Chapter 26
He spent that night camped near the banks of the River Don, roughly twenty miles from Sheffield. Aiden assumed he was being pursued, it also believed that no one could cover that distance on foot in a single night. But, escape was not the foremost thing on his mind. So much had happened in such a brief time that Aiden's thoughts had become deeply clouded. The boy's untimely death was an accident. There was no doubting that. But, knowing the facts did nothing to ease his conscience and Aiden quickly became wracked with guilt. He wondered why he didn't see it coming. A lifetime of training its sharpened his senses to a fault and yet, when it truly mattered, the divine light within him had gone dark.
He sat in front of the fire somewhere behind the tree line, his sword planted in the soft earth. The blood of the young boy still covered its cold surface and left unwashed, dried in a heavy brown build-up. Sleep had become elusive and Aiden had no desire for food. He spent most of the night alternating between tears of deep regret and anger. Aiden accepted the responsibility of his actions, but also blamed God, believing that he should have been provided with some indication of the boy's presence. Even a feeling would have been enough. Perhaps, God was testing him. But at the cost of the child's life, Aiden could not begin to reason what it was God intended. Certainly, even God would have nothing to gain by the death of a child. However, by morning, Aiden's head cleared and he had come to a firm conclusion. Aiden believed that God has abandoned him and given the death toll at Sheffield, he decided that the cost of fighting evil had already become too high, that no gift, divine or otherwise, should carry the price of innocent lives. He decided that he would continue his fight, not through his commitment to God, but on his own terms. He saw no more reason to fight for God when He, for some reason, failed to be at his side. Before he left, Aiden cast both his Bible and the rite of exorcism into the fire. Staring into the flames, he watched as the pages went up in smoke, his faith departing with them.
With their covers all but gone, Aiden kicked the fire out and burying the last glowing embers, packed his remaining food, mounted his horse and continued up the River Don. By mid-morning, he approached the town of Doncaster. During his time in the monastery, no mention was ever made regarding where he had come from. Twenty-five years later, the sight of Doncaster left him with a familiar feeling he was unable to define. He was not, however, curious enough to investigate and continued on his way. After making such a violent exit from the monastery, Aiden had effectively become a man without a home.