Chapter 7
The moor was ankle-deep with water, forcing the small family to continue along the slightly elevated tree line. The air was still and crisp, leaving the sound of their footsteps magnified before the haze of day arrived. It was only a matter of a few hours before they reach the small valley, nestled at the foot of the Highlands, a stone's throw from the Scottish border. Looking down into the valley, Aiden's parents saw the monastery as both a quiet refuge from the world and a monument to the glory of God. As they neared it, his father hoped the monks might provide them with enough food and water for the walked back to Doncaster. Or perhaps, they might choose to go elsewhere, avoiding three more days of walking.
There was only one entrance to the monastery. A large door, fixed by stone and mortar into its eastern wall. And aged wooden plank had been mounted over the arched doorway's keystone. It read: 'Obscurum Perussi Pallens'. Darkness consumes the weak. As Aiden and his parents approached the sacred sanctuary, they noticed two dark figures standing in front of the door. Both wore dark brown monastic robes, with long hoods pulled down over their faces. Had either of Aiden's parents been able to read Latin, they may very well have turned and walked away, taking Aiden with them. Or, they may have run. But in their ignorance and desperation, the approached the two figures. One stood silently, holding a burlap bag filled with bread, fruit and cooked meat. Enough for several days. The other sat on a white mare. But unlike the first, he wore a sword. Its pommel bore a symbol Aiden's father had never seen. During his life as a merchant he had been to many places, met many people and seen their weapons. The weapon itself was similar in design to that of the Knights of the Teutonic Order, but the crest was different. Aiden's father was unable to get a closer look at it and swallowing nervously, he got down on one knee to the man holding a burlap sack, the man he assumed to be the Abbot. He motioned for his wife to do the same. A gravelly voice made itself known from under the monks long hood. "There is no need to kneel to us," the monk began. "Only to Him."
Aiden's father was hesitant with his response. Unable to see the monks face left him feeling more than a bit unnerved, but he collected himself enough to state the reason for their unannounced visit. "Kind monk," he began. "You are, no doubt, men of God. Please take pity on us. We are poor and England no longer gives anyone the smallest bit of mercy..." The monk gently interrupted him.
"We know why you have come to us," he said. "God has told us a young boy would be brought to our door. An only child. And now, you have delivered him to us. Thank you."
Aiden's father was stunned. However, he realized that, as men of God, they would possess a degree of divine knowledge, inaccessible to the ordinary individual. He took their knowledge to be nothing less than prophecy. The teachings of Christ were something he and his wife always tried to live by, but the idea of direct communion with the Almighty frightened him. After all, no one can know the mind of God.
The monk handed him the sack of food.
"We have anticipated your needs," he said.
Taking the sack, his father bowed slightly, noticing how cold the monk's hand was.
"Thank you," he said hesitantly.
Aiden's mother began crying as his father knelt in front of his son.
"These are men of God," he began.
He put a gentle grip on Aiden's shoulder. "They will care for you... and you will become strong. They will teach you all the things that I cannot."
He stood as his wife knelt down next to him.
"Aiden," she began. "You are becoming a man. Do you understand why we're doing this?"
Aiden nodded his head. His parents believed that if he should be angry with anyone, it should be them, not God. That it was they who made the decision to give him up, without first appealing to God.
"Aiden," she continued. "Please remember us. We didn't want it to come to this, but there was no other choice."
Aiden stepped forward and wrapped his small arms around his mother's neck. Some things cannot be conveyed in words.
His mother began sobbing as the monk reached out a hand. She put her arms around him, knowing that if she ever saw him again, it was likely that he would be unable to recognize her. His parents clung to each other in grief as Aiden took the monks hand. Although he was only six years old, he would, over a surprisingly short time, come to accept his new home. Albeit, without his parents. And holding the monk's icy hand, he stood, watching his mother and father slowly turn and walk back to the moors. The monk looked down at him with an expressionless face and as he turned back to the monastery's door, raised an index finger toward the monk on horseback.
The horse beat its hooves against the ground as the monk drew his sword. And with a face devoid of emotion, charged towards Aiden's parents. Aiden turned in wide-eyed horror, his hand still trapped in the Abbot's grip.
"Mama!" he screamed.
But, having already heard the horses hoof beats, his parents turned in shock as their eyes the light of the morning sun glimmering from the narrow, sharpened steel. His mother was the first as she fell to the ground, screaming in terror. Aiden's mind froze as he watched the monk's blade slice through the air, severing his mother's head. With such sharpened steel, it was unlikely that she felt even the slightest pain. Her head landed on the ground with a dull thud, her face turned up at the sky, her expression still bearing the terror of impending death while a tear rolled down the side of her head.
Within a matter of moments, she blinked her eyes as blood drained from her brain and out onto the cool morning earth. Her consciousness quivered and faded while the muscles in her face lost their expression, relaxing into peacefulness. Out of panic, Aiden's father continued running, having seen his wife struck down by what he believed to be a man of God. His mind raced as the robed horsemen quickly charged up behind him, with blood streaked sword held high. In an instant, the monk swung the newly bloodied steel down through the top of his head, deeply enough to sever the vessels in his throat. By the time his father's body struck the ground, Aiden's mind had turned black, blocking out an event too horrible for his young psyche to absorb. He may remember it later on in his life, but for now, it was safer for him to divorce himself from the senseless slaughter of his parents.
However, unbeknownst to Aiden, the murdering of his parents was carried out with the intent that he witness every detail. It was, by design, a demonstration of commitment. Once the decision had been made, Aiden's parents would not return for him and he would not escape back to them. Some things in life cannot be undone. But also by intent, this represented the first step of Aiden's transformation. He would learn the meaning of evil by witnessing it firsthand.