Akiniwazisaga: Brother Finn Arrives
Chapter 2 from A Light Rises in a Dark World by MD Boncher
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The yellow-leafed end of September came too soon. Once vibrant fields of crops were now swaths of ash speckled with low weeds. Farmholders scrounged through the remains for any plant that might have survived. Every bean or kernel of corn they could find was put aside for next year. If they could survive till spring, it might be enough to start again.
Reimar played catch with Katrin after supper. Their mother watched while filling her drying racks with sliced apples. His little sister made another terrible throw forcing him to chase after it. As the boy picked up the felt ball he saw a man coming toward the gate.
"Mum, who is that?" Reimar asked looking down the north road. Anette looked and saw a man racing to beat the setting sun. He used a long harpoon as a walking stick. Gray, deep blue and white robes swished with his rapid pace. Beside him, a giant mastiff thumped along in a loping jog.
"Looks like a Havarian. Very odd."
"What is a Havarian, Mum?" Reimar asked as he watched.
"It is one of the sects of the Kyrkja. A monk or friar from the looks of it."
"Why is he coming here? Are we going to have mass again?" Reimar smiled at the thought.
"We will see." She smiled at Reimar then turned her attention across a small field to her husband. He was talking to other men by the nearly empty deer poles.
"Anton!" she hollered. "Stranger a-coming!"
Hearing her call, the farmhold emerged from their homes to see the monk and his dog.
Anette wiped off her hands and joined the others. The watchman ran to his position above the gate.
"Peace be with you. Who are you?" the watchman challenged, bow at hand but without an arrow nocked.
"I am Brother Finn of the Havarian Order. The Kyrkja sent me to aid you. This is my companion, Bergamot," he said gesturing to the massive canine that stood at his heel.
"Come in peace, Brother Finn. Welcome to Aattaettirstrond."
Anton joined the gathering farmholders who were busy discussing the stranger at their northern gate.
"Praise God," Per said. "They finally answered us."
"I told you to have faith. The Anjars always help."
"Then why a Havarian?"
"I do not know. Maybe he was all that could come."
"Look at that animal! Uffda! That thing is bigger than me!"
A priest, regardless of sect, was always a welcome sight in the farmhold, but a Havarian was a new experience. No one could recall if anything other than Anjar healers or Ankarite evangelists had ever come before.
By now the children had rushed to the gate to meet the huge dog. The children made low sounds of amazement. She stood more than three feet tall at the shoulders. Her steel blue coat was short and shiny. The animal had a long slim tail, floppy ears, and droopy jowls slicked in thick drool. She panted heavily and waited on her master.
"Bergamot, sitt," the monk commanded, and the massive canine clumsily slouched to her haunches. He scratched her head and her tail started thumping.
Brother Finn’s imprisonment was still fresh enough to make this time of freedom a foreign sensation. He blinked rapidly and looked at Bergamot's small crowd with a strained bittersweet smile. It has been years, he thought, years away from children and families. Years tucked away in Havarian estates or Hird courts. How alien this part of life had become. When was the last time I baptized a child? Brother Finn wondered. He was sure he had, but the memory was gone. His time cloistered away had made encountering innocent children a shocking experience.
"She is a pretty dog, Father," a small boy admired, breaking the priest’s reverie.
"Her name is Bergamot. She is a Havarian mastiff. Very well trained,” then cooing toward the canine, “and knows how beautiful she is too," he added.
The children giggled.
Looking up at the small crowd, Brother Finn declared. "Bless all who live in this place!"
Old Man Kort came forward holding out his hand in greeting.
"Bless all those who come in peace," Herr Kort said. Brother Finn took the hand with a smile. "I see you beat the sun by a few minutes."
"It was not a sure thing a ways back," Brother Finn admitted. "I had to stop and take caution around the hour of Second Nonae. There was something shuffling about in the pinery between here and the station."
"You walked all the way from The Chuffing Pony?"
"Jah. A good day for it. I had no transport. The train arrived early so I decided that it was time to stretch my legs. I am sure that my muscles will feel it in the morning, but that is a blessing as well."
"Can we serve you in some way, Father? Doubt you ate on the road. We will fix you up, greithr, " Anette said, giving him a horn of switchel.
"Brother, actually. I am just a monk." He accepted the drink gratefully.
"Forgive me," she apologized.
"It is quite all right. Many years have passed since I was a friar going from place to place each week seeing to the needs of my flocks. My feet do not miss it, but my mind does." That got a chuckle out of the crowd which had turned out to greet this man of God.
"Well!" said Kort with a clap of his hands. "We should not stand about gawping. We all got chores to finish and light is failing fast. I am guessing you want to know where you are bedding for the night."
"Jah, please," Brother Finn agreed.
"You can stay with Herr Vils and his family. They got some comfy bedding for you, and Frue Kirsten makes a fine breakfast."
"I look forward to it."
There was much whining and complaining as mothers started herding the younger children toward their homes while the older ones hurried to finish their work. As he obeyed, Reimar dragged his feet. He could not help but stare at Brother Finn’s haunted eyes. Anette took Reimar’s hand and hustled him inside their longhouse with a firm tug.
"Mum, why is Brother Finn here?" Reimar asked once inside.
"Do not worry about that, Honeycomb," she said. "The sun is gone to bed, and that means you must, too." Reimar frowned at his mother. Her voice had gone raspy. Why would there be something wrong? They were going to have mass in the morning and then back to all their work. That meant more apple picking he thought sourly.
Reimar climbed the ladder to the low loft where Katrin and Erik also slept. He took off his clothes and grabbed the nightshirt from his basket. His mother and father slept next to the hearth with his eldest brother, Bjorn.
Below, his father came in dragging his fingernails underneath the loft’s planks, tapping the wood in his usual good-night ritual. Reimar, Katrin and Erik scooted to the edge of the loft and stuck their heads over.
"Ha hah!" Anton said playfully and stood up on his tiptoes to give each of them a kiss goodnight, saving the noisiest one for Katrin. She giggled the unique sound of a little girl amused by her father.
"Papa-" Erik began to ask.
"No," Anton refused. His voice brooked no compromise. "This is not for you."
"But how-" his mouth hung open, eyes wide.
"Because I am your father, and I know the minds of curious boys. Tomorrow you will know more. I promise. Be patient till then. For now, you just have to sleep. That should not be so hard."
"But I am thirteen!”
“This winter, not now,” his mother reminded, moving baskets of Bjorn’s feathers and arrowheads off their bed.
“I am old enough to be a man and should be part of these things," Erik protested weakly.
"Not this, Erik.” Anton was firm. “Do not vex me."
“Jah, Papa," he obeyed. In a sulk, he rolled backwards and climbed under the blankets.
Reimar and Katrin joined him on the clover tick mattress. Anette took the cauldron off the fire and banked the coals for night.
"Anton, they are waiting."
"Jah. Jah," Anton said, looking around as if he had forgotten something, unable to remember what it was. He drew in a big breath and let out a low whistling sigh.
Bjorn came in after saying good night to their neighbors.
"Stay here," Anton ordered Bjorn, hooking a thumb up toward the loft where the three younger children pretended to sleep.
"Greithr, Father," Bjorn said with a disappointed sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed. He picked up his baskets and began fletching more arrows.
“Get off the bed with that,” Anette said. I do not want to be itching because you got wood shavings between my blankets.”
“Jah, Mother,” Bjorn said and moved to a chair.
Anton and Anette walked out. Once alone, Bjorn began to grumble his well-worn litany of gripes about living under their roof again.
Not long after, Erik began picking at the moss stuffed between the wall planks, trying to find a way to see what was happening in the courtyard and perhaps hear the adults talking. Reimar and Katrin watched as Erik pulled the last plug out revealing the courtyard beyond.
In the vacant quarter a large bonfire had been built. All the farmhold’s family heads were there with their wives, but none of the children. Erik strained to hear as the other two fumbled close to try and peek out as well.
"Oj," Bjorn's voice came from behind. All three jerked back and saw their elder brother glaring at them.
"If I cannot be a part of the Thing, you are not peeping in either, little voles," he said with all the menace of a big brother.
"Awww," Erik whined, while Reimar and Katrin dared not make a sound.
"Haensafretrs! You think I will let you talk back to me? Now plug that up or I will find something more painful to plug it with! Sipill!"
Erik put the moss packing back in a hurry.
"Do not forget. I am watching you," Bjorn threatened again, pointing at Erik with an unfinished arrow before jumping off the ladder and dropping the few feet to the floor. No longer able to satisfy their curiosity, the three hid under the blankets together. They whispered for a while, then one by one drifted off to sleep.
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Next week: “Determining the Cost”!