[Mkguild] Invigorating Faith (6/8)

[C. Matthias]

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.

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May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias


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