Michael said, “The sailors described him as a young man and told of him restoring them to youth.”
Abraham scoffed. “I can’t imagine a two hundred and eighty-seven year old man looking very young, can you?”
Michael tried to clarify. “Perhaps Ezekiel’s path allows athanasy.” It was a fabled ability, curing age, near-immortality.
Abraham scoffed again. “Oh! And not only that, he’s discovered life oversea! And a way to get there, without leaving any record or inkling of it here. But despite those great accomplishments, he sends us sailors to protect. Why is he bothering us to break our silence? Why doesn’t he break his own silence and mind his own business?”
“I… I don’t know. What are you saying?”
“You’ve got some paper instructing us to break the most sacred vow and the word of a handful of strangers to authorize it.” Abraham slid the old ledger toward Michael. “Our record says Ezekiel died over two hundred years ago. He’s buried in the churchyard.” Michael studied the book. Abraham continued, “How do you know these sailors are who they say they are? How do you know any of this is what it appears to be?”
Michael said, “I believe them. I’ve been with them. They aren’t lying to me.” Abraham shook his head at what he saw as the younger man’s foolishness. Michael tried to provide an example on the sailors’ behalf. “If the writer is a liar, how does he know so much? Look at how practiced he is with the script. His hand is better than mine.” Samuel offered Abraham one of the notes.
Abraham glanced at it. “Yes, he has beautiful penmanship.” He gave it back. “Has it occurred to you that it might be easier to burn down the world than to infiltrate the Circle?”
The idea disgusted Michael. “No, it hasn’t.”
“It’s easier to learn the script than it is to learn the way.”
John said, “You’ll have to meet them, Abraham. They’re like no people I’ve ever seen. I believe them too.”
Abraham stroked his beard.
Samuel compared the notes. “Well, he could have written a little more than this. Open the library… What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked around the small room. Sure, they kept it locked most of the time, the books were old and valuable, but only to them. Why would opening the library accompany such heavy matters as breaking silence and Armageddon?
Abraham raised a sage finger. “The deceiver hides in brevity.”
Gabriel glared. “You didn’t tell me where John and Michael were! I could have helped!”
Abraham ignored him.
Gabriel slammed the table. “There’s enough truth in those notes to place the blame where it belongs! We kept our secrets while everyone died!”
Abraham said, “Careful…”
Their eyes met for a tense moment. Gabriel looked away.
John tried to comfort him. “There was nothing you could have done. It was over before any of us knew.”
In the following quiet, Samuel studied Ezekiel’s signature in the ledger. A similar hand wrote the notes. Something occurred to him. “Two hundred years ago… that’s before the Reformation.” They considered his observation. The Reformation referred to a dispute over the abuse of power within the church. It fathered many of the Circle’s traditions. Little history remained of the ages before it.
Samuel pushed the notes and the ledger away. “If there are any lies, or even a conspiracy in all of this, I really don’t think it matters. These bauran devils are the same problem either way. What are we going to do about them?”
Michael agreed and turned to Abraham. “Sir?”
Abraham hurried him up. “Your advice, consecrate, then I’ll decide.”
Michael stood, took a scroll from the shelf and unrolled it on the table, revealing a map of the kingdom. “We can’t stay here, not all of us. If these things find people, like the sailors said, we should be assigned to the larger towns, east and west.” He slid his finger in an arc over the southern coast, through Golgotha, Calvary, Mt. Tabor and Salem. Antioch marked the center of that imaginary line. “Then we hope they come to us… and pray they don’t wander north.”
Abraham harrumphed. “Hopes and prayers, is it? These places are days and weeks apart. How long of an assignment are you suggesting for each?”
Michael said, “No one returns.” Abraham questioned him with a look. Michael continued, “Five towns, five churches.” He’d been thinking of the plan for days. He held up the book of bauran like an executioner before the cut. “I know them. Anyone more than a few hours from one of us is a life at risk. If the worst happens, these are the last five towns in the world.”
John had been involved in that conclusion. Samuel was speechless. The worst had already happened for Gabriel.
Abraham reached out for Michael’s book. “Shocking news and advice. I’ll study this now. We may all need to copy it tonight.” He opened it close to his face, squinting and frowning at Michael’s script. Then he picked up one of the notes. Ezekiel’s hand was much better than Michael’s.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Ahem, ah, Must those be the five?” He pointed out a town on the map, closer to Meroe. “What about, Breahg? They’ll hold out.”
Michael said, “It’s too late for them. And traveling that far would risk breaking the line.” Samuel looked to John, whose somber nod confirmed that assessment.
Michael continued, “Also, the sailors suggested building a wall to protect against the smoke and wandering bauran. That should be our first goal in each place. Support the idea and help.”
Gabriel’s sarcasm returned with a hard edge. “A wall. What about the people outside of the walls, Michael. What about them?”
“What do you suggest?”
Gabriel didn’t really want to attack Michael, so he calmed himself and explained, “It’s not enough, to preserve a few patches of men. Our responsibility is greater than that. The Circle kept its secrets for too long.” He touched the bloody note. “This is the result of our effort.” His grief surged and he snatched the note from the table. “Meroe was the result of our effort!”
Abraham’s eyes narrowed.
Gabriel said, “We must atone for those sins. We must make every man a wall. We must abandon crucibles and the order of trust and begin training acolytes openly and immediately.”
Abraham stabbed a finger at him. “That’s dishonest! We’re sworn to protect the way, not the world. You can’t break the sacred vow!”
“Silence isn’t sacred. It’s evil. We’ve been hiding a gift from God. If we don’t share it now, we’ll be keeping secrets from the dead.”
Abraham trembled with frustration. “Aaah! It’s that cult! You’ve been preaching God like that dirty deacon! In Tabor and now here! I doubt you’d have been so cavalier before your ordination, Gabriel! Where is your honor? The church trusts you!”
Gabriel stood up, almost to the ceiling. “I can no longer be faithful to both. I choose God. Damn the church.”
Unseen energies began to boil out of Abraham. “You’ll force me to…”
Michael cut between them. “Gabriel! Abraham is not interested in your advice on religion. Each of us is trusted and will be so where we go. Our honor goes with us.” Gabriel considered the implications of those words.
Abraham flashed reproach at Michael. “How dare you tell him that? And right in front of me no less. You just told him to go off on his own if he wants to commit heresy.” Samuel and John stayed quietly out of that argument.
“Gabriel is upset. He isn’t thinking clearly right now.” Michael stared a warning at the large man, who yielded and sat down. “Regardless, we can’t break any vows in here.” He scanned the table. “Should Abraham take my advice, none of us will ever meet again. You would all leave with the trust you’ve earned.”
Abraham stared at him, momentarily shocked. None of what Michael had said broke the law, but he was no less the herald of the order’s end. And Gabriel… Abraham sat, exasperated. The others stayed quiet. “Anything else, consecrate? Or ar
e you done destroying everything?”
Michael said, “Yes, I have a request, actually.”
Abraham was incredulous. “You have a… What could you possibly have the nerve to request right now?”
“Assign me to Antioch.”
11 Crusade
John and Michael waited outside of the stable. The sun rose. Gabriel, Samuel, Thomas and Joseph were inside, preparing to leave. Abraham was alone in the church across a field of fog and graves.
Michael said, “You know, before Gabriel said it, I planned on doing everything the hard way. I expected to fail. Honestly, I did. Gabriel opened my eyes.”
John said, “He certainly was the quickest to damn the church. Fwah!”
Michael shook his head, remembering a time when Abraham and Gabriel were close friends. “There’s nothing left between them. Tell me, what happened with Gabriel in Tabor? What was Abraham talking about?”
“Oh! Abraham’s had him in the hairshirt for weeks over that.” The men of the Circle sometimes wore an uncomfortable horse-hair shirt under their longhandles as punishment for ill-minded behavior. Gabriel wore the hairshirt often since his conversion to the fellowship’s religion. Secretly, he’d come to see it as a symbol of the suffering righteous men bore for God.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know the whole of it, but some poor fellow came in from there begging for help from what he called The Carter-Miller Gang. Seems they’ve taken the law into their own hands around the mountain. The poor fellow’s wife was… well, nasty business. The king isn’t doing anything about it.”
“So, Abraham sent Gabriel to kill a band of outlaws?”
John nodded.
“He knows Gabriel won’t do anything like that.”
John said, “I’m pretty sure that’s why he did it, to try Gabriel.”
“Well, what happened in Tabor then?”
“Gabriel went and stood in the street for three days talking about God from what I understand. He described the people there as unreceptive when he got back.”
Michael restated that in his own terms, trying to understand. “Abraham sent the wrong man on purpose, who disobeyed outright, and no one did anything about the outlaws?”
John nodded again. It was a fair account.
In a rumble of hooves and leather, Gabriel came forth from the stable. Everything about him was big and menacing, especially his black horse, Gooseberry. Thomas followed him out, saddled on a swollen-uddered cow that had the brand “DB” for Davies’ Barn.
Gabriel’s face was as dark as his mount. “I envy you, Michael. I would give anything for the chance you have.”
They’d known each other for more than thirty years, all of that time in the church, and had never been friends or enemies. Michael and Gabriel simply viewed the world in different ways.
Michael said, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”
“Yes, well, goodbye.”
“Wait, Gabriel… A great many are depending on us. These bauran are soulless devils, not men. The time will come for you to raise your sword in Calvary. What will you do?”
Gabriel looked down on him from Gooseberry’s high back. “Do you believe in the soul now?”
Michael didn’t answer. He had a terrible feeling that in Gabriel they were sending Calvary an empty scabbard.
Gabriel said, “This is the wrath of God. If He does not wish it, Calvary will not fall.”
Michael didn’t know what else to say, so he said, “God be with you then.”
“And also with you.”
John shook hands with Thomas. “Fifteen years! You’d have earned your trust the old way, Tom.”
Thomas said, “I should say so. It’s too bad it had to be like this…” He looked around cautiously before continuing in a lower voice, “However, we’ve God’s work to do now and that’s quite a lot more important, I’d say.”
John scratched his beard. “Oh, well, I suppose it would be. Good luck, Thomas. Good luck, Gabriel.”
Luck indeed was on Gabriel’s face. “John. Thomas, come.” Then he shouted, “Heya, Gooseberry!” His powerful mare surged, pitching divots with her stride.
Michael waved as they left. “God be with you, Thomas!”
Thomas waved back, trotting after his master. “And also with you!” The cow’s udder waved as well. Her baggage clanked and rattled.
John linked his hands behind his back and watched them go. “Peas in a pod.”
Samuel came out of the stable saying, “That’s the truth. Can you imagine if I’d been saddled with Thomas? I’d go mad in a month.” He led his red roan, Rascal. Joseph followed, that yellow plaid shirt under his tabard. He had a DB cow as well, packed for travel.
Joseph was twenty-one years old, eight of those spent in the church. He’d been working through an extra year for failing the crucible of loyalty. Samuel had just told him they were abandoning the crucibles and that his training would begin on their arrival in Tabor. Joseph was immodestly pleased.
The four men clasped hands in fond farewell. Samuel swung into his saddle, smiling. “Since we’re breaking vows, I think I’ll take a wife in Tabor.” John and Michael raised eyebrows at one another. Samuel added, “If you’re going to get dirty, go ahead and get filthy.”
Joseph laughed. “If you take a wife, I’ll gloat over both of your misfortunes!” They all laughed.
Samuel said, “Mount thy steed, acolyte!”
“Why am I riding a cow?”
Samuel gave him a toothless, boyish grin. “You can have Rascal if you like.”
Joseph leapt up. “No, thank you. I’ve a better chance of keeping my seat on this one.” Samuel’s horse was unpredictable. “We shouldn’t forget that thief from Breahg...”
They all laughed at his reference to the false, local legend about how Rascal had come home after throwing a Breahg horse thief. Really, the clan didn’t steal horses, preferring their great-war-moose, and Rascal had only escaped from the stable again. A boy had found him in the meadow and embellished a bit among friends. The men of the church said nothing to dispute the tale and enjoyed hearing it around town. It was better than the truth - Rascal had been throwing all of them.
They could have traded stories for hours but they were responsible men. They said goodbye again and waved more goodbyes as Samuel and Joseph rode away. Michael was truly saddened to see them go. Both had been good company through trouble in the past. It was difficult that then, when he needed his friends the most, they were forced to part forever.
That thought in his mind, his eyes threatened to water when he looked at John. The old man had been his closest friend and mentor for most of his life. Michael said, “Let’s go to the Cauldron now. I’m starving.”
John said, “It’s a little early for that,” and started walking with Michael anyway.
“You know Fergus is up. I’ve heard his breakfast is the best kept secret in Antioch.”
John laughed. “I suppose it is, now!” Michael was a different man, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the disintegration of the Circle, even able to make light of it with a joke about secrets. It relieved some of John’s previous worry. “God-god-god-god-god-god-god. I’ve never heard so much about God! When did God sneak into the church?”
“They say He’s everywhere.”
“I’ve felt lately like I’d stumbled into one of your father’s sermons.”
“How would you know what one of his sermons is like?”
“I walked by the inn once when one was happening.”
Michael laughed. “I can’t imagine why you didn’t go in. You’ve been afraid for my sanity, haven’t you?”
“Oh, obviously! But, sanity…” John waved his hand in the air like there wasn’t much he could say about the benefits of such a quality.
Michael sighed. “I’ve always felt we aren’t supposed to know what happens after we die. That it gives more weight, more meaning, to what we do with our lives if we’re uncertain of some reward or punishment. Bu
t there, in Meroe, nothing I could do mattered. They were already dead. More are going to die, much more, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I remembered my father’s lessons, from my childhood, and I found comfort and hope in the idea that there’s something better after this. It felt like a revelation.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that alone.”
Michael smiled. “I wasn’t alone.” He felt then he’d come too close to preaching and so reserved the rest of his thoughts on the matter.
John said, “I can’t thank you enough for sending me home. Daniel would be dead if you hadn’t.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He looks just like Horace did at that age. It’s stirring to look at him. I can’t even describe it. It’s a feeling only blood could have...” It’s a second chance… John paused. “Oh, there, I had my own revelation.”
“I can’t say I feel my blood when I look at my nephews, but I think I understand. You’re taking him with you then?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ll teach him?”
“Absolutely. I wasn’t there for Horace but I’ll be there for his son. I can do that much for him. Nothing is more important to me than Daniel now.”
Michael smiled. “He’s lucky.”
“No, he’s not. I chose to give up my family. His was taken from him. I’m a poor substitute for what he has lost.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ve all made choices.”
John smiled, remembering having given similar advice to Daniel. “You must take a student too. Gabriel’s right.”
“I know.”
“Do you have someone in mind?”
“That I don’t know. With Joseph and Thomas gone, there’s no one to recognize. I failed Edward on resolve yesterday. I think he hates me for it. I could start with him as an apology.”
“Not that I object to the choice, but I don’t see why you’d feel the need to apologize. The other boys were upset too when we sent them home, and they hadn’t failed! We’ve all lost years to the crucibles. This next generation is having the way handed to them like taffy.”
“Considering the circumstances, I wouldn’t say it like that. Either way, I’m not proud of how I did it.”
“How’d you get him?”