Chapter 19
With both sacks full, Aiden tied them together and threw them over his shoulder. At the last minute, he sacrificed just enough food to make room for his Bible as well as the rite of exorcism. His body required food, but so did his soul. On his way out, he grabbed anything he thought might help him survive. A candle, a blanket, a bowl. As he ran towards the door, Aiden felt the angry ghost of every monk who had ever lived there chasing after him, shrieking their rage into his mind. Throwing the door open, he was blinded by the bright early afternoon sun. Covering his face, Aiden cowered from its brilliance, until his sight faded back from the burning sheet of white that had instantly left him helpless.
As his sight returned, Aiden looked out over the moors. The faces of his parents crept into his consciousness as he, again, relived the witnessing of their deaths. The pain of that memory pushed him away from traveling that particular piece of countryside. Instead, Aiden skirted the monastery's north wall and headed west. He would walk to the river Aire and follow it north into the Penines, the central mountains of England. He would take shelter there and allow himself to regroup. He had spent a lifetime living someone else's lie. Now, it would take another lifetime to resolve it, to forge his own destiny.
Reaching the tree line, Aiden heard the rushing waters of the river. He took the opportunity to drink deeply from one of its many rapids, filling his wooden bowl several times. Rising to his feet, Aiden continued fording the river with the Penines emerging in the distance. But, as he rounded a small bend in the river, he was struck by the sight of a pale horse, drinking at the rocky bank. It was unbridled and there was no sign of its rider. He took a moment to listen intently as he quietly put a hand on the grip of his sword. He scanned the riverbank and surrounding woods, expecting the horse's owner to be nearby and searching the ground, found no discernible tracks, human or otherwise.
The horse cocked its ear as Aiden made a careful approach. She was beautiful, muscular and well kept. Her mane untrimmed and glowing in the mid-morning sun. But with no owner to account for her, Aiden's faith remolded her presence as an act of God, a gift given to him to aid him on his way. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he made a brief inspection of her muscular physique, looking for any signs of injury. While learning skills of a woodsman, Aiden had seen the occasional noblemen riding through the countryside. He knew nothing about caring for horses. However, he very clearly remembered what he'd seen. And for the moment, that was enough.
In the presence of a stranger, nearly any horse would display an obvious degree of tension. But oddly, this was not the case and Aiden was easily able to put the folded blanket on her back, grab her mane and throw himself up onto her back, his knees close to her shoulders. She reacted as though she'd been waiting for him and without prompting, turned to face the mountains and slowly proceeded upstream. Aiden found this as more evidence of God's generosity and benevolence. But, as he continued to follow the river to its headwaters, his mind began to wander back to the monastery. He'd spent so many years preparing for what he believed to be his sole purpose, only to see revealed as a malicious lie, carefully crafted with the intent of turning against his faith.