Despite the warm day, night brought with it a bitter chill, and in the soft light of the rising moon, the breath of men and horses began to fog the crisp night air. Above, the stars shone like diamond dust scattered across the heavens. In the distance, the call of owls and the shrill static of crickets filled the valley. Had the party not been so exhausted and hungry, they might have described the trip that night as beautiful. Instead, they merely gritted their teeth and focused on the path ahead.
They began climbing the south hill as Royce led them with uncanny skill along a switchback trail that only his keen eyes could see. The thin, worn clothes of the steward’s son were a miserable defense against the cold, and soon the prince was shivering. To make matters worse, as they climbed higher, the temperature dropped and the wind grew. Soon trees began to shrink to stunted shrubs and the earth changed to lichen and moss covered stone. At last, they reached the steps of the Winds Abbey.
Clouds had moved in, and the moon was no longer visible. In the darkness, they could see very little except the steps and the light they had followed. They dismounted and approached the gate. A stone arch set within a peaked nave lay open on a porch of rock hewn from the hill itself. There was no longer the sound of crickets, nor hooting owls; only the unremitting wind broke the silence.
“Hello?” Hadrian called. After a time Hadrian called again. He was about to try a third time when he saw a light move within. Like a dim firefly weaving behind unseen trees, it vanished behind pillars and walls, reappearing closer each time. As it drew near, Hadrian saw that the strange will-o-wisp was a small man in a worn frock holding a lantern.
“Who is it?” he asked in a soft, timid voice.
“Wayfarers,” Royce answered. “Cold, tired, and hoping for a place to rest.”
“How many are you?” The man poked his head out and swung the lantern about. He paused to study each face. “Just the three?”
“Yes,” Hadrian replied. “We’ve been traveling all day with no food. We were hoping to take advantage of the famous hospitality of the legendry Monks of Maribor. Do you have room?”
The monk hesitated only a moment and then said, “I…I suppose.” He stepped back to allow them entrance. “Come in.”
With only the bleak glow of the monk’s lantern, which he kept low to light the floor, they could not see much beyond the stone walkway. By now, however, each was too tired for a tour even if the monk had been inclined to show off his home. The abbey had a heavy smell of smoke about it that prompted Hadrian to envision large, warm crackling hearths where beds might be.
“We didn’t mean to wake you,” Royce said softly.
“Oh, not me,” the monk said. “I actually don’t sleep much at all. I was busy with a book, right in the middle of a sentence when you called. Most unnerving I can tell you. It’s a rare thing to hear someone shouting in the middle of the day up here, much less a dark night. You can sleep up this way—”
“We have horses,” Hadrian interrupted.
“Really? How exciting,” the monk replied, sounding impressed. “Actual riding horses, with saddles and everything? Oh, I would like to see them, but it’s very late. Did you ride them here?”
“Yes,” Hadrian said. “We thought having them ride us would be silly.” The monk paused with a peculiar look on his face. “I was making a joke,” Hadrian said.
“Ah!” the monk smiled. “Oh, yes—very funny. So, you can sleep—”
“What I meant to ask,” Hadrian interrupted again, “is whether there is somewhere we can stable our horses for the night? A barn or perhaps a shed?”
“Oh, I see.” The monk paused, tapping his lip thoughtfully. “Ah, well, we had a lovely stable, mostly for cows, sheep, and goats, but that’s not going to work tonight. We also had some animal pens where we kept pigs, but that really won’t work either.”
“I suppose we could just tie them up outside somewhere if that’s all right?” Hadrian asked. “I think I remember a little tree or two.”
The monk nodded, appearing relieved to have the issue resolved.
After they stacked the saddles on the porch, the little man led them through an opening into what appeared to be a large ornately framed courtyard. Columns of freestanding stone rose beneath a cloudy sky, and various black silhouetted statues dotted the space. The smoky smell was stronger here, but the only thing burning appeared to be the lantern in the monk’s hand. They reached a small set of stone steps and the monk led the way down a set of two turns into what appeared to be a rough-hewn stone cellar.
“You can stay here,” the monk told them.
The three stared at the tiny hovel, which Hadrian thought looked less inviting than the cells below Essendon Castle. Inside, it was very cramped, filled with piles of neatly stacked wood, tied bundles of twigs and heather, two wooden barrels, a chamber pot, a little table, and a single cot. No one said a word for a moment.
“It’s not much, I know,” the monk offered regretfully, “but at the moment, it’s all I can offer you.”
“We’ll make do then, thank you,” Hadrian assured him. He was so tired he didn’t care so long as he could lie down and be out of the wind. “Can we perhaps get a few blankets? As you can see we really don’t have any supplies with us.”
“Blankets?” The monk looked concerned. “Well, there is one here.” He pointed at the cot where a single thin blanket lay neatly folded. “I truly am sorry I can’t offer you anymore. You can keep the lantern if you like. I know my way around without it.” The monk left them without another word, perhaps fearful they would ask for something else.
“He didn’t even ask us our names,” the prince said.
“And wasn’t that a pleasant surprise,” Royce pointed out as he moved around the room with the lantern. Hadrian watched him take a thorough inventory of what little was there: a dozen or so bottles of wine hidden in the back, a small sack of potatoes under some straw, and a length of rope.
“This is intolerable,” Alric said in disgust. “Surely an abbey of this size has better accommodations than this pit.”
Hadrian found an old pair of burlap shoes that he cleared out before he lay down on the cellar floor. “I actually have to agree with the royal one there. I heard great things about the hospitality of this abbey. We do appear to be getting the dregs.”
“Question is why?” Royce asked. “Who else is here? It would need to be several groups or a tremendously large party to turn us out to this hovel. Only nobility travel with such large retinues. They might be looking for us. They might be associated with those archers.”
“I doubt it. If we were in Roe, I think we’d have more reason for concern,” Hadrian said as he stretched and then yawned. “Besides, anyone who is here has turned in for the night and probably not expecting any late arrivals.”
“Still, I’m going to get up early and look around. We might need to make a hasty departure.”
“Not before breakfast,” Hadrian said, sitting on the floor and kicking off his boots. “We need to eat and I know abbeys are renowned for their food. If nothing else you can steal some.”
“Fine, but His Highness should not move about. He needs to keep a low profile.”