Epilogue

 

 

Derek was praying in the chapel when they came in. He was on his knees, head bowed before the altar. Whispering quietly, he had just glanced up at the cross, thanking the Lord for this second chance at life. Then the door opened and the strangers began talking.

He was back at the chapel where his whole life had changed. The abbot had come to him a week earlier and told him to make the pilgrimage back to MacIntyre castle.

He didn't want to go back. In the year since he'd been sworn in as a novice he'd grown used to the monastic life. It had a simplicity and purity to it that he respected. He heard little about life back at the castle. When news reached the abbey of the birth of Andrew and Beth's child, he rejoiced silently, praising God for His mercy and His wisdom. During his sleep he was plagued by dreams of what he'd done in the past, glad when they rose for matins each night. He would walk with the others into the small wooden abbey church, unable to shake the guilt until the singing began. Only then could he rejoice in this second chance he'd been given to prove his repentance and to pray for all those he'd hurt in the past.

He never expected to leave the abbey again but he could no more disobey the order of the abbot than he could float over the mountains on the wing of a cloud.

“It has been a year since you arrived here," the abbot said. “In that time two dozen have joined your ranks and yet you remain the most pious of all.”

He nodded in response, saying nothing out loud.

“I want you to travel to the chapel where God blessed Andrew and Beth. Do you know why?”

He shook his head. “No, brother.”

“You will know when you arrive.”

It had rained for the entire duration of his journey. He had worn only the habit and it was soaked through, rubbing harshly on his skin as he slogged along mile after mile. His feet were bare, bleeding in places from the sharp stones he had encountered on the road. As time passed, he limped more and more, his hunger growing, gnawing at his insides.

He was glad of the pain, glad of the hunger, glad of the appalling weather. All those things tried his body but brought his soul closer to God, showing the Lord that he truly repented of his sins and could take any punishment that might be meted out.

For a month before he set out on his pilgrimage, his body had been troubled by a great ague. He had been in agony for days, his skin stretched thin, his insides churning and knotting over and over. To be taken to the latrine, the brothers had to carry him on a sheet, his limbs rigid and unmoving.

He was still recovering when he set off, his limbs too weak to travel more than five miles a day. It took nearly a week to reach the castle and by the time he made it, he was almost dead on his feet.

They had been given notice of his arrival. He was admitted and Rory met him in the courtyard, bringing him into the chapel where Andrew and Beth were waiting, a baby laid asleep on the altar behind them.

“My laird,” he said, prostrating himself on the cold tiles before him. “My lady,” he added without looking up. “Forgive me, I beg you.” Tears ran from his eyes, dripping onto the floor as he remained in place, refusing to stand, unable to shake the crushing guilt that threatened to consume him. That child was alive because he had failed. If he had succeeded in what he'd attempted to do, they would not be there, they would be in heaven, assured of their place by the Lord's side. Where would he be when his end came? The thought was terrifying. “Forgive me,” he said again. “I am truly sorry for my crimes.”

“Stand,” Andrew said, holding an arm out toward him.

Derek took the offered hand, getting slowly to his feet, refusing to look the laird in the eye.

“How are you both?" he managed to ask, his toes curling under him.

“We are well and our bairn is well,” Andrew said, stroking the forehead of the little one. “Our union was blessed.”

““I prayed for you both.”

“Thank you. And if I might ask of my father.”

“The clans remain united and though he can be...difficult, he has an advisor who has made a difference to our parley.”

Derek wondered who the advisor might be but thought better of asking. “He is well then.”

“Aye, and our borders are strengthened. Gillis is over there now planning for his wedding and for possible English invasion.”

“I will pray for him also.”

Beth nodded. “Thank you." She paused, examining him closely. “We asked the abbot to send you here.”

“If it is to punish me, so be it.”

“We wish you to bless our child," Andrew replied. “Will you do as we bid?”

“Of course," Derek said, almost falling as he staggered forward. He leaned on the altar, looking down at the wee bairn wrapped in the purest white linen. “What name have you given your heir?”

“Janet," Beth said. “After my mother.”

A wave of dizziness washed over Derek. He felt the truth of God's word take over him and it gave him strength. He stood tall, the ache in his limbs fading as he began the ceremony. “We ask you, our Lord, to give strength, faith, and love to this child today. May she prove herself worthy of all that you ask and may we be grateful for your grace and protection now and always.”

“Amen,” Andrew and Beth said in unison as Derek placed the tip of his forefinger on Janet's chest.

“Amen,” he echoed.

The strength that had entered him ebbed away. Andrew squeezed him on the shoulder once before walking away. Beth did not follow at once. She looked at Derek closely. “You truly are sorry, aren't you?"

He nodded. “There is not a day that goes by that I do not regret what I did. I will take my guilt to the grave with me and beyond. Can I do anything else for you, my lady? Name it and it will be done.”

“You like the chapel?”

“I think it is perfect.”

“Then you may remain in it for as long as you wish. God forgive you, Derek.”

She walked away then, leaving him to his thoughts. He was in awe of their ability to forgive. He had burned a hall, killing a number of the clan. He had personally brought down the ceiling of the chapel, killing more. They would have been perfectly within their rights to have had him executed and what did they do instead? They allowed him to bless their child.

It felt jarring to think of the person he used to be. He looked up at the ceiling, seeing it in all its glory. Was he the same person who had tried to bring that ceiling down on the heads of the laird and lady?

He knelt before the altar, giving thanks to God that he had been caught. He had a chance at salvation through repentance for his sins. He would not waste it.

The sun cast a light through the window, a break appearing in the clouds outside. A single shaft of golden glow struck the cross on the altar. Derek began to pray.

For many hours he begged for mercy. He had no idea how long he'd been there  but it was dark when the door opened and they came in.

It wasn't Andrew and Beth, he knew that by the sound of their heavy feet. Two men, both strangers. He didn't look at them. He continued to pray as they talked loudly in the darkness.

 “How do you know it was that doorway? ” one asked. “The stones could have ended up anywhere.”

“We're here now, aren't we?”

“I don't know. Are we? I can't see a thing in this goddamned darkness.”

“Did you bring a flashlight?”

“I didn't know it would be night time, did I?”

“Christ, you're an idiot.”

Derek was shocked by such casual blasphemy. “You are in a house of God,” he said before he could stop himself. “Have some respect if you care for your souls.”

“Look, there. What is he, a monk?”

“You, ” said one of the voices, now addressing Derek. “What year is this?” He walked over and Derek caught a glimpse of the most bizarre clothing. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

“It is the year of our Lord 1191. Come, pray with me, brothers.”

The sound of the door closing and then nothing. No sound other than the rain falling outside. Derek tried to resist temptation but he could not do it. He turned his head. There was no one there. He stood up and walked to the door, looking out into the darkness. No one there either. The only footprints in the moonlit mud were his own. Where had the blasphemers gone?

He looked back inside, glancing up at the vaulted ceiling that was barely visible in the gloom. “Are you testing me, Lord?” he asked out loud.

There was no answer spoken but he heard one nonetheless, returning to the altar and resuming his prayers. Whoever they were, they were nothing to do with him. Perhaps there had been no one at all. During the worst of the ague he had thought he'd heard many conversations, seen many things that could not possibly be there, figures floating past him in the darkness, demons crawling over his body, their tongues wrapping around his throat, choking him into oblivion. This was likely another vision, another test of his resolve. He had failed by becoming distracted from his prayers. He must be strong, he must concentrate on repentance, not on the worldly affairs of others.

“I pray you give strength to Beth and Andrew ” he said out loud, his voice echoing around the chapel. “Bless their union, my Lord, I beg you.”

 

*

 

Eight centuries later two men walked through a doorway into a brightly lit room. The noise of the traffic outside was jarring after the near silence of the chapel in the past.

“It's true,” one said. “I can't believe it's really true.”

The other man sank into a chair, shaking his head slowly. “What good does it do us if they aren't where they're supposed to be? We're going to have to tell him.”

“He's not going to like it.”

“No." A sigh as he dug a cellphone out of his pocket. "No, he is not.”

 

 

The End