Antioch

  Michael’s temper broke along with his concentration. He stood up, frowning in his long handles, towering over the boy. “I was wrong to approach you the other day. I didn’t give it enough thought.”

  Edward’s smile disappeared. “What do you mean?”

  “I need someone responsible and mature by my side, to help me with serious matters. These are serious times. I do not need a careless boy.”

  “I’m not careless!”

  Michael pointed around in a huff. “I wake up in the cold, my door’s open, look at the hearth’s dead, and you, you spooking at me like an owl on a mouse! You should’ve brought a log in! Think of someone other than yourself, child.”

  “That’s not fair! How am I supposed to know…”

  Michael cut him off. “That’s enough! It’s done! Go!”

  Edward got to his feet in disbelief. Michael had done it to him again. He made fists and said, “You know what, Michael? To you, Fwah!” Then he stomped out of the church.

  Michael didn’t like what Edward had meant by that, but the anger was already abating. Perhaps it had been unnecessary to call Edward a child, and an owl... Michael thought about it and scratched his chin. His whiskers were three weeks old.

  Edward was a poor choice, the gathering consequences of which had bothered Michael more than he realized. He put it out of his mind. He’d make it up to the boy some other time.

  Michael put on his boots, tabard and belt. Then he opened the library with his key. Using it, the key seemed so foolish. Who would steal books they couldn’t read? He left it on a shelf, muttering, “The lock should’ve gone on the front door.” He took down a bottle of ink, a goose quill and a piece of parchment and sat at the round table to write: I am at Betheford’s Inn - Michael.

  A cold new day waited outside. He walked through dewy grass on the way to the forge. It was too early for Jacob to be there. Michael’s sleeve hung on the wall in mid-repair. He dug through the smith’s tool box, found a hammer and a spike and then returned to the front.

  Michael shut the door, palmed his note against it and notched the spike between his fingers. With the hammer raised, ready to nail his words to the church, he noticed another spike already there. It was the one he’d used the night before when he’d been at the Cauldron. He just pushed his note onto that instead.

  ***

  Michael didn’t need to knock. The inn’s doors weren’t locked. Securing them behind him, he crossed the empty common room to the fireplace. It was lit but had never really been enough to heat the size of that space, especially with how his father conserved wood. Michael took a seat next to it for warmth and waited, listening to the just-before-breakfast bustle of his family in the kitchen.

  Betheford came out with a cup of coffee, surprised to find his son there. “Why, Michael! How delightful… wait. Has something other dreadful happened?”

  Michael said, “Not that I know of. I’m here to see someone.” He gestured at the front. “You didn’t lock your doors.”

  “My word!” Betheford started toward them.

  “No need, I took care of it for you.”

  “Oh, thank you, son. We’re not quite used to that yet, obviously. What a terrible mistake. I understand that’s how it happened at Fergus’ place.” Betheford sipped from his cup. “Who are you here to see?”

  Michael darkened - coffee. “A sailor named Biggs. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

  Betheford nodded quickly and with a charming smile. “Mmm, I can. It’s not the kind of thing I’d tell to just anyone, of course, but you’re you, aren’t you, and I don’t even lock the doors so who am I?” It was an attempt to win a smile out of his doughty son. It failed. Betheford sat down. “I’m afraid, though, as soon as I do, you won’t have a reason to speak with me anymore and you’ll leave.”

  Michael used his manners to be rude. “What would you care to discuss, sir?”

  “Well, you’re very formal. Perhaps we should talk about defiling the dead? Thou shalt not do it, you know.”

  Michael exhaled to calm his anger. “I’ve already had that discussion with Abraham. I’d rather not have it with you. I’m pressed for time. I shouldn’t stray from the church for long.”

  “And I don’t blame you for that at all, not at all. Abraham is a fanatic. I wouldn’t care to hear his opinions on the matter either. Michael, I don’t want to force my company on you… oh, would you care for some coffee?”

  Coffee! COFFEE!? Not if I breathe! Of all the thoughtless… “No, sir, thank you. Just the room…” irreverent, irresponsible suggestions! The blood of our forefathers is in your damned cup!

  Coffee, though traded from town to town, grew in the north. For Michael, it was an everlasting symbol of the fellowship’s persecution there. For Betheford, those events happened more than a hundred years ago; coffee was delicious and good for business. It was one of many old differences in values that the son couldn’t trust his temper to discuss and that the father had forgotten about.

  Betheford said, “Son, when you asked for my help the other day, well, it was for the sailors of course, but you haven’t asked me for anything in thirty years. I was so happy to be able to do it. I want to help you. I can do more than I have, in fact. I can make everything you need to do so much easier. Don’t you know that? I happen to be a very influential person around here.” He reached out with his charm again.

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, sir. I know it well.”

  “It was such a pleasure to see you at service yesterday. That’s all I want. Come to service.”

  “Are you bargaining for my attendance with the lives of your flock?”

  Betheford nearly spilled his coffee. “What? What is wrong with you?” He put the cup down and shook his finger at his son. “You got that surliness from your mother. My word. That’s not what I’m doing at all! Of course I’m not going to hinder you, in any way.”

  Betheford raised a solemn finger and quoted doctrine. “Thou shalt not defile the dead, son, but, thou shalt - also - not knowingly endanger thy brothers.” It was an odd way to say it. He paused and then carried on. “Burn every corpse you’ve a mind to! It won’t be the first time doctrine’s given way to practicality. Listen, Michael, you must know that I’m proud of what you’re doing... but, you should reconsider holding your back to God. You need Him now more than ever. We all need Him to be in your heart.”

  Michael hadn’t heard a word of it. He only smelled the wretched coffee. He stood up and linked his hands behind his back, putting his golden circle at the height of his father’s eyes. “I really shouldn’t stray from the church for long, sir.”

  Betheford sighed. “Michael, please. We’ve had our differences, but don’t let your opinion of me, whatever that may be, stand in the way of a relationship with God.” Michael softened some.

  Then his mother came out of the kitchen, gushing. “Oh, Michael! It’s so good to see you!” She was seventy years old but could still carry a thirty pound tray of plates on one shoulder. She set it down with a clatter and gave him a big hug. “Ooh, that feels so nice without your crunchy shirt! Have you come for breakfast? Why, you haven’t eaten here in ages, not that anyone else has either since our good Fergus left, that poor, dear man.” Betheford’s eyes rolled as she spoke. “Do you know that I can’t blame them?” She lowered her voice hardly at all and put a hand to one side of her mouth. “Your brother’s an idiot in the kitchen!”

  Michael’s older brother, Junior, had come out behind her, had been smiling and had almost said hello before she’d called him an idiot. Junior scowled, threw his arms up in the air and left the room without her knowing he’d been there at all. Michael’s visit wasn’t a special occasion for Junior anyway. He saw his brother whenever he wanted.

  Michael was embarrassed for him. “I’m sure he isn’t that bad…”

  Their mother said, “Oh no, he is! Awful. Dreadful! Are you out to catch yourself one of those bugaboo devils today?” She sounded like she was speaking to child o
n his way with a basket to pick berries.

  Michael almost failed to respond. “Ah, no, ma’am, not… yet?” A pained croak came out of his throat and he turned back to his father. “Thank you for your advice, sir. May I have that room now, please?”

  Betheford harrumphed. “Sailors. Do you know the little one called me biffer, or what was it, hmm, boffer?”

  “Beefer, dear.”

  “Oh, quite right, beefer. Now they’re all calling me that. I’d say it’s rather disrespectful considering how much I’ve aided them. Room and board for ten, you know, that’s expensive.”

  Michael wanted to run away again.

  Betheford said, “Fine, one last question then, before I direct you to your libidinous sailor.” He stood up. Other than his long, beard and his age, he was Michael’s mirror. “One final, burning inquiry haunts me.” He looked into his son’s eyes, reading them for lies. “Honestly, Bing’s outhouse is right across the street. Did you absolutely have to put those beastly things in my toilet?”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  ***

  Biggs woke up to knocking. He got out of bed, opened the door wide enough for his face and peeked out under a mousy-brown mess of hair. “Hey there, Michael. What’s go’n on?” He picked some sleep out of his eye.

  “Good morning, Biggs. My apologies for disturbing you. I’m looking for Andalynn. Can you tell me where she is?”

  “Alright, yeah. Hold on a sec.” Biggs shut the door, leaving Michael in the hallway.

  After a while, Michael leaned in close and said, “No need to bother dressing, if you could just tell me where she is…” Fergus and Margot hadn’t known. Michael assumed if anyone did, it would be Biggs. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when the door opened again.

  Andalynn stood there in a fresh headscarf, wearing a man’s shirt for a nightgown. Her legs were bare. “Good morning, Michael. How can I assist you?”

  Michael’s face opened. “I… I didn’t know… I…” He stared at her legs. Andalynn put her fists on her hips, raised her eyebrow and waited. He thought, God’s mercy, she’s a harlot, but couldn’t see how that made any difference. So, he gathered himself, looked her in the eye and said, “Andalynn, I want to teach you.”

  She stood speechless as she started to understand.

  From behind the door, Biggs said, “What’s go’n on, Lynn? Y’alright?”

  “Michael wants me…”

  “Tell him you’re married.”

  Andalynn looked over at Biggs and said, “He wants to teach me…” She shook her hands like she was drying them. “To be like them!”

  Biggs came to the door again, equally surprised. “Wanna come in or sump’n, Michael?”

  Michael said, “Oh, no, I couldn’t, that would be… inappropriate. I should have… Ah. I’ll wait for you downstairs. I need to speak with you both.” He gave a hurried bow and left. Andalynn and Biggs shared wide looks as they closed the door.

  ***

  Michael only took one bite of his breakfast - too much salt. Eavesdroppers milled around them, mostly sailors but also a few locals who’d noticed something was going on. Michael said, “I don’t know where to start.”

  Andalynn said, “Why me?”

  “Because of the Cauldron. Truthfully, I’ve quite a few reasons, but it would be disrespectful of me to pour compliments onto a man’s wife.” Michael turned to Biggs. “Forgive me. All of this is very unconventional. I didn’t know and I certainly didn’t mean to offend.”

  Biggs laughed. “You’re alright, Michael, don’t worry about me! We’re not…” He turned to Andalynn as he spoke. Looking at her, he didn’t want to make it clear they weren’t married. It meant something to make that distinction. “We do things a little differ’nt overseas.” Andalynn smiled at him.

  Michael said, “I see. Thank you. I must say I have a deep respect for what you sailors have done, what you’ve survived with such courage. Your story is similar to our own fellowship’s history, in a way, except that yours was an enemy impossible to face. My ancestors fled because they refused to fight.”

  He exhaled and poked at his food. “I promised a boy I would instruct him. We were supposed to begin this morning but things didn’t go well. It was his youth. He was inconsiderate. He didn’t even bring me anything to eat. Honestly, I was so angry with him I changed my mind right there on the spot.”

  Andalynn found Michael’s impetus amusing.

  He said, “It wasn’t just that, though. I needed to make a better choice. I have to make the best choice.” He stared at her. “I had a discussion with Fergus and Margot about you yesterday. You disappeared after the assembly. They’re worried for you.”

  “They are excellent people. I regret not having informed them of my whereabouts.”

  Michael smiled. “I would have approached you right away if you weren’t a woman.”

  Her eyebrow went up again. “An understandable hesitation.”

  Michael laughed. “Well, it was a difficult option for me to see. There’s never been a woman in the Circle. We had a law against it. But, the Circle is gone, and so are those laws. Now my first priority is Antioch. I need someone else who can say that, someone who can put others first and make this city their priority. Can you do that, Andalynn?”

  “I can. I have, since the day I boarded the Grace.”

  Michael nodded. “That reminds me. I thought you’d want to know what this really says.” He took out Ezekiel’s note and flattened it on the table, pointing out the symbols as he read them aloud:

  “Armageddon is arrived.”

  “Break your silence.”

  “Open the library.”

  He sat back, expecting a reaction. The sailors only looked confused. He said, “And this last mark here is his real name, Ezekiel.” The terms and their significance didn’t carry the weight he’d thought they would.

  “So,” Michael clarified, “we’re going to start a new order and make new laws. This will be our first stroke. We’ll put it through the middle. I want to change everything. With dedicated practice, you’ll be ready to teach someone else within a year. In ten years, we’ll have a thousand paladins in Antioch.”

  No one was eavesdropping anymore. They’d all gathered around to pay close attention, excited by what they were witnessing. It was the planning of a new age for humanity, right there, over a red and white checkered table cloth.

  Andalynn was inspired to be a part of it. “Unprecedented. An astonishing proposal. Tell me, what is that word, paladin? Is that what you are?”

  Michael said, “It means protector.” Until then, a paladin’s highest priority was to protect the way. They were going to change that too. “Do you accept?”

  She felt a rush of pride to say, “I do.”

  Ditch said, “Holy crap!”

  Michael flinched, disgusted by the expression. People started congratulating Andalynn but Michael wasn’t finished yet and he called for their attention. “That’s not all! Listen to me! This is the most dangerous time for us. I must stay in the church, where I can be found without trouble. I can’t be gallivanting around the town. Now, the fellowship can build a wall, we’ve good stone masons here, but they’re not fighters. They’ll need an organized guard. You sailors must do this. Patrol, answer calls for help and protect this community. We’ll stand together against these devils.” The room cheered, unified behind him.

  Ditch put his fist in his palm with a smack. “Right on, man! That’s what’s up!”

  The Circle had avoided political power since the Reformation, seeing it as a source of corruption. Michael saw no choice but to abandon that point of view, along with his other former priorities, and take command. In a bold move that depended on people accepting his authority, he held out his hand to Biggs and said, “Sheriff the guard for us.”

  Biggs was taken by surprise and slow to accept. He did though, and congratulations came for him. “Yeah, alright.” He laughed. “Yeah, do the best I can, Michael.”

  And
alynn put her arm around Biggs and gave him a fierce smile. Then she turned and found the same expression on Ditch. There was a future in what Michael had proposed, something other than death and something more than just survival.

  Michael stood and told Andalynn, “Get plenty of sleep. Come when you can. I will always be in the church.” Then he left his father’s house and all but that one bite of his breakfast.

  20 Acolyte

  Davies pulled back the curtains enough to see who was knocking. It was still dark outside and his milk shop wouldn’t be open for hours but he’d been up anyway, getting a cow ready for John, whom he expected later that morning. It happened to be John at the door, and Daniel, who was scowling and holding the reins to Michael’s white stallion, Ares.

  Davies said, “Uh oh, the beggar’s here with his hand out.”

  Beth took a peek out the window with him. “Ooh, Davies, you’re so rotten.” She swatted his backside and squeezed a handful of it. “Give him some milk!” He grabbed at her but she slipped giggling from his clutches and then bounced up the stairs. “Bring him in! It’s been at least a week since we had the boys done. I’ll get them up!”

  Davies opened the door, leering from thoughts of his wife. “Morning, John. In the market for a milker?”

  John didn’t care for that look on his face. “Hmm… Yes, well. I’ve brought Ares here in trade, if you don’t mind.”

  Davies smiled broadly. “You know, all this time I thought his name was Daniel.” He slapped the doorway and laughed. “Sorry, John, I wouldn’t trade a good cow for anything from Breahg!” Daniel’s scowl turned a clenched shade of purple.

  John said, “None of that, Davies, please. We’re in a hurry. I know I’m early, but can you get one ready for me?”

  Davies waved humor aside and came out to pat the horse. “I have done already. I didn’t expect this great brute from your end, though. He’s Michael’s, isn’t he? Won’t Michael be needing him?”

  “Michael isn’t planning on traveling any time soon.”

  Davies became serious for a rare moment. “What’s going on?”