The Exiled Monk

by James T Wood

  Rea professed love for him, as a mother ought, but she was absent more often than she was present. By the time Peek had reached his tenth summer, he was aware of the rumors in the village that Rea was spending her nights in the huts of the other men in the village in exchange for coin. It wasn’t until several years later that he learned that the technical term for his mother was whore. It made a fitting match to his label of bastard. Peek let his mind float on from that hurt.

  Cor gave Peek the most time, the most affection, but even then he was torn. He would work alongside Peek so they could complete their chores and have the long, summer afternoons to run and swim and play. But he would also kowtow to Vlek when his father was around. Cor loved to please, be it Peek or Vlek or the pretty girls of the village who fawned over his strength when he worked where they could see him. Peek’s mind drifted away on his breath.

  He only ever felt connected to Dray. She was, maybe, a year younger than Peek, but already tall. Her hair was long and straight and streamed out behind her as she ran, catching the sun on its glossy, brown surface. Her eyes were the color of tanned and oiled leather; they shone brightest when she smiled. Thinking of her smiling face ruined Peek’s breathing rhythm and it was a moment before he realized that he was holding his breath as tightly as he held the image of her in his mind. Before long, though, the breath demanded escape. Peek opened his eyes to clear the thoughts of Dray from his mind. They did not flee willingly.

  Peek looked around the listening area to which Rudi led him. The cliff to the west showed the great, gray sea and the distant shore of the monk’s abandoned island. Clouds hovered on the horizon and reflected the matte color of the water. In a semicircle around the area, Peek saw stones placed at regular intervals. Each was a cube about four inches on a side. The stone was different from any he’d seen before. It held flecks of black and white along with traces of glittering light, like gold. But each stone was covered in the moss of generations with only bits of the original rock showing through. The one closest to him had a faint etching on the surface, like a line crossing it from one corner to the other and wavy lines in the opposite corners. He wondered at the path he’d never known to this place with ancient stones lying so close to his home, yet completely isolated from his life.

  Peek settled down to his task of breathing again with a grumble against Rudi’s inane assignment and a curse at his own decision to obey these monks. It took him some time to regain the rhythm of breathing, in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four and out, two, three, four. Once he settled again, he tried to pick up the train of his thoughts, and especially the thoughts of Dray’s lovely face smiling at him, but now he could only see her sorrow. He saw her weeping at something that Cor said. He moved to put his arm around her, but she stepped away from him. He raised his hands as if to say something else, but then turned away with a shrug. Peek saw the tears streaming down Dray’s face as she hugged herself tightly. His heart broke wide.

  Despite her rejection, Peek still cared for Dray and it hurt to see her weeping. Peek didn’t recall this as a memory he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t quite make out what Cor said, but then Dray spun on Cor and shouted.

  “Who told him I didn’t want to go? I never said that!”

  “I— I don’t know. It must have been your brother. Peek went to see you before he left.”

  “My brother is a liar and hates me. He lied to Peek.”

  Peek’s eyes shot open in shock, but he immediately screwed them shut with all the force he could muster and tried to return to the scene. But his heart was pounding furiously so he couldn’t get the rhythm of the breathing back. He could remember Dray, but the vision was gone. Was that actually her? His mind swirled and would not still. His breathing was erratic, forgotten. He wanted to go back and explain that things were different, that he would choose her over everyone.

  Pain engulfed him and permitted no respite. After a while his grief spent itself and he dropped his head, resting his chin on his chest. Slowly, conscious thought returned and he tried to piece together what had happened. He was breathing. Right, breathing. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four. He began to feel his mind clear with the breathing. His thoughts became calmer. It seemed almost like the flurry of activity that lived in his forehead drained away and left only a spark of warmth in the center of his skull.

  He felt centered, calm. The breathing was working its magic on him. He didn’t have an answer to the quandary, but he wasn’t in a panic about it either. Dray had not rejected him. She wanted to be with him. He smiled at the thought. Though it might not be on the island that he had fantasized about, they could move up the coast a ways. There was space between villages, where the shore was rocky and the fishing sparse, where Peek and Dray could make a home. It would be difficult, but they could do it.

  Peek kept breathing in the steady rhythm Rudi taught. Thought disappeared; time vanished. He fell into his own mind. He heard, again, the sound of the ocean and the call of the birds, but this time he could feel their connection. They were rhythmic in their randomness. They flowed and moved with a lyrical quality. He couldn’t hear notes like Rudi described, but he could hear the structure of the sounds in the world. He basked in the complexity of the patterns that filled the world around him. He heard bees buzzing a counterpoint to the wind and the sheep bleating antiphonally with the lonely sea lion below. They all merged into a symphony that enraptured Peek with its beauty. He gloried in the song that wasn’t a song and yet more melodic than any tune he’d ever heard.

  When he opened his eyes Peek was surprised to find that the sun was well below the horizon and the sky was nearly dark. He looked around and saw Rudi staring at him with concern, his hand still resting on Peek’s shoulder where he had placed it to shake Peek awake.

  “Are you alright, young sir?” Rudi sounded almost frightened.

  “Yes, I was just breathing, like you taught me. What happened?”

  “It’s time for dinner, young sir, you’ve been at your breathing for the entire day. Come. Eat with us.” Rudi reached down to help Peek up. When he stood, his legs almost immediately buckled underneath him. In a sudden rush, the feeling came back to his entire body. He felt his aching back and his numb legs as if they had belonged to someone else for the day and were suddenly returned to him, much worse for the wear. Rudi’s arm shot out to support Peek and keep him from falling. “Easy now, we’ll walk nice and slow.”

  Together they walked to dinner. Several times on the journey Rudi inhaled almost as if he was about to say something, but the words never came. After a few minutes, Peek found his strength again and stopped using Rudi for support. They walked in silence, Peek adjusting to the sudden passage of time and Rudi lost in his own thoughts. When they gathered around the cook fire and Peek smelled the food, he was tackled by the hunger. He sat and began eating without thought to his surroundings. After he chewed and swallowed the first bite, Adrocus gripped his arm. “The blessing,” was all he said and all it took to recall Peek to the traditions of the monks that he had flouted. He dropped his utensils and folded his hands contritely.

  The smile on Locambius’ face was tolerant, mixed with a bit of, was it, wonder. He offered a simple blessing and then bade the monks to eat well. Peek needed no second invitation and he devoured a plate-full of food in just a few minutes. Only then did he pause and look around. Both Adrocus and Rudi were staring at him openly.

  “What?” Peek mumbled around a mouthful of food.

  “I—“ Adrocus started

  “—We, were… concerned,” Rudi continued the same thought, “You were gone so long we didn’t know what had become of you, but our tradition clearly tells us that we must not interrupt the breathing exercise. Many times I wanted to go and retrieve you, but Locambius forbade it. It was only all of the monks waiting for dinner that caused him to make an exception.”

  “No one has ever spent that much time at the breathing exercise,” Adrocus said, “What were yo
u doing out there all that time?”

  “I don’t know,” Peek looked around at their gaping mouths and wide eyes. He had done nothing but sit and breathe as he was told. “I followed the instructions given to me by Rudi, I was distracted for a time, and then…” He didn’t have a way to describe what he had experienced.

  “Then I interrupted it,” Rudi said with self-recrimination, “I shouldn’t have cut short your experience. I just didn’t know what to do.”

  “No, you did right,” Adrocus argued, “We had no way of knowing if he was dead or asleep or what. What if he had fallen asleep and rolled right off the cliff. You had to check.”

  “Aye, I suppose I did. Yet, I can’t help but wonder what the young sir would have discovered if he were able to continue in the meditation. I myself have only experienced such a thing a handful of times in all my years and the experiences were glorious. Who am I to rob him of such a time?”

  “It’s fine,” Peek interrupted, “I’m fine. I don’t think you interrupted anything special. I just got lost for a moment. Maybe I dozed off, I don’t know. I had something similar happen to me when I paddled to the island from the mainland. The sounds of the water and the birds just, sort of, hypnotized me.”

  Peek couldn’t miss the look that Rudi threw over to Locambius, who was paying close attention to the conversation between the three. Scanning around the circle, Peek noticed that several sets of eyes were watching him either openly, for a few, or surreptitiously for the majority. What could be so interesting about him and his day of sitting still and being quiet. No matter, he reached for more food rather than try to figure out what these monks were thinking. As he ate, Rudi and Adrocus continued to argue about whether interrupting Peek was wise or not and what it might mean that he had such a ‘breakthrough.’ They kept using the word breakthrough and it made Peek more uncomfortable every time they said it.

  Was it possible that they knew about his vision of Dray? He decided that he shouldn’t tell anyone about it, especially since he might just choose Dray over the monks and the magic.

  Peek found himself saying the word, “Truth,” in unison with the brothers, even though he hadn’t heard Locambius’ sermon. The cadence of the words was already beginning to seep into his subconscious. He rose with the monks and started toward his hut, his mind was still chasing the thoughts of Dray and rejoining her. Peek didn’t notice Bracius sidling up next to him until the bald monk coughed.

  “Oh, I—“ Peek started to respond, but the startled looks of several monks and the finger pressed to the lips of Bracius silenced his reply. They continued walking toward Peek’s hut.

  “Ah, young sir, remember that we cannot speak after the evening words unless we are within your hut,” Bracius said after they arrived at the hut Peek was sharing with a few other monks.

  “I didn’t know that applied here as well as at your monastery,” Peek said.

  “It is well, you are still new among us,” the man who had organized the defense of the island wasn’t tall or thickly built, but his stance exuded power and confidence. His voice rumbled, too low for his smaller body, but crackling with unspent power, “I joined you to inquire about your day’s activities. Brother Rudi seemed to be, shall we say, perturbed, by the way things unfolded. You, however, have yet to speak on the matter. What was it that kept you so long on the cliff-top?”

  “I was breathing as Rudi instructed me,” Peek hoped that a simple answer would preclude more questions.

  “Ah, he is a good teacher, young sir, but never has he been that good,” Peek felt the vibrations of Bracius’ voice in his chest. “None have ever grasped the mysteries of breath so quickly. So, I ask again, what kept you? How was it that the breathing affected you so strongly?”

  Peek considered how to answer, “I heard the music of the waves and the birds.” Even to Peek the answer felt weak and thin.

  “And beautiful music it is, young sir, yet that music is all around us, all the time. It has not caused you to lose hours from the day ere this one.” Bracius ran his fingers over his bald head, “Was there ought else that you experienced today?”

  Peek wanted desperately to keep the vision of Dray to himself. He didn’t quite know why, but that moment felt private. He evaded again, “I didn’t just hear the sounds of the waves and the birds and the sheep. I heard how they joined together. The rhythm of my breath helped me to sense the rhythm of the wind; before I only heard randomness, but the teaching of Rudi helped me to find the pattern and it was the pattern that enraptured me.”

  “Ah, yes, the pattern is quite mysterious. Its discovery is truly a thing of wonder.” Bracius didn’t sound wholly convinced, but he ceased questioning Peek, so that was a success, at least.

  “I think I’m in need of sleep,” Peek probed to see if the questioning was over.

  “Forgive me, young sir,” Bracius turned to walk away, but stopped just before leaving the hut. He turned and looked at Peek for a long moment, sighed, and then continued walking away.

  Peek was more confused than ever. He resolved to sleep through the turmoil and let his mind sort out the answers for him. As he lay down to sleep he remembered that he shared the hut with others. Monks started filtering in silently and soon the sound of snoring filled the hut and kept Peek awake throughout the night.

  He vainly tried to recapture the vision of Dray until light stained the eastern sky.

  Thirteen

  The chief disciple, Talib, spent every day at the pool of Eytskaim. He regarded the tree for a year considering how it might be the key to wisdom and power. He considered the fruit, the leaves, the roots, and the branches, but nothing was revealed to him.

  For yet another year Talib considered the pool. He looked at the water, the sandy shore, the floating flowers, and the swimming fish. He still learned nothing.

  Next Talib studied the stone hut where Eytskaim died. He looked at the lines, the stones, the foundation, and the roof. But no wisdom or power came.

  While Talib sat seeking the source of wisdom and power, others came to sit with him. Some of Eytskaim’s disciples asked questions. Others made proclamations. Others simply sat with Talib for a time.

  “Hope cannot flower outside the soil of doubt.” Pales of Tiarna

  P

  eek passed days of breathing exercises, sitting exercises, standing exercises, and walking exercises with no additional ‘breakthroughs.’ He just grew more weary of the constant practicing and more anxious to do something useful. Every day when he and his teacher returned to the monks, Locambius would step aside with the teacher of the day and discuss Peek’s progress in a low voice. Peek never heard what they were saying, but he knew it was something about him. Some days Rudi would shake his head emphatically and make points to Locambius by pounding one hand into the other. Bracius would nod sagely and run his hand over his bald head a few times, but rarely say anything. Adrocus stared at the ground and received the lecture from Locambius as if he’d just been caught stealing ale from the brewer’s house. Duhlga on the other hand would more often lecture Locambius than the other way around.

  Around him the monastery grew daily. First a wall sprang up around the perimeter of the bluff with stout oak gates facing back toward the village. Peek guessed that the monks used their wind and fire magic to season the timber in such a short amount of time. Inside the walls, were the same type of huts as on the island, but more of them. They dotted the field inside the wall and surrounded a large stone table and fire pit. Peek even saw the scriptorium though he knew it was devoid of any scrolls. Along the edges of the walls were stone steps leading up to the top where monks could see out over the water. One day as Peek came back he saw large piles of stone being shaped on the outside of the walls. When he asked Locambius about the need for such a thing he heard more of the story about how Locambius previous monastery fell to the raiders.

  The monks successfully drove the raiders back from the top of the wall with wind and rain. They thought they’d won. But soon hooks app
eared at the top of the wall. Before the monks knew what to do, the raiders had pulled down large chunks of the wall with their hooks. Since the walls were dry stone and designed to keep people out, there was no reinforcement to prevent the walls from toppling over. Locambius decided to reinforce the outside of the walls with additional buttressing. And, at Peek’s suggestion, the monks started using the daub and wattle mixture on the inside and outside of the completed wall to further join the stones together.

  The monastery was nearly complete, but the village remained burned out ruins. Vlek loudly brought up this point with Locambius on several occasions. Locambius reminded him that the monks were not only building a shelter and fortress to help the villagers when the raiders returned, but also providing food for them. Vlek grumbled but acceded to Locambius. In the few times when Peek wandered back toward the village he noticed just a few huts starting to be rebuilt. The first — and the one his eyes sought unbidden — was Dray’s family hut. Instead of being packed mud and straw like all the other huts of the village, it looked like one of the beehive huts of the monastery. Whenever Peek returned from his lessons alone he walked by the village and hoped to see Dray somewhere around her hut. He never did.

  Peek asked Locambius when Plafius and Dray would be allowed into the monastery.

  “Ah, young sir, I wish that we had our scriptures to answer it all for you,” Locambius rose and put an arm on Peek’s shoulder, “My own poor memory is fleeting, but I do remember a few passages: ‘Playing what is not from The Melody is tempting, improvising is enticing, but it leads to death. We follow The Melody, which creates all things, we are not creators but created.’