And Part 6. Don't forget that in Metamor, odd months have 31 days
and even months have 30 days.
Metamor Keep: Invigorating Faith
By Charles Matthias
February 29, 708 CR
Charles was disappointed when no opportunity presented
itself that night at Lorland, and so as they set out the next
morning, early and before the dawn's light grew in strength, he kept
a close eye on Nikolai. He and the seven Kelewair knights all had
similar saddlebags and there was no way of knowing which held the
secrets he'd spied last evening. Nor, even after three days of
riding together, were any of them convivial enough to win the secret
with loose speech.
The carriage continued southward for three hours before
turning down an eastern road. It was not long after that the rough
and muddy roads brought them to the gates of Iron Mine. The city
wall stretched in a semi-circle before the base of the mountains
amidst jagged hills. Homes of wood and stone were packed tightly
together, while the large foundries on the mountain's flanks churned
smoke and ash. On the southern edge at the top of a steady rise
loomed a modest castle with towers watching the southern forests and
fields. Archers lined the city walls and knew to expect them. The
main gates opened into a narrow passage of stone with a second gate
at the end. The knights only had enough room to ride abreast. Sir
Egland and Sir Saulius rode at the forefront, with Nikolai and his
second behind them. Charles and Intoran were in the middle near the carriage.
Beyond the second gate was a flat commons surrounded by
retaining walls to east, north, and south, with stairs cases leading
up into homes and shops stacked together like pieces of a jigsaw
puzzle. The main road ascended sharply into the hills. Everything
smelled of iron and fire. In the midst of the clearing was a burly
badger and a tall elegant woman along with several guards whose
livery displayed a silver pickaxe on a black escutcheon. They waited
patiently with broad beaming faces until Tyrion had stepped from the
carriage with mitre and crozier.
"Welcome to Iron Mine, your grace," the badger said with an
expansive boisterous bellow. "My name is Baron Samuel Christopher and
this is my wife, the Lady Stephyni. Welcome to our home."
They exchanged courtesies as happened in every place that
the Bishop visited. Charles had never been to the Iron Mines before
and couldn't help but admire the very close-knit houses that seemed
to blend into one another. They had truly taken advantage of every
possible nook and cranny to build their homes. He resolved to find
some time later that year to return, possibly during the Summer when
it would be easiest and safest to travel. Kimberly and the children
would like to see it too.
He forestalled the inevitable darkening of his mood that
thoughts of his children brought by reminded himself of his present
purpose. His eyes steeled and the vine tightened around his
chest. As soon as the tour from Baron Christopher began, a red
squirrel with flaps of skin between his arms and legs led them to the
stables where they could refresh their horses. As Charles watched
Nikolai, the veteran noted with quick glances all of the
fortifications that ringed Iron Mine.
The squirrel, an exuberant fellow named Krystoff, showed
them the stables, a long building overlooking a small grassy field
within the castle's shadow. Beyond them an even smaller training
grounds were set up. Sir Egland took Intoran out to the practice
fields to work on his swordsmanship. Charles and Saulius made to
follow after them but slipped into the hayloft and shrank down until
they were normal rats. Even Charles's vine shrank with him though
the purple flowers that had begun to open along his back lost none of
their delicacy. Very carefully the two scampered to the edge of the
hayloft and peered down at the human knights.
Nikolai sent four of them to follow after Bishop Tyrion and
the priests and two others to tend to their steeds. The last, his
second, a man with cleft cheek named Chadur, assured the squirrel in
gruff tones that they had what they needed and that he could return
to his duties. It took a few minutes before he finally chased the
squirrel off, but Krystoff did finally leave with an almost indignant stomp.
Until then, Nikolai had also tended the horses with
consummate skill and exquisite tenderness. But once they thought
they were alone, he lifted open one of the windows and peered
out. With silent precision, Chadur took up position by the double
doors leading to the grazing and practice fields, while Nikolai
removed a familiar roll of parchment from one of the saddlebags.
From their vantage point, Charles and Saulius were able to
easily observe the man's artistry. His hands were precise and drew
perfectly straight lines when called for, and accurate curves when
needed. After only a few minutes he had drawn the curtain wall of
Iron Mine, as well as a facsimile of the castle, foundry, and many
homes visible from outside. Once he started drawing diagrams of the
city gates and its dimensions the two rats glanced at each other and
nodded. Scurrying back to their clothes, they returned to their
normal size and dressed. The noise did not go unnoticed.
"Who's there?" Chadur snapped as he vaulted up the steps to
the hayloft. Saulius put his sword at the man's throat but he
stumbled back down the stairs as quickly. "Captain!"
Nikolai, Chadur, and the other two knights both had swords
in hand when Charles and Saulius leapt from the hayloft into waiting
hay bales. Saulius pointed his sword at Nikolai and narrowed his
dark eyes. "Thou art engaged in treachery against thy host! Turn
over thy drawings at once and weight let thee leave this land with
thy hands on thy wrists!" Charles rolled his collapsed Sondeshike
back and forth in one paw as he kept an eye on the wary soldiers.
But the foreign Captain had the temerity to feign ignorance.
"What are drawings talking you about? My little pictures? Keepsakes
that I might show my children when I return home."
Saulius laughed once. "Thy children? 'Tis why thou didst
drive poor Krystoff from the stables and why thou didst bid Chadur to
watch the door for our return?" He waved the point of his sword in a
small circle and flicked both of his ears as if dislodging a
troublesome bit of dirt. "Thy words stain my ears with falsehood."
"Besides," Charles added, his voice dark, not even bothering
to mask the anger he felt at their betrayal. "If you were just
drawing pictures, you wouldn't have your swords drawn. Nor would you
have been noting dimensions and defensive positions. You've been
taking notes of every castle we've visited in the Valley. What does
Duke Verdane want with them? He can't invade the Valley without
risking the Curse."
Nikolai's lips slowly curled into an almost self-effacing
smile. "I see there is no fooling either of you." There was no
hesitation. He flicked his free arm, and a dagger that neither rat
had seen aimed straight for Saulius's chest. The rat knight brought
his sword and jumped aside just in time to save his life. A wicked
gash rent the left side of his tunic but no blood came.
Chadur lunged for Charles's exposed side, but the rat
snapped open the Sondeshike and spun the end in a brilliant arc
against the man's sword. The knight gasped in pain as his sword flew
from his hands and imbedded itself in the wooden planks over their
heads. He jumped for it but the rat jabbed one of the brass ferules
into his stomach. The man fell on his back gasping for air.
While Nikolai traded sword blows with Saulius, the other two
knights grabbed saddlebags and frantically secured their
tack. Charles gave Chadur a quick kick and darted toward the two
when Nikolai backhanded a stall door which swung into the rat's snout
and knocked him backward. By the time Charles shook the daze from
his eyes Saulius was still trying to angle past the Captain without
success and the two knights were swinging onto their horses. They
neighed loudly as they were swung about, the both of them bolting for
the stable doors.
Charles leapt to his paws and chased after them, but then
drew to a halt when he saw two dozen soldier with halberds poised
before the city gates waiting for them. A very familiar and
disquieting fruit bat looked over them from the
battlements. Andwyn's smile of triumph was welcoming for once.
Baron Christopher alternately threatened to rip Nikolai's
and the other knights' arms off and give them to his dogs to sharpen
their teeth on the bones, or to rip their legs off and sequester them
in the deepest parts of his mines for the rest of their lives. But
his rage was nothing compared to the complete apoplexy and fury that
was Bishop Tyrion Verdane who left both Father Purvis and Malvin
white-faced while Farther Felsah indifferently pet his dog. And
though his words were measured and never foul, his indignation was a
physical thing that blasted even proud Nikolai into a simpering cretin.
But it took ten minutes before the proud Captain finally broke.
After Nikolai and his men had all fallen to their knees and
begged forgiveness from Baron Christopher, Bishop Tyrion, Charles and
Sir Saulius, and even Andwyn, Tyrion collected himself and nodded.
"Very good. Now, you will turn over all drawings you have made to
the Metamorians. As an act of good faith, you will even allow them
to search through your things, all of them, to make sure you do not
have any other tokens of theirs. Anything you try to hide will be
considered a sin of both theft and falsehood for which I shall exact
the maximum amount of penance the Ecclesia permits. And when you are
done, I order you to return to Kelewair immediately. I will entrust
my safety entirely in the hands of the Metamorians whose lives you threatened."
Andwyn frowned but nodded. "I will consult Duke Thomas
regarding their fate. Baron Christopher will hold them until I
return with their verdict."
Tyrion turned on the bat and stamped his crozier on the
ground. "No you will not consult with Duke Thomas regarding their
fate. They are here as my escorts and under the protection of the
Ecclesia. And that is I. They will leave the Valley and will not be
further molested. Their punishment will come on their return to Kelewair."
"They have been caught spying against Metamor," Andwyn
declared firmly. "Their fate must be in Duke Thomas's hands no other."
"Then both he and you would be in violation of the
concordant signed by your liege with the Ecclesia. That concordant
states that the disposition of all who serve the Ecclesia may only be
tried in ecclesiastical courts. I will adjudicate them and no one
else. Or do you wish to stand in violation of your treaty?"
Andwyn appeared to ponder this for several long
seconds. The badger baron ground his fist into his palm and gave
Nikolai and the other knights murderous stares. They did not look up
but remained kneeling on the ground with spears at their backs and
arrows pointed at their throats. Tyrion stood as tall as he was
able, his clubfoot pressed down at an unnatural and painful angle.
Finally the bat nodded in acquiescence. "Very well, your
grace. They are yours to dispose of as you see fit. Nevertheless, I
respectfully request that they be escorted out of the Valley by our
soldiers to prevent them from doing any more harm. And I will need
all of their drawings before I return to Metamor."
"I accept your magnanimous proposal," Tyrion replied with
the same commanding voice he'd used to cow the knights. "See to it
that they are brought to Menth. I will rejoin them there once I am
finished here." He let his eyes slip down to Nikolai. "Now deliver up
to Master Andwyn all that you have done. And if you aren't quick and
honest about it, I will let the Metamorians do as they wish to you."
Their cooperation had never been easier to obtain.
----------
It was late in the evening before Andwyn returned to Metamor
with a satchel full of parchment strapped to his chest. He spared
only a moment to don modest clothing before finding Duke Thomas. The
horse lord had been entertaining Lord Barnhardt who gushed with
enthusiasm at Tyrion's recent visit to his lands but who accepted
Thomas's suggestion to enjoy a good soak with aplomb.
"What did you learn, Andwyn?" Thomas asked the bat when they
were alone in the Duke's private chambers.
Andwyn showed him the maps of Metamor, Lake Barnhardt, Glen
Avery, Hareford, Ellingham, Lorland, Euper, Iron Mine, and a few
other smaller towns they'd passed on their journey. Thomas's
astonishment quickly turned to fury.
"That craven snake! He spies on Metamor with a religious
mission as pretext! I knew he couldn't be trusted!" Thomas stomped
back and forth, hooves clattering loudly against the stone floor.
"What have you done with them?"
"Nothing I fear," Andwyn replied with shrugged wing. "The
concordant signed between Metamor and Yesulam prevents us from taking
any action against these spies. They have the protection of the Ecclesia."
Thomas blinked in shock and then resumed his stomping. "He
is caught spying on Metamor and he dares claim protection form the
Ecclesia! What... what arrogance. I want him shipped out of the
Valley too. I don't care what objections he makes. This I cannot tolerate!"
"Forgive me, your grace," Andwyn said gently. "I don't
believe that Bishop Tyrion himself was aware of the spying. This was
conducted by Captain Nikolai at the behest of another."
Thomas frowned and paused in his pacing. "What makes you say that?"
"I served our ambassador to Kelewair for a few years prior
to the Battle of Three Gates. I know his grace personally and this
does not seem to be in his character. Further, the actions he has
taken while here at Metamor, up until this point, have been
respectful, dignified, and of the highest virtue. He may be a
Verdane, but he is not Titian.
"Captain Nikolai on the other hand, is very much one of
Titian's creatures. I have been studying him since their arrival and
I have learned that he is the leader of the Wolf's Claw. That is,
Duke Verdane's elite warriors. I suspect that he was tasked with
learning our defences. He was quite circumspect about it as
well. He did not realize that we who have been made beast-like can
become beasts for a time and observe him unawares. Had he known
that, we may not have learned of it at all."
Thomas leaned over the table and gazed hard at the numerous
maps filled with architectural detail. His anger smouldered on his
tongue. "If his grace is honest as you say, why would he defend these
men when they have been caught spying? Surely his own father would
not have hesitated in having them tortured and hanged."
"I have been pondering that," Andwyn admitted without much
enthusiasm. "For most of my flight I was at a loss. What he says is
true of our concordant with Yesulam. But what good does it do to use
this to protect spies? Either he is protecting his father's men
because he is afraid of his father, or he is protecting them because
he is protecting the Ecclesia's prerogatives here that they might be
respected elsewhere as well."
With a long sigh, Thomas considered those two
suggestion. His hearty lips rubbed against one another for several
seconds before shaping more words. "Perhaps a bit of both. I do not
trust him, Andwyn. I want your spies to keep an even closer watch on him."
"I do not trust him either, your grace." Andwyn's small red
eyes glinted with amusement. "But you should have seen the way he
broke the spies of their obstinance. I think even Baron Christopher
was impressed."
"I will wait and see. I want to talk with this Bishop
Tyrion for myself. I think I'm going to enjoy it more than I
should." Dark equine eyes lifted and held the bat in place. "Thank
you for learning all these things, Andwyn. Continue to keep a close
watch on them."
"As you command, my liege!"
Thomas gestured at the maps. "And make sure these are given
to the lords of each town. They'll want to improve their
fortifications after this. Who knows how much those soldiers will
remember and repeat when they leave the Valley anyway."
Andwyn nodded glumly at that. It was time he started paying
even closer attention to their southern neighbours.
----------
Jetta was a small farming community on the southeastern end
of the Valley and the very last one before the range of the Curse
came to an end. Bulwarks had been built on its southern fields to
dissuade raiders and many of its young men and women were involved in
defence against the occasional malefactors who kidnapped the
animal-folk and showed them as exotic beasts.
Some of whom had even returned from their captivity in far
off lands, a few of which described the many fiefs and villages of
the Southern Midlands to Tyrion's dismay. One of them, a grizzly by
the name of Sho Rosewain, formerly of Midtown, described in great
detail her ordeal under the cruel hands and whips of the one known as
Sideshow whose death at the hands of a vengeful Keeper was not much
lamented by anyone, with only a dog-eared copy of the Canticles and
worn spectacles to tend her bruised and battered spirit in her four
years of captivity. Captured on the road, she'd been left in a cage
at the periphery of the Curse until she had been transformed into the
massive bruin. She was beaten regularly and left unwashed, kept in a
cage where both her food and offal were on public display. No shred
of clothing had been left to her or any of the other victims of
Sideshow's depraved menagerie. By tortures that massive face burst
into tears describing, they forced her into playacting the routine of
a smart beast who only wanted to eat and sleep. They left her the
Canticles as a cruel joke, but it had been her only strength and the
only reason she'd lasted as long as she did without surrendering to
the animal within as several others who'd been captured had finally done.
Tyrion was so moved by her description that he had to fight
back tears as he personally blessed her Canticles which she still
treasured, and also promised her that he would order all the priests
in his Diocese to do whatever they could to stop such atrocities.
After a modest banquet from last year's harvest, Tyrion and
the other three priests all heard confessions and quite a number of
requests until well past dusk. The Follower community was not large
and a good portion of them were transplants from leprous Bradanes or
like Sho refugees from far worse horrors. Still, Tyrion derived
greater joy and consolation from seeing to these simple people than
he did in all of the intrigues of court in which he'd grown to maturity.
They were given an upper room in the largest farmhouse that
was decently apportioned but like all of Metamor smelled of animal
musk. However the musk here was more farm animal than forest
denizen. Still Tyrion found the accommodations comfortable and was
grateful to finally be off his clubfoot one day more.
After sharing their evening prayers together, a pair of
lanterns between them illuminating the narrow room that had been
filled to bursting with an extra trio of sleeping mats, Tyrion sighed
and looked the three priests in the eyes. Rakka lay asleep with head
resting on one of Felsah's crossed legs.
"Well, we have seen what we came to see. Metamor Valley and
most of its Follower communities. At least as much as we dare
risk. It has been a revelation to me. But what of each of
you. What do you think of Metamor and her people?"
Father Purvis nodded to himself as he sat with legs curled
behind him on his sleeping mat. His red cheeks had lightened some in
the northern sun. "They are good people. They look strange, and they
have a few strange habits, but they are good people. Fierce and
proud, but good."
The bookish Father Malvin was quick to agree. "I think they
are very hungry for us. They've been fighting to protect their homes
but need a relationship with Eli that only the Ecclesia can give
them. I felt welcomed everywhere we went; nay, wanted."
"I did too," Purvis jumped in. "Father Hough is a remarkable
priest to have tended so wide and needful a flock as this."
Tyrion felt much the same as they, but there were still many
questions that he knew he'd never be able to answer. "And what do you
think of the many who are married but are not both man and woman?"
Malvin made a pinched face. "I confess I find that hard to
stomach. I know it was not their choice, but they cannot really be
married any more are they?"
Felsah's soft voice broke through, his foreign accent
lending a strange cadence to his words. "It was decreed by the
Patriarch and the Council of Bishops that their marriages are still
valid. But upon them the injunction of chastity has been laid."
"I certainly wouldn't want to perform a marriage like that,"
Purvis mused with a grumble.
"Nor would you," Felsah continued. "The allowance only
exists for those who were sacramentally married prior to being Cursed
by Metamor. It is up to us as priests to communicate this to them,
and further, to comfort them and give them strength in their
sacrifice. We understand the sacrifice of celibacy, but they face an
altogether more difficult reality in that their husband and wife is
still there but so changed that they can never bring forth children
again." He gently scratched Rakka between the ears. "I do not think
any sane man would envy them."
"Indeed not," Tyrion replied. "You have both heard from
Father Felsah. What say you?"
Purvis shrugged his shoulders. "If that is the Patriarch's
command, then I'll obey it."
Malvin's face was still pinched but he did agree after a
moment's hesitation that obedience was the only proper course of
action. "True obedience breeds love," he said as if quoting a scholar.
"Good. Now, what do you think this Valley needs?"
Pleasantly impulsive, Purvis replied, "More priests! A
monastery would be good too."
Tyrion nodded slowly, smiling, "But what sort of priests?"
The plain-faced priest didn't pause to dwell on the
question. "Ones who can look at the Keepers and see fellow children
of Eli and brothers of Yahshua."
"Just brothers?"
Purvis chuckled. "And sisters too."
"And you, Father Malvin?"
The other priest rubbed his hands together and swallowed. "I
noticed that many of the Followers here have a horrible lack of
training in liturgy and worship; I hesitate to speculate on their
theology! We need to develop a Follower culture here in this land to
counteract the many pagan attitudes that have infected these good people."
Tyrion's smile widened. "But you yourself wished to peruse
their library, one of the greatest collections of pagan literature in
all the world."
Malvin frowned but nodded. "Aye, there is much good in the
pagan lore. But you need to have the Spirit Most Holy to guide you
if you wish to determine what is good and what is not. Understanding
can only come from above as a gift. It is our duty to pass that
along. If they know better how to be Followers, then this Valley
will think more as Followers should. That will bring many more to
the faith in the long run."
"But who will accomplish that instruction?"
"More priests," Malvin replied simply. "It is a necessity."
"But what kind of priests?"
"Ones that love and hold up truth and learning, but also
practice and discipline. Priests that can teach and guide their flock to Eli."
Tyrion spread one hand wide and asked, "But do they need to
love their flock?"
Malvin's eyes narrowed. "A priest who cannot love his flock,
even the worst of sinners as Yahshua did, should not be a priest."
The words were firm and almost seemed aimed more at the speaker than
the listeners. Still, Tyrion felt satisfied by the answers. The
decision that had been hovering in his heart now felt right and certain.
"Very well. Thank you. Assuming that Nikolai's actions
have not jeopardized the good will we've tried to build here, then
tomorrow on our return to Metamor I will announce my decision."
"And what is your decision, your grace?" Purvis asked anxiously.
He told them. They did object for that had always seemed
plain to them. But they did have some trouble sleeping that
night. Even Tyrion tossed and turned. Only the Questioner priest
seemed to rest easy and without uncertainty as the stars turned in
their courses through the many hours of the winter night.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4c0e0965182751804284693!
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