Chapter 7
Ashes to Ashes
Saint Francis' Forest, Konge Province, Titan
"The Apostle calls on us to put on the full armor of God, but I have seen the unlearned make the mistake of believing the faith is a shield against earthly torments. Much as we might wish this were so, the blood of martyrs testifies against it. We are taught not to fear them which kill the body. Our true enemy is powers beyond the flesh and against this enemy the armor of God will defend us, but this is not much comfort to the common man when the powers of the world come to work woe upon him."
-Excerpt from the assorted writings of Mark the Guardian
Two days after their skirmish with the Blood Eagles, the Gladian company reached a fork in the caravan trail. To the south was the lakeside route they were to avoid because it would take them right into the rebels' territory. To the north was a narrow path between the forest and the mountains where the risk of bandit attacks was high. It was the middle path through the forest that was safest, leading to the sanctuary of the St. John-Mark Abbey.
Normally a forest would be just as likely a haven for bandits as the mountains, but the abbey boasted a militant order of renowned prowess. At their peak, they would at times launch punitive expeditions into the mountains against the bandits there, but their numbers were greatly diminished after a war a hundred years ago and now defending the forest was about all they could manage.
A road with safe passage and a haven where the men could rest and be refreshed were more precious than gold. Though their casualties had been light in their skirmish with the bandits, the mostly untried men of the company could use some relief lest their morale suffer before their true mission could even begin.
They were about an hour from the abbey when Sonia said to Mark, "So this abbey has fighters, right? The same as your bunch?"
By 'his bunch', she meant the High Templars, no doubt.
"No, they aren't Templars," Mark said. "They're not even part of the Church of Antioch. They're Heiligers."
"Heiligers?"
"'The Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church' is what they call themselves in our tongue," Mark replied, "quite presumptuously most of my brethren would say. There has been dispute for hundreds of years whether they are outright heretics or simple schismatics. I say 'simple', but even the charge of being a schismatic is hardly a light one."
"I think I feel a headache coming on."
Mark tried to keep his explanation simple as Sonia was not one to care about the intricacies of the politics of religion, or most anything related to religion for that matter.
"The Heiligers don't recognize the authority of the Patriarchate and they have their own pontiff in Gottestag. They're mostly found in Gotland, but they have a foothold here in Titan and Ardova quite infamously converted to the Heiligers during the Zealots' War as a result of their conflict with my order."
"So how are they going to take to you and your people?" Sonia asked.
Mark shrugged.
"I suppose so long as we don't get into a debate over doctrine or authority, it should be fine. They should know that we are here at the invitation of the Archduke, so at least basic hospitality should be extended to us."
"I guess if it doesn't work out, don't your people have a saying about shaking the dust off your shoes or something like that?"
"Quite so," Mark replied. "We'll extend our peace to them and if they accept it, it will rest on them. If not, it will return to us and we will go on our way."
"I don't know how peaceable the men will be if they get turned away," Sonia said, glancing over her shoulder.
"Then I will be counting on you to do your part to keep them in line."
"I can manage that."
"Would they be so shameless as to turn away guests of the Archduke?" Sir Emerich asked.
"I do believe they have a measure of autonomy and they have the Church behind them," Mark said. "There may not be so many Heiligers in Titan, but they are strong in Gotland and if they hear their brethren are oppressed, the pontiff in Gottestag could call for a crusade. Surely the Archduke doesn't want to add that to his woes."
"A crusade..." Sonia muttered to herself. "That old man, Felix. He was called 'the Crusader', right?"
"Yes."
"So what's a crusade anyway?"
"It is a taking up of the cross," Mark said, "a military campaign at the behest of the Church. Basically a pilgrimage with swords and spears instead of cockle hats and staves."
Sonia tilted her head and asked, "A cockle what?"
Mark pointed up the road, saying, "We're almost there."
"Are you not going to explain that cockle whatever?"
"Maybe later," Mark said with a hint of teasing in his voice.
Turning his attention to what lay ahead, Mark wondered how the St. John-Mark Abbey would compare to the abbeys he knew. He thought of the libraries of the Whiteheart Abbey where he spent his days as a scribe, the gardens of the Veracruz Abbey where he first met their companion Teresa, the spartan whitewashed walls of the Priory of Ladira where he had to perform his penance before being admitted to the Templars' novitiate. Needless to say, he was not prepared for what he found.
The abbey was a burnt-out ruin. It had not been that long ago either, probably only a few days ago.
"Looks like someone got here before us," Sonia said.
Mark furrowed his brow, then told Sir Emerich, "There may be enemies about yet. Put Sandstone and Watercress on the baggage train, Stormtree to rearguard, Newstone and Cruz with us."
"Yes, milord."
He gave them a moment for the company to reform before going forward. The gates had been breached and the outer walls taken down in places. It would have taken a force of hundreds to do damage like this. Was it the Blood Eagles or some other outlaw band, or was it the rebels in the south?
As they entered through what was once the front gate, it appeared that nothing had been spared. The chapel had been desecrated with the stone cross on the roof pulled down and smashed on the ground. The other buildings fared no better. Of any wooden structure, only blackened skeletons remained.
A small field had apparently been turned into a lichyard with rows upon rows of fresh graves. A lone figure could be seen planting makeshift crosses on the graves, an old monk in black robes.
Mark dismounted and was joined by Sonia, Sir Emerich, and Sir Honorius.
As they approached, Mark greeted the monk, saying, "Pax tecum."
The old man glanced at them and sighed heavily before straightening himself up and making the hand of benediction, replying, "Et cum spiritu tuo."
Mark then asked the monk, "What has happened here?"
"The heathens came," the monk said, "in numbers not seen since olden times. For rapine, for slaughter, for plunder... Devils in human flesh to judge us for our iniquity."
Mark looked around for sign of anyone else as he asked, "Where are all the people?"
"Some killed, some carried off, some fled. I alone remain."
"You mean to stay here?" Mark asked.
Though the old monk looked worn and defeated, his resolve was nevertheless clear.
"Even though it has been desecrated, I cannot abandon my sanctuary."
Some may have tried to dissuade the monk from his course, but Mark did not feel it was his place. Instead, he simply told the monk, "May God show you mercy, brother."
The monk nodded, and as he lifted up his head, he took notice of the men a short distance off.
"What brings such a host to this land?" he asked.
"We are Gladians," Mark replied, "sent by our King at the request of your Archduke to aid in the fight against the rebels in the south, the same ones responsible for this atrocity, I reckon."
"Then I will offer you a word of warning. Do not take the south road to the castle. The heathens now reign there. Go up the north road instead. Beware, though. These are dark times for this land. Your host is not likely to find warm welcome."
The monk's warning was much the same as what they had been told before setting out on this expedition, but Mark received it gratefully in the spirit it was given.
"Thank you," he said. "Can we offer you any provisions at least?"
The monk shook his head.
"God will provide. Dominus vobiscum. Vade in pace."
The monk then returned to his work setting crosses on the graves. Mark motioned for the others to return to the company. He then assembled the lieutenants to inform them of the situation. Sir Pelagius was first to speak up.
"Master Mark, something must be done. They may have been Heiligers, but they did not deserve this."
"No one deserves this, Sir Pelagius," Mark said, "but this is the brutal way of the corrupt world."
Sir Pelagius tightened his hand into a fist and said, "We must avenge them."
"Watch yourself, Sir Pelagius," Mark warned. "Vengeance is the Lord's. We do our Heiliger brethren no service by taking the sin committed against them and falling ourselves deeper into sin. It may be that we become the instruments of His justice. However, we do so without the passions of anger and hatred. More importantly, those who were taken away may yet be alive. Saving a life delights God far more than taking it."
Chastened, Sir Pelagius bowed his head.
"It is as you say, Master."
Mark then said, "Not much has been left, but the ones who did this may come back. Give the men some rest, then put them to work shoring up the defenses."
"You mean to stay here, milord?" Sir Emerich asked.
"This position is more defensible than being out in the open."
"It has already fallen to the enemy once."
"It did not have a thousand men to defend it then."
Sir Emerich still seemed dissatisfied, as usual.
"We will move on and if the enemy comes again, the effort will be wasted."
"The effort will not be wasted now," Mark said, "and that is what matters."
Once again finding a battle that was not worth fighting, Sir Emerich yielded, saying only, "Yes, milord."
The lieutenants were then dismissed to tend to their men. Sonia was looking out, surveying the damage, scowling at what she saw.
"Hell of a sight," she said. "The people who did this, they weren't just an angry mob. These rebels are more than just unruly peasants. You look at this, and it's like..."
"It's like the razing of our abbey," a voice said.
It was Father Ireneo, a priest from Cruz who was serving as one of the chaplains for the expedition. He spoke of the burning of the Veracruz Abbey by the Gladian Guard. Though he had not seen the damage for himself until after Randwulf's defeat, Mark had been thinking of the very same thing this whole time and it would seem Sonia was as well. Abbot Octavius had been colluding with the Loyalists for nearly as long as he had been abbot, but it was only after he lent aid to Mark that his sanctuary was put to the torch.
"What are you doing here, Father?" Mark asked.
"I had to see it for myself," Father Ireneo said. "I could feel it, a pain in my chest. It was like that day all over again, the handiwork of the same devil..."
"We stretched that devil's neck," Sonia said.
She was referring to Lieutenant Harald Svenson of the Gladian Guard, who led the attack on the abbey. When tried for his crimes after the Restoration, his deeds were judged so heinous that he was sentenced to hanging rather than a more honorable death by the headsman's axe.
"You killed the body, my lady," Father Ireneo said. "The unclean spirit that drove the body seems to have found a new home."
Though she did not believe in such things, perhaps out of consideration for Mark, Sonia held her tongue. Though Mark did not deny the existence of devils, unclean spirits and the like, he was all too aware that the evil in men's hearts was more than enough to bring about barbarous deeds like this. Still, if there was a supernatural power at work here, no thousand men would be enough to stand against it.