My meditation complete, I stepped out of the water and rubbed myself briskly to dry off. The sun gave a little help, even from its thin weakness. I was pulling my robe back on when I heard a light splash and saw in the stream what looked like a child’s doll, half submerged. It could not be a doll, though, because it was trailing blood. A rock caught it close by where I stood, and the blood flowed and flowed out until the whole pool was full of it, and still it came. I splashed out into the shallows, heedless of getting my robe wet, and reached out for the body which I could see now was a baby. I could just reach the pudgy little arm and I went to grasp it and my hand came away with nothing, as I’d known it would. The pool was clear and empty of anything except water and fish. I was standing at the edge, bending over with my arm outstretched. I collected myself and finished getting dressed, gathered my things together and set off down the trail at as quickly as I could, Bedwyr’s hand in mine. I didn’t expect to catch the Merchant and his family before they stopped for the day but the better the progress we made, the more likely it would be that we would spend the night in the same place and resume our strained companionship in the morning.
“What did you See?” Bedwyr asked. I hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to him since coming out of the pool. I was surprised that the boy knew immediately what was going on. “Oh, I’ve seen someone with the Sight before. She was from Erin, too, or maybe their new kingdom in the north. She spoke funny anyway, like you. When she had a Vision, she would walk strangely and then just stop, just like you did back there. She was nearly ridden down by a soldier’s horse once. She didn’t see it at all.” and he giggled.
“I saw something very unpleasant,” I replied.
“Does that mean the man is right? That the pool is evil?” the boy’s face was open and merely than interested.
“No. But I haven’t worked out what it is yet.”
“Why not? I thought you were clever, one of the cleverest people in the world. All the Magisters are, aren’t they?” I smiled a little, but not without a touch of exasperation.
“Sometimes God likes to see us work things out for ourselves,” I said, forestalling the next question. “Like I would like to see you taught to read for yourself by the brothers rather than being read to. It would make me happy, as it makes God happy to see us learn things without having to be told all the time.”
“The merchant thinks we should be told everything by the Pope in Rome, I heard him say so.”
“I don’t agree, and neither do the Magisters at Melrose. Now can I ask you to be quiet for a while, or I’ll never be able to discover what God wants me to see.” This chastened the child and we proceeded in silence, walking as quickly as the shorter legs could allow.
I considered the Vision of the dead baby in the pool. The blood indicated a serious injury, possibly even sacrifice, but what I could not decide was whether this was a Sight of older rites associated with the pool or some kind of premonition, or something else. The old Power could linger long after its devotees had disappeared but there had been no feeling of Evil in the place when I came upon it so I could rule out a hangover from the old days.
I followed the trail with scant attention as I bent my mind to the problem, despite the fact that it was probably pointless. Visions that were not immediately explicable, like the one last night of the fawn, usually had to be left until their meaning was made clear by events.
Nonetheless I continued to search for a meaning. It was one way of passing the time but I had the feeling that there was a significance that I could understand now, if only I could make a connection, a connection that I began to feel was in my head, if only I could locate it. Whenever I began to feel some kind of coincident line of thought, I found himself up against a dead end.
No, that wasn’t really true, I thought, after a while. It wasn’t a dead end, it was a closed door, which was different. I considered the door: I could see it in my mind’s eye. It was large and solid, heavily bolted and barred but from my own side. I could unlock it if I had the key.
I felt a shiver as I searched in my mind for the key. I had it already, I knew I had, but the shiver was of fear: behind the door lay madness, and I recoiled from it. I’d been there, inside the labyrinth beyond the door. I didn’t want to go there again.
I went on, head bowed, trying to sort out the problem without opening the dreadful door. There must be a solution this side of madness and I would find it, I would go round and through the thickest tangles, as the badger had shown me the way away from the Glade.
I wandered into a clearing, still wrapped up in my problem. Bedwyr tugged my arm urgently and we were confronted with something that was not a Vision, though I wished profoundly that it was. It was a scene of horror but there was a kind of sense to it.
There seemed to be bodies everywhere, filling the clearing from one side to another, but there could be no more than seven, including the children. I looked around for them first and found them. All three were dead, even the baby, from single sword wounds to the back. They wouldn’t have suffered much - beyond the terror of knowing they were going to die of course, which would have been suffering enough for anyone. Their mother was nearby, reaching out for her babes. Her throat had been cut. Her brothers must have put up a fight, as they’d all sustained more than one wound. They had bled from their arms and sides but a massive blow that had opened his head had finished off one. The other’s final wound was not determinable: he had so many.
Of the family’s goods there was no sign, which wasn’t surprising, but the Weaver himself was not with the rest and I went looking for him. He wasn’t far and he was still alive, although very badly wounded and not long for the world. He could speak and was able to call me over. He was in a lot of pain and his tunic was soaked with blood. I knelt beside him and took his hand.
“What happened? Robbers?” The Weaver nodded.
“I think so. They overwhelmed us. A dozen at least. We tried to resist them but there were too many.” He looked around. “They wanted our stock. We tried to resist them.” I nodded. It was unlikely that the family would’ve been spared even if they had given up the stock, but this proud man had not even considered that course. Not even for the sake of his family. Greed and Pride were heavy burdens. “They killed us all. Even the children. There were too many.” He tried to sit up but the pain was too great. “They’ve killed us all.” He grabbed my hand. “Shrieve me, priest. Hear my confession. Give me absolution. Bless me Father, for I have sinned...” He tried to sit up again but I held him back and spoke gently.
“I’m sorry, We don’t do that. Forgiveness is in God’s hands alone. You must face him with all your life as an offering: the good he will accept and the bad he will cast aside.” The Merchant’s face contorted with pain and anger.
“You can shrieve me. You must. You must. Whatever you bind on Earth shall be bound in Heaven. Whatever you loose on Earth shall be loosed in Heaven. You must shrieve me. I have sinned. You must free me from my sins before I go to meet my Maker. You must. The Bible says you can.” I told him again that I could not.
“Then what use are you to anyone? You can’t do anything, you can’t help a man in his extremity. You’re useless as a priest and no man either. You are not a man of God, you’re the devil’s creature in disguise. Come to fool the simple and gullible. You’re worse than the pagans and I curse you for it. If you let me go to Hell unshriven, then I will see you there too.” With that, his face twisted again and he died.
I prised the dead man’s fingers from my own and stood up. He had gripped as tight as death itself in his final agony. I sighed and asked God to have mercy on his soul. At his end he was genuinely sorry for his sins, and frightened of what may lie in store for him.
12
The Warrior’s Question