Old Habits

13 - Innocence

Eventually, they returned home.

As Calba had said, it was getting dark. It remained light enough for them to find their way to the city, but by the time Kaida and Tam arrived at the monastery it was very dark indeed. If there was such a thing as a dusk chorus, it would have been singing.

Things had changed whilst they had been gone. Most of the monks, understandably frightened, had locked themselves in. Brother Ger, as ever, was the exception.

"You left him outside?"

"He was armed and crazy, for Gosh's sake," Berith protested. "It was dangerous enough out there, with the monster on the prowl. An Aldenian lunatic was the last thing we needed."

"Besides," added Abaye, "he clearly didn't want to come in. He'd been unsettled all day, you know that. Even if we had found him, putting ourselves at risk of attack by the monster in the process, what then? Force a madman with a knife to come inside with us, against his will? No, thank you".

Normally, Tam didn't mind Abaye's cowardice. In many respects it was amusing. In this instance, however, it had led to serious neglect.

"Then perhaps you should have thought about that before you took the job, Father." He spat the last word. "Real fathers do not abandon their children so easily".

Tam knew that this wasn't technically true; his own father had deserted him at the monastery. However, he was also confident that nobody would mention the irony. With a large proportion of monks in a similar position, this subject was taboo with monastery walls. The point would therefore be left to stand.

The only monk who might break the taboo was Berith. Himself a father, he was notorious for his lack of tact, and would not let sentiment prevent him from winning a point. Tam studied him cautiously. The older monk, however, seemed to have withdrawn from the debate. With Tam questioning Abaye's place as Abbot, silence was serving him well.

Questioning Abaye's place as Abbot. Until he considered Berith's perspective, Tam hadn't realised that that was what he was doing. Now, though, he saw that it undeniably was. His own audacity shocked him a little. Everybody criticised Abaye, yes, but nobody had challenged his place as Abbot. Even Berith kept his opinions on that matter, clear though they were, decidedly unspoken.

It was difficult for Tam to comprehend, but he had returned to the monastery a changed man. His encounters with monsters, human or otherwise, had made him stronger. Tam felt more confident, more ready to impose his presence on the world. There was something else, too. His eyes had been opened. 

History, he had known, was written by the victors. If you are passionate enough, and brave enough, you can re-write the past. Tam now wondered, not why it was true, but why he had thought it was important. Why decide the past, when you can decide the future?

After his experiences in the cave, he was passionate, and he was brave. Not only had he developed the confidence to fight, but he had gained something worth fighting for. In a way, it was revelation. The Prophet may not have spoken to him directly, but he had spoken to his followers, and they had written it down, and thousands of monks throughout history had copied and interpreted their accounts, and Tam had read them all.

Standing up to Calba, he hadn't heard the Prophet's words for the first time; he'd read The Book dozens of times, and every passage was familiar to him. However, for the first time, he'd understood them.

Love. Peace. Respect. Tam had always known that they were important, but now he understood why.

The monks had it backwards. These things weren't right because the Prophet said so. They were right in and of themselves; the Prophet was just wise enough to see it.