wasn’t even a hint of disgust. The confused and questioning look on Peek’s face prompted more. “We are all bastards here; there is no stigma to that label. Some of us have chosen our illegitimacy while others came by it, ahem, honestly.” He finished with a grin.
Peek stared at him with his mouth open, so Adrocus continued, “We are monks here. We have chosen to forsake the relationships of the world and devote ourselves to meditation and study. If any of us had a father, we have disowned him. We left the mothers, brothers and sisters of home. Now all we have left are the brothers and sisters of the monastery.”
“So, all you do is meditate and study here?”
“Something like that,” Adrocus spoke around a mouthful of food. “Our main purpose here is, in fact, meditation and study, but we also have to live. We built everything on the island. We raise and grow all the food. We make all the clothes and everything else that it takes to live here. Truth be told, meditation and study take a lot of hard work to accomplish. But when we’re not carving out our survival, we do work hard at the more spiritual pursuits.”
“What is it you study? I don’t really understand what could take so much time,” Peek’s question caught Adrocus with a mouth full of food.
“Bah! Don’t let this over-serious whelp sucker you,” the voice came from the other side of Peek. He turned to see a bushy beard with eyes. The man behind the beard was shorter than most, but made up for it with a barrel-like body that looked solid, more than fat. His voice boomed with a deep resonance. “This one is just trying to impress you because it’s his first time as a song-guide. Don’t let him fool you. We don’t study and meditate so much as we play.”
Peek glanced back at Adrocus and noticed that he was now the one blushing.
“Young sir, let me introduce myself first,” he said in a booming voice, “I’m Rudicus Planius Ophratius Crimsalius, but most people here just call me Rudi.”
“Nice to meet you, uh, Rudi, I’m Peek,” he said as more of a question than a statement.
“Haha! Are you sure of that, young sir? No matter. What your mother hen over there was failing to say is that we are all players. We work for the food and the huts and
the clothes, but we work so that we can play. We explore play, we thrive in play, and we seek to keep play alive in a world that wants to abandon it. So each of us has left our old lives of toil to rejoin the world of play, the way we were meant to live. Not head-bent, grumbling, cheating, conniving, bitter, and vindictive,” Peek marveled at how Rudi could describe Vlek without having ever met him, “but instead we dance, we sing, we laugh, and we play.” Peek wanted more than anything to go to the world that Rudi described. It was the world he inhabited for a few, brief moments with Dray in their dance. It was where he longed to return.
“But how does ‘play’ take study and meditation? Don’t you just, well, do it?” Peek asked as he finished the potatoes on his plate.
Rudi grabbed the empty plate from Peek as he started to answer, “Young sir, you are not a child, but you were one once, not long ago. Play is the easiest thing in the world for a child; it’s the natural language of children. They hear the song of the wind and repeat it without even trying. They dance to the rhythm of the heron as if they were bird-born. For a child, play is something that they just do, no different from the way a fish just breathes in water or a hawk just soars on the air. It’s natural, effortless and simple. But, at some point we lose our gills and our wings fall off. We monks study and meditate to remember what once was unthinking joy, and to recapture that which we’ve lost to the pressures of life.”
Peek’s plate came back to him, laden with delights. He kept eating, more from the desire to continue tasting the savory feast than from any real hunger. “You study so you can re-learn how to play?” Peek asked, “Why don’t you just ask some children if they already know?”
Rudi roared with laughter, “You sound like… like an old friend of mine,” he paused and glanced over toward Locambius before continuing, “No, we’ve tried that. It’s a sound principle, but the practice of it is nearly impossible. Children don’t know how to explain what they do instinctively any more than a bird can explain to you how to fly. It’s up to us to learn and understand what is effortless to the child and, through effort, to make it our own once again.”
“Oh,” Peek said.
“Take heart, young sir, you are one day at this and many of us have been here for decades. You are treading over ground that we trod long before. There’s no shame in it. In fact, I quite like the chance to look at the questions again. Because we solved them for ourselves years ago does not make them less valid now, nor your need to solve them for yourself any less important. Your song-guide here will step you through, have no fear. He may be pretentious and green, but he’s much more patient than I. You’ll do well to heed what young Adrocus has to share with you.”
Peek turned back to Adrocus and gave him a smile as if to say: I would rather get my answers from you anyway. The smile was returned warmly.
Dinner concluded and Locambius rose. Without prompting everyone fell silent and turned to face the aged monk. He cleared his throat and scanned the gathered brothers before beginning.
“Today we have seen a unique occurrence in our history. We have been attendants of the Melody for generations, but always before our world has followed a certain order. Today that order was upset, perhaps ‘tis best to say, modulated. For, though it is different, it is not wrong.
“In ages past, from the beginning of our brotherhood, we have gone out into the world to seek those who hear the song and dance to the Melody. We would wander from village to village playing our tunes, waiting for one to notice and hear with spirit-ears. On those rare occasions when one would respond to the music within, we would return home one brother or sister richer. Once heard, the song couldn’t be resisted. They felt the call to hear more, learn more, become more.
“Yet, today is a different day. Today our parts are reversed. We have stayed and one has come. If you have not met our guest, you can see the young sir there between Adrocus and Rudi. It’s a wonder he was able to finish his meal in peace,” Locambius smiled gently at the trio as the monks gathered around the table chuckled. “We are confused as we are compelled by the cadence of this day. Never before has one undertaken the long trip from coast to our home. None have completed it, I should say. I cannot speak for those that may have tried their hand at navigating the currents on the open sea, only to fail. It is a difficult journey for those of us who know the key, but unthinkable for those who cannot join the Melody.”
Peek wondered at the words he heard. Was it really supposed to be an impossible journey without their secret? What secret had he discovered without knowing it? No wonder Adrocus and Locambius were concerned. But Peek had struggled hard against the current and won his place. As he looked around the table at the gathered monks he saw various looks, some were suspicious, some curious, and others thoughtful. None, however, thought it was normal for someone to paddle out to the island.
“Yet he did brave the journey and he did join us here. I myself encountered him on the southern steps this afternoon. He toiled up the hill as he must have toiled across the sea. We all have a lesson to learn from one whom we would deign to teach. Young Peek has shown perseverance. Would that we remembered the toil of our hands, the sweat of our brows, and the ache of our backs. The spirit is strengthened by the weariness of the body.
“I recall to you the words that were so long ago shared with me. When I was first learning to hear the Melody and to play my part, I was trained with… with one who is no longer with us. He taught me a great many things in the time he was with us, and one in particular that I recall tonight.
“He taught me that the rest is as much a part of the music as are the notes. Silence is song. Were there to only be notes and rhythm, melody and harmony, it would soon weary us. We would soon lose focus, interest, and care. Yet the silence breaks in and we can rest. We rest for a breath or a long pause. We prepare for a triumphal strain or a mournful dirge. The rest is the most versatile part in all of music; it must be attended to with care and caution.
“Meditate on these words as you sink into sleep tonight. Tomorrow we will join the chorus again. Rest well.” And with that, Locambius turned and walked toward one of the huts. He pulled back the curtain and disappeared inside. A moment later the rest of the monks rose and started toward the various huts around the area.
Peek turned to Adrocus and started to ask a question, but before the words could come out, Adrocus put up a finger to call for silence. He took Peek by the elbow and pulled him up from the stone table. Together they walked in silence to the separate hut where Peek was to stay. After they crossed the threshold of the wall around the hut, Adrocus turned to Peek and finally spoke.
“We hold silence after the homily of the evening. The remainder of the night is given for contemplation, meditation, and sleep.”
“Why are you talking now? Why didn’t you warn me before dinner? What’s a song-guide?”
Adrocus grinned, “Enough for now. I’ll answer your questions and more tomorrow. Just know for tonight that within this wall you are protected from our rules. If any demand is too much for you, you can retreat here and be safe. However, outside this wall, you are required to live the life of a monk. Tomorrow will begin your month of instruction, then you can decide if the life of a song-monk is for you. Sleep well, Peek.”
Adrocus turned and left without a glance behind him. Peek walked back into his hut and eyed the wood in the corner in the dim light afforded him by the open door flap. He didn’t see any kindling or flint that he could use to light a fire. With a sigh he let the door drop and wandered over to the bed where he laid down.
Unlike the previous time, now he was rested. He kept pondering the words that he’d heard. Why was everyone concerned about the key that he didn’t possess? What was all of this talk of songs and melodies? He remembered the monk who had come to his village and realized that he must have been one of the wandering monks recruiting new members to join him on the island. But why had the monk never returned to gather Peek? What drove Peek to seek out the island, other than Vlek’s tyra
nny of course? Was it not the wistful description that the monk gave of the island that once was his home that put the seed in Peek’s mind?
Yet, if the old monk was longing, he must not have intended to return, else he would have talked about the island as his present home, not the home he once had. Peek was still more confused by everything, including the role of Adrocus in his world. He appeared to be a friend in the making, but he was also supposed to guide Peek in this time of training. It seemed like they expected Peek to become a monk. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a monk, he just wanted to be away from Vlek and his cruelty. He wanted to go to sleep at night not having to fear waking up.
Five
By the time twenty years had passed Eytskaim’s oasis had become a city. People dwelt there to be near his wisdom and to receive the provision of his food. In every other place the petty, mercurial kings demanded that the people give their food to the royal house and to the gods. But Eytskaim provided food. None were hungry in his city.
People continued to go to him and ask for his wisdom, which he freely gave. After a time there was no longer any room for the throngs that sought him out. When the city woke the next day a large building had appeared with space for everyone to gather and hear the words of Eytskaim.
The denizens of the city soon learned to expect such things. Buildings would erect themselves in the night, wells would be dug, needed rain would come, torches would light the city at night, and sand storms would break and wither before reaching the city walls. The wonders of Eytskaim’s city were common. His wisdom, however, was unlike any that the world had known.
