The city-state of Tarraconesis was visible from a long distance away.
Hubert suspected they would not reach it for several hours yet. The Cassaline road was leading them down into a valley, alongside a large river Hubert well remembered. Rio Rojo, they call it in Spatalian, he recalled. The Red River. I wonder why?
There was undoubtedly an old legend to account for the name. It looked to Hubert like any other large river might: blue-gray in the morning light, with trees flanking it on both sides, and occasional small vessels bobbing on its surface.
Further ahead along the valley, Tarraconesis waited. It was an old city, once a major hub during the height of the Cassaline Empire. Reddish-brown stone walls rose high, and even from miles off Hubert saw the sprawl of buildings that spilled out beyond them. Like most great cities, Hubert knew that much of the great architecture within the city had begun falling to ruin.
It was deeply sad, when one thought about how much knowledge had been lost. Hubert doubted there were very many within Tarraconesis—or any Spatalian city-state—that had the skill to build something to equal the best of the old Empire. He could take some comfort that the Cassaline stonemasons of old knew their craft well, and their achievements would likely stand for centuries to come.
Still, what an experience it would be to see such things again, he thought.
An idle thought. Hubert had enjoyed many opportunities for learning, studying at some of the world’s last remaining vaults of knowledge. And even he was not nearly skilled enough to do such a thing. He’d only met a few that might, and he doubted any of them would be traveling to Tarraconesis anytime soon.
“Brother Hubert?”
Camilla again. Hubert felt a smile come to his lips. He was mindful to look down the road first, assessing any possible points of ambush. It looked clear enough, for a while. There were some breaks in visibility once the road grew closer to the Red River, but it would be some time before they got there.
He let himself turn his attention towards the cart. Camilla was watching him, as she tended to do. Maria was staring out at the river.
“Yes, dear?” he asked.
“May I ask you a question?” she asked. She looked so utterly sincere he could not bring himself to make a jest of the contradictory nature of asking such a thing.
“Of course,” he said. The moment the words left his lips, however, his throat went dry. She’s going to ask again. “Maybe when the journey is over,” you said. She didn’t forget, like you hoped she would. She is not so flighty and fanciful as you first thought.
“I suppose it’s more than one question,” Camilla said hesitantly. “I mean—the first question is simple, but I think it will lead to more.”
Hubert sighed. “Ah,” he said. “You wish to know of my own monastery, then.”
Camilla nodded. “You said—”
“Yes, I remember,” Hubert cut in. “As a boy, I was sent to Arioch’s Monastery. You have not heard of it, of course.”
“It is in Torathia?”
Hubert nodded. “Northeastern Torathia, yes. Technically, it lies within the bounds of a Torathi kingdom called Acton. Close to the Barrier Mountains.”
Camilla listened intently, but he knew his geographical cues meant little to her. Hubert had taken her on the longest journey of her life: from a farm on the outskirts of the Spatalian city-sate of Saluzzo to Tarraconesis. A journey of several days at a leisurely walking pace. She knew nothing of a Middish kingdom thousands of miles away.
“That is where you took your vows?” She asked. “Arioch’s Monastery?”
It would be easy to lie, Hubert told himself. You do it often enough. You lied to them and their families, when you met them.
It did not sit well with him. Not after what they had shared. And not with Camilla still considering the life of a nun.
“No,” he said.
“Then where?” Camilla asked.
Hubert tried to smile, but felt it probably looked more a grimace. “Nowhere, my dear,” he said.
Camilla’s expression of intent curiosity did not change. Beside her, Hubert heard Maria snort.
“Told you,” she muttered.
“Hush,” Camilla said. She looked back at Hubert. “So… you are not a monk, then? What we’ve been doing these nights—it is not a violation of your vows?”
Hubert laughed. “No, my dear, I have taken no vow of celibacy. I have not sworn a monk’s vows to Torath.”
“Then I suppose—that’s good,” Camilla said. She frowned. “Good that you have not broken your vows. But… you act as a monk.”
“And why didn’t you?” Maria asked. She finally turned to look at Hubert. “You were at a monastery. Why didn’t you swear a monk’s vows?”
Hubert sighed. “Life at Arioch’s was… unpleasant. The monks… did not treat me well. They broke many vows in the acts they demanded I perform. I was just a boy, not wise in the ways of the world, but even so I knew that what happened there was very wrong. When I mustered the courage, I fled."
The women both seemed disturbed by that. Hubert felt uncomfortable about the whole situation. He had long since moved past the abuses he had suffered as a boy, but talking about them inevitably led to this sort of reaction. Nervousness, helpless concern, pity.
“I’m sorry,” Camilla said.
“Thank you, my dear, but it’s not necessary. What happened, happened.”
“And you never returned? Not to that place, but… to some other monastery?” Camilla asked.
“I’ve visited monasteries, but not in the way you mean, no,” Hubert said. “I traveled the world for decades, with as many jobs as years I spent on the road. Beggar, thief, minstrel, soldier. And, of course, monk.”
“Why? Forgive me for asking, but I must,” Maria said. “Why wear a monk’s robes? If that had happened to me—” She frowned, and Hubert saw fire in her eyes. “I would be so angry. I wouldn’t want to even pretend to be a monk. I’d rather be a—a thief!”
“Ah,” Hubert said. “Angry. So I was, Maria.” He sighed. “For many long years. But time and experience can temper such things, if you allow them to. Now I save my anger for the living injustices I encounter, not old wrongs and dead men.”
“That still doesn’t explain why—”
“Why I travel as a monk?” Hubert laughed. “Oh, that’s simple. Because it’s easy, my dear. Torathi monks are welcome nearly everywhere. Given hospitality in every kingdom and fief in the Midlands and Lorraine, in every city-state in Spatalia, and even throughout most of Cassala. I can travel unmolested most of the time, meet new folk, find good food and company.”
Maria seemed to understand, but Camilla looked much more perturbed than before. “But… you’re lying. That hospitality you speak of—it isn’t meant for you. It—”
“You’re not wrong, Camilla,” Hubert said. “It’s certainly a lie of omission. But I don’t usually need to lie directly. When I visited your farm, I never quite told your kinfolk that I was a Torathi monk. They assumed I was, and I did not correct them.”
Camilla did not soften at the technicality. “That doesn’t matter. You still tricked them. Tricked us. You quoted holy books, gave blessings before dinner. You spoke of Torath so much, to us on the road. And of the vows a monk or nun must take! You—”
“I quoted the scriptures accurately,” Hubert said. “And the blessings too. I am quite familiar with the Torathi faith, its precepts, and the vows its adherents and ascetics must take. None of that was a lie, my dear, I assure you.”
“It makes sense,” Maria interjected, more to Camilla than to Hubert. “You should be happy, Camilla. You were worried about him breaking his vows with us. And so concerned, that such a wise monk seemed to be discouraging us from joining the nunnery. But he didn’t break any vows with us, because he never took them. And he was discouraging us from the nunnery, because the nunnery is full of—”
“Now, now,” Hubert said. “I know very little of the nunnery at Tarraconesis. It could be that the clergy there are good and just and kind. I have known many believers in Torath that were all of those things. They aren’t all like the monks at Arioch’s. Not at all.”
Camilla looked at him sharply, and Hubert instantly realized what phrase had caught her attention.
“Believers in Torath,” she repeated. “They. Brother—Hubert. Do you—do you not even believe in God?”
Hubert grimaced. He rubbed at his chin. “I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said. “I believe there is great wisdom in the holy books. The world is strange, and full of mysteries. It would not surprise me if gods were real, in some fashion.”
“Gods,” Camilla said. “Not just God. You speak of other gods. The heathen gods of old Cassala?”
“Many peoples have had their faiths before word of Torath spread across the world,” Hubert said carefully. “The Cassaline pantheon was once worshiped nearly as far and wide as Torath. The people of Al Hassad name Torath a devil and venerate Malhaan, called the Creator. Much of the Ruskan and Kriegar peoples still honor their ancient gods and ancestors.
“Many people across many lands followed their own strange cults. Worshipping ancient mysterious creatures such as the Black Frog or the Sky Father. Some worshiped life itself, honoring it by seeking out new experiences and pleasures each day. Across time there have been nearly as many gods as there are stars in the sky.”
“And you believe in all of them?” Camilla looked dumbfounded.
“Not exactly,” Hubert said. “More that I simply—do not know. Perhaps there is one god, Torath, as his priests say. Perhaps not. Either way, that wouldn’t change the wisdom in Torath’s holy books. That wouldn’t change the kindness and charity many monks and priests perform each day. Those are things in which I believe.”
“Is this why you—” Camilla paused. She looked, not just confused, but truly hurt. Hubert felt his stomach twist and his heart grow heavy.
This is exactly what you wished to avoid.
She stared at him with an uncomfortable intensity. “Is this why you’ve—you’ve done these things with us? Not just the—the debauchery. You’ve asked so many difficult questions. Challenged us at every turn. You convinced Maria not to take the vows! Are you—” She hesitated. “Are you a devil?”
Maria looked angry, now, and she opened her mouth to reply. Hubert spoke before she could formulate her own response.
“Camilla,” he said calmly. “My intention has never been to turn either of you away from Torath. I did not set out to challenge you, or ask you difficult questions. I only set out to ask you interesting questions. It has been a long journey on the road, and it would have been dreadfully boring if we traveled it in silence. You are both very intelligent young women, and it has been my great pleasure to converse with you. I hope you believe that.”
Camilla took a few deep breaths. “Yes,” she said eventually. “I—I do. Perhaps I spoke unfairly.”
“Definitely,” Maria snapped.
“And as far as our nights together, I think you do all three of us a disservice with such an uncouth word as debauchery,” Hubert added. I should know, I’ve enjoyed more than my share of true debauchery. “The holy scriptures are clear enough on this topic. Acts of love and intimacy are not inherently debauched. Do you truly see them that way?”
“Yes, Camilla. Do you?” Maria spoke in a more pointed tone, leveling an accusation with her question.
Camilla sighed. “No,” she said quietly. “They did not feel wrong. Not—not until now.”
“Perhaps that is worth contemplating further,” Hubert said. “As Maria pointed out—I am not a monk. If anything, you should look on our experiences with an even clearer conscience, knowing you were not contributing to a monk violating his vows.”
“But you lied.”
Hubert nodded. “I allowed you to believe things about me that were false, yes. I won’t split hairs and pretend that’s not a lie of sorts. But in all our conversations I have always strove to speak with you with honesty. There is a reason you asked me about my own experiences in the monastery today, no?”
Camilla bit her lip, then nodded. “You told me you would rather speak to us about our expectations of the nunnery. You told me to ask you about it when our travels together were nearly over. I realize now that was because you didn’t want to tell us the truth.”
“And because I did not want to lie to you,” Hubert added.
“Thank you,” Maria said, even as Camilla considered his words in silence. “You have opened my eyes, Hubert. To so many things. I will not join the nunnery, but I do believe in God, and I will thank Him to my dying day for sending you to us. You saved my life.”
Hubert felt himself smile, and he felt some of the lead weight in his chest lighten.
“I’m sorry,” Camilla said softly. “I spoke in anger.”
“You’re already forgiven, my dear,” Hubert said. He stepped closer to the cart and reached towards her. She held out a hand, and he clasped it in his own. “I am sorry that I misled you, and doubly so that you were hurt by it.”
He felt her squeeze one of his hands, and she smiled at him. It was still a wan smile, nothing like most of the ones she’d had for him these past few days. But he doubted he would see one of those again. She seemed to accept him, but he doubted she would trust him again. Certainly not before they reached Tarraconesis, and parted ways.
He let go, and nudged Wilberforce back to a gentle trot. Maria hopped down off the cart and walked the road for a time. Camilla sat, and stared at the city on the horizon.
That went about as well as could be expected, he thought.
He traveled the next few hours in silence.
Tarraconesis was even more impressive up close.
The walls were high and sturdy, the streets crowded with vibrant markets and performers. The women had climbed back into the cart, and Hubert held tight to Wilberforce’s lead as they made their way through the crowds.
This city is more populated than most, Hubert noticed. He had passed through many Spatalian city-states, and few had been quite so crowded or lively as Tarraconesis seemed to be. Is this normal, or is there something going on that’s drawn more traffic?
Hubert kept his left hand tucked in close to his body, to prepare for pickpockets. He warded off at least one set of probing hands when he pushed his way through a particularly thick crowd. Eventually they had passed the thickets of the crowds and made their way onto a broad street with enough room for the cart to move more easily.
Hubert paused and flagged down a local-looking passerby, asking after the abbey. The directions were easy enough, and soon they rounded a corner and the building came into view.
Compared to some of the large abbeys and cathedrals in Torathia, it was a small complex. But, simple though it might be, it was still a beautiful bit of architecture. An iron fence surrounding well kept ground, a church of pale stone and stained glass, and dormitories built of red clay and polished wood.
Hubert stopped Wilberforce outside the fence. Maria was staring at the complex, her face impassive. Camilla, however, was watching Hubert.
“This is it,” Hubert said. “If you wish to stay here, now is the time. I can escort you in, if you like. Or… not, if you’d prefer that.”
Maria didn’t move. Camilla, however, hugged Maria and then climbed out of the cart. The moment her feet touched the cobblestone street, she threw her arms around Hubert and pulled him into a tight embrace. Her lips found his, and she kissed him with as much passion as she ever had in any of their nightly dalliances.
“Maria is right,” she whispered fiercely when the kiss had ended. “I was angry, but—she’s right. I had no idea what I was doing when we left the farm. Only that I didn’t want to marry any of the boys around the farm, and mama said that meant I should join a convent. Without you… I would have come here knowing nothing. I would have been tempted by this city. I would have strayed, I know it.”
Hubert smiled. He almost said nothing, almost let himself just enjoy the moment. But he couldn’t help it. He had to poke and prod and question.
“And you’re sure you won’t now?” he asked. “You’re sure you’ll follow your vows?”
“No!” Camilla said, laughing. “But I’m sure I would like to try. Thank you, Brother Hubert. I would be grateful if you could escort me inside.”
“Of course. Maria, you’ll be alright here for a bit?”
She nodded. She patted a blanket beside her, and Hubert heard the dull thud of the crossbow hidden beneath it. “I can discourage anyone if they give me trouble.”
That would do. Hubert opened the gate and led Camilla inside. They passed a few nuns doing some gardening in the grounds, and Hubert asked them who ran the place. One of them, a young woman, only blushed and stared.
They saw Camilla kiss me through the fence, Hubert realized. Or at least embrace me closely. Shit.
The other nun was much older. She had a wrinkled countenance, and she silenced her sister with a withering look. The look she gave Hubert and Camilla was surprisingly kind, however.
“Father Seville should be through those doors,” she said. “Likely working on his next sermon. He is the abbot, and priest of our church.”
“Thank you, sister,” Hubert said.
The old nun just nodded, and resumed her gardening.
They found Seville just where the nun had said. He was in a small vestry, pacing back and forth muttering to himself. When he spotted them, he jumped.
“Who are you!” he demanded angrily.
Not a great start. Hubert forced himself to grin. “I am Brother Hubert,” he said.
“Middish?” Seville said. “What are you doing here? Who is she?”
“I am a wandering servant of God,” Hubert said. “Ministering to all the distant folk across the wide world, lambs without so much as a chapel in which to feel Torath’s grace.”
“And the girl?” Seville asked. He still wore a guarded expression, as if he did not trust Hubert. Perhaps he was a wise man. Or perhaps he just didn’t like Middish.
“This is one such lamb. Camilla, from a farmstead in Saluzzo.”
“She has come to join the convent?” Seville asked. He looked Camilla up and down with a critical eye.
“I have,” she said.
“And Brother Humberto has told you what it means, to take solemn vows?”
“He has.”
Father Seville looked askance at Hubert, then back to Camilla. “Have you any letters?”
“No, Father.”
Seville nodded. “All to the good. Too much reading can damage a woman’s brain, and upset her humors. I read aloud from the scriptures each night, the passages that will serve you well. You are a good listener, I hope?”
Camilla nodded.
“And a diligent worker?”
“I grew up on a farm, Father,” Camilla reminded him.
Seville narrowed his eyes. “That is not what I asked. I will not tolerate clever talk, girl.”
“I am a diligent worker, yes,” Camilla said.
Seville asked a few more questions, and Camilla gave him the answers he desired. Hubert maintained a forced smile through gritted teeth, and held his tongue. Finally, the abbot nodded and waved his hand dismissively. “Good. Go find Nun Guillou, she will get you settled in. Brother, you will spend the night in the dormitories and be gone tomorrow.”
“Ah, thank you, but no,” Hubert said. He unclenched the fists he had hidden in his robes. “I have other business to tend to. Thank you for the offer, Father Seville.”
Seville looked surprised—he was clearly not a man used to being contradicted, even in something so simple. But Hubert didn’t wait for a reply. He and Camilla turned and left the vestry without another word.
Outside, Hubert pulled Camilla off the footpath and behind a hedge. “Camilla,” he said. “Please tell me you’ve reconsidered. That man—”
“He’s an oaf,” Camilla said immediately.
Hubert heaved a sigh of relief. Camilla had handled herself so well he had almost believed her subservience himself.
“Let’s go,” Hubert said. “I’ll find a place for you and Maria both. We—”
“No,” Camilla said. “I’m staying.”
Hubert didn’t try to hide the incredulousness he felt. He stared at her, open-mouthed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” she insisted. “I wish to try. Perhaps this foolish man is a test. Perhaps he is just… something that must be endured. God still speaks to me in my heart, Hubert. He wants me here. I must try. Don’t worry for me, please. If I truly can’t bear it, I won’t… but I must try.”
Hubert sighed. “Alright, my dear. If you’re sure this is the right decision.”
“I’m not sure!” Camilla said, laughing. “But I’m sure I must find out for myself. Is that foolish?”
“No,” Hubert said. “Not at all, my dear. Not at all. Let’s go find this Nun Guillou, then.”
They stepped out from behind the hedge, and Hubert froze. The wrinkled old nun had made her way further down the grounds, and she was trimming quite close to the very hedge they had just hidden behind.
She looked up at them. “Hello,” she said. “Camilla, is it?”
Hubert’s heart sank. He’d only used her name at the start of the conversation. Which meant this woman had heard… everything.
“Yes,” Camilla said.
“My name is Guillou,” the old nun said. “I take care of the sisters here. I will do my best to take care of you, too.”
Camilla smiled. “Oh,” she said. “Yes, Father Seville told me to find you.”
“Go on through those doors there,” Guillou pointed. “Wait for me a moment. I’ll be along shortly. I just wish to say goodbye to our brother, here.”
Camilla nodded. She glanced back at Hubert, hesitated, then gave him one last tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.
Then she was gone.
Hubert glanced at Guillou. The old woman just smiled at him. “You are worried about her,” she said.
“I have known men like your Father Seville,” Hubert said in reply. So of course I’m worried about her.
“Seville spends most of his time practicing sermons, and shouting them. From the pulpit, or in the street. His latest concern is witches, and he is certain they lie around every corner of the city.”
“So he doesn’t run the abbey,” Hubert said.
“He is the abbot,” Guillou replied. “But he is also a busy man. He is wise enough to delegate many tasks to us sisters.”
“Camilla believes this is her calling. If it isn’t…”
“I have helped more than one sister transition into normal life,” Guillou said. “I have many friends in the city, and help with their works of charity. She will not be turned out on her ear with nothing. I promise you that.”
Hubert nodded. The relief he felt was palpable. “Thank you.”
“No thanks are needed, Brother. It is my duty, and honor, to serve my sisters.”
There was nothing else to say. He offered her a hand to shake, and she embraced him instead. He made his way back to Maria quietly. She was still waiting in the cart.
“Everything go alright?” She asked.
Hubert nodded. “Not everything. But—yes. I think she will be in good hands, here.”
Maria smiled. “Well then. Where to now?”
Hubert grinned back at her. “Now? I came to this city to fulfill a promise, my dear. You’re with me until I get you settled, so that means you’re coming along. I don’t know this city, so we’ll be needing directions.”
“What sort of promise?” Maria asked.
Hubert’s grin only widened as he took Wilberforce’s lead in hand.
“A promise to two very dear friends of mine,” he said. “That we would see each other again.”