The Temple of Heart and Bone (30 page)

“What
has
been happening
to you, child,” he asked, his voice warm and sincere. He passed Chance the stew
and some bread and gave her some of the ancient wine to wash it all down. She
held up her finger politely and wolfed down half the stew in just a few
seconds.

“Oh, thank God,” she said warmly,
after eating a large portion of the stew and bread. “And thank you, Uncle, that
was wonderful!”

“It should have been,” he smiled
mischievously, “I seasoned it perfectly to tempt Brother Steadword. He almost
brought me to tears last month with a plate of lamb chops.”

Chance smiled at him, “Drothspar
told me about that little game.”

“Did he now?”

Chance told Petreus about the
cottage and her conversations with Drothspar. She also told him about their
failed excursion to Æostemark and the decision to return to Arlethord. She told
everything in the spaces between mouthfuls of Petreus’ stew.

“Sweet Maker, child,” he said,
assimilating all of her stories, “it’s a miracle you’ve survived!”

“You’re right, Uncle,” she said,
seriously, “You’re absolutely right.” She turned slightly and pointed to the
bed. “There is
my
miracle.”

Petreus looked at his niece’s
face and at the still form lying in his bed. He shook his head as he tried to
accept everything she had told him.

“I always liked the young man,”
he said, some of his tension starting to ease. “He tweaked almost every turned-up
nose in the Cathedral.” Petreus smiled as memories of the living Drothspar
sprang to mind. “He wasn’t an old prankster like me,” he explained, “and he
certainly wasn’t annoying like Trethold. He never tried to raise himself above
even the meanest of his brothers. He was truly an ideal priest.” Petreus’ smile
turned melancholy. “That was the start of his undoing.” Drothspar stirred in
his bed, but neither Chance nor Petreus noticed.

“Petreus, what happened to him?”

The old man looked at her and leaned
back in his chair. He balanced it for a moment on its back legs and pushed the
pastry across the desk to Chance. He looked closely at his door, checking under
it for shadows that might be blocking the light from the hallway.

“Drothspar was a city guard at
one time,” he started, “did you know that?” Leaning forward, he broke a small
piece of pastry off the whole and put it in his mouth. “From what I understand,
he was a very good one. Everyone I’ve ever talked to said that he was a fair
man and a fair judge of character.

“He was reputed to be efficient
with his weapons. His reputation was so well established that, for the majority
of his service, he rarely had to use them. For most guards, violence is a perk
of the job.” Petreus frowned. “For Drothspar, it was the last resort. The
citizens of the district were very fond of him, and I hear he was never in
short supply of cookies or handshakes.

“I suppose the violence caught up
with him. The stories go that one night he was summoned to a brutal murder, not
that I imagine any are particularly gentle, mind you. I don’t know the details
of it myself. You know how some folk like to embellish a tale, and there’s a
different one for each soul who tells it. Pick through the tales, though,
follow the yarns to their source, and consensus says that it was a horrible
sight, the stuff of nightmares. Well, whatever he experienced must have been
pretty bad. It was after this that he turned to the bottle.” Petreus picked up
the bottle of wine from the desk, took a swig, and continued.

“Drothspar excelled at everything
he did. When he took to the bottle, well, he took to it with a purpose. He
never drank while he was on patrol, but as soon as he got off, he tried to wash
away his memories. Drinking’s not really all that uncommon, and the people
where he served, they all seemed to have a deep understanding. He was one of
theirs, and they loved him.

“One night, though, he had been
out with another one of the guards. They had gone to a public house and gotten
themselves pretty well sauced. All accounts say they were being harmless, just
singing and drinking, occasionally throwing up in a corner. No one minded them.
They were just being young, letting off steam like a couple of forgotten
kettles. The trouble started when they left.”

Chance ignored the pastry and
listened so closely to Petreus that she was certain her ears must have been
growing.

“The accounts of the night all
match, as well as they can, up until that point. Once the two men left the bar,
well, no one is really certain what happened. The only undisputed fact is that
the men were set upon by thugs and thieves. When daylight came, the citizens
found evidence of a serious fight in their very own streets. Five men had been
killed and only one wounded man had barely survived. Drothspar was that one
man.

“A sword wound is a sword wound,
a stab is a stab and a slash is a slash. Without any witnesses, it’s pretty
hard to establish what exactly happened after the fact. Four men had apparently
jumped Drothspar and his friend on their way home. The four men were all cut up
pretty badly, but so was Drothspar’s friend. He, himself, had sustained
anywhere from seven to thirty wounds, depending on who you believe. I don’t
think Drothspar really concerned himself too much about the four brigands who
had died, but his friend had died, too.

“He would never talk about it,
but I got the feeling that two things sent him completely over the edge. First,
I think he was never sure if he would have been able to save his friend. What
if he hadn’t been drinking? Could he have fought harder? Could he have done
anything to save his friend’s life?”

“What was the other thing?”
Chance asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“I think he was always afraid
that
he
might have killed all five men.” Petreus voice whispered with a
sympathetic horror.

“Oh my God,” Chance breathed.

“He was hailed as a hero, by the
community, by his superiors. He spent a lot of time recovering from his wounds,
but I think it was the wound inside that wouldn’t heal. Guilt ate away at the
man, and he crawled deep into the bottle trying to drown it. He abandoned his
work as a guard; he abandoned his life as a man. He drank as a man looking to
join his fallen friend.

“It was about then that Gathner
found him. The archpriest had business in Drothspar’s section of town. What it
was, I really don’t know, and neither of them ever told. All I really know is
that one day Gathner showed up with a ragged looking man in tow. There was not
a shred of hope in that man’s eyes, and his body looked like it had long given
up on the idea of living.

“The archpriest
was
a good
man.” Chance noticed the odd stress that Petreus put on the word “was.” “I
don’t know myself what he saw in Drothspar, but he certainly saw something.
Most of the priests just thought the drunk would be a test of their faith. They
were right, of course, just for the wrong reasons.

“Under Gathner’s care, Drothspar
weaned his way off of the bottle and cleaned himself up. Strength and faith
seemed to grow in him daily. He studied hard and spent a great deal of time
with Gathner. The archpriest delighted in his company, and they often appeared
more as father and son than superior and subordinate. I watched it all with my
very own eyes, Sasha, and I can tell you, the transformation was miraculous.”

Chance nodded her head and picked
at the pastry on the desk. Petreus reached over and took a bit of pastry for
himself.

“That was the first time jealousy
reared its bitter head over Drothspar. The various priests on the grounds felt
threatened by such a fine example of both man and priest. These were men who
had been raised to a life of service and they were being shamed by a wayward
drunk.

“Campaigns of rumors started in
the hopes of dragging Drothspar down with words. When words failed, some of the
less scrupulous priests set about to engage in complicated plots—the idiots.
They were plotting against a former town guard, a man who’d spent his youth
learning how to uncover just such things.

“Gathner enjoyed watching his
favorite pupil undermine the efforts of these shameless brothers. Drothspar
never sought harm or retribution, he just allowed the men to publicly humiliate
themselves. For a while, it was, I have to admit, quite entertaining.”

“What happened to get him
excommunicated? Did he miss one of the plots?”

“No, Sasha. God blessed him with
the gift of love.”

“Love?” Her expression was a
mixture of question and contempt. Petreus smiled knowingly, having heard her
opinions on the subject many times.

“Love, Sasha. It wasn’t the love
itself that caused him so many troubles, this I promise you. It was the
jealousy
that love
engendered that caused so much pain.”

“Who was jealous?” she asked, her
curiosity piquing.

“‘Who wasn’t,’ would probably be
a better question. The majority of priests were first jealous that yet another
blessing was bestowed on ‘God’s favorite,’ as they called him. When they
finally got to see the woman, Li, many of them went out of their heads. It was
disgusting really; they were a disgrace—not only to the Order, but to manhood
as well. Well, most of them would be a disgrace to a pack of thieves, so that’s
to be expected.

“This final blow to the brothers,
however, didn’t cause so much of a problem. Many of them actually found God
through the experience.” Petreus shook his head. “They realized that the Maker
would bestow His gifts upon His chosen no matter how much they cried, plotted
or whined. Li’s presence in Drothspar’s life called a halt to the majority of
half-baked plots against him. It should have been a very good time. There was
one man, however, who harbored something ill within the depths of his heart.

“Gathner loved Drothspar to
distraction. He groomed the young man he had drawn from the brink to be his
successor. At first he was thrilled by the news that Drothspar had found love.
Gathner himself had spent his life alone in the service of the Order, and I
think he always regretted that.” Petreus looked through the walls as if
searching the distant past for something he might have forgotten. He sighed.

“Like I say, when Drothspar
shared his discovery of love, Gathner embraced the young man and held him as
close as any father might his only son. Gathner questioned the boy closely,
wanting to be sure he had made a good choice. They talked often about the girl
until the day finally came for introductions.

“Drothspar and Gathner had
dressed in their finest robes. Li’s family is one of the most powerful in
Arlethord. Priests popped out of the windows of the dormitory like gophers from
their holes. Heads and necks craned to get a look at the woman who had fallen
for the ‘favorite.’ The sighs were audible and quite distracting when the
carriage opened and she emerged. It took a
very
stern look from Gathner
to close the slacked jaws and pull the heads back inside their windows.

“Li and her family approached the
stairs where Gathner and Drothspar waited. Drothspar flushed like an innocent
young maiden. His eyes were filled with an ecstatic love. His smile was so
pure, so genuine, you would never believe that he had seen a hard day in his
life. Faith radiated from that young man as warmth radiates from the sun.
Whenever I wonder what love really is, I remember back to that day and that
moment on the stairs, and I look once more into his eyes.”

“Were you there?” she asked.

“Was I there? Of course I was
there! I escorted the family from their estates to the Cathedral!”

“You did?”

“Yes,” he replied, narrowing his
eyes at her. “Of course I did.”

“How did that happen?”

“If you’ll let me tell my story,
I imagine you’ll find out!” He shook his head from side to side. “Eat you’re
pastry and let me talk, girl!”

“Yes, Uncle,” she said and smiled
at him.

 “You see, Drothspar was a
little excited about the idea of being in love, but he didn’t want to sully the
girl’s good name. One night, he enlisted me to go and deliver a message to her,
so I did it.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked him! Why?
Honestly, you’d think I was some sort of trouble maker or something.” He huffed
and gesticulated, forgetting to modulate his voice.

“And?” she asked, her tone
insistent. The look he returned was hard and stubborn.

“Oh, all right,” he said,
resignation in his voice, “He promised to take all my dawn services for the
month if I’d do it…”

“For a month?” she said
incredulously.

Petreus nodded.

“I’m telling you,” he explained,
“he was really in love!”

“So you just took the message?”

“Well, that first one, yes. There
were others, too. He had promised to take my services for a month, so I
had
to do as much as I could.”

“Had to?” she asked, her eyebrows
rising suspiciously.

“No, I didn’t
have
to. I
wanted to. He was such a good boy, you know. He wouldn’t drink with me, but
he’d stay up all night long with me when I did. And he did take that whole
month for me, like he said he would. So I took a few messages for him and
brought several back.”