Chapter 24
Making his way out of Bootle, Aiden considered the blacksmith's offer to remain. Perhaps he would return, should God relieve him of his mission. But for now, he felt his obligation to continue. His horse's hooves thudded rhythmically against the slightly damp earth as the morning fog crept over the road. The sun would burn it off just as quickly as it arrived. Aiden had occasion seen the early morning mist over the Bramham moors. His mind often tricked him into seeing the strange shapes moving within its mysterious creeping turbulence. A warm night brought an even more haunting tone to the air, to a place already steeped in folklore, of stories told of magical creatures that bounded through the nocturnal moors and wicked things bent on snatching sleeping children from their beds. What made the misty moors even darker than the eye beheld was the imagination of storytellers in the power of the poet's pen. It mattered not that these wild things might later be discounted by the church when imagination gives them immortality.
Later that morning, Liverpool peeked up over the trees. Aiden knew little to nothing about what lay beyond the monastery, but he trusted his instincts and as he drew closer to the town, its size began to overwhelm him. Liverpool was a large, active town where crime was a daily occurrence and Aiden wanted nothing to do with the evils of people. Changing human nature was not his responsibility. Allowing himself to be navigated by his instincts, he wandered his way around Liverpool and toward the River Dee and the town of Chester. An old port town, Chester was the occasional departure point for ships bound for the New World. Once again, Aiden let himself be guided by instinct and left the town of Chester at his back.
Aiden slowly rode his horse down the center of the road that led to the small town of Rhyl, lying on the coast of the Irish Sea, just north of Wales. It was an unassuming, centuries-old settlement whose origin was known only by his eldest members. But at some point along the way, Aiden's horse began to hesitate. Its eyes widened. It's ears twitching, searching the air for something only it could hear. And although he didn't know much about horses, Aiden knew the look of fear when he saw it. Kicking slightly at its flanks, he prompted the horse forward, yet it refused to move. It backed up a few feet as Aiden's suspicions were triggered. His right hand instinctively found its way to the grip of his sword when he heard a voice speaking from behind.
"You might want to give that a second thought."
Not wanting to provoke an attack, Aiden released his grip and turning his head, saw three men on horseback. Each armed.
"I have food," he began. "It's yours if you want it."
A bit of food for his life seemed like a fair trade. He held out the sack of food as one of the men rode his horse up in front of him, blocking his way. He was dressed shabbily with shoulder length black hair, matted against his head by weeks of sweat and dirt. Out of habit, Aiden wore his hood up over his head. It seemed that the mark, burned into his forehead, made some uncomfortable. Perhaps fearful. "Yes, we will take your food and your horse," the man began. "But tell me, why does a monk carry a sword?"
He quickly decided that a silent response would be less revealing and might give him the element of surprise. Even for only a moment.
The man bent down, attempting to peer into Aiden's hood, and found there was not much to see, but his eyes.
"Do you have a name, monk?" he said. Aiden remained silent and continuing to avoid making even the smallest response, chose to become still. Sometimes, the body conveys what words do not. The men found Aiden's silence entertaining, believing the odds of a successful robbery to be in their favor. Continuing to search for Aiden's face, he let out a sarcastic chuckle.
"Does something ail you, monk?" he asked. "Cat got your tongue?"
He laughed again as one of the other men spoke up.
"I think he's been struck dumb!"
At these words, all three men began laughing at Aiden's expense.
"Tell me something," Aiden interrupted. "Does it usually require three men to overtake one lowly monk? I should think that even a common bandit would have more courage."
He knew that anger always impedes one's judgment and that a cool head usually prevails. The man's temper uncoiled itself as all three quickly closed in on him. At that moment, Aiden pulled his hood back, revealing the monastic brand on his forehead. If the stories were as widespread as he suspected, he might use it to create a moment of hesitation, thereby gaining an advantage. At the instant the mark was exposed, all three horses backed up, refusing to move forward. Regaining control of his horse, the man who confronted Aiden stared at him as if witnessing the dead rising from their moldy tombs.
"Does something ail you, sir?" he asked. "Cat got your tongue?"
The man attempted to bury his sudden fear with the anger of having been insulted and the determination to beat Aiden in what had become a battle of wills against wits.
"So, the stories are true," he said. "But, you don't look a ghost. And if I were a betting man, I'd say that you bleed like anyone else."
Now, he spoke with a mix of sarcasm and comedic harassment, meant to push Aiden into a state of anger. But, Aiden was insistent on maintaining his self-control and would not let himself be affected by the man's taunting.
"I have heard your people are master swordsmen," the man said.
Aiden displayed an indifferent attitude, so as to provide a neutral response. Often, it is not what we say, but how we say it that reveals our intentions.
"I have heard no such stories," Aiden replied.
The man chuckled slightly in bravado.
"I tell you what, monk," he began. "How about a wager?"
He dismounted from his horse and stood in the middle of the road. "A fair match. Steel against steel. Wit against wit. If I win, I take your food, your horse...and your life."
Aiden took a deep breath, grinning slightly as his confidence began to surface.
"The only thing I do battle with is the devil," he replied. "And you seem neither evil nor intelligent enough to be of any grave threat."
The man became infuriated, having been insulted a second time. And drawing his sword, charged at Aiden screaming like a man gone mad.
No counterattack could have been launched with better timing as Aiden brought his foot up, planting his heel into the middle of the man's face. He fell to the ground as blood gushed from his nose. Aiden calmly dismounted from his horse and drew his sword.
"My Abbot told me once I should only use my blade to banish evil and to defend my life," he began. "And since I'm outnumbered, one might believe that my life is in danger. So, I will forgo your wager in the interest of prolonging my life." Wiping the blood from his face, the man got to his feet as his fellow criminals quickly dismounted and reached for their swords.
"No!" the man yelled.
He pointed his sword at them, reinforcing his order that they not interfere.
"Alright monk," he continued. "God may have saved your soul, but He will not save your life."
With these words, the man raised his sword over his head and charged towards Aiden. Aiden executed his defense with flawless precision, deflecting the man's sword with an effortless sweeping parry. The man fell forward with the momentum of his attack as Aiden stepped past his shoulder. Exercising patience and forethought, Aiden's mind quickly calculated every possible attack as he waited for the man to turn back towards him. As predictable as the seasons, the man turned around and swung his blade towards Aiden's throat. His temper and pride had already cost him his self-control and would soon cost him far more. Aiden lowered his sword and backed away from the man's wild swing. "Raise your blade, monk!" the man yelled.
Swinging his sword again, he drew back and thrust it out at Aiden's stomach. Aiden stepped right as he parried the man's sword to the left, his feet moving in an effortless dance, barely touching the ground. The man had already begun to approach exhaustion as Aiden purposefully circled back around to the left, where he could see the other two, still standing near their horses, their hands wrapped around the grip of their swords. He fully expected them to jump in at any moment in an attempt to stack the odds in their favor.
Having swept the man's sword away, Aiden circled his own sword up and around his head. Swinging it back down, he brought it to rest against the man's neck. He moved in closer as the man's face froze in fear.
"Are you certain you wish to pursue this?" he asked.
Aiden was, in every sense, unaffected by the fight, while the highwayman's face ran with thin streams of sweat. Feeling the cold steel of Aiden's blade against his neck, he called out in a panic to his fellow robbers.
"Kill him!" he yelled.
Bringing their swords out, they attacked immediately. The thrust of Aiden's blade was timed to perfection as he plunged it deeply into the stomach of the man leading the attack. And withdrawing just as quickly, swung back, parry the oncoming blade of the man who first challenged him. Stepping to his left, he managed to momentarily avoid the remaining attacker, while bringing his sword down and severing their leader's leg, just above the knee. The wound bled heavily as the man fell to the ground. He screamed in pain and in fear for his life while wrapping his hands around the exposed flesh and bone of his dismembered leg. The remaining bandit approached with caution. Having witnessed the fate of his friends, he moved with obvious hesitation.
"I'm sorry to say, your friends are dying," Aiden began. "But, they made their choice. Will yours be similar?"
The man circled around to the right and briefly examined the bodies of his now deceased associates. Most people know death on sight. The pale yellow skin; the empty, staring eyes. Fearing their mortality, most people's curiosity usually stops at the lifeless expression of the dead.
Both men lay in a pool of blood, their consciousness faded into the depths of oblivion. Seeing the life having poured itself out of their bodies, the remaining man flew into a rage, raised his blade and started a screaming charge. Perhaps he felt the need to avenge his dead companions, or maybe he acted out of blind anger. But, when someone raises a weapon and runs straight toward you, their motivation for doing so quickly becomes irrelevant. The man pointed his sword directly at Aiden's chest, but as he stepped into striking distance, Aiden ducked and aimed his blade up, allowing himself to escape injury, while his attacker ran onto his broad, cold steel. The resulting wound was deep and bloody. Certainly, such a deep penetrating wound would leave organs and vessels badly breached. But, none of that mattered. Dead is dead.
The man's skin paled, even before he struck the ground and tumbling over, his consciousness began to fade as his hand released the grip of his sword. Aiden stood at the center of what had been a short-lived fight. The ground had become saturated with blood, well the bodies of the three highwaymen lay in the middle of the road. It was the first time Aiden had killed in defense of his life, outside the monastery. He glanced up and down the road. It wasn't that he felt guilty. He certainly could not do God's work if he allowed himself to die. Some would understand this, but Aiden feared there were many who was not with three men dead at the hands of a holy man. He sent their horses in different directions and pulled the bodies into the woods. However, any other man would have made quick work of searching through their pockets, taking whatever was believed to hold even the slightest value. But, in spite of his actions, Aiden could not justify robbing the dead. Although their bodies were now devoid of life, he strongly believed that all things, including the dead, deserved some measure of dignity.
As Aiden was returning to the road, he noticed a light sprinkle in the air. This would help scatter the blood that had not yet settled into the earth. The rain only fell harder as Aiden mounted his horse and again, continued down the road. Hopefully, it would be quite some time until the bodies of the robbers were found, and Aiden would put as much distance as possible between them and him. But in order to avoid detection, he decided to travel north, towards Scotland.