Chapter 9

"She came in the night and gave me a fright, asked 'Where your dear wife be?'"

"It was then I saw she wore only a shiv and then I smiled with glee."

Our voices carry with ease through the sparse pines and have for the past half hour. By the look on the woman's faces I can tell that they don't particularly care much for or bawdy songs, but they have not asked us to stop. Grinning at the final stanza, I toss my head back and belt out the words with my men.

"I says 'She's out making her rounds, she won't be back till morn'"

"She dropped her clothes gave me a wink before she polished my horn,"

"She spanked me twice she spanked me thrice, till my bum was red,"

"We tussled in the sheets and then dirtied up the bed,"

"I gave her a coin as the sun arose but then the wife came in,"

"She threw the whore out the door and kicked me in my shin,"

"While on my knees her hands in mine I promised it'd happen never again,"

"But later that night the woman returned and we had a tankard of gin"

"One by one she unbuttoned her dress and I told her about me wife,"

"If she were to find out then she'd surely take me life,"

"She frowned and said without more coin she'd never leave out the door,"

"Dug in my pocket, coughed up two shillings but the whore wanted more,"

"A few days later now here I am with an itch that won't go away,"

"If my wife finds that I broke my vow my knob she will spay"

After the last lyric was sung the men laughed out loud, some giving a whistle before picking up another tune and I shake my head, amused.

"Where do you hear of such things?" Claire asks me as my mare steps around a limb that has fallen over the old dirt path.

"Can't really say. Most are passed on from one man to the next," I reply, shrugging. "I apologize for the lyrics but you have to admit that the tune is catchy." Looking back, I see that her face seems perplexed as she purses her lips.

"There are other tunes men can sing that aren't so...improper," she suggests. "I know it's not my place to tell you what to do, of course—or yours to even listen for that matter—but the entire thing was just so...sinful."

Her immediate response rubs me the wrong way but I remind myself to see where she is coming from and understand. "This is true, but aside from a man cheating on his wife I don't see what is so wrong that would be considered a sin. Is a man not allowed to enjoy the company of a woman for an evening or two? We're humans after all, sex is natural. If not then the world would have ended long ago."

I feel her body stiffen against my back and I know I've made her far too uncomfortable. "It's not the act of...sex that is a sin," she beings, the word sounding foreign on her tongue as if it were something only uttered in secret, "God gifted it to us to be enjoyed within the bounds of marriage, not casually amongst people we hardly know. He commanded that we are to abstain from all sins of the flesh and treat our bodies as a temple. As a Christian, we are supposed to save that gift for our future spouse."

"Why? Sex is fun—even the awkward parts," I respond. "Don't get me wrong, I too believe it can be special when shared with someone you truly care about—and that there is a difference between making love with someone you care about and just bedding a random barmaid. But wouldn't someone prefer a spouse who at least knows the basics of satisfaction?"

She lets out a small breath of air as my words catch her off guard. "Well, um, well..." she fumbles, "I suppose. But would prefer to learn that with my husband rather than wonder just how many times he practiced it with others."

Nodding my head, I once again understand where she is coming from. "As a Christian do you look down upon those that have done otherwise?" I ask, ducking under a low branch before holding it up for her so she doesn't have to.

"Sometimes," she admits. "But then I have to remind myself that not everyone shares my views and people are free to do as they please."

The song ends and Warren leads the men in another, this one being about a sailor returning to port. "Do you see yourself ever getting married?" I inquire, curious. From what I've gathered so far, she'd make a fine wife.

She is about to respond when her eyes catch sight of a worn wooden sign post about fifty yards ahead and immediately points to it. "Looks like we've almost made it," she says, putting an end to our conversation.

Squinting, I lean forward ever so slightly and focus on the words carved into the crooked sign. Two pieces of oak have been nailed to the post, each pointing in the opposite direction. The letters—which are painted in a dull red—read "Ekon" and points left while the other reads "Bunnell" and points right.

"So it seems," I say, turning around to give her a small grin. I then look at the caravan of men behind me and catch their attention. "Not much longer, men!" They give a holler and replace their singing with chatter, excited about having an evening that doesn't involve hunting and preparing their own food—and more importantly, ale.

Our pace picks up and I notice the sun's rays have begun to slant through the pines, casting a warm glow in the forest. We ride for about twenty minutes until we come to a crossroad and in the distance I see the old church that Claire had mentioned the night before. A cross sits atop its narrow steeple and smoke rises from the back, most likely coming from a flume from a kitchen given that it's dinner time.

"That it?" I ask, clicking my teeth for my horse to continue.

"Yes," she replies, her tone excited. "Would it be too much to stop and say hello? I met the priest there once long ago and it would be nice to see him again. I know Father Anthony would really appreciate it as well."

As eager as I am to get to Ekon and have a hot meal, I cannot find it in me to tell her no.

"Sure, I don't see why not," I say, though I internally kick myself knowing I'd get hell from some of the men.

It only takes a few minutes to reach the old monastery, but as I stop by a tree and slide off my horse it is Gale who questions me first. "What are we doing here Tom?" he asks, eying the ivy that covers the half of the stone building.

"I can't imagine them selling ale here. Guess we'll have to drink the communion wine," Max chimes in, earning a few laughs.

Offering Claire my hand, I help her off her horse and meet Gale's cool gaze. "Some of our traveling companions would like to say hello to a friend of theirs. It'll just be a moment," I promise, "You're free to stay here if you'd like." I can't help but see some of their shoulders slouch at my news and catch Sven muttering about him being starving, but after shooting him a look he smirks and remains silent.

Surprisingly—aside from the woman and Father Anthony—Rory, Warren, and Nikolas have decided to come inside as well, most likely just wanting to give their legs a stretch after hours of riding.

As we follow behind the women on the grass path, I look over to Rory and try not to focus on his bruised face. "Why are you bringing that? It's not like they are going to hurt us," I ask, nodding towards his sword he carries in its sheath.

Giving a shrug, he tilts his head backwards so he can study the steeple and takes in the small stained glass window in its center. "Odd place for that don't you think?" he replies, ignoring my question.

When we reach the wooden door, Father Anthony gives three knocks before twisting the iron knob and letting himself in.

"Hello? Father Peter?" I hear him call as we follow suit. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit hallway. Candles placed in wax covered holsters are attached to the wall with only a few being lit. As we walk through the short hallway, we pass by a few doors that are closed with no signs of inhabitation showing beneath the cracks.

"You smell that?" Warren asks in a low voice to where only the four of us men can hear.

The only thing I've been able to smell is since we walked inside is damp air and—regrettably—a mixture of my sweat and the horses. But after given another inhale as we near the small sanctuary, I sense it almost immediately—death.

I'm about to call out to the women to warn them and tell them to get back to the horses, but the step out into the sanctuary with only confused looks on their faces.

"Father Peter?" Father Anthony calls out again, this time with unease. "I don't understand," he says, turning to face us, his brown eyes narrowing. "Where could they have gone?"

"I can check the kitchen, perhaps they are having supper," Alma suggests and some of the other women give her a nod.

There is a faint creak overhead and right as I look up to find its source, Warren grips my shoulder. "I don't think that will be necessary," he says, staring at the bodies that sway back and forth ever so slightly.

Everyone follows his gaze and Beth Ann lets out a shriek, covering her mouth.

Claire—who stands silent next to me—watches in horror with wide eyes, her lips slightly moving as if mouthing words only she can hear.

Father Anthony takes two of the nuns closest to him under his arms and allows them to bury their heads in his chest, trying his best to shield them of the macabre scene above. The other women huddle together, some with silent tears running down their faces while others pray.

"Search the rest of the grounds," I command, tearing my eyes away from the bottom of one of the worn soles above. Rory, Warren, and Nik give a curt nod and head out in three separate directions. I see Warren begin to search the rooms we passed in the hallway while Nik heads into the kitchen. Rory pushes through the front door and I see him make a sharp left as he checks outside.

Giving my head a shake, I focus on Father Anthony. "Do you have any idea who could have done this? Did this Peter have any enemies?"

He gives me an exasperated look, "Of course not, he was a man of God! Those that knew him loved him," he tells me—still coddling two of the nuns. "To even insinuate such a thing..." he mutters.

"I apologize but I'm just trying to find answers for you," I say flatly, having to remind myself to not take his attitude to heart. Looking back up to the bodies—counting six total—I study their complexions, noting the lividity in their hands. It's hard to tell how stiff their limbs are given they are still hanging, but if I had to guess I'd say they've been dead for at least a few hours.

Nik and Warren return and I look at them expectantly.

"Nothing seemed too out of place, just a few dresser drawers emptied," Warren relays.

"Kitchen was clean, nothing much to really look at. Someone was preparing lunch before whoever did this came along," Nik says.

Taking a breath, I rub the back of my neck. "It looks like they haven't been dead for long. Maybe three or four hours at most. Those that are responsible couldn't be too far," I tell the women and Father Anthony. "They didn't ransack the place which tell me they had ulterior motives."

Just then, Rory heads back inside—this time with a few of the men close behind. "They headed towards Ekon it seems, probably just passing through like we are. The only thing I found out back was a burned ladder—hence the smoke."

"Hmm," I hum. It seems that whoever did it wanted to make sure it would be damn near impossible to cut the poor bastards down.

Looking out through one of the windows I can see that it's growing dark and camp still needs to be made. "Well, there's nothing else we can do for them. Better move out so we still have daylight for camp," I announce, turning to my men.

From the corner of my eye I see Claire's head jerk in my direction. "We can't just leave them here," she interjects, earning a few nods from the other nuns. "They deserve a proper burial."

Sighing, I look to her and notice the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes. "I'm sorry Claire, but what would you have us do? We cannot cut them down without a ladder," I say softly.

"We can put something together and form a makeshift one or something. We have to at least try. Have you no heart?" she asks. Her bottom lip begins to quiver and tucks it in, biting down.

I'm not sure how to respond, so I just give one final shake of my head before heading back outside. My men follow almost instantly, but we have to wait about twenty minutes or so before the women and Father Anthony to head outside. By the time they reach the horses, the sun has already sunk beneath the horizon and from the look on their faces it's clear they have something to say.

They stop about ten feet away from us in a line and Father Anthony steps forward.

"We wish to remain behind for the night and pay respects to the dead. Come morning, we will make a decision whether or not to continue traveling with you or to take up residency for the time being," he says, his nose pointed slightly in the air.

"Like hell you are," Rory objects out loud.

Father Anthony's mouth opens to respond but I hold up a hand, "I understand that you all are upset. What happened in that church today was despicable, but that goes to show that you are safer with us until we can bring you to..." I pause, unable to remember the name of main monastery we were taking them to. "Where ever you need to go," I finish.

Father Anthony steps forward until he is looking up at me on my horse. "I made a vow to these woman and God that they would be my responsibility the moment they came to me," he says gently.

Pressing my lips together, give him a nod. "And I understand that—respect it even. But I also gave my word that we would keep you safe if you came with us," I explain. "What if they came back and did the same to you and the women, or worse? Would you be able to live with yourself with their blood on your hands? Do you think you'd be able to fight them off?" I ask. "If your answer is no to any of my questions I think it is in your best interest to come with us," I finish, turning my gaze to the small crowd of frightened women.

"Alright," Father Anthony says softly, his shoulders falling. "You're right. We'll stay with you."

The women—including Anthony—make their way to their usual riders and we help them up on our saddles. I take Claire's hand in mine and left her with ease and put her behind me. I can sense that she's upset, and I feel as if it's partially my fault. Decided not to rub salt in the wound, I click my teeth and we ride in silence until we are on the outskirts of Ekon in a small pasture.

Pulling back on my reins, I decide that this is as good of a place as any to set up camp. Given that the only light we have is the pale moon's glow, I dismount and tell the men to light some torches. They do, and together we set up camp as best as we can.

With no hunting to be done or food to be prepared, we finish rather quickly. Gale lights a fire and by the roughhousing the men are doing I can tell they are antsy to get to the local tavern. Turning to the women who stand around the newly lit fire, I join them to try to figure out a plan.

"Hello ladies," I greet, earning responses that vary from "Hello Thomas" to quiet nods of the head. "We are going to head to Ekon and grab some dinner. Would you like to join or would you prefer us to bring you something back?" I ask.

"Depends on where you'll be dinning," Beth Ann replies, tucking her blond hair behind an ear. By her tone it seems she already knows the answer to my question. I steal a glance at Claire who ignores me all together, her azure eyes focusing on the dancing flames before her.

"Um, a tavern. I don't think any food stalls will be open given the time," I say, returning my gaze to Beth Ann.

"A tavern," a woman that I haven't really taken much notice to mutters, sounding appalled at my suggestion.

Exhaling, I nod my head slowly. "I know it isn't the best locale, but it's the only place that will have hot food. As I said though, we can bring you something back if you prefer though I'm not sure when that will be," I say, looking back at Warren and Max who wrestle each other playfully.

"I'll come," Beth Ann then says to me.

"Beth Ann!" the same nun chastises, "A tavern is no place for a woman of God, much less one of the cloth. You know this."

Beth Ann gives the fair skinned woman a shrug. "I'm hungry, Darla. Do you expect for us to wait around all night until they come crawling back to camp at two in the morning?" she asks, her eyes flickering to where Rory waits by his horse.

Darla gives her head a shake. "Well I'm staying here," she says, folding her arms across her chest. In the light of the fire I see she has brown hair she has braided back tightly, letting the single braid drape over her shoulder.

"Me too," another woman states.

"I'll go," Alma says, given me a small smile. "I could use a nice bowl of stew."

Others follow suit either rejecting my invitation or agreeing to join, leaving Claire to be the last to decide. I look over at her expectantly and notice how upset she still seems to be. "Claire?" I ask, raising a brow.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she gives me a nod. "I'll come too, but I don't want to be out too long."

Giving her a partial grin, I motion for the women to follow me and I make my way to my men who await by the horses. When they see me approach they stop goofing around and stand up straight. "So," I say, "it appears that not everyone will be heading to town. Father Anthony and some of the women wish to stay at camp. That being said, do I have a volunteer that will stay with them as a guard?"

"I will," Max says, pushing his blonde shaggy hair out of his face while lazily raising his right hand. I want to object given his young age, but this isn't a task too hard to handle and it's better than forcing someone to stay behind.

I give him a small bow of the head, "I appreciate it, friend."

As Max leads those that choose to stay, the rest of us mount up. Once again I pull Claire up with ease and we ride towards Ekon in the distance. As we near, the once distance light of the street lanterns grows brighter and the noise of the small town comes to life. Guiding our horses down the dirt road in the center of the town, the sound of music and laughter comes from the tavern up ahead. The few people that walk around give us curious glances but pay no special attention—used to the occasional band of passerby's.

"The general store is open," Rory states, pointing to the run down wooden building to the left. "Think we should get supplies now or wait?"

With my thoughts on the hangovers to come in the morning, I decide that now would be better. "Best not to wait," I say, turning around in my saddle. "Nik, would you mind stopping in and grabbing what we need?"

He glances at the store and gives me nod. "Sure," he says. "The usual?" By usual, he means nonperishable food—mostly salted pork and venison—ale, soap, spices to cook, and treats for the horses.

"Aye," I say, until remembering that I was going to get supplies for the women as well. "But come get some food first. That way you can just head back to camp with the supplies," I add. Not wanting to bring embarrassment to the women, I decide to bring it up in private while we eat.

Up ahead, there are already a dozen horses hitched to posts leaving no room for our own mounts. "Hm," I exhale, searching for something nearby. One of the street lanterns illuminates a row of hitches quite a ways past the tavern, so I lead the way until we've reached them. We slide off and immediately our boots meet the slick mud beneath our feet and I frown, annoyed that none of us had noticed it earlier.

"I suppose this is why no one is using these," Rory states with a small laugh. He then places his hands on Beth Ann's hips and lifts her off before carrying her to the safety of the dry street. Turning to Claire, I do the same and together we make the short walk to the tavern.

"I'm assuming you've never been to one before?" I ask, pointing up ahead as I look down at her.

She gives her head a quick shake but says nothing and I still can't help but feel she has animosity towards me.

When we reach the door, I pause and turn to the men.

"Before we go in, I don't want any fighting and no foul play if you gamble, got it?" I ask, raising my brow at those who are notorious for the two. "If you happen to find yourself in the company of a woman, try not to bring her back to camp, yeah? I don't want to make any of our guests uncomfortable. If you end up staying behind for the night be back by sunrise."

"What if we're still at it?" Sven asks, earning a round of laughter. Smirking, I roll my eyes and turn towards the door.

So sorry for the lack of updates, I work SO much now :( I was also at a festival for 6 days and had no service so don't hate me lol next chapter is almost done though so we should have another chapter soon! Hope you're loving it so far!❤️