“But they probably truly want to make sure that the townspeople don’t get inside, and use the lighthouse fire as an excuse.”
The cathedral doors in any town were always open as a place for people in trouble to search for help.
But now, those doors had been shut tightly in distrust.
“The front entrance must be bolted shut, so let’s go to the back entrance.”
They rounded the cathedral, and there were several seabirds gathered there, perhaps since the building blocked the wind.
They did not fly off as they got closer, but not particularly because the animals understood one another.
“They’re used to people, thanks to the harbor. They attack me sometimes when I eat here.”
As though they understood her explanation, the seabirds gave a shrill cry.
Then they passed under a rusted, grated window, and as they neared the edge of the point, the back door finally appeared. It was a rustic metal entrance, and there was an observation window on it.
Ilenia stood at the entryway, took a deep breath, then pounded on the metal door with her open palm.
“Father! Father! We are here from the Desarev City Council!”
Her unrestrained loud voice and the sound of her knocking on the door drove all the seabirds away.
She continued to knock and repeated herself.
“Father! By the council, there has been a notice issued under royal decree! If you do not open this door, it will be considered rebellion against the city!”
They were ominous words, but the logic was sound.
And not before long, the observation window slid open.
“Father, as you know, a notice of the collection of tax has been issued by the city council.”
The gray eyes on the other side of the window were filled with the light of hatred.
“And here you are again, did you not learn your lesson? The taxes mean nothing. Since when was the kingdom God’s administrator?”
“I am not here to deprive you of the assets you have collected in heaven. I simply wish to return to the king the coins that bear his image.”
It was a common expression used in loaning and tax collection, and of course, the priest did not waver.
“There is no justice in taxes without just cause, and this is just the same as robbery. God will doubtless punish the king for his hubris.”
“If you think so, then why don’t you try paying taxes once? If that truly is an immoral act, then God would surely show you the truth.”
The priest’s eyes widened and glared at her. Ilenia held the clear advantage when it came to arguing, but there was a metal door between them, and she could not just pry it open and walk away with the money.
“Silence!”
The priest put his hand on the window.
“Wait.”
Col cut in, and the cover to the window stopped. The priest finally realized that there had been other people with Ilenia.
“Wh-what is it?”
For a second, it sounded as if he was going to yell, but when he saw how Col was dressed, it came out a whimper.
According to Sligh, the majority of priests in the kingdom fled to the mainland.
The priest’s face seemed oddly tense, perhaps because he was trying his hardest to bite back the relief of seeing a fellow holy man in enemy land.
Col deliberately wore clothes such as this to emphasize his dignity, as well as rouse the priest’s sense of camaraderie.
“I have heard of what is happening in this town from this Ilenia Gisele. I am Tote Col. I have come to see if there is anything I may be of assistance with.”
The priest’s eyes darted to Col, almost like a flinch, then he looked back to Ilenia.
“This man has come from the port town of Atiph. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, Father.”
At that moment, the priest gasped. The stories about Atiph as the starting point for the renewal of the Church must have reached here. It was said that many people from churches and monasteries, who had stockpiled their wealth, were going to Hyland seeking mediation.
If he were guilty, then he was not someone he would want to welcome readily.
“N-no, this is the Twilight Cardinal?”
It sounded as if Col’s other name really was spreading.
Feeling an odd tiredness to that reality, he answered.
“God knows who I am. However, I wish for you to take a look at this.”
He produced from his pocket a letter from Hyland. It was what summoned them to Rausbourne, and it clearly had Hyland’s signature and seal on it.
She always left them very precise letters to use in times like these when something happened.
As he opened the letter for the priest, he spoke.
“After meeting with the hermit Lord Autumn in the northern islands, we were headed toward Rausbourne, but due to the storm, we stopped by here. I believe that there was some meaning in this.”
The priest stared intently at the letter spread before him, and it was unclear if he was listening or not.
Someone who ran a cathedral in the kingdom would absolutely know that Hyland’s name held extraordinary meaning.
“I pray that repose comes to this town as soon as possible. It has been a long three years, and the people’s souls have gone without solace.”
That not only applied to the townspeople but to this priest as well.
Anyone would grow depressed living holed up in the cathedral, fearing that, at any moment, soldiers sent by the council or crazed citizens might rush in.
“How about it? As an outsider to this community, I believe I may be of use to both sides.”
He had not come to set fire to the cathedral. Perhaps that had gotten across to the priest, or maybe, should he refuse someone who looked like a priest who had earned a noble’s favor, he was worried he would lose his credibility.
The priest slowly closed his eyes and stepped back from the window.
There came the sound of metal unlocking.
“Please come in. I have no intentions of chasing away a servant of God.”
The metal door opened.
After a nod, Col entered. As Ilenia tried to enter after Myuri, she was cut off.
She looked at him from behind the priest, but from what he could tell by what he saw yesterday, the priest clearly did not trust her.
“Miss Ilenia, I will listen to what he has to say.”
She was about to say something but nodded obediently instead.
“Very well.”
The priest closed the door and locked it.
The passageway suddenly grew dark, and the smell of mold tickled his nose. He could even see dust dancing about in the sliver of light filtering through the crack in the door.
Myuri, with her keen wolf’s nose, sneezed.
“Come this way.”
There were hollows in the stone wall at regular intervals, and there were candelabra with the design of two angles holding up the bobeche, but it looked as though there had not been any candles there for a long time.
The cathedral was so quiet that it almost seemed as if the sound of the birds crying outside could be heard more clearly inside.
“Please, this way. This is the warmest room at this time of day.”
They were brought into a room with a long table. There was a great amount of stained glass used on the wall beside them, and large tapestries of numerous angels hung from the walls; it was too much for a messroom.
Perhaps this is where the priests and owners of the cathedral would manage the place and hold meetings.
Looking at it from a strict perspective, he could say it was luxuriously decorated, but his honest opinion was that it looked abandoned.
“Would you like something to drink? We don’t have much…”
“No, thank you.”
The priest, standing under the light filtering through the glass, looked terribly haggard. Autumn, too, had seemed particularly worn-down, but it seemed as though
there was nothing to fill out the priest on the inside.
He would not be surprised if he peeled back the priest’s clothes to find nothing at all.
“Well, then…”
The elderly priest lowered himself into a chair, his hands on his knees.
“What will happen to me—I mean, this cathedral?”
The threatening attitude he had worn before Ilenia was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, the man suddenly covered his face with his hands and began to sob.
CHAPTER FOUR
Col exchanged glances with Myuri and comforted the priest, who held his face in his hands. Once he finally calmed down, he began to blurt out what was going on, but it was not something Col could so readily believe.
“My name is Habbot. I am not a priest. I am a simple shepherd, charged with looking after sheep on the cathedral’s land.”
When he heard this confession, Col gulped.
“I look exactly like the father, so I stood in for him sometimes. Morning prayer the day after he drank too much or formal events—if there was something where he could put me in his clothes and have it work out somehow, then I would be standing in for him.”
If the color of their eyes and hair were the same, and they were similar in physique, then with just the addition of a beard, they would be almost indistinguishable at a glance. Even if there were times he had to speak, most of the things people with positions such as “priest” had to say were generic. As long as he looked like a priest, no one would question him.
“And now, I’ve been forced to do such an outrageous task…I can’t take it anymore…”
Col sort of understood why Habbot was not going home and staying holed up in here.
He was not the priest—they only looked similar—so of course, he could not go to his home.
And it explained his attitude toward Ilenia yesterday, too.
“So then where has the father gone?”
At Col’s question, Habbot, his hands still covering his face, shook his head.
“He said he would be informing the pope of our sad plight, then left. Sometimes he sends letters.”
Even Col was not so softhearted as to believe that he actually went to the pope. The real priest had almost certainly left a double so he could lay low and hide.
“I do not think this is right. But if I left, then this place would be empty. And if the people found out that the priest had run away a long time ago, then this cathedral’s reputation would plummet. If everything turns out all right when I’m the only one lying, then…”
It might have been a given for how similar they looked, but the original priest may also have set up Habbot as his double because he saw this honesty of his.
And since he was a former shepherd, there was no doubt he could not have been in a weaker position than this.
“Whether or not you consider it luck, I’ve managed to do well this past year. No one comes to visit the cathedral, and food is delivered regularly by the companies in town because we have a contract. But it all suddenly grew frantic…”
What happened in Atiph might have been the cause. The fight between the kingdom and the Church had been at a standstill at that point but was now moving toward the next stage. The wave was spreading, swallowing up people Col had never imagined it would for reasons he had not even begun to consider.
“It’s been about a month. Whenever the merchants come to deliver the food, they say such horrible things to me. Things like all the Church’s privileges will be torn from the root. You hoarding pigs will be burned at the stake on grounds of heresy. God’s agent, the Twilight Cardinal, will appear and make it all a reality.”
Habbot was hunched over as he talked. The merchants’ nasty remarks were the same as those of someone who spoke badly of the king after he fell from the royal throne. Col did not imagine that the merchants were being serious, but Habbot quietly continued.
“Will I…be burned at the stake?”
The second he saw his expression, he understood why Habbot had welcomed him in. However it turned out, he could no longer stand how uncertain the future was.
He lifted his gaze from Habbot, who had dropped his head, up to the tapestry on the wall. All the angels were gathered around a feast, with serious expressions on their faces. While one might be able to fool others with a lie, to maintain the lie required a different sort of talent.
It was possible to blame Habbot for all this, but Col did not think it was the right thing to do.
He thought calmly. There was also the possibility that Habbot was lying, and the original priest was giving a stellar performance. Myuri’s mother, the wisewolf Holo, had the talent to see through people’s lies, but Myuri was still inexperienced in life, and he could not rely on her.
On top of that, that very girl was looking at Col, her eyes filled with pity for Habbot.
So what was the right answer?
He had learned how to twist his reasoning by studying theology. He was good at answering questions such as how many angels could dance on the tip of a needle?
“This is what I think.”
Habbot raised his head, and Myuri stared at Col, worried.
“Only God knows who you are. You may be Habbot the shepherd, or you may not be.”
“I—”
He stopped Habbot with his hand as he was about to argue back and spoke.
“About the taxes.”
Habbot’s eyes widened at the suddenness of it.
“Unable to stand the corrupt practices of the Church, I left on my journey to bring back the true form of faith to the world, but I do not think at all that the Church should not exist. It is absolutely necessary. However, it had gone too far in regards to the wool, and these sins should be atoned for.”
He then began his proposition.
“If you are the father, giving such a thorough performance, then you should understand that by paying the taxes here and now and showing repentance for your malpractice, the townspeople will have a favorable impression of you. Or if you are Habbot the shepherd, who has been placed here against your will by the father, then by paying the taxes in his stead, you will be seen not as a priest but as a friend to the townspeople. And now, this is important…”
He cleared his throat.
“Whichever the case, I understand that by paying taxes, the Church is trying to atone for its sins in the past, and I will put in my good word as such to the townspeople.”
With his mediation and Hyland’s name, the relationship between the town and the Church should not grow any worse.
The old, haggard man dressed as a priest stared at him blankly, then nodded slowly, doubtfully.
Then, as though he finally understood what he was talking about, the light returned to his eyes.
“B-but there’s a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Yes. There is nothing I can pay you. When the father left the cathedral, he emptied the vault.”
That was not hard to believe.
Supposing the man in front of him was the priest, then he must be hiding it somewhere.
Though he said there was no money, however, that did not mean there was nothing he could pay.
“The people will donate great amounts for holy artifacts of the cathedral.”
“Holy…? Ah…that’s…”
“Something that can be exchanged for money, even without money itself.”
The tapestries on the wall, for example, or the furniture. Though he said the priest had taken things when he escaped, it would have been nearly impossible for him to have carried everything out.
“But I don’t know the value of things.”
For this, Col had a response prepared.
“There is a merchant waiting outside. If you are uneasy about the appraisal, then I will take the responsibility of introducing you to a merchant you can trust.”
Habbot did not immediately respond, either because he really was the priest, or perhaps because he was a shepherd, at a loss
whether he had the right to make such a judgment.
But either way, he must have realized that this was not something he could get away with by pretending to be ignorant. If it were, Col would not have been invited inside in the first place.
Habbot finally spoke, releasing the breath he had been holding.
“…All right, then.”
“All is God’s will.” Cole responded and rose from his chair.
Col could not say that it was a judgment completely in line with faith, but he knew that this was about as much as he could do. Above all, had Habbot really been forced into such a difficult situation, then to elucidate the situation would just be backing him into a corner.
In the northern islands, he had seen with his own eyes that carrying out justice did not always lead to justice.
Col thought about all this as they walked down the dim corridor, when Habbot suddenly stopped.
“But may I ask you one thing?”
He turned around to look at him, and there was a dauntlessness about his face, one that really did seem like that of a shepherd.
“Can I really trust that young lady merchant?”
It did not sound like a vain struggle on his deathbed; there was clear emotion about him.
“I’ve heard she does honest trading. She says she is a wool broker, but do you know her personally?”
If he were lying about being a shepherd, then Col would have caught a glimpse of hesitation, but Habbot calmly shook his head.
“No, I don’t. I rarely ever go out to town, and I don’t even shear the sheep myself. I just raise them.”
That was entirely possible.
“But for a wool broker to successfully bid on a collecting permit must mean she is quite capable.”
Habbot sighed, and an expression of defeat appeared on his face.
“You might have already heard from her, but I received her yesterday and ended up being quite rough with her.”
He had certainly yelled at her and physically pushed her out.
“But I want to let you know that it was not without reason.”
“Which means?”
“Yesterday, she came like a traveling pilgrim. Then, before I knew it, I had invited her inside the nave. I even prayed for her health and good trade on the road.”
Wolf & Parchment, Volume 3 Page 13
