Crusaders 2 2/7
Jun. 9th, 2013 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ramblin_rosie posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
christianfanficPrevious
NOW
Chapter 1
Welcome Back, Cotter[1]
Oh, not again, Samuel thought as Azazel lashed out and pinned him to the wall by his throat, choking both him and the exorcism he was reciting. He did not fear for his life—Dean would not let the farce go that far—but why did spirits always seek to throttle him?!
The force that pressed about his throat and raised him from the ground was crushing, so much so that he could scarce draw breath, never mind continue speaking. He heard Azazel say aught, but the words seemed without meaning. Darkness licked like flames about the edges of his sight as John moaned some plea to the demon and Azazel made some mocking reply. It was all he could do to keep from clawing at the air in a bootless attempt to free himself.
And then there was a loud bang, and breath returned in a rush as the force vanished and Samuel fell. Dean’s aim had been true, it seemed, for Azazel cried out and staggered and fell as he burned from within as with hellfire. Robert ran to help Samuel to his feet, but Samuel, for all his labored gasping for air, could not take his eyes from Azazel until the last sparks faded and the demon lay dead.
“We need to get out of here,” Gabriel stated before anyone could react, and with a snap of his fingers, he carried them all back to their room at the inn in Nazareth.
“Art well, Samuel?” Robert asked.
Samuel shook his head and put a hand to his aching throat, unsure if he could speak.
Gabriel walked over and looked at Samuel’s throat. “Bruised larynx,” said he. “You’ll be all right; there’s no structural damage. It’ll hurt for a while, though, and try not to talk for a week.”
Samuel smiled a little at that. If there was one thing life at Rievaulx had taught him, it was how to keep silent.
“What is that thing, Dean?” John asked as Father Seamus helped him to his feet.
“No more of our concern, Father,” Dean replied and handed the gun to Castiel, who tucked it into his robe. “Mother is avenged; that is all we need know.”
John looked sour, but when Castiel turned to him with a look of challenge, he let the matter drop.
“Right,” said Gabriel. “Returning to England too soon would raise more questions than we can safely answer, especially for Samuel. So we should take our time getting back—take a couple of days to rest here in Nazareth, for starters.”
Samuel frowned, remembering how ill at ease Gabriel had been both here earlier in the day and in Bethlehem. But Gabriel saw and shook his head slightly, the way Dean often did when telling Samuel to leave something be. Samuel supposed from that that Gabriel’s concern for their ability to hide the truth of their mission was more important than his discomfiture over their location. So he sighed through his nose and made no further sign to inquire after Gabriel’s comfort.
And how is it that I should take thought for an angel’s cares? he thought wryly.
“Perchance tomorrow Dean and Samuel would join me on a short pilgrimage after Mass, as we had perforce to miss the Office today,” Father Seamus said. “We have seen but few of the holy sites in this town, and only in passing. John is not well enough, I know, and someone ought to stay with him—”
“I shall,” Robert interrupted. “We’ve some old spellunga to finish.”[2]
“I’ve no need of a nurse-maid,” John grumbled, but no one was fooled.
Father Seamus smiled a bit and turned to Gabriel, who held up a hand. “Nay, ye children go on without me. No one needs to hear which church is in the wrong place!”
Samuel bit back a smile at that, and Dean laughed enough for both of them.
And even Castiel almost smiled. “I was elsewhere at the time, so I will explain none of those mysteries. But if Samuel is not to speak, he will need someone to interpret his signs.”
That was a fair point, and Samuel acknowledged it by raising his eyebrows. The Cistercians had developed a system of hand signs so that they might speak to one another without breaking silence, but as well as Dean knew Samuel, he did not know those signs.
Dean frowned. “Signs? What—what signs? Give him a slate. I can read, you know.”
Samuel decided to do penance later and made a sign Dean knew very well. Dean spluttered and called Samuel a Gaelic name that made Gabriel laugh, as did the name Samuel mouthed back. At Samuel’s raised eyebrow, Gabriel nodded—Dean’s offspring would call each other those same names. Samuel snorted softly and shook his head in amusement.
Father Seamus caught his eye and mouthed “Te absolvo” with a wink, which Samuel answered with a smile.
“Right, lads,” John growled. “Let’s to bed.”
There was a murmur of assent on all sides, and the men made ready to sleep while Castiel posted himself at the window to stand watch. But Gabriel caught Samuel by the elbow and leaned in close so the others could not overhear.
“Don’t worry about me,” he whispered gently. “I’ll be all right. But Samuel? Thanks.”
Samuel smiled a little and nodded, and Gabriel nodded back and released him.
Gabriel’s jest made more sense the next day when Father Seamus took the brothers past St. Gabriel’s Church, where the Greeks held that Gabriel had appeared to St. Mary at Mary’s Well, on their way to Mass at the Basilica of the Annunciation, which Rome held to be the site of St. Joachim and St. Anna’s house. Castiel kept his face carefully neutral in both places.
But as they left the basilica, Dean leaned close to Samuel. “They cannot both be in the right place—but are they both wrong?”
“Yes, actually,” Castiel replied quietly enough that Father Seamus would not hear. “Mary did draw water at that well, but Gabriel did not appear to her there, and her parents’ house was on the other side of town.”[3]
Samuel bit his cheek hard to keep from laughing.
The remainder of the tour was less controversial, though, and Samuel was glad they had chosen to stay another day. When they returned to the inn, Gabriel declared that they should make the trip a full week long, which Dean decided gave him and Samuel a day to go to the market to choose gifts for Ellen and Joanna, both trinkets for them and supplies of wine and spices for the inn that they could not have afforded else, and a final day to rest. Rare hunting supplies they found as well, and Samuel selected a fine but plain olivewood cross to present to the abbey. Castiel came with them again to serve as their interpreter, which occasionally resulted in some awkward conversations when someone tried to speak directly to Samuel and Castiel had to intervene. But at least the tale Castiel told of Samuel being waylaid by ruffians both explained his throat and was mostly true. He had, after all, been assailed by Turkish slavers in Damascus.
“Your pardon, Castiel,” Dean said quietly as they returned to the inn, “but why do you and Gabriel not heal Samuel and Father now?”
Castiel sighed. “I know not how much to explain, but because we have come so far, our power is limited. We have still to return you all to England and ourselves to our own time. Neither of us is sure that we can spare the power needed to heal either Samuel or John. But the wounds will heal well enough with mortal medicine.”
Dean nodded, clearly disappointed.
They turned into an alley then that led back to the inn, and as soon as they were out of sight of the street, Castiel stopped them. “There is one thing I would fain do for you both, though. Your tale is not yet at an end. So by your leave, I would place a mark on you that shall grant you a measure of protection.”
Dean and Samuel looked at each other and shrugged. “Very well,” Dean replied.
Castiel raised two fingers and pressed them to Dean’s breast, on the left side between the collarbone and the heart. Dean gasped and rubbed at the spot when Castiel removed his hand. Then Castiel did the same to Samuel, and Samuel hissed at the brief sharp pain that spread about the spot. When Castiel had removed his hand, Samuel pulled aside his collar far enough to catch a glimpse of the mark upon his skin; sable it was, and of an odd design. Had he to blazon it, he might have called it a pentangle within a roundel pierced and rayonnant—but even that would not quite do the sigil justice.
“I do not know this for a certainty, because of what we have changed,” Castiel continued, “but I deem you will learn its meaning soon. Some might choose to bear a charm graven with that sign, but your offspring chose to wear it as a skin mark, just as I have given you. Should any challenge you, though, say it is an angel’s mark.”
Both brothers nodded their understanding of the injunction, if not of the mark.
Castiel nodded back. “Good. Let us go.”
Dean and Samuel exchanged a look and followed Castiel back to the inn.
Samuel found himself sorely in need of rest on the final day. So while Dean took Robert and Father Seamus to the market for hunting supplies, Samuel stayed behind with John, who slept much of the day, and Gabriel, who seemed either lost in thought or wrestling in prayer. For his own part, Samuel prayed the Hours and the rosary silently to prepare his heart for return to Rievaulx.
Yet when at last the travelers made ready to leave Nazareth on the morning of the fifteenth of January, Gabriel did not take them each to his own home at once. Rather, he waited until they had left the city before snapping his fingers and carrying the whole group, horses and all, to the road that led north into Oxenford. By unspoken accord, they made their way to the Eagle and Child, where Ellen and Joanna and Brother Asce were both surprised and overjoyed to welcome them. Rufus was there, too, and asked no end of questions. Robert and Father Seamus took on the task of telling such tales as they and John had devised to explain the speed of their return, while Ellen fussed over both Samuel and John, bringing John a cushion to sit on and hot spiced wine to soothe Samuel’s still-aching throat. But she was not so inattentive as to fail to notice Dean’s sign that he would speak to her aside, and when they had spoken, Dean took Joanna out into the yard behind the inn.
Some minutes later, Samuel realized that they had not yet returned, so he cautiously went to the window and peeked out. Dean and Joanna stood close together conversing, facing one another; Dean’s back was to the inn, but Joanna held his right hand while he caressed her face gently with his left, and her eyes were shining. Then she said aught, and Dean kissed her far more tenderly than Samuel had ever seen him kiss a maid.
Ere Samuel could wonder at this change, Joanna tugged on Dean’s hand, and they returned to the common room hand in hand. Once the door was closed behind them, Dean cleared his throat loudly. The laughter and chatter paused.
“Father, Father Seamus,” Dean began. “We—that is, Joanna and I—should, er....” He flushed, suddenly anxious. “We... should....”
“We’re trothplighted,” Joanna stated, saving him, “and should like to put up the banns.”
Samuel could only grin at his brother, but everyone else gave a great cheer and drank the couple’s health.
“Aye, Dean,” Father Seamus said after. “Fain would I wed ye. Where shall it be, and when? Here? Grentabrige?”
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, i’sooth, good Father... we had thought Rievaulx, an Sammy could gain us leave.”
Samuel’s mouth fell open, but then he smiled all the more broadly and nodded his assent.
Father Seamus considered it. “’Tis all one to me. John?”
John sighed. “’Tis a long journey, Yorkshire. Ye would need to wait ’til I be well enough to fare so far.”
Joanna shook her head. “I’ve no desire to go so far myself in such weather. Come April, perchance?”
“Aye,” Father Seamus agreed. “’Twould be time enow for the banns and for John to mend, and after Easter my parish could spare me better.”
John nodded. “Fair enow. After Easter, then.”
Then made they all merry, even the angels, until John began to tire. Dean took leave of Joanna with a kiss, and he and Samuel and Father Seamus helped John to a room.
Once they were away from the others, though, John sighed heavily. “April. Lads, I cannot stay in this place so long. After... after Will....”
“Da, ’twas no fault of thine,” Dean said quietly. “Nor Ellen nor Joanna blames thee; they saw what FitzUrse had done.”
“Yet I see it still, in my mind’s eye. Fain would I have given my life for his.”
“Come thou and stay with me, then, mo chara,” said Father Seamus.[4] “Grentabrige is but two days hence,[5] so ’twould be no hardship for Dean to come to see thee, and there are ladies enow in the parish would fain look after thee.”
John returned a smirk.
Father Seamus laughed, but neither Samuel nor Dean could hold back a disgusted “Da!!”
John chuckled and held more tightly to his sons. “Ye know I jest, lads. Aye, Seamus, ’tis a kind offer, and I thank thee.”
So the travelers, aided by the angels, left for Grentabrige the next day and saw John settled comfortably in the parsonage with Father Seamus. Robert took leave of them there on foot, and Gabriel and Castiel returned Samuel and Dean to Oxenford for another two days. Then, after a long and oft tearful leave-taking, the angels bore Samuel alone back to Rievaulx.
He had been away but four and a half weeks, yet the sight of the abbot’s quarters was as welcome as if he had been away for years. Abbot Aelred was working at his desk when they arrived and leapt to his feet in joyous surprise.
“St. Gabriel, St. Castiel!” Abbot Aelred cried.
Gabriel held up a hand. “Prithee, Aelred, kneel not. We come only to return thy brother to thee, for his task is complete.”
Abbot Aelred nodded and looked at Samuel. “Samuel, my dear, dear brother... we had not thought to see thee back ere Advent!”
“His throat was wounded,” said Gabriel. “No worse than bruised, but he should not speak or sing for a week yet.”
Samuel blinked at that—it had already been a full week since his throttling, and Gabriel had given him leave to speak when parting from Dean—but decided not to question the order and smiled wryly at the abbot.
“Much of what he has seen and done is not to be revealed, even to thee. But of what he may speak, he shall speak truly.”
Samuel understood that command much better and nodded.
“And he has aught to give to thee, I deem—a cross of olivewood, made in Nazareth, given in thanks to God that he is safe returned.”
Samuel smiled more broadly and handed the cross to Abbot Aelred.
Abbot Aelred frowned a little at that. “Givest thou this to me?”
Samuel shook his head and signed All.
“Oh, to all the brothers?”
Samuel nodded.
“’Tis not his gift alone,” Castiel added. “His brother and father also send thanks thereby.”
And since Dean had paid for it with John’s silver, that was more or less true. So Samuel nodded again.
Abbot Aelred looked at the cross again, humble as it was in all but origin, and nodded. “Well, then, I shall find a place for it in the oratory. Please give them our thanks.”
The angels bowed their heads once. “We must take our leave now,” said Gabriel. “Fare thee well, Aelred. And Samuel?” He squeezed Samuel’s arm with a warm smile. “Again we thank thee.”
Samuel smiled and nodded. Castiel patted his shoulder and gave him a small smile, and then the angels left.
Glad as he was to be home, Samuel felt bereft. It had been both wondrous strange and strangely wondrous to have had the fellowship of angels for even so short a time, but as they were returning to their own day, he would not see them again in this life. And no one at Rievaulx could understand what he and Dean had been through, even were he allowed to explain.
Suddenly, stupidly, he missed Dean.
“Nazareth, they said,” quoth Abbot Aelred. “Hast been in the Holy Land, then?”
Samuel pulled himself together and nodded.
“Is Jerusalem yet retaken?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Hast been to Nazareth, though. Well, then, perchance when the current reading is finished and thou art well, I shall bid thee tell us aught of Nazareth.”
Samuel smiled.
Abbot Aelred smiled back. “Come, ’tis almost time for Terce. I am sure the brothers shall be glad to see thee back again.”
Yet after Samuel had performed the standard penance for brothers who had been away on a journey, he realized that in fact, not all the brothers were glad of his return. A certain Brother Thomas, whom Samuel did not know well but had seemed friendly enough in the past, glared daggers at him whenever Samuel chanced to pass him. Samuel knew no reason why this should be—until one day he thought he saw Brother Thomas’ eyes flicker black briefly when the name of Christ was said at Vespers.
That night as he lay abed trying to fall asleep, Samuel thought through what he had noticed about Brother Thomas since his return. Brother Thomas was often late to the Divine Office, though not so late that he earned the place reserved to shame the tardy, and that had not changed. Yet now he avoided the cloister and the Blessing of the Water for some reason,[6] and Samuel seldom heard his voice among the choir. And he was surly with all the brothers, not only Samuel, though for Samuel it seemed he reserved especial hate.
But Samuel had too little proof that Brother Thomas was possessed. And he knew not what to do about it if he had such proof.
It took a month for the current meal-time reading, St. Augustine’s De Civitate Dei, to come to a close, and Abbot Aelred added Samuel to the rotation of weekly readers again so that he should be the one to finish. Since the book was ended in mid-week, Abbot Aelred bade him wait to start the next book so that he might speak of Nazareth during the next day’s meals. Samuel obeyed and, after an introduction from the good abbot, told what he might about the city and its holy sites. He had refused all questions ere this, as commanded in the Rule of Benedict, but he recalled all those that he might answer freely and did so.
He had been speaking a bare half hour, however, when Brother Thomas leapt to his feet, screaming, “Lies, lies!”
“Sit down, brother, and keep thy peace,” said Abbot Aelred.
“’Tis four months’ journey, at least, from here to the Holy Land,” Brother Thomas insisted. “This fool was not gone so long as to have been to Rome!”
“Mind thy tongue, Thomas,” Abbot Aelred said more sharply, but some of the other brothers began to murmur.
Samuel looked Brother Thomas in the eye. “As God is my witness, I have told no lie.”
Brother Thomas howled in rage and sprang over the table to attack Samuel. Some of the brothers rose to stop him; other brothers rose to stop them; and soon the refectory was in chaos. At a sign from the abbot, Samuel ran for the door, and Abbot Aelred followed, but the brawl followed both of them into the passage around the cloister, through the day room, and nigh to the door of the abbot’s quarters. The prior and other monks with authority to correct the brothers were able to bar the path there and allow Abbot Aelred and Samuel safe passage into the abbot’s quarters and out of harm’s way.
Once the door was closed behind them, Abbot Aelred sighed. “Let us speak plainly, brother. Thy speech has oft been guarded since thy return. I do not accuse thee thus of falsehood; thou hast been on an errand for the angels, and I would not have thee speak when they have bid thee keep silent. And thou hast done naught that does not accord with the Rule and the customs of our Order. But there are those who would take silence for admission of a fault.”
Samuel nodded. “Yet I have said all that is safe to say.”
“I doubt it not, Samuel. And there is more. Brother Thomas has been disquiet and disruptive of late, and for more than this cause—it began perhaps a week ere your return. He had been working at the grange at Griff while the grangemaster was ill... and the lay brothers have brought reports of ill omens there and round about.”
Samuel frowned. The village of Griff had been destroyed by the Northmen before the founding of Rievaulx; the monks had razed the old buildings and used the site as farmland.[7] One house remained intact for the brothers’ use, as Griff was two miles from the abbey and thus too far for the brothers to travel thither and back very many times a day. “What sorts of omens?”
“Some of the sheep have been mutilated. The well has frozen over, which it should not have done even in this chill winter. Patches of black fog have been seen drifting about the fields. And a few of the lay brothers claim to have seen ghosts.”
“Ghosts? What might have been done to disturb them?”
Abbot Aelred shook his head. “I wit not. But thy question tells me thou hast dealt with such things.”
Samuel nodded. “My father is a hunter of demons.”
The abbot nodded slowly. Then he sighed. “Samuel, I am satisfied of thy innocence, and thou knowest I would not send a brother wittingly into danger to learn the cause of the omens at Griff. But thou hast useful knowledge and St. Gabriel’s favor, and I wit not what would satisfy the brothers better than thy coming safely through such an ordeal.”
Samuel felt himself pale at that last word. “That is what you would ask of me? A trial by ordeal?”
“Aye. There is no work for others there that cannot wait until the danger is past. Go thou alone to Griff. Take such supplies as you may need, but no weapons save prayer and Scripture and the full armor of God. Drive the evil thence. An thou return to us whole and victorious, I doubt not that the matter shall be settled for aye.”
Samuel’s heart sank. “Might I be allotted a piece of chalk, two flasks of holy water, and a measure of salt?”
Abbot Aelred nodded. “That is reasonable, I deem.”
Samuel bowed his head. “Then as you command, I shall obey.”
Abbot Aelred took him gently by the shoulders. “My dear brother. Ever have I been fond of thee, last as thou wert of the novices in my charge ere I was called to Revesby. I would not ask this of thee had I not the highest confidence that thou shalt succeed. And it may be that thou shalt find help unlooked-for on thy way.”
I shall have to, Samuel thought miserably, but he only nodded. He could not divulge the truth: that the Gabriel he knew was not the St. Gabriel currently in Heaven, that Gabriel and Castiel had returned to the future to aid Dean’s offspring and had taken the gun with them, that the aid he and Dean had received on the Crusade could not be counted upon now. And what hope had he of sending word to Dean in time?
“Griff,” Dean repeated quietly so that the inn’s other guests could not overhear. “You are sure the man said Griff?”
Brother Asce nodded and answered in like wise. “Ghosts he saw, and belike devils as well.”
Dean swore. “That’s Rievaulx land. When said he that the troubles began?”
“Four, five days after the Twelfth Night.”
“Just after we killed Azazel. Then ’tis very like he saw devils. If Hell knows where Samuel is....”
“He thought as much himself, given what his fellows said. And they also said....”
“... that though the abbey is well warded against most devils, there are some that can bear holy ground. Yet a grange is neither.”
“Methought Brother Samuel worketh in the scriptorium.”
“Aye, but an they trouble the brethren enow....”
Brother Asce sighed. “You’d best see to it, then.”
Dean nodded. “Aye. May be they seek thus to trap us both, but ’tis a chance I have perforce to take.”
The foreboding in his heart prompted him to gather more supplies than he might otherwise have taken for such a journey, among them linen-wrapped parcels of frozen meat and a portion of the wine and spices he had bought in Nazareth; and he refused Joanna’s offer to join him. But a weapon she gave him that he did not refuse, but accepted with great thanks and a kiss. And at first light the next day, he rode with all haste for Griff.
Once arrangements were made with the cellarer, Abbot Aelred announced Samuel’s ordeal to the brothers at Vespers. Samuel then fasted and prostrated himself in the oratory after the Hours for the next full day to pray for protection and wisdom, and it seemed that his tears did move some of the brothers who held aught against him. But Brother Thomas shirked the Office every time and sought to spit on Samuel if they chanced to pass; Brother Ælfwine and Brother Osric took to walking beside Samuel to keep the two apart. The wait also gave time enough for the few monks and lay brothers still at Griff to heed the summons, provide such care for the animals as would be necessary during their absence, and return to the abbey’s safety. After Lauds on the second day, the cellarer brought Samuel his daily bread for a week and some cheese and dried fruit, along with the other supplies he had requested. Then Abbot Aelred laid hands on Samuel, prayed over him, and sent him on his way.
Samuel tried not to think too hard about it being Friday the 13th.
The dread in his heart began to build when he was yet a mile from Griff and the birds ceased to sing, and he prayed under his breath. He prayed louder as the grange came into view and the chill in the air grew far stronger than the weather warranted. A black haze, too, seemed to lie over the place, and with it a sense of great evil. And as he passed the boundary of the former town, the stench of sulfur filled his nose.
Samuel broke into a run and made straight for the grange house, but barely had he passed the well when figures began forming from the black mist—some child-like, some more monstrous—and rushed at him, howling and gibbering. Blows rained on him from every side, and claws sought to rend him limb from limb. Unseen forces swept him from the ground and dashed him against trees. No breath had he to cry for help, even were help nigh to hear.
—And yet of a sudden he heard the whistle of an arrow pass, and the shade before him shrieked and vanished as the missile went through it. Mere seconds later, he heard a shout, and the shape of a man came nigh and stood over him, driving back the shadows with a curious dark blade....
Then darkness took him, and he knew no more.
Next
[1] Pun, not typo. A cotter or cottager was a farmer who held a cottage for a feudal overlord.
[2] Conversations.
[3] Not true IRL as far as I know—I haven’t seen discussions of either church being demonstrably in the wrong place, and the dispute seems to rest on the fact that Luke doesn’t say where Gabriel did appear to Mary—but this is SPN-verse.
[4] My friend
[5] Grentabrige is one of two twelfth-century forms of the town name that would become Cambridge.
[6] On Sundays in Cistercian monasteries, the priest celebrating Mass sprinkled newly-blessed holy water over all the monks, novices, etc.; at Rievaulx, this ceremony also involved sprinkling the cloister with salt and holy water.
[7] The history of the village of Griff that appears here is purely fictional, apart from the facts in this sentence; even the idea that it was destroyed by the Vikings is speculation on my part. (Note: The Vikings I’m picturing here are more Scandinavian than Danish, which is why I’ve gone with Northmen rather than Danes. Norse and Viking are too new, relatively speaking.)
Chapter 1
Welcome Back, Cotter[1]
Oh, not again, Samuel thought as Azazel lashed out and pinned him to the wall by his throat, choking both him and the exorcism he was reciting. He did not fear for his life—Dean would not let the farce go that far—but why did spirits always seek to throttle him?!
The force that pressed about his throat and raised him from the ground was crushing, so much so that he could scarce draw breath, never mind continue speaking. He heard Azazel say aught, but the words seemed without meaning. Darkness licked like flames about the edges of his sight as John moaned some plea to the demon and Azazel made some mocking reply. It was all he could do to keep from clawing at the air in a bootless attempt to free himself.
And then there was a loud bang, and breath returned in a rush as the force vanished and Samuel fell. Dean’s aim had been true, it seemed, for Azazel cried out and staggered and fell as he burned from within as with hellfire. Robert ran to help Samuel to his feet, but Samuel, for all his labored gasping for air, could not take his eyes from Azazel until the last sparks faded and the demon lay dead.
“We need to get out of here,” Gabriel stated before anyone could react, and with a snap of his fingers, he carried them all back to their room at the inn in Nazareth.
“Art well, Samuel?” Robert asked.
Samuel shook his head and put a hand to his aching throat, unsure if he could speak.
Gabriel walked over and looked at Samuel’s throat. “Bruised larynx,” said he. “You’ll be all right; there’s no structural damage. It’ll hurt for a while, though, and try not to talk for a week.”
Samuel smiled a little at that. If there was one thing life at Rievaulx had taught him, it was how to keep silent.
“What is that thing, Dean?” John asked as Father Seamus helped him to his feet.
“No more of our concern, Father,” Dean replied and handed the gun to Castiel, who tucked it into his robe. “Mother is avenged; that is all we need know.”
John looked sour, but when Castiel turned to him with a look of challenge, he let the matter drop.
“Right,” said Gabriel. “Returning to England too soon would raise more questions than we can safely answer, especially for Samuel. So we should take our time getting back—take a couple of days to rest here in Nazareth, for starters.”
Samuel frowned, remembering how ill at ease Gabriel had been both here earlier in the day and in Bethlehem. But Gabriel saw and shook his head slightly, the way Dean often did when telling Samuel to leave something be. Samuel supposed from that that Gabriel’s concern for their ability to hide the truth of their mission was more important than his discomfiture over their location. So he sighed through his nose and made no further sign to inquire after Gabriel’s comfort.
And how is it that I should take thought for an angel’s cares? he thought wryly.
“Perchance tomorrow Dean and Samuel would join me on a short pilgrimage after Mass, as we had perforce to miss the Office today,” Father Seamus said. “We have seen but few of the holy sites in this town, and only in passing. John is not well enough, I know, and someone ought to stay with him—”
“I shall,” Robert interrupted. “We’ve some old spellunga to finish.”[2]
“I’ve no need of a nurse-maid,” John grumbled, but no one was fooled.
Father Seamus smiled a bit and turned to Gabriel, who held up a hand. “Nay, ye children go on without me. No one needs to hear which church is in the wrong place!”
Samuel bit back a smile at that, and Dean laughed enough for both of them.
And even Castiel almost smiled. “I was elsewhere at the time, so I will explain none of those mysteries. But if Samuel is not to speak, he will need someone to interpret his signs.”
That was a fair point, and Samuel acknowledged it by raising his eyebrows. The Cistercians had developed a system of hand signs so that they might speak to one another without breaking silence, but as well as Dean knew Samuel, he did not know those signs.
Dean frowned. “Signs? What—what signs? Give him a slate. I can read, you know.”
Samuel decided to do penance later and made a sign Dean knew very well. Dean spluttered and called Samuel a Gaelic name that made Gabriel laugh, as did the name Samuel mouthed back. At Samuel’s raised eyebrow, Gabriel nodded—Dean’s offspring would call each other those same names. Samuel snorted softly and shook his head in amusement.
Father Seamus caught his eye and mouthed “Te absolvo” with a wink, which Samuel answered with a smile.
“Right, lads,” John growled. “Let’s to bed.”
There was a murmur of assent on all sides, and the men made ready to sleep while Castiel posted himself at the window to stand watch. But Gabriel caught Samuel by the elbow and leaned in close so the others could not overhear.
“Don’t worry about me,” he whispered gently. “I’ll be all right. But Samuel? Thanks.”
Samuel smiled a little and nodded, and Gabriel nodded back and released him.
Gabriel’s jest made more sense the next day when Father Seamus took the brothers past St. Gabriel’s Church, where the Greeks held that Gabriel had appeared to St. Mary at Mary’s Well, on their way to Mass at the Basilica of the Annunciation, which Rome held to be the site of St. Joachim and St. Anna’s house. Castiel kept his face carefully neutral in both places.
But as they left the basilica, Dean leaned close to Samuel. “They cannot both be in the right place—but are they both wrong?”
“Yes, actually,” Castiel replied quietly enough that Father Seamus would not hear. “Mary did draw water at that well, but Gabriel did not appear to her there, and her parents’ house was on the other side of town.”[3]
Samuel bit his cheek hard to keep from laughing.
The remainder of the tour was less controversial, though, and Samuel was glad they had chosen to stay another day. When they returned to the inn, Gabriel declared that they should make the trip a full week long, which Dean decided gave him and Samuel a day to go to the market to choose gifts for Ellen and Joanna, both trinkets for them and supplies of wine and spices for the inn that they could not have afforded else, and a final day to rest. Rare hunting supplies they found as well, and Samuel selected a fine but plain olivewood cross to present to the abbey. Castiel came with them again to serve as their interpreter, which occasionally resulted in some awkward conversations when someone tried to speak directly to Samuel and Castiel had to intervene. But at least the tale Castiel told of Samuel being waylaid by ruffians both explained his throat and was mostly true. He had, after all, been assailed by Turkish slavers in Damascus.
“Your pardon, Castiel,” Dean said quietly as they returned to the inn, “but why do you and Gabriel not heal Samuel and Father now?”
Castiel sighed. “I know not how much to explain, but because we have come so far, our power is limited. We have still to return you all to England and ourselves to our own time. Neither of us is sure that we can spare the power needed to heal either Samuel or John. But the wounds will heal well enough with mortal medicine.”
Dean nodded, clearly disappointed.
They turned into an alley then that led back to the inn, and as soon as they were out of sight of the street, Castiel stopped them. “There is one thing I would fain do for you both, though. Your tale is not yet at an end. So by your leave, I would place a mark on you that shall grant you a measure of protection.”
Dean and Samuel looked at each other and shrugged. “Very well,” Dean replied.
Castiel raised two fingers and pressed them to Dean’s breast, on the left side between the collarbone and the heart. Dean gasped and rubbed at the spot when Castiel removed his hand. Then Castiel did the same to Samuel, and Samuel hissed at the brief sharp pain that spread about the spot. When Castiel had removed his hand, Samuel pulled aside his collar far enough to catch a glimpse of the mark upon his skin; sable it was, and of an odd design. Had he to blazon it, he might have called it a pentangle within a roundel pierced and rayonnant—but even that would not quite do the sigil justice.
“I do not know this for a certainty, because of what we have changed,” Castiel continued, “but I deem you will learn its meaning soon. Some might choose to bear a charm graven with that sign, but your offspring chose to wear it as a skin mark, just as I have given you. Should any challenge you, though, say it is an angel’s mark.”
Both brothers nodded their understanding of the injunction, if not of the mark.
Castiel nodded back. “Good. Let us go.”
Dean and Samuel exchanged a look and followed Castiel back to the inn.
Samuel found himself sorely in need of rest on the final day. So while Dean took Robert and Father Seamus to the market for hunting supplies, Samuel stayed behind with John, who slept much of the day, and Gabriel, who seemed either lost in thought or wrestling in prayer. For his own part, Samuel prayed the Hours and the rosary silently to prepare his heart for return to Rievaulx.
Yet when at last the travelers made ready to leave Nazareth on the morning of the fifteenth of January, Gabriel did not take them each to his own home at once. Rather, he waited until they had left the city before snapping his fingers and carrying the whole group, horses and all, to the road that led north into Oxenford. By unspoken accord, they made their way to the Eagle and Child, where Ellen and Joanna and Brother Asce were both surprised and overjoyed to welcome them. Rufus was there, too, and asked no end of questions. Robert and Father Seamus took on the task of telling such tales as they and John had devised to explain the speed of their return, while Ellen fussed over both Samuel and John, bringing John a cushion to sit on and hot spiced wine to soothe Samuel’s still-aching throat. But she was not so inattentive as to fail to notice Dean’s sign that he would speak to her aside, and when they had spoken, Dean took Joanna out into the yard behind the inn.
Some minutes later, Samuel realized that they had not yet returned, so he cautiously went to the window and peeked out. Dean and Joanna stood close together conversing, facing one another; Dean’s back was to the inn, but Joanna held his right hand while he caressed her face gently with his left, and her eyes were shining. Then she said aught, and Dean kissed her far more tenderly than Samuel had ever seen him kiss a maid.
Ere Samuel could wonder at this change, Joanna tugged on Dean’s hand, and they returned to the common room hand in hand. Once the door was closed behind them, Dean cleared his throat loudly. The laughter and chatter paused.
“Father, Father Seamus,” Dean began. “We—that is, Joanna and I—should, er....” He flushed, suddenly anxious. “We... should....”
“We’re trothplighted,” Joanna stated, saving him, “and should like to put up the banns.”
Samuel could only grin at his brother, but everyone else gave a great cheer and drank the couple’s health.
“Aye, Dean,” Father Seamus said after. “Fain would I wed ye. Where shall it be, and when? Here? Grentabrige?”
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, i’sooth, good Father... we had thought Rievaulx, an Sammy could gain us leave.”
Samuel’s mouth fell open, but then he smiled all the more broadly and nodded his assent.
Father Seamus considered it. “’Tis all one to me. John?”
John sighed. “’Tis a long journey, Yorkshire. Ye would need to wait ’til I be well enough to fare so far.”
Joanna shook her head. “I’ve no desire to go so far myself in such weather. Come April, perchance?”
“Aye,” Father Seamus agreed. “’Twould be time enow for the banns and for John to mend, and after Easter my parish could spare me better.”
John nodded. “Fair enow. After Easter, then.”
Then made they all merry, even the angels, until John began to tire. Dean took leave of Joanna with a kiss, and he and Samuel and Father Seamus helped John to a room.
Once they were away from the others, though, John sighed heavily. “April. Lads, I cannot stay in this place so long. After... after Will....”
“Da, ’twas no fault of thine,” Dean said quietly. “Nor Ellen nor Joanna blames thee; they saw what FitzUrse had done.”
“Yet I see it still, in my mind’s eye. Fain would I have given my life for his.”
“Come thou and stay with me, then, mo chara,” said Father Seamus.[4] “Grentabrige is but two days hence,[5] so ’twould be no hardship for Dean to come to see thee, and there are ladies enow in the parish would fain look after thee.”
John returned a smirk.
Father Seamus laughed, but neither Samuel nor Dean could hold back a disgusted “Da!!”
John chuckled and held more tightly to his sons. “Ye know I jest, lads. Aye, Seamus, ’tis a kind offer, and I thank thee.”
So the travelers, aided by the angels, left for Grentabrige the next day and saw John settled comfortably in the parsonage with Father Seamus. Robert took leave of them there on foot, and Gabriel and Castiel returned Samuel and Dean to Oxenford for another two days. Then, after a long and oft tearful leave-taking, the angels bore Samuel alone back to Rievaulx.
He had been away but four and a half weeks, yet the sight of the abbot’s quarters was as welcome as if he had been away for years. Abbot Aelred was working at his desk when they arrived and leapt to his feet in joyous surprise.
“St. Gabriel, St. Castiel!” Abbot Aelred cried.
Gabriel held up a hand. “Prithee, Aelred, kneel not. We come only to return thy brother to thee, for his task is complete.”
Abbot Aelred nodded and looked at Samuel. “Samuel, my dear, dear brother... we had not thought to see thee back ere Advent!”
“His throat was wounded,” said Gabriel. “No worse than bruised, but he should not speak or sing for a week yet.”
Samuel blinked at that—it had already been a full week since his throttling, and Gabriel had given him leave to speak when parting from Dean—but decided not to question the order and smiled wryly at the abbot.
“Much of what he has seen and done is not to be revealed, even to thee. But of what he may speak, he shall speak truly.”
Samuel understood that command much better and nodded.
“And he has aught to give to thee, I deem—a cross of olivewood, made in Nazareth, given in thanks to God that he is safe returned.”
Samuel smiled more broadly and handed the cross to Abbot Aelred.
Abbot Aelred frowned a little at that. “Givest thou this to me?”
Samuel shook his head and signed All.
“Oh, to all the brothers?”
Samuel nodded.
“’Tis not his gift alone,” Castiel added. “His brother and father also send thanks thereby.”
And since Dean had paid for it with John’s silver, that was more or less true. So Samuel nodded again.
Abbot Aelred looked at the cross again, humble as it was in all but origin, and nodded. “Well, then, I shall find a place for it in the oratory. Please give them our thanks.”
The angels bowed their heads once. “We must take our leave now,” said Gabriel. “Fare thee well, Aelred. And Samuel?” He squeezed Samuel’s arm with a warm smile. “Again we thank thee.”
Samuel smiled and nodded. Castiel patted his shoulder and gave him a small smile, and then the angels left.
Glad as he was to be home, Samuel felt bereft. It had been both wondrous strange and strangely wondrous to have had the fellowship of angels for even so short a time, but as they were returning to their own day, he would not see them again in this life. And no one at Rievaulx could understand what he and Dean had been through, even were he allowed to explain.
Suddenly, stupidly, he missed Dean.
“Nazareth, they said,” quoth Abbot Aelred. “Hast been in the Holy Land, then?”
Samuel pulled himself together and nodded.
“Is Jerusalem yet retaken?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Hast been to Nazareth, though. Well, then, perchance when the current reading is finished and thou art well, I shall bid thee tell us aught of Nazareth.”
Samuel smiled.
Abbot Aelred smiled back. “Come, ’tis almost time for Terce. I am sure the brothers shall be glad to see thee back again.”
Yet after Samuel had performed the standard penance for brothers who had been away on a journey, he realized that in fact, not all the brothers were glad of his return. A certain Brother Thomas, whom Samuel did not know well but had seemed friendly enough in the past, glared daggers at him whenever Samuel chanced to pass him. Samuel knew no reason why this should be—until one day he thought he saw Brother Thomas’ eyes flicker black briefly when the name of Christ was said at Vespers.
That night as he lay abed trying to fall asleep, Samuel thought through what he had noticed about Brother Thomas since his return. Brother Thomas was often late to the Divine Office, though not so late that he earned the place reserved to shame the tardy, and that had not changed. Yet now he avoided the cloister and the Blessing of the Water for some reason,[6] and Samuel seldom heard his voice among the choir. And he was surly with all the brothers, not only Samuel, though for Samuel it seemed he reserved especial hate.
But Samuel had too little proof that Brother Thomas was possessed. And he knew not what to do about it if he had such proof.
It took a month for the current meal-time reading, St. Augustine’s De Civitate Dei, to come to a close, and Abbot Aelred added Samuel to the rotation of weekly readers again so that he should be the one to finish. Since the book was ended in mid-week, Abbot Aelred bade him wait to start the next book so that he might speak of Nazareth during the next day’s meals. Samuel obeyed and, after an introduction from the good abbot, told what he might about the city and its holy sites. He had refused all questions ere this, as commanded in the Rule of Benedict, but he recalled all those that he might answer freely and did so.
He had been speaking a bare half hour, however, when Brother Thomas leapt to his feet, screaming, “Lies, lies!”
“Sit down, brother, and keep thy peace,” said Abbot Aelred.
“’Tis four months’ journey, at least, from here to the Holy Land,” Brother Thomas insisted. “This fool was not gone so long as to have been to Rome!”
“Mind thy tongue, Thomas,” Abbot Aelred said more sharply, but some of the other brothers began to murmur.
Samuel looked Brother Thomas in the eye. “As God is my witness, I have told no lie.”
Brother Thomas howled in rage and sprang over the table to attack Samuel. Some of the brothers rose to stop him; other brothers rose to stop them; and soon the refectory was in chaos. At a sign from the abbot, Samuel ran for the door, and Abbot Aelred followed, but the brawl followed both of them into the passage around the cloister, through the day room, and nigh to the door of the abbot’s quarters. The prior and other monks with authority to correct the brothers were able to bar the path there and allow Abbot Aelred and Samuel safe passage into the abbot’s quarters and out of harm’s way.
Once the door was closed behind them, Abbot Aelred sighed. “Let us speak plainly, brother. Thy speech has oft been guarded since thy return. I do not accuse thee thus of falsehood; thou hast been on an errand for the angels, and I would not have thee speak when they have bid thee keep silent. And thou hast done naught that does not accord with the Rule and the customs of our Order. But there are those who would take silence for admission of a fault.”
Samuel nodded. “Yet I have said all that is safe to say.”
“I doubt it not, Samuel. And there is more. Brother Thomas has been disquiet and disruptive of late, and for more than this cause—it began perhaps a week ere your return. He had been working at the grange at Griff while the grangemaster was ill... and the lay brothers have brought reports of ill omens there and round about.”
Samuel frowned. The village of Griff had been destroyed by the Northmen before the founding of Rievaulx; the monks had razed the old buildings and used the site as farmland.[7] One house remained intact for the brothers’ use, as Griff was two miles from the abbey and thus too far for the brothers to travel thither and back very many times a day. “What sorts of omens?”
“Some of the sheep have been mutilated. The well has frozen over, which it should not have done even in this chill winter. Patches of black fog have been seen drifting about the fields. And a few of the lay brothers claim to have seen ghosts.”
“Ghosts? What might have been done to disturb them?”
Abbot Aelred shook his head. “I wit not. But thy question tells me thou hast dealt with such things.”
Samuel nodded. “My father is a hunter of demons.”
The abbot nodded slowly. Then he sighed. “Samuel, I am satisfied of thy innocence, and thou knowest I would not send a brother wittingly into danger to learn the cause of the omens at Griff. But thou hast useful knowledge and St. Gabriel’s favor, and I wit not what would satisfy the brothers better than thy coming safely through such an ordeal.”
Samuel felt himself pale at that last word. “That is what you would ask of me? A trial by ordeal?”
“Aye. There is no work for others there that cannot wait until the danger is past. Go thou alone to Griff. Take such supplies as you may need, but no weapons save prayer and Scripture and the full armor of God. Drive the evil thence. An thou return to us whole and victorious, I doubt not that the matter shall be settled for aye.”
Samuel’s heart sank. “Might I be allotted a piece of chalk, two flasks of holy water, and a measure of salt?”
Abbot Aelred nodded. “That is reasonable, I deem.”
Samuel bowed his head. “Then as you command, I shall obey.”
Abbot Aelred took him gently by the shoulders. “My dear brother. Ever have I been fond of thee, last as thou wert of the novices in my charge ere I was called to Revesby. I would not ask this of thee had I not the highest confidence that thou shalt succeed. And it may be that thou shalt find help unlooked-for on thy way.”
I shall have to, Samuel thought miserably, but he only nodded. He could not divulge the truth: that the Gabriel he knew was not the St. Gabriel currently in Heaven, that Gabriel and Castiel had returned to the future to aid Dean’s offspring and had taken the gun with them, that the aid he and Dean had received on the Crusade could not be counted upon now. And what hope had he of sending word to Dean in time?
“Griff,” Dean repeated quietly so that the inn’s other guests could not overhear. “You are sure the man said Griff?”
Brother Asce nodded and answered in like wise. “Ghosts he saw, and belike devils as well.”
Dean swore. “That’s Rievaulx land. When said he that the troubles began?”
“Four, five days after the Twelfth Night.”
“Just after we killed Azazel. Then ’tis very like he saw devils. If Hell knows where Samuel is....”
“He thought as much himself, given what his fellows said. And they also said....”
“... that though the abbey is well warded against most devils, there are some that can bear holy ground. Yet a grange is neither.”
“Methought Brother Samuel worketh in the scriptorium.”
“Aye, but an they trouble the brethren enow....”
Brother Asce sighed. “You’d best see to it, then.”
Dean nodded. “Aye. May be they seek thus to trap us both, but ’tis a chance I have perforce to take.”
The foreboding in his heart prompted him to gather more supplies than he might otherwise have taken for such a journey, among them linen-wrapped parcels of frozen meat and a portion of the wine and spices he had bought in Nazareth; and he refused Joanna’s offer to join him. But a weapon she gave him that he did not refuse, but accepted with great thanks and a kiss. And at first light the next day, he rode with all haste for Griff.
Once arrangements were made with the cellarer, Abbot Aelred announced Samuel’s ordeal to the brothers at Vespers. Samuel then fasted and prostrated himself in the oratory after the Hours for the next full day to pray for protection and wisdom, and it seemed that his tears did move some of the brothers who held aught against him. But Brother Thomas shirked the Office every time and sought to spit on Samuel if they chanced to pass; Brother Ælfwine and Brother Osric took to walking beside Samuel to keep the two apart. The wait also gave time enough for the few monks and lay brothers still at Griff to heed the summons, provide such care for the animals as would be necessary during their absence, and return to the abbey’s safety. After Lauds on the second day, the cellarer brought Samuel his daily bread for a week and some cheese and dried fruit, along with the other supplies he had requested. Then Abbot Aelred laid hands on Samuel, prayed over him, and sent him on his way.
Samuel tried not to think too hard about it being Friday the 13th.
The dread in his heart began to build when he was yet a mile from Griff and the birds ceased to sing, and he prayed under his breath. He prayed louder as the grange came into view and the chill in the air grew far stronger than the weather warranted. A black haze, too, seemed to lie over the place, and with it a sense of great evil. And as he passed the boundary of the former town, the stench of sulfur filled his nose.
Samuel broke into a run and made straight for the grange house, but barely had he passed the well when figures began forming from the black mist—some child-like, some more monstrous—and rushed at him, howling and gibbering. Blows rained on him from every side, and claws sought to rend him limb from limb. Unseen forces swept him from the ground and dashed him against trees. No breath had he to cry for help, even were help nigh to hear.
—And yet of a sudden he heard the whistle of an arrow pass, and the shade before him shrieked and vanished as the missile went through it. Mere seconds later, he heard a shout, and the shape of a man came nigh and stood over him, driving back the shadows with a curious dark blade....
Then darkness took him, and he knew no more.
[1] Pun, not typo. A cotter or cottager was a farmer who held a cottage for a feudal overlord.
[2] Conversations.
[3] Not true IRL as far as I know—I haven’t seen discussions of either church being demonstrably in the wrong place, and the dispute seems to rest on the fact that Luke doesn’t say where Gabriel did appear to Mary—but this is SPN-verse.
[4] My friend
[5] Grentabrige is one of two twelfth-century forms of the town name that would become Cambridge.
[6] On Sundays in Cistercian monasteries, the priest celebrating Mass sprinkled newly-blessed holy water over all the monks, novices, etc.; at Rievaulx, this ceremony also involved sprinkling the cloister with salt and holy water.
[7] The history of the village of Griff that appears here is purely fictional, apart from the facts in this sentence; even the idea that it was destroyed by the Vikings is speculation on my part. (Note: The Vikings I’m picturing here are more Scandinavian than Danish, which is why I’ve gone with Northmen rather than Danes. Norse and Viking are too new, relatively speaking.)
