A Thousand Lives (Short Stories)

Cruel Irony

Abbot MacClery was walking through the forest near to the abbey, as he tended to do every early morning. When the sound of a man grunting in pain reached his ears from the thicket, the abbot silently approached where the sound was coming from. There in the wilderness a man with the stature of a bear was lying on the ground. Clothed in leather and skin, the man was lying in his own blood. Frightened, Abbot MacClery remained quiet to listen. Where were the man's fellow warriors? Did they abandon one of their own? The Irishman stepped to the wounded to take a look. The foreigner did not stir nor attack, but remained in a state of apathy. Closed eyelids indicated him to be either asleep or unconscious. Having it not in his heart to abandon a creature in need, the abbot returned an hour later with the means to carry the wounded to the abbey. Upon seeing the patient one of the monks following MacClery only uttered with widened eyes.

"Abbot, why in God's name would ye ask us to help one o' them?" The abbot could see in the other's faces that they all shared the sentiment, concerning the Norseman.

"The Lord says, love thy neighbour as thyself," MacClery stated with a warm voice. "An' what is he if not our neighbour right now. We are all God's children." With uneasy faces his fellow Christian brothers reflected upon the bible's teachings. Having reached their conclusion, they went to help the abbot to carry the Norseman back to the abbey. Yet MacClery noticed some fearful glances and muttered prayers accompanied by the sign of the cross. Their wounded foreigner didn't move as much as a muscle as they carried him, nor as they cleaned his wounds. A task MacClery took upon himself to fulfil since his brothers altogether were too frightened to approach their potential murderer.

Days he spent looking after the stranger, who had opened his eyes in the meantime but not spoken nor moved. The food offered to him however he ate, but not before MacClery had vanished to tend to his other responsibilities. Often the two men sat in silence, and sometimes the Norseman would listen to the abbot's teachings. Yet the head of the abbey doubted the foreigner did understand the words he said. For the expression seldom changed from the dark stare. The other monks shared their disapproval from time to time of harbouring a member of the race, which had the habit of murdering and plundering their land. MacClery silenced all of them with the benevolent teachings of their Lord and saviour. It was one crisp, misty morning when the abbot entered the room he had given to the stranger, that he saw the abandoned bed. None of his brothers had seen or heard the man leave. And many were relieved when he didn't return in the evening nor the day after. Some spoke up about MacClery dooming them, because the Norseman would return wielding steel and fire. As time passed however, the voices of fear and relief faded with the memory. The abbot himself was assured by the missing attacks, to have done the right thing. And surely, he would have had no regrets had he died before one fateful night.

For almost a year the abbey continued to live undisturbed when one day MacClery noticed oddly many crows in the forest surrounding them. Had he given it a bit more thought, he might have saved at least some of his brothers who shared his faith. As soon as the night had settled the sound of flying arrows and the smell of smoke let the abbot look outside. A horde of men approached his home, the broad shoulders clothed in wool and skin. The Norsemen attacked whomever they found. MacClery himself was not spared the terror of facing one of these demons, who adored war demanding gods of their own. When MacClery's door was broken down his legs gave in. He thought about the Lord above and that he might save him. But no help came as the foreign man raised his axe ready to deliver the abbot from his mortal existence. He couldn't say if it was fear, regret or guilt that let him cling to his earthly life. It was not that MacClery's faith in the teachings had failed. For he was firm in the belief that his choice to help the Norseman had been just in the Lord's and his own eyes. It was more the fact, how he had not done his duty protecting those in his care that wrecked him to the core. It is not compassion that had sowed this suffering but more the ignorance of his own soul. With a look into his executioner's face, MacClery believed to see recognition flame up in the other man's eyes. But denied was him the knowledge of certainty when the heavy weapon came down.