“You seem to be enjoying our brothers’ labors,” he said.
He was dressed in the same style of brown robe and sandals as the monks who worked the vineyards. A short, round man with a circle of graying hair surrounding his pink scalp. His eyes shone only with benevolence as he smiled at me. I understood why my instincts had failed to alert me of his approach. There was nothing to fear from this man.
I turned my look away from him and back toward the monks and their labor.
“Ever since I was old enough to be employed, I have worked diligently,” I said. “My current idleness does not suit me. So, sadly, I must find my comfort in watching others enjoy their labor.”
“And how were you employed?”
“As a chemist.”
“Why are you no longer employed as such?”
“Because I am no longer fit for the company of man,” I said, my voice dropping to a low and awful whisper. “Can you not tell from the ungodly nature of my voice? My appearance is likewise hideous.”
To prove this I removed the hood from my head.
“My son, did this happen from a terrible accident? A fire?”
I turned back to look at him, and was surprised to see that his expression only reflected concern. Not even a hint of fear or disgust could be seen.
I nodded. My voice was only a soft rumble as I told him, “At one time I was as fair as any other man, but I suffered a cruel fate. When I awoke, this is how I looked.”
“And this is why you have wandered off into the middle of the forest? To hide from man?”
“For the time being,” I admitted. “I was surprised to find a monastery in such a hidden part of the forest. It seems like an odd place for it to have been built.”
“This is the perfect location for us to have built it,” he said. “We are far from the intrusion of governments and warring armies. France’s invading forces won’t stumble upon us here, nor our own Prussian armies. Here we are free from the troubles of the world to make our wine and live our lives in quiet contemplation, and a hidden road allows us to sell our wine without fear of discovery. My name is Brother Theodore. How may I address you?”
“My name was once Friedrich Hoffmann,” I said. “Of what monastic order are you?”
Brother Theodore chuckled at that, his round body bouncing under his robe. “Of one that you have never heard, Brother Friedrich, I assure you.” His smile turned more solemn as he continued to gaze at me. “Here we do not judge men by their appearance but by what is in their heart, and we will grant any lost traveler sanctuary. We offer a simple life here; the quiet companionship of your fellow man and an honest day’s labor. What do you say, Brother Friedrich, would you like to quit this idleness that you earlier expressed unhappiness with to once again seek the fulfillment that honest labor can provide?”
“I have a mission that I must carry out,” I said.
“Surely this mission does not have to be carried out today? We can offer sanctuary for a day, a month or a lifetime, whatever your soul requires, and Brother Friedrich, I sense a great uneasiness within you, and I believe you could benefit from rejoining the company of your fellow man, even if it is only for a day.”
My gaze was fixed on the monks toiling in the field below, and I felt overwhelmed with the desire to join them. “I do not know,” I said.
“Let me sit with you for a spell while you consider it,” Brother Theodore said, and he sat on the ground nearby me, his gaze also fixed on the monks working the vineyards below us. After a half hour in this quiet solitude, I asked Brother Theodore how the other monks would react to the hideousness of my appearance.
“The same as me,” Brother Theodore said. “They would recognize a troubled but gentle heart, and they would welcome you without hesitation.”
I sat with a heavy heart as I contemplated Brother Theodore’s offer while at the same time being pulled to keep my promise to Johanna. Then, almost as if Johanna were whispering in my ear, I had this sense of her telling me that for now I should accept the solace that Brother Theodore was offering.
With tears flooding my eyes, I told Brother Theodore my decision.
CHAPTER
10
They had no brown robes large enough to fit me, so it was decided that for the time being that I could continue to wear my cape. The cell I was assigned held a cot and a window, and nothing else. The cot was too small for me, and Brother Theodore agreed to let me fashion some bedding out of straw and blankets. Even so, the space making up my cell was too small to allow me to lie down unless I did so on my side with my knees pulled to my chest.
Instead of working the vineyards, it was agreed that my great strength could be better utilized in pressing the grapes, and I was soon performing the labor of twenty men. My first evening when I sat with the other monks around the large dining table that held over sixty men, the other monks showed me the same compassion that Brother Theodore had. At Brother Theodore’s urging I had left my face uncovered by the cape’s hood, and none of the other monks displayed any distress over my appearance, nor did any of them appear to notice the monstrous construction of my hands. Instead they only favored me with warm smiles and gentle nods and the good cheer of camaraderie.
Dinner was a simple meal of bread, cheese, greens and wine, but it was difficult to remember a meal that I had enjoyed more. After the meal’s completion we all returned to our cells for quiet meditation and sleep. At no time were words spoken, or were they necessary.
I didn’t sleep that night, but I enjoyed the solitude, and the next morning as the sun broke into the sky, I left my quarters refreshed and ready for a day of productive labor.
Words were rarely spoken within the monastery, with the monks preferring to communicate through simple gestures and warm smiles. After the completion of my second week, Brother Theodore approached me as I cleaned the vats. I was surprised to hear his voice as he told me that due to my efforts the monastery had produced a record amount of wine.
“You are spoiling us, Brother Friedrich,” he continued. “Because of your labors we are finding ourselves able to spend more of our time in quiet contemplation. You have been a godsend to us, and I hope that being amongst us has been equally good to you.”
“It has, Brother Theodore,” I admitted. “More and more I am feeling the same contentment that I did in my former life.”
This was mostly true. Not only did the brothers make me feel welcome, but they also treated me as if I were an equal member of their brotherhood, and at times I would even forget about my hideous appearance. But I didn’t tell Brother Theodore about the pull on my soul that I felt nightly to seek out my enemy, Victor Frankenstein, nor the troubling nature of my dreams when I would sleep. They were always the same, always filled with a dark foreboding. As with the pull that I would feel on my soul, these dreams were also urging me to leave the monastery and head southwards. Always that ruined castle would be lurking in the background beckoning me, and at times I would even hear Frankenstein’s voice taunting me. Whenever I would wake from these dreams it would take a great effort on my part to stay within my cell and not flee the monastery for the dark woods beyond. More and more I tried not to sleep at night, but with my daily labors I was finding sleep harder to ignore, and would drift off every third night or so for several hours only to wake in a disturbed state.