Chapter 4: Bear in Woodbend
Bear walked up to the side of the building and kicked it. He turned and walked away, his St. Shanu’s Day duty complete.
“Is that how you serve your St. Shanus’ Day Duty?” a man asked from behind him. Bear turned and looked. He was not in the mood for a lecture from Abbot Andru, but the man in the doorway wasn’t Andru, although he wore abbot’s robes. “Do you think that makes God happy?”
“I think God knows the hearts of His faithful no matter where they are. And I think Shanus wanted an excuse to eschew his evangelism and return home to visit his mother.” The abbot was particularly short and, for some reason, it chafed Bear’s temper. He wasn’t sure why. He was taller than everyone he met, but he wanted to thump the man on the head.
“And you kick the church in your haste to return home to your mother?”
With 11 half-brothers and sisters-no three of whom shared the same father-Bear was certain that they all would love the opportunity to return home to their mother. That would be difficult to do.
Like many, she had spent little time at the chapel, choosing to worship in her own way and at her own time. The chapel was mostly for christenings, so she had been there plenty. It was her last visit, the christening of her two youngest children, twins, when she never returned.
In her defense, the farther away one traveled from Temple and the Southern cities, the more varied and obtuse religious custom became. The Highlands, especially the forests near the northern border where Bear was from, were rustic to say the least. Religious doctrine, while just as fervent as in the South, blended with folklore and customs from without. Many highlanders married travelers from the north, and marriage ceremonies in Skivendia were dramatically different from those in Aman’Brin. Bear’s mother, for all her different men and wild brood, swore until the end that she had taken each man and sworn vows of fidelity to him in the eyes of God. She swore that each man had died before she took the next. She swore that she had raised each child faithful to God and had not once muddled their teaching with the pagan religion of Skivendia. Being the oldest, Bear knew her claims to be true. He had stood at the bedside of many of those men as they took ill or passed on from injury. Others moved on and never returned, which was as good as dead as far as anyone in the Highlands was concerned.
Abbot Andru had disagreed. She had been stoned to death in front of the Chapel of the Sacred Heart. Bear knew that to be true as well. He had been there when she died.
“Where is Abbot Andru?” Bear reigned in his temper and apologized to God. The man, annoying as he was, was not a sinner, or at least had not confessed any indiscretion. It was this place, he knew, which is why he spent as little time here as possible.
“Abbot Andru left the parish. I am Abbot Caelib.”
“Andru left? The man is older than the trees. He built this chapel. He would never leave.” Andru was old when Bear was a boy. He had to be near 100 years now. How could one so old leave Woodbend much less Adelglade Parish?
“He felt his mission here was finished is my understanding. We only met on the day he left.” Caelib put his hands behind his back and rocked up and down on the balls of his feet. “He went to proselytize the Western Wastes.”
Bear’s eyebrows raised so high they disappeared beneath his untamed hair. “Proselytize who? The horsemen? Heathen barbarians who cannot know God, as has been proven over and over throughout history.” He stepped forward and glared down at the man. Something was afoot, and he would know what it was.
“Having been in this post nearly a year, I am sure that a lifetime ministering in Woodbend has given Abbot Andru all the experience he needs to convert every barbarian he meets.”
Bear wanted to take umbrage, but he couldn’t help remember Squirrel, Jhon Lumberjack, and so many others. Including himself as a boy. He smiled at the abbot, even chuckled a bit, and stepped backward to give the man his space. His temper flitted away and he bore the man no more ill will.
“Fair enough,” Bear said. He turned and walked away. It was a pleasant back-and-forth, pleasant enough now that he did not want to step on the man like an ant. Abbot Andru would have scolded him for his irreverent depiction of St. Shanus even though both men-and every religious scholar since the Ascension-knew it to be true.
Bear found it odd, though, that Andru had left. The man had survived the coldest winters, the hottest summers, and the longest droughts in his quest to bring the faith to the most rural Highlands. What would compel him, at his age, to travel the Western Wastes?
Bear hadn’t walked more than 100 feet when a young girl less than half his age walked by. He noticed her because she did not seem to notice him. She stared at the ground, watching her feet as if they kept a secret. Her arms were folded in front of her, and she held a shawl tightly about her. His reaction smacked of pride, sure, but Bear couldn’t remember the last time someone had not shot him at least a sideways glance. He stood at least a foot taller than the average Brinish man, and Brinish women were even shorter. He wondered whether he should ask her disposition, but decided against it. This close to Skivendia, she had probably seen other men his height traveling south out of the mountains.
He made for the Northern Reach, or would have if he had not overhear Abbot Caelib.
“Greetings blessed virgin. May God give favor to your miraculous unborn.” Bear turned. Had he heard what he had heard? The girl stood at the church door, her shawl pulled back, exposing her round belly. Abbot Caelib had his hand on her stomach, blessing her.
Bear walked back to the church. Both Caelib and the girl had gone within. He stopped at the entrance and kicked the church again, then opened the door, closed his eyes, ducked beneath the doorframe, and walked in.
Closing his eyes didn’t prove to be the best idea as both Abbot Caelib and the girl had stopped just inside. The expecting mother, already protective of her child, jumped out of the way. The scion, his back to the door, was less fortunate. Bear walked right into him.
“Careful there!” the abbot said, catching his footing. “Oh, it’s you. Had a change of heart, did you?”
Bear apologized in his mind, but outwardly, he stood silent, staring at the girl’s belly. She stood as one used to being stared at, unmoving, letting him have his fill.
“You are a virgin?” Bear rasped, finding his voice.
“You can touch it if you like,” she answered. She pulled back her shawl, her stomach bulging out as if the moon were trapped beneath her skin. A virgin birth, unknown since Ste. Janeh bore the children of God, was not a light claim. A woman would sooner admit promiscuity than falsely claim holy conception. If proved untrue, the punishment was death. Yet this girl stood beside an abbot and he made the claim for her.
“It’s our little miracle,” Abbot Caelib said, smiling.
Bear turned his attention to the little man. What role did he have to play in all of this?
“There are no miracles in this place,” Bear replied, gesturing at the chapel, “only tragedy.”
The girl looked hurt. She closed her shawl around her stomach and shrank away like a violet. He had not meant to hurt her. His ire was for the abbot, but he had not thought of the girl. He had history with this place and had not considered not but his own sorrows.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” he started. She turned, ignoring his apology, and moved to the front of the nave. She knelt and began to pray, never looking back at the two men.
“You weren’t content with kicking my church. You must kick young women as well?” Abbot Caelib glowered up at Bear.
“Tell me truthfully,” Bear whispered. “What part do you have in this that you would mask her blasphemy?” Bear began to finger the needle in his sleeve, expectant of the abbot’s confession. “Is she your niece? Your sister?” Your lover, he wanted to say. He hoped the abbot was as anxious to admit his sins as the Friar on the highway. A sinner’s ego was an Advocate’s greatest ally.
“She is a parishioner, unto me like family but of no blood relation,” Abbot Caelib answered cooly. His tone suggested that Bear was not the first to level such accusations at him. “I do not blaspheme for she has not sinned. Her pregnancy is an act of God alone, as she claims, as I attest, and as Bishop Trayfan Aster has confirmed.” Now it was the abbot’s turn to be acrimonious. It was clear that Bear had touched a nerve, although the man’s indignation only fueled Bear’s own.
“The bishop, eh? Then I’ll put the question to him.” Bear turned and walked back out the door. He turned and kicked the church again as he left.
He felt a tugging in his stomach that wasn’t hunger. Bear did not know Abbot Caelib. He had never met him before or heard stories of his conduct. Bear’s attitude was unwarranted, he knew it, but at the moment he did not care. It was this place. It happened every year. While he loved getting to see old friends, he hated having to come back to the Sacred Heart. It made him surly, angry even. This year, though, it would only serve to make his task all the easier. His Shanus Duty complete, he would stop by the Northern Reach and then set about his business in Watertown.
“Is that how you serve your St. Shanus’ Day Duty?” a man asked from behind him. Bear turned and looked. He was not in the mood for a lecture from Abbot Andru, but the man in the doorway wasn’t Andru, although he wore abbot’s robes. “Do you think that makes God happy?”
“I think God knows the hearts of His faithful no matter where they are. And I think Shanus wanted an excuse to eschew his evangelism and return home to visit his mother.” The abbot was particularly short and, for some reason, it chafed Bear’s temper. He wasn’t sure why. He was taller than everyone he met, but he wanted to thump the man on the head.
“And you kick the church in your haste to return home to your mother?”
With 11 half-brothers and sisters-no three of whom shared the same father-Bear was certain that they all would love the opportunity to return home to their mother. That would be difficult to do.
Like many, she had spent little time at the chapel, choosing to worship in her own way and at her own time. The chapel was mostly for christenings, so she had been there plenty. It was her last visit, the christening of her two youngest children, twins, when she never returned.
In her defense, the farther away one traveled from Temple and the Southern cities, the more varied and obtuse religious custom became. The Highlands, especially the forests near the northern border where Bear was from, were rustic to say the least. Religious doctrine, while just as fervent as in the South, blended with folklore and customs from without. Many highlanders married travelers from the north, and marriage ceremonies in Skivendia were dramatically different from those in Aman’Brin. Bear’s mother, for all her different men and wild brood, swore until the end that she had taken each man and sworn vows of fidelity to him in the eyes of God. She swore that each man had died before she took the next. She swore that she had raised each child faithful to God and had not once muddled their teaching with the pagan religion of Skivendia. Being the oldest, Bear knew her claims to be true. He had stood at the bedside of many of those men as they took ill or passed on from injury. Others moved on and never returned, which was as good as dead as far as anyone in the Highlands was concerned.
Abbot Andru had disagreed. She had been stoned to death in front of the Chapel of the Sacred Heart. Bear knew that to be true as well. He had been there when she died.
“Where is Abbot Andru?” Bear reigned in his temper and apologized to God. The man, annoying as he was, was not a sinner, or at least had not confessed any indiscretion. It was this place, he knew, which is why he spent as little time here as possible.
“Abbot Andru left the parish. I am Abbot Caelib.”
“Andru left? The man is older than the trees. He built this chapel. He would never leave.” Andru was old when Bear was a boy. He had to be near 100 years now. How could one so old leave Woodbend much less Adelglade Parish?
“He felt his mission here was finished is my understanding. We only met on the day he left.” Caelib put his hands behind his back and rocked up and down on the balls of his feet. “He went to proselytize the Western Wastes.”
Bear’s eyebrows raised so high they disappeared beneath his untamed hair. “Proselytize who? The horsemen? Heathen barbarians who cannot know God, as has been proven over and over throughout history.” He stepped forward and glared down at the man. Something was afoot, and he would know what it was.
“Having been in this post nearly a year, I am sure that a lifetime ministering in Woodbend has given Abbot Andru all the experience he needs to convert every barbarian he meets.”
Bear wanted to take umbrage, but he couldn’t help remember Squirrel, Jhon Lumberjack, and so many others. Including himself as a boy. He smiled at the abbot, even chuckled a bit, and stepped backward to give the man his space. His temper flitted away and he bore the man no more ill will.
“Fair enough,” Bear said. He turned and walked away. It was a pleasant back-and-forth, pleasant enough now that he did not want to step on the man like an ant. Abbot Andru would have scolded him for his irreverent depiction of St. Shanus even though both men-and every religious scholar since the Ascension-knew it to be true.
Bear found it odd, though, that Andru had left. The man had survived the coldest winters, the hottest summers, and the longest droughts in his quest to bring the faith to the most rural Highlands. What would compel him, at his age, to travel the Western Wastes?
Bear hadn’t walked more than 100 feet when a young girl less than half his age walked by. He noticed her because she did not seem to notice him. She stared at the ground, watching her feet as if they kept a secret. Her arms were folded in front of her, and she held a shawl tightly about her. His reaction smacked of pride, sure, but Bear couldn’t remember the last time someone had not shot him at least a sideways glance. He stood at least a foot taller than the average Brinish man, and Brinish women were even shorter. He wondered whether he should ask her disposition, but decided against it. This close to Skivendia, she had probably seen other men his height traveling south out of the mountains.
He made for the Northern Reach, or would have if he had not overhear Abbot Caelib.
“Greetings blessed virgin. May God give favor to your miraculous unborn.” Bear turned. Had he heard what he had heard? The girl stood at the church door, her shawl pulled back, exposing her round belly. Abbot Caelib had his hand on her stomach, blessing her.
Bear walked back to the church. Both Caelib and the girl had gone within. He stopped at the entrance and kicked the church again, then opened the door, closed his eyes, ducked beneath the doorframe, and walked in.
Closing his eyes didn’t prove to be the best idea as both Abbot Caelib and the girl had stopped just inside. The expecting mother, already protective of her child, jumped out of the way. The scion, his back to the door, was less fortunate. Bear walked right into him.
“Careful there!” the abbot said, catching his footing. “Oh, it’s you. Had a change of heart, did you?”
Bear apologized in his mind, but outwardly, he stood silent, staring at the girl’s belly. She stood as one used to being stared at, unmoving, letting him have his fill.
“You are a virgin?” Bear rasped, finding his voice.
“You can touch it if you like,” she answered. She pulled back her shawl, her stomach bulging out as if the moon were trapped beneath her skin. A virgin birth, unknown since Ste. Janeh bore the children of God, was not a light claim. A woman would sooner admit promiscuity than falsely claim holy conception. If proved untrue, the punishment was death. Yet this girl stood beside an abbot and he made the claim for her.
“It’s our little miracle,” Abbot Caelib said, smiling.
Bear turned his attention to the little man. What role did he have to play in all of this?
“There are no miracles in this place,” Bear replied, gesturing at the chapel, “only tragedy.”
The girl looked hurt. She closed her shawl around her stomach and shrank away like a violet. He had not meant to hurt her. His ire was for the abbot, but he had not thought of the girl. He had history with this place and had not considered not but his own sorrows.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” he started. She turned, ignoring his apology, and moved to the front of the nave. She knelt and began to pray, never looking back at the two men.
“You weren’t content with kicking my church. You must kick young women as well?” Abbot Caelib glowered up at Bear.
“Tell me truthfully,” Bear whispered. “What part do you have in this that you would mask her blasphemy?” Bear began to finger the needle in his sleeve, expectant of the abbot’s confession. “Is she your niece? Your sister?” Your lover, he wanted to say. He hoped the abbot was as anxious to admit his sins as the Friar on the highway. A sinner’s ego was an Advocate’s greatest ally.
“She is a parishioner, unto me like family but of no blood relation,” Abbot Caelib answered cooly. His tone suggested that Bear was not the first to level such accusations at him. “I do not blaspheme for she has not sinned. Her pregnancy is an act of God alone, as she claims, as I attest, and as Bishop Trayfan Aster has confirmed.” Now it was the abbot’s turn to be acrimonious. It was clear that Bear had touched a nerve, although the man’s indignation only fueled Bear’s own.
“The bishop, eh? Then I’ll put the question to him.” Bear turned and walked back out the door. He turned and kicked the church again as he left.
He felt a tugging in his stomach that wasn’t hunger. Bear did not know Abbot Caelib. He had never met him before or heard stories of his conduct. Bear’s attitude was unwarranted, he knew it, but at the moment he did not care. It was this place. It happened every year. While he loved getting to see old friends, he hated having to come back to the Sacred Heart. It made him surly, angry even. This year, though, it would only serve to make his task all the easier. His Shanus Duty complete, he would stop by the Northern Reach and then set about his business in Watertown.