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The sun arched higher into the sky melting the frost. Neb's feet slithered with every step. He longed for this torment to end. Just when he thought his next slip might be his last, gravel crunched under the wagon's wheels. Before relief finished soaking through Neb, the gravel was under his feet. The wagon jolted to a halt and for the first time in eons Neb was able to raise his head and take in his surroundings. Peering to his left, through the delicate foliage of trees he saw a field: Raggedy clumps of grass littered with yellow and red dots of wild flowers stretched away and upwards to form part of the hill they'd just descended. He turned his head to the right but a bank of mottled grey stones blocked his view. Neb tipped his neck back and strained to see over the top, certain something unspeakable waited for him behind the wall. Pray heavenly and earthly spirits I have the chance to call for Balkin; surely I'll be allowed a drink, or maybe even something to eat. This thought cheered him a little, and he worked at the gag in his mouth. A rumble from his stomach mingled with a deep melodious voice drifting from the wagon's front. Neb squinted in that direction; only the dome of a shaven head was visible over the wagon's high sides. He dropped his gaze. Peering between the wagon's wheels, he glimpsed a fold of Kattin's blue travelling cloak flapping against an unfamiliar swatch of glistening material. The stranger's black robe shimmered with golden threads. Neb glanced up in time to see Kattin and her new companion rounding the wagon. They paused an arm's length from him. Neb stared at the stranger: His eyes bulged slightly over a long straight nose; his chin had a pronounced dimple and his lips were fleshy. In his youth the man had probably been handsome, but with age, his cheeks had jowled and his forehead appeared overlarge, with no defining hairline to separate his face from the shiny skin stretched over his head. His bloated belly spoke of a love of food, he leaned slightly on a carved staff of ebony wood, which was topped by a curious metal ball. It was clearly hollow, with decorative holes pierced around its orb. Neb's musings were rudely interrupted when a hand grabbed at his bound wrists and jerked his arms backwards and upwards. Neb gave a muffled cry and hunched forwards, trying to ease the pain darting through his arms.
'On your knees! Don't dare stare at His Holiness with such insolence!'
Fingers ensnarled themselves in his hair and then tugged downwards, forcing Neb to obey. Neb twisted his head and was stabbed in the eye by a long thin nose poking from the face of a woman swathed from head to toe in black. Her headscarf was askew, revealing that she too had a shaven skull. Neb's eyes began to water, he bent his head and blinked away tears.
Kattin cackled. 'See, he's strong, tall for his age but very biddable.'
The melodious voice of "His Holiness" sounded again. 'Then why do you keep him bound and gagged?'
'Alas, Father Thomas; the poor lad's wits wander, he is easily diverted, and apt to go chasing butterflies,' Kattin replied glibly.
Father Thomas raised his staff. 'Stand him up, Sister Catherine.'
Fingers gripped at Neb's hair and yanked upwards, forcing Neb to stagger upright. He was careful to keep his eyes lowered and focused on the golden chain draped around Father Thomas' chest.
He flinched when Father Thomas squeezed at his biceps and then pulled the gag from Neb's mouth to inspect his teeth. Next, the Father's hands cradled Neb's jaw, forcing his head up. Neb shivered as the bulbous eyes gazed dispassionately into his own. Father Thomas released his grip abruptly and Neb sprawled across the wagon's tail gate. He decided to remain slumped there.
'A young strong body, yet a weak will. Perfect,' Father Thomas murmured.
'We have a deal then?' Kattin asked eagerly. 'Perform the wedding ceremony, and you keep the boy.'
Father Thomas nodded agreement and indicated towards Samara with his staff. 'Get the girl, her wedding will take place tonight.' There was a scrabble and Samara screamed. Neb continued to slump against the wagon. It was better to pretend disinterest, and he didn't have to feign exhaustion.
Gates were trundled back and the oxen were prodded into movement. Neb followed, limping against the tail gate. When they halted again, Sister Catherine used a knife to slice through the tethering rope, leaving the noose around his neck. Neb looked back towards the gates. They were firmly closed and barred. Briefly he considered calling for Balkind. The stone walls would surely throw his voice back at him though, and Father Thomas' harridan already tugged impatiently at the rope around his neck. With his hands still bound Neb followed, swallowing dryly and longing for a drink to rid his mouth of the gag's foul taste. Robed figures swarmed around the wagon. They lifted Eric onto a sling. From the corner of his eye, Neb noticed Alfred take his son's hand and raise it to his lips. Four men carried Eric away, with Alfred walking alongside the makeshift stretcher. Neb thought he still held his son's hand. The rope tightened around Neb's neck again and he hurriedly faced front, then winced. A wall of coloured glass bounced a rainbow of sun's rays into his eyes. Neb blinked hard, then squinted at the glass. It was inset into soaring arches which in turn were supported by polished stone slabs. Neb blinked again and again, wishing he could shield his eyes with his hands, but unable to stop gazing at the magnificent building. Its roofs were multi-gabled; two were conventional arches, while the third roof was flat and turreted. Neb squinted up at a tower rising from the flat roof, wondering at its purpose. He finally realised it was a bell tower and felt the small stab of satisfaction that accompanies curiousness resolved. The next moment, he struggled to remain upright as another tug at his neck indicated he should turn right. They were headed towards a collection of low roofed buildings situated at right angles to each other, forming an quadrant. They shared the same stone as their grander neighbour, but it was unpolished. There were a few windows, but instead of glass, wooden shutters hung either side of the window frames in readiness to be closed against bad weather, or the night. Archways connected the buildings; Neb was led through the nearest one and into an inner courtyard. Neb glimpsed a swath of green meadow through the archway of the far building, which appeared to serve as a cattle shed. Sister Catherine marched him over to a hitching post and secured the rope with two knots. With a flap of her hand, she indicated for Neb to sit. He hunkered down, unwilling to sit on the manure strewn cobblestones. Working saliva into his mouth, he stammered 'water, please, water…' The woman's long nose quivered and her lips curled into a sneer. Clutching her robe away from the cobblestones, she turned and swept out of the courtyard. Neb tried to work his arms into an easier position and wondered how he had offended her. Then he wondered if it were possible to go mad with thirst. Finally admitting defeat, he sunk to the ground and screwed his eyes closed before any tears could escape.
Neb fell into a fitful sleep. At regular intervals an insistent clanging woke him. The first time this had happened, he'd cowered away from the sound, his eyes darting for the source of the alarm: there was a fire raging out of control, or perhaps the cloister was under attack. To his bewilderment, instead of scurrying towards the bell tower, or safety, the grey robed men and women dropped to their knees. They raised their arms and faces towards the sky, then fell forwards to prostrate themselves against the ground. They remained on their knees, arms outstretched with their faces buried into the dirt until the bell clanged again. Neb was too exhausted to puzzle over this strange behaviour and the third or fourth time the bell clanged, he didn't bother to open his eyes.
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