Andalynn smiled. “It is comforting to know that my initial impulses were not out of the ordinary here.”
Daniel had been watching from the kitchen and kept a frown on Andalynn as she entered. When she picked up the cider pitcher to refill the mug, Daniel’s mouth fell open in disgust. “Don’t get Davies a drink! He’s a rascal! All he does is talk mess! You should’ve shot him with your pisser!” The kitchen went silent. Those things on her hips had been the subject of conversation earlier.
Andalynn corrected him. “Pistol.”
Fergus grinned from the grill. “Davies sent you to wait on him? That’s rich. Why are you doing it?”
Andalynn looked into the empty pitcher. “Unsure of the possible consequences to a visceral response, I chose one that I thought, cross-culturally, could not be considered offensive.”
Fergus paused. “Oh, well...” His smile returned. “Let’s put a beetle in it!”
Andalynn laughed. “I am still considering amendments to my position.” She held up the pitcher. “Fergus, where may I refill this container?”
Fergus said, “Margot’s out back, tapping a cask. Come on, I’ll show you!” Andalynn followed him out, trailed by Sarah and Daniel.
The Cauldron marked north on Antioch’s outer ring and was one of the newest buildings in the city. A hundred yards of apple trees separated it from the deeper forest. A small, open yard connected it to a little cottage and a shed. The cottage was Margot’s cider house and Fergus used the shed for smoking meats. Evening was lowering into night.
As they crossed the yard, Fergus sent Daniel to check the wood pile for a beetle or a spider. “A big, wriggly one!” Daniel obeyed like a grim soldier.
The rest of them entered the cider house. The spicy scent of apples and alcohol sat in the stone and boards. One wall was a deep rack of casks in the candlelight. Margot looked up at them from where she worked. “Fergus! What’s happened?”
Fergus was amused. “Davies sent our sailor to get him a drink. And she’s doing it.”
“What?” Margot stood up and put her fists on her hips. “Davies! The spleen on him! I’ll tell him where to go to get a drink!” She clucked her tongue at Andalynn. “Ooh, dear, you shouldn’t let a man treat you like that.”
Andalynn was amused too. “I am educating myself in local custom by way of this adventure.”
The five of them returned to the common room as a pack, Andalynn at their lead, holding the mug. She put it in front of Davies and sat. The others stood behind her, waiting. Davies was in conversation and hadn’t noticed them yet.
Jacob tapped his arm and pointed them out. “It’s the end for you, brother.” Davies looked up, surprised.
Margot put her fists on her hips. “You should be ashamed of yourself - Davies!” She declared his name, accusing of him of being who he was. “You should be ashamed, sending her to get your drink!” Margot had the whole room’s attention then. Davies was in trouble.
Davies laughed. “I didn’t think she’d do it! I was just… ruffling her feathers a little.”
Margot said, “Oh, I know exactly what you were doing. Where’s Beth?”
“She’s at home with our five, fine sons, of course. She thinks we’re being invaded! I’m here to get the lay of the land and to protect my family.” At the look of indignation on Margot’s face, Davies laughed again and slapped the table.
“With your mug in a mug? Pouring sauce on our guests? Well, you’ve got your drink now, so drink it!” Margot pointed her finger at it like it was a fitting punishment for him.
Davies shrewdly looked the five of them over: Margot’s indignation, Daniel’s hate, Sarah’s confusion and Fergus’ anticipation. Andalynn’s face was a wall. Davies said, “Fergie, what’d you put in this?” Fergus raised his hands innocently. Davies declined the suspicious beverage. “No, thank you. I’ve had enough for the evening.” Then he feigned injury at Andalynn. “You tattled on me?”
Andalynn raised the eyebrow again. “I apologize.” Had he been flirting with her? She couldn’t tell. She wondered if Davies would treat her differently if he knew she was old enough to be his mother. Probably not.
Davies held out his hand and said, “Welcome to Antioch.” She took it. Then he said, “It’s alright, I’ve got a mean woman at home as well.” He looked to Margot. “Isn’t that right, Gran-gran?” Margot was only thirty-eight, but Davies had made her a grandmother five times. They were some of his greatest victories.
Margot said, “Cheeky devil. I’d better not catch you with an odd lip to these sailors, Davies. They’ve been through too much to be sassed by the likes of you!” She narrowed her eyes on him before going back through the kitchen. Sarah, Fergus and Daniel followed her.
Sarah said, “I don’t understand why Andalynn didn’t stick up for herself. Are the women cowards oversea?”
Fergus said, “That’s rude, Sarah. Besides, I think she did, didn’t she?”
Daniel said, “Huh? Davies told her what to do and she did it. That was awful!”
After Margot was gone, Davies taunted Andalynn again. “You, yellow-crested tattletale! I guess pants don’t make you a man, do they, sailor?”
Andalynn said, “They do not.” Then she picked up the suspicious mug, the one Davies had ordered and had then refused, and she drank.
Jacob smiled. “Fwah! I like sailors!” With strength that hammered steel for the Circle, Jacob gave Davies a playful shove. It almost tipped the milkman out of his chair. Davies laughed and kept his balance.
***
Near eleven o’clock that night, the Cauldron cleared down to family and the doorbell finally stopped ringing. Andalynn was already asleep upstairs. Margot had instructed her to bring some friends, especially “that handsome Biggs,” to dinner the next day. Daniel sulked at the long table by himself. John never came.
Fergus entered from the narrow hall, wiping his hands with a rag. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m sure he’ll come tomorrow. He’s got very important things to do right now.”
Daniel didn’t want to hear it. After listening to Andalynn’s stories, he knew John wasn’t coming back. He knew because he’d seen the bauran in their terrible truth. John would have to abandon him to face them.
Fergus patted the boy’s shoulder. “Poor devil.”
The end of a conversation followed Sarah out of the kitchen as she swept through the common room. She said, “Betheford’s, eew!” and bounced up the stairs without looking twice at Daniel.
Margot called after her, “Andalynn’s bringing them to dinner tomorrow, dear, so get some clean clothes ready for her! Ooh, I hope she doesn’t bring too many friends. Fergus! Don’t forget to lock the door! Those sailor-stories are giving me the heebs and jeebs!”
Fergus sighed and pulled the latch. “We never used to lock the door.”
10 The Circle
Antioch’s buildings and streets spiraled around a broad clearing of earth and grass, sown in rows with tombstones. It was the Circle’s graveyard, where their dead lay buried as saints. In the center stood the old, single-story, stone church, its thatched roof extended over one side to cover a forge. From there Jacob’s hammer rang.
Michael leaned his caligan against a post under the thatch. “Hello, Jacob.”
The blacksmith came out to meet him, smiling. “Michael! Welcome back, sir!” Then Jacob’s smile fell away. “Fwah... you’ve been in it with a devil, hey?”
Michael nodded, removing his tattered habit.
John said, “Jacob.”
Jacob said, “John.”
Michael dropped his gauntlets, belt and boots on the ground. “I don’t know if anything can be done with those.” He pulled off his tabard. “This is for the fire.”
Jacob collected everything. “Phew, what a stench! These’ll never do any good again.”
Michael unlaced his one-piece, chainmail sleeve. He stepped out of it and then shed the dingy shreds of his longhandles, a formerly white, full body-stocking of padded underwear. Bullet scars
mapped his skin. Whole chunks of him had been blasted away. He gave his armor to Jacob, pointing out the damage.
Jacob stared at Michael’s wounds. “You’re all… chewed up…”
Michael motioned at the mail.
Jacob focused and poked his fingers through the holes. “The metal’s shattered, no ripping. Wasn’t claws or teeth... I’d almost guess arrows. What did this to you?”
“If you’ve something with a point, I’ll show you.”
Michael sat on the rough tree-stump outside. Jacob went to rummage in his tools and came back with a rusty, six-inch awl, wiping it on his apron before handing it over. John linked his hands behind his back to watch.
Michael exhaled and relaxed, trying to avoid opening the way reflexively; if his flesh healed around the tool, it would leave a permanent hole in his leg. He pushed the awl into his thigh until the point touched bone. Blood spurted from the puncture. Jacob cringed. Michael dug in with his finger, keeping his breath deep and even, and then pulled out a lead slug. Light beamed from the wound and the bleeding stopped.
John said, “Your control is remarkable, Michael. You’ll want some food before you do much more of that, though. Why’d you walk all the way back with that thing in your leg?”
Michael held up the bloody slug, remembering how it had jolted him awake when he’d been so close to death. He handed it to Jacob. “That one saved my life. I’ll need your help digging out some smaller bits later, John.” He felt the riin around a peppering of metal in his body - the metal dragged through his body by the bullets. “I think they’re pieces of my sleeve, actually.”
John scratched his beard, worried. “I see.”
Michael ran his finger along the ugly scar from his cheek to his neck. “This one almost killed me. They struck me down from a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred yards away,” he pointed at the bullet in Jacob’s hand, “with those little things.”
Jacob said, “Who did?”
“Sailors.”
Jacob paused. “Sailors… really?” It was as though he’d heard pixies did the shooting.
Michael nodded. “It’s true. There are a few headed for my father’s place right now, if you want to meet them and hear some stories. I’m sure it’s all over town.”
Jacob gaped. “Just like that? There are sailors in Antioch?”
Michael nodded again but his attention drifted. The sailors were the best of his news, a small group of curious lives saved. Michael would rather talk about them than what dominated his mind: Meroe, bauran and Armageddon.
John said, “Jacob, could we have a moment?”
“Oh, sure. I… I think I’ll stop by Fergus’ place, first, hey. I’ll need a cider if I’m going to see sailors.” He wandered into the forge with Michael’s sleeve.
John turned to Michael. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about what happened in Meroe. It must have been very difficult.” Michael had been knee-deep in death for too long and had mentioned God more in the last week than he had in thirty years. It was a growing source of concern for John.
Michael said, “It had to be done. The bodies were smoking. The buildings were filled with it. We had to make a safe path. More ships may come.”
John’s sympathy showed. “Were there many… bodies?”
“Four hundred and thirty-three. It was an awful day’s work. Dreadful.” Michael went to the well, cranked up the bucket and took a long drink of good, clean water. Then he poured it over himself, rinsing away the road and the blood. “No one could help me, because of the smoke. I carried them in pieces, from the northern edge of town and from the coast. Then I burned them. They’ll haunt me forever, whether or not they haunt Meroe.”
John wanted to comfort Michael, to embrace him and to reassure him, but Michael wasn’t his acolyte anymore. Michael was a grown man and the templar’s consecrate. He was also nude. John stayed where he was. “It’s horrible. You’ve been through too much. Come to the Cauldron with me. Sit and eat with friends before we advise Abraham.”
Michael shook his head. “No. I know you’re worried, but I need you to help me act. We can’t rest now, there’s no time.”
John nodded. “I’ll gather them in the library for you.”
***
Michael left the forge in full white with a touch of gold, wearing a new tabard and longhandles. His head, hands and feet were bare. Three teenage boys knelt in silence on the grass near the church’s front door.
Michael passed them but then hesitated and stopped. “I’ve just returned from Meroe. Did any of you have family there?” He winced right after he said it.
Edward lifted his head. “Did? What do you mean did?” Then he realized what had just happened; his resolve had been tested and he’d failed. His hands went to his face. Those were the first words he’d spoken in three months.
Michael’s face was an apology. “Edward, I... I’ll be your advocate next year. I promise.” If there is a next year. How could I have tested them with that? How could I have been so callous?
Edward gritted his teeth. “That’s… you… what a dirty trick! Did something happen in Meroe? My cousin lives there.”
Michael refused to say. The other boys bowed their heads when he looked at them. Edward shouted, “Fwah!” more than once as he stomped away, “FWAAAH!” Michael sighed and went in.
The church was a windowless hall lit by a single hearth. Ten straw mats lined the cold stone floor. Two men knelt inside, both wearing blank acolyte’s tabards over their clothes. Joseph wore a kind of yellow plaid under his, dyed from the flowers around his home town of Summerset. Thomas had been wearing the fellowship’s brown and white for years.
They stood and saluted. Michael returned their respect but made it clear he was bound for the oak and iron door at the other end of the room. After he passed, Thomas and Joseph whispered to one another.
“John was just as grim.”
“I say, what do you think has happened?”
“Something bad.”
Michael knocked. Abraham opened the door from the other side as if he’d been waiting there. The mail sagged on his scrawny frame. Hair and beard flowed like white willow from his head and four scars clawed through the right side of his deep and withered face. An iron key hung from a chain around his neck. He stepped aside for Michael.
Books, papers and scrolls crammed the small library’s shelves on every wall, shadowy from the candles on the round table in the center. Michael took a seat with John, Samuel and Gabriel while Abraham locked the door with his key. Other than Michael, all wore the full habit of the Circle.
Samuel touched his own rugged face, indicating Michael’s scar. “That’s a good one, Michael!” Samuel was missing his two front teeth. It gave him a boyish look when he smiled, despite his beef and wrinkles.
Gabriel was a huge man, tall, even in his chair, and broad. Burn scars webbed his jaw and throat and descended into his collar, as though he’d been splashed with acid. His voice was rich bass and sarcastic. “Where is your sleeve, Michael? Are you going to advise the templar in your longhandles? Outrageous.”
Sudden pity crossed Michael’s face. He knew by Gabriel’s manner that no rumor had reached him. Gabriel, who had come from generations of Meroans, who was that town’s pride and champion, had no idea what Michael was about to reveal.
John passed Michael a book. The cover and spine read Bauran in sacred script. It was Michael’s full account of those monsters, taken from his, John’s and the sailors’ experiences. The ships’ notes stuck out from its pages. John passed the Vesper’s logbook as well.
Michael took out the bloody, crumpled parchment Biggs had found, passed it to Gabriel and addressed the table. “That letter, in our script, was on a ship that ran aground near Meroe, undoubtedly the source of… what happened. A ship from oversea.”
Gabriel, Samuel and Abraham paused and looked at John, who nodded.
Michael held up the note Andalynn had given him. “This one came by the sailors of another ship, who
are here, now, in the…”
Abraham interrupted. “You’ve examined them?”
Michael said, “Of course,” and resumed, dreading Gabriel’s imminent reaction. “The notes are nearly identical...”
Abraham interrupted again. “No, no, Michael, not the notes! I meant these sailors. You’ve laid hands on them?”
Michael breathed like he was pulling a bullet out of his thigh. “Of course, sir, that is what I meant as well. Human. Men and women. Fifty altogether.” He waited for another interruption. Abraham motioned impatiently for him to continue.
Michael read the note aloud:
“Armageddon is arrived.”
“Break your silence.”
“Open the library.”
“Ezekiel.”
He handed it to Gabriel, who still held the other and didn’t know what to think of either. Samuel’s mouth fell open. Abraham put his elbows on the table and covered his face, hair spouting from behind his gauntlets.
Comparing the two notes, Gabriel spluttered, “Outrageous!”
Abraham brought down his hands and pushed himself up from his chair. He pulled a dusty ledger from one of the shelves and opened it close to his face, squinting at the text and grumbling. “Mmrnmhrn… Armageddon… prophecy… idiocy…” Michael tried to wait for Abraham’s attention but Gabriel demanded to know what had happened. So, with the templar flipping pages in the background, Michael reported the story of Meroe.
Gabriel’s face emptied. “You burned the bodies and you burned the town…” His heart broke as he began to understand. Abraham still flipped through the book.
Michael said, “Sir, did you hear what I said?”
Abraham looked up. “Some sort of devil-fever destroyed Meroe. I’m going blind, Michael, not deaf.” He put the ledger on the table and his finger on a name. “Here he is, Ezekiel, ordained as paladin on September tenth…” He mumbled and counted on his hand for a moment. “This Zeke is a liar or he’s two hundred and eighty-seven years old.” His discovery and his lack of compassion struck the table. Gabriel looked about to vomit.