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The snow had been falling for the most part of the last two days, but had now stopped. The air was crisp and cold, and Brother Andros was very grateful for his warm cloak and the small brazier here at the gatehouse. Outside the dim light of day shone from the laden buildings in a dazzling beauty, if only for a short time.

“I would not think to see you here Brother, alone and unprotected,” said a voice from one side, and Andros started, before relaxing.

“Brother Aleksandr,” Andros replied smiling. “I am alone more often than rumour does me credit.” It was perilous to be alone at times like those. Ever since the war had started Outside, matters Inside had gone ill. Now the Brothers were divided, between Father Boris and the Scriptorium. To be alone meant one was vulnerable to the many ‘accidents’ that seemed to occur. Andros was known to be the main supporter of Brother Dmitri, Brother Chronicler.

Brother Aleksandr however was no threat. He was one of the few who tried to steer clear of the conflict, and the only one of note as well, being Brother Gatekeeper, who kept the Keys to the House. He did what he could to keep the peace, and now spoke for the House in its dealings with the village. Though there too the division had spread, some years past, when news of the split first leaked out. Both sides had appealed to the hierarchy, but the hierarchy had no time to worry about the goings on in a remote monastery when the fate of the Tsardom itself hung in the balance.

“Perhaps. Still, I would know your business,” Aleksandr replied.

“It is innocent enough. I am hoping for a message from the village.” Even now the Chroniclers tried to keep abreast of what was occurring in the world, though news was hard to come by. It was even harder to know tell rumour from fact.

“Then your wait is over. I met the messenger some hours ago, and said I would convey anything he had to tell. Not very much as it turns out. Lord Obradic has died, mostly likely at the hands of his cousin and successor, Lord Aliayev. Lord Aliayev has declared for the Impostor, and now seeks to gather an army.”

“In winter?” Andros asked with surprise. “Most of whatever force he raised will freeze.” Aleksandr only shrugged, and made a signal for mercy. That Andros was more than happy to repeat. Andros made to leave, only to be stopped as Brother Theodosius strode into the gatehouse.

Like himself Theodosius had come from Mt Athos, from another House that had longed disliked his own. Andros suspected his current sympathies for Father Boris had little to do with any liking for the man or his views, and a good deal more to do with the continuation of a centuries old feud.

“Brother Andros,” the man acknowledged in classical Greek. “You are getting braver if you venture here alone.”

“Why Brother Theodosius, I could say the same of you.” Theodosius huffed, and proceeded to ignore Andros and went to Aleksandr.

“What news?” he asked. Aleksandr started, “As I was saying to Brother Andros…” Andros slipped away, and quickly returned to the Scriptorium. He did not want Theodosius to alert his underlings that he was about.

Inside the Scriptorium the twenty or so Brothers and Novices went about their tasks. One corner though had been turned into a place for prayer, and at least one person was always there. Unsurprisingly this was Brother Dmitri, who rock-solid faith was like a well from which the other Scribes drank. Nothing that had occurred in the last few years had shaken that faith, or caused it to waver. In the face of it Andros, who thought himself as a clever man, felt humbled.

There were immediate, unspoken questions. All waited though for Brother Dmitri to utter the words they were all wanting to say. “What news?” Andros told them quickly. “Does Father Boris know?”

“He will soon. As I left Brother Theodosius was being told the same by Brother Gatekeeper. But I am concerned. Other churches have been attacked and looted for their wealth, and this Aliayev sounds no friend of ours.”

There was a silence, broken by Brother Stepan. Stepan the Serb, who had once caused such a stir in his youth, was now old and increasingly dilapidated. Few knew his history anymore – Andros only did because Dmitri had told him and directed him to the records of it. “Should they come here they will know the Lords’ Mercy.” He often made odd comments like that, but it was comforting in its way.

______


Brother Aleksi found Lord Aliayev to be one of the most unpleasant people he had ever come across. The Lord had a rough manner, more like a peasant than a boyar. He wished that Father Boris had sent someone else. Aleksi felt so inadequate to the task.

“So Brother, this letter says your Father Boris has pledged secret allegiance for Tsar Dmitri.” He indicated the letter that Aleksi had carried. “This letter, brought to be by Brother Pedro from the Tsar indicates the same.” He pointed to another letter. “Why has not Father Boris made his allegiance public.”

Aleksi swallowed. “In part because your predecessor – Lord Obradic, he held to the false Tsar. And because Father Boris is unable to do so, because of Brother Dmitri, as I believe he explained.”

Aliayev nodded. “Brother against Brother indeed,” he said and chuckled. “You holy types are just the same as the rest of us you know, deep down. And now your Father Boris is appealing for my help, he offers me his support and gratitude. That’s nice to hear, but ink is cheap and words cheaper. Unless your Father can offer me something more concrete neither myself nor the Tsar see much urgency in helping him.”

Aleksi swallowed. “Father Boris understands such Lord. He told me to tell you that the House has a sizeable Treasury, saved from various grants and concessions that he would be willing to put at your disposal. I have the details here.” He drew out another letter, and handed it to the Lord. He immediately passed it onto his own scribe, who opened it and quickly scanned it. He then whispered to Lord Aliayev. All the while Brother Aleksi stood and tried to hide the sweating in his palms. He only hoped that Father Boris knew what he was doing.

“Those figures are persuasive,” Lord Aliayev conceded. “You say the Monastery is undefended?”

Aleksi made a dismissive gesture. “There is the village militia, but that is small. The ascent is fortified, and a professional force would be able to mount a credible defence. But the militia? Besides, Father Boris will do what he can to distract matters.”

Aliayev nodded. “You will accompany us, since you know the way and I am unlikely to find a better guide. Your servant can return with my reply. And this better be a truthful representation of the place’s wealth – or I will ransack it from top to bottom.” Aleksi nodded.

The scribe – Aliayev could not read or write – then dictated the reply. It was simple enough. He gave it to Aliayev, who scribbled his signature. It had taken many difficult hours the tutor Aliayev enough to even do that. A few moments and the scroll was furled, and the sealing wax was stamped.

“Give this to your servant,” Aliayev said to Brother Aleksi. “Yuri here will accompany you, and then see to your lodging.” The monk nodded warily, took the scroll, and departed.

Later that day Yuri sat in his study. He selected several documents, and copied them. The originals he then placed into a small satchel. Later on a visit to one of the smiths he gave it to the master. The master blacksmith in turn gave the satchel to a cooper that evening at the inn. The cooper held onto the satchel for a whole day, before passing it to a farmer whom had come to place an order. The farmer went to his village, where he met the local priest, and the satchel changed hands again. That night the priest stayed up late, and he had a visitor, who left before the dawn, now carrying the satchel. The visitor came from the village near the Monastery, a herdsman’s son who was more than capable of looking after himself. In the village he turned up on the doorstep of village tanner. The next day the tanner made a delivery to the Monastery. The satchel went with him, and did not return.

____


Brother Aleksandr wondered whether it was worth the trouble to even call these Chapter meetings. Each devolved into a shouting match between the two sides, and this one had proved no exception.

“So, will you now relent?” Father Boris asked Brother Dmitri acerbically, while several other smaller arguments went on around them.

“Nothing has changed since last we spoke to alter my convictions,” Brother Dmitri replied.

“And yet you term me ‘Father’ still, yet deny my leadership.” Father Boris scoffed.

Brother Dmitri sighed. “I will not dishonour the office – too many worthy men have borne it for me to let you ruin the respect in which it should be held.”

Boris snarled, and made to move against Dmitri, but Aleksandr intervened. “Father! This is unseemly!”

That brought him to his senses. “You are right Brother Aleksandr, and you are a credit to our calling. I just wish it to be known that soon all those who cleave to your heresies will be brought low, for even now the righteous are marching!”

It was perhaps an unwise remark, but Boris felt justified at the reaction it caused. A silence in the Chapter. That took some doing these days.

Silence, broken predictably by that all too clever Brother Andros. “You are referring to the army of Lord Aliayev,” the Greek stated. “You sent Brother Aleksi to treat with a traitor, and you condemn yourself in the deed.”

Father Boris looked at Brother Andros coldly, and he could feel all listening to his words. “I am no traitor.” He spat out each word. “You make baseless accusation.”

“I have proof.” The silence grew deeper, and Boris felt a fear in his belly.

Brother Aleksandr sounded tired. “What proof?” he asked.

“Letters, original letters and not copies that state plainly that Father Boris is willing to sell out this House and its treasures, and also has pledged allegiance to the Impostor.”

“You have them here?”

“I have them safe. I invite you and Brother Theodosius to review them to ascertain their authenticity.”

“Brother Theodosius – are you willing to accompany me?” Brother Aleksandr asked the other Greek. Theodosius had a curious expression, a savage smile offset by twinkling eyes. He nodded once and brusquely. Aleksandr then turned to the others. “The Chapter is adjourned for the moment. I suggest that you all pray for the peace of the realm.” That at least was a point of agreement in general, if not always in detail.

It took the three Brothers nearly an hour to review the letters of Brother Andros. An hour through which the Brothers fretted and prayed. Only Brother Dmitri seemed entirely peaceful, and Brother Stepan. Father Boris did his best to think calmly. The letters must be forgeries, for the servant of Brother Aleksi had returned safely. Of course it would be better if Brother Aleksi were still here, but he supposed there was nothing for that. Aleksi was not perhaps the best man to send on such and errand, but he was all he had. Theodosius might have been better, but Boris doubted the Greek would be persuaded, and moreover was uncertain of the reception Theodosius might receive. Aleksi was at least predictable.

The relative silence was broken by the sound of Brother Theodosius striding into the room, Brothers Aleksandr and Andros following. Aleksandr was carrying a small sheaf of letters. Theodosius went to stand right in front of Father Boris, and then loudly asked, “Where is Brother Aleksi.”

“I sent him to the Archbishop,” Boris answered however. “I am not at all surprised he had not returned. It is winter.”

Theodosius regarded Boris for a long moment. He knew, of that Boris was certain, and he pleaded with Theodosius with his eyes. But he saw the Greek settle backward ever so slightly, and in that moment he tasted defeat.

“Liar!” Theodosius bellowed, and he swung a blow that sent the unsuspecting Father sprawling. Immediately there was a roar of chattering. Two Brothers immediately went to the fallen Father.

“Brothers!” The chattering was silence by Brother Aleksandr’s impassioned shout. “We have been betrayed! Even now an army marches against us seeking to do nothing so much as strip this House and bring about the ruin of us all!” He brandished the letters high, and then unrolled one.

“Brothers! Listen to the words of a traitor! ‘Lord Aliayev, know that I too have pledged my allegiance to the True Tsar Dmitri. I am willing to put the resources of my House at your disposal, and at the disposal of the True Tsar, to secure his throne.’” The two Brother helping the Father now abandoned him.

“Brothers! Father Boris is henceforth deposed by his own actions. Brother Boris should be taken from here and imprisoned in one of the secure cells for penitents where he can await the justice of the Tsar and seek the salvation of his soul. A messenger has been sent to see if any aid can be brought to us, and I have sent word to the village to raise the militia and to guard the ascent. Myself and some others who have useful skills will need to go and marshal that defence. The others, under Brothers Dmitri and Theodosius will stay here and say prayers for our salvation. Are there any who dispute me?”

Boris was stunned. He looked around, and knew that he had lost it all. His mouth worked, but no sound came out, and then he feinted.

Aleksandr smiled. “One thing further. All that is past is to be forgiven. We shall stand here united in our faith and in our purpose. I will brook no dissension.” He regarded the rest with a baleful eye. “Good. Those who will go with me, meet me in two hours. The rest see to Brothers Dmitri and Theodosius who will see to your tasks. There is much work to do!”

___


Brother Theodosius looked at Brother Stepan. The Serb was praying. It was, after all, what he was best at. At times it felt like the old Serb was the only person who did not expect the worst. Even Brother Aleksandr looked dire and grim, and Theodosius had to admit, really for the first time in his life, a certain hopelessness. He sighed, loudly and unexpectedly.

Surprisingly, since he was going somewhat deaf, Stepan heard him. The Serb groaned slightly as he rose. “Brother,” he acknowledged. “You need not worry.”

“Why?” Theodosius asked. It was what he most wanted to know.

“Come,” was Stepan’s enigmatic reply. The doddering man led Theodosius outside the Monastery to the cemetery. The day was cloudy, dull, and very cold. There was the suggestion of a storm in the air. At several points the old man stumbled, and before long Theodosius was half-carrying the old man while he wheezed. He took Theodosius to an old grave, surprisingly well tended. There were faint markings on the stone, but Theodosius could not fathom them.

Theodosius looked at Stepan questioningly for an answer. Stepan’s most immediate answer was a long cough, but then he started to speak. “Soon after I came here, Brother Vasili taught me how to read. In those early years I had little else to do but read and pray. Brother Vasili more or less let me read what I wanted, for he had other concerns and so long as I was properly contained he did not care overmuch for me. And there among the many writings of this abbey I found a scroll, a tale of a man, of this man.” He pointed at the stone. “He was a Greek like yourself, and it was he who started the chronicling here. He served this place, and was content to be forgotten. And it almost has been so, but talk among the villagers and they will tell you of him still. He is remembered there, long after he is forgotten here.

“That is why there is no need to worry, for men like him will not permit it.” Suddenly Stepan began another long coughing fit, and started to make his way back to the relative comfort of the House. Theodosius followed him, and asked one question.

At the entry to the nave he was hailed by Brother Dmitri. “Brother Theodosius, I have a message from Brother Aleksandr. He requests your help in the village. With him about to depart for the ascent along with many of the men there will be no one there to keep order.” Theodosius nodded.

Brother Stepan looked at him, and said, “Remember.” He then hobbled off, leaving Dmitri and Theodosius alone. “He showed you the grave?” Dmitri asked.

Theodosius nodded. “You were watching?”

“No,” Dmitri shook his head, “he took me there yesterday.”

“Do you believe it?”

Dmitri shrugged. “I want to believe,” he said. Theodosius nodded, for he understood that all too well.

____


“There – do you see the fires Brother?” Viktor – one of the villagers, and an ex-soldier, asked Aleksandr. They were standing atop the rampart that guarded the scent. For entry to the abbey’s hiding place was by one way only, that many years ago had been fortified to warn against and keep out bandits. The rampart was of earth and stone. The gateway, that was usually open, had been blocked by wooden boards, and then snow had been packed in behind it.

Aleksandr squinted. He could just make out the fires, in the valley below. “There will be here tomorrow,” Viktor continued. So the time had come. Their plan was simple enough. Defend the rampart. If that failed there were a couple of others places where they might be able to hold off the attackers. If they failed it was to return to the monastery, to defend it as best they could. If they could. Privately Brother Aleksandr thought the entire matter would be decided here.

The wind was picking up. “They would choose to attack in a storm,” he muttered.

“They’ll be driven by it Brother,” Viktor answered. “Tomorrow it won’t be so bad, but by the day after they’ll need some shelter, and we’re the closest. I’d be guessing that not much afore dawn on that day the matter will be decided.”

“If only that storm were here now,” muttered Aleksandr.

“Don’t worry Brother, we’ll keep ‘em here. I sent a couple of the lads to spread rumours.” Aleksandr nodded. Rumours to impress superstitious soldiers. It could work, and the wind made howls and whistles suggestive enough.

Andros joined them at that moment. “So there they are,” he said. “Brother, I’ve returned from the village. Brother Theodosius has everyone organised. The children and oldest are being moved into the Monastery. Brother Dmitri will lead them at prayer. Some of the older children though he’s set up to run messages.

_____


The slow pulse of prayer filled the church. Brother Dmitri led the prayer, and the people gathered followed. From outside they could here the storm start to build. The wind was rising, and the snow began to fall ever heavier, and only a few miles away a battle would have started to take place by now. A small battle perhaps in the scale of things, but a battle of great importance to this place.

Some outside, in the wider realm, called this place the House of Records for all the charters and deeds stored within, yet many forgot it all the same. But without those records how much weaker would the realm be, when peace was restored. Those thoughts troubled Brother Dmitri as he led the chant. He glanced to the hunched figure of Brother Stepan, who seemed like stone.

Somewhere a child was crying, and a mother trying to hush it. He knew some of the women carried crude knives, who would kill themselves rather than accept the fate that otherwise awaiting them. Most would also kill their children first. The loyalty of these people to the monastery was so great that it struck Brother Dmitri in a way that made him feel quite unworthy.

He looked at Stepan again, and then he began a new prayer. A prayer of beseeching, of intercession. In it he included a name, a name he had long avoided. At first there seemed to be little difference, but he became aware of a growing intensity from the assembled. His own Brothers regarded him oddly with hurried looks, but the villagers seemed to grow. The volume swelled, and Dmitri felt himself to be on a rising tide, so that at first he did not hear the shouting from outside.

Brother Stepan did catch the first mention of the name, but he sensed the change immediately. Eyes closed, he felt the uncertainty of some of the nearby Brothers, and he then heard the new prayer as it was repeated. He smiled inside to himself, and he relaxed, truly relaxed for the first time in ever such a long time. For many long years he had guarded the secret in hope. Once he had spoken out against an evil, and he had been ignored. The realm now suffered its punishment. It was with a heavy heart he had spoken out again, to direct a course – and it had been followed!

There was a change, people no longer seemed to be praying, but shouting, but he could not tell what they shouted. His hearing seemed extremely thick, and all he could here was the tone, not the words. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked into the eyes of Brothers Dmitri and Theodosius. The Greek leaned close, right next to his ear.

“Brother! We are saved!” The words came as if from far away. Theodosius continued. “Aliayev is dead, and his army fled.” Stepan smiled blissfully. He stared at Dmitri, and the Chronicler was smiling truly joyfully for the first time in many years. Stepan started to cry holy tears, and the image of Dmitri misted. He found it harder to follow Theodosius’ words, and could not catch them all. “…self spoke in the storm, … was seen above … rampart.” He could not catch the name, but it did not matter. He had been believed.

Brother Theodosius was still speaking, but Stepan could not hear him anymore. He tried to speak, tried to say ‘In Jesus’ Name’. He tried … but no more. He saw a Great Light shining from behind Dmitri, from the Sanctuary. Feeling his years slip away he stood without pain for the first time in years and walked towards it, at peace.

“He is dead,” Brother Theodosius said, still tired from his run from the village to here. All about there was singing. A joyful happiness without a shred of sin. Yet in this moment Brother Theodosius felt no sense of victory. He felt Brother Dmitri kneel down beside him, and together they bore Brother Stepan’s body to before the altar. And then he started to cry, cry for the wounds of had inflicted on his House without ever knowing or meaning to. Brother Dmitri’s face was also streaked with tears. Slowly other Brothers joined them and they sung a paean for their fallen amid the sounds of celebration.
 
My lord that was a long update! Good to see the monastery was saved in the end though. Although it cost that one fellow his life....
 
And another great update.

Are you into the Time of Troubles yet? Some of the random(?) events sound pretty savage.
 
Very nice writing Stnylan, should be a lot more readers here in my opinion, well done:)
 
Amric I'm not sure it cost Stepan his life precisely. What I wanted was to try add a counterpoint.

merrick I've played through them. This post was the first in a sequence of posts I'll have up about them. If you thought those random events were savage, wait till you see what is about to happen!

Judge Thank you. I found it quite a tricky piece to write, one reason why I made the bAAR post.

Anibal Trust me, there are no shortage of rebels coming up.

I will do my best to post the next installment this weekend, but I may be unable to given the following two events.

1) I will be purchasing Two Towers Extended DVD.

2) Vicky may get delivered from Saturday onward.

Thanks for the support
 
As I'm to lazy to update my own AAR yet, I'll just bump this one. Is an update in the works, stnylan? ;)
 
More on suspension than abandoned. I do have an update half-written on my computer, and I have carefully kept the notes intact. However, given my current project I doubt I am going to do anything anytime soon.