The Monk and the Banished Prince

Chapter 3

Nico dreamt of a feast, of tables laid with food, of people in fine garments, of candles, of music. Even in his dream, he knew the clothes of the guests were suspiciously like those of the people who'd ridden through the gates today, and the feast was probably inspired by the dinner served in the refectory that he had glimpsed from the outside. He hadn't been allowed to present. Most of the monks, save for the few old and trustworthy ones that Thaddeus had picked to serve the food, had retreated to their rooms after the evening prayer, and so had Nico.

He knew he was dreaming, and yet he clung to it, almost tasting the exotic food, almost hearing the music. Music was forbidden in the monastery, yet it sounded pleasant in his dream, and he wanted to hear more.

He woke up in the dark, the silence interrupted only by the snoring from the next room. The small square window offered a glimpse of the tall wall across the yard. The sunrise was probably hours away.

He turned to one side, then another. The dream had left him unsettled, as if he had been thrown out of that hall and forced back into his cold little room. The contrast was jarring.

With a sigh, he sat up. Perhaps the night breeze would wash the thoughts out of his head. Leaving one's room at night was forbidden, but he had done that before, and had sometimes seen others out in the night garden––including Thaddeus himself, strolling in a leisurely way along the moonlit paths. He'd never heard of anyone being caught or punished for doing that. Night air was too good a treatment for insomnia to be denied.

Nico stepped out into the corridor, tying his sash. The windows were larger here, the moonlight rendering his surroundings visible. He looked right and left, making sure there was no one in sight, then walked towards the stairs.

It was darker on the stairwell, and he took his time descending the stone steps one by one, until the moonlit rectangle of the door was right in front of him. He stepped into the courtyard, breathing in the fresh air, and then his foot landed on something soft.

He heard a screech, and jumped back, looking down, expecting to see some animal, perhaps a rabbit that had escaped from Tulio's enclosure.

Two eyes, undoubtedly human, stared at him with animal-like incomprehension.

"Pepe," Nico breathed out. "What're you doing here? You should be in the stables."

The man on the ground, clad in rags, sat straighter, and began to blabber in his gibberish language, most of it constituted by the 'pe' sounds—the habit for which he'd gotten his name. If he had a real name, he couldn't tell it. The poor beggar was too feeble-minded to understand what he was being asked, let alone give any precise answers. He had arrived in the monastery the previous autumn, and nobody had believed that he would survive the winter. Yet it was summer now, and he was still there. He had even begun to grow fat, despite the questionable quality of Felix's cooking.

"Shhh," Nico said, looking around. All the windows of the dormitory were dark, not a flicker of a candle in any of them. "Be quiet, Pepe. Stay here if you want." He started walking, hoping to be out of sight before anyone got awakened by the noise. As he moved away, Pepe's blabbering gradually ceased, and when Nico turned the corner, everything was quiet again. He stopped by another wall, took a deep breath, looked up, and froze.

Above him, in a window on the second floor, stood a man. With the candlelight behind his back, his face was in shadows, but it was clear that he was looking down.

"Hello," said the man. The voice was soft but carried far in the night.

Nico suppressed the instinct to shush him. Shushing royalty was likely a bad idea. He knew the owner of this voice, even though he'd only heard him speak once.