Prelude cont.

Part III

Instead, he heard women’s voices. Not that a woman was not dangerous, anyone who saw and knew Torin would almost certainly fetch the sheriff or magistrate and have him in shackles by the following morning. He sat under the podium of the lectern, hugging his knees to his chest. Although the wind howled outside, the hollow stone and raised arched ceilings in the chapel made even the faintest footsteps audible. These features, while visually pleasing also made for exceptional acoustics during hymns and sermons. Or so Torin assumed, he had never actually been in this chapel to hear a service or Sunday choir. Suddenly, he could hear the door, probably the one connecting the office to the chapel, open. The iron hinges squeaking ever so slightly. Then Torin heard footsteps. They were light, like a child or a young woman; definitely not a soldier, who would be stomping across the floor like a trotting stud. He expected to hear a gasp or a blood-curdling scream next. But none came. Torin sat in silence for what seemed an eternity. Sweat dripped down his spine. And he was so anxious he could barely breath. Every exhale seemed the loudest he had ever made and even the crinkle of his pants and coat against one another sounded like an alarm bell.

He pulled in his legs even tighter, as though the smaller he became, the less noise he could produce. Maybe he could disappear all together, he thought, if he pulled hard enough. No one came around the corner. Torin did not even hear the door close. Several minutes passed. While they were the longest of his life and Torin wanted nothing more than to stay curled in a ball, he could not linger. Whoever saw Father Gregory’s body still pose a threat, and the storm would not last forever.

Torin peered around both corners, double-checking that there was not a living soul in sight. Then he crawled out and scampered to the outfacing door as fast as he could. The blizzard had calmed down a bit, mirroring Torin’s nerves. But he still felt the harsh sting of frozen hail biting his nose and face when he stepped outside. Still, he was grateful to be out of the church and further away from the bloodied corpse of Father Gregory.

Torin walked around the back of the church, hoping to catch sight of Epona or the stable. Sure enough, the clever two year-old had found the only shelter for miles. Torin had heard of extreme weather and blinding storms across the seas on the continent and to the far north and east, but anything more than rain or snow was unusual for England, even in the dead of winter. Torin wanted to leave, despite the storm. Unfortunately, Epona was determined to stay. She dug her hoofs into the frozen dirt as Torin attempted to pull her from the stable. He even tried to drag her out by her bit, but she only shook him off and retreated even further under the makeshift roof. “C’mon girl,” Torin implored. But she only neighed loudly in defiance. Fed up and confused by her sudden and untimely stubbornness, Torin sighed and walked around behind her, determined to push the petulant beast into compliance if he had to. But just as he was pressing his numb hands against her backside, Torin heard voices.

Epona had actually tipped him off to their presence. Her mood suddenly changed and Torin felt her tense as the strange voices approached. It was definitely a man’s, and not one, but several. They were coming from the office side of the church, where Torin had first entered.

At first he only knew they were talking, but as they came closer to the rectory doors, Torin heard what they were saying. It was a pair of priests, and they were talking about Father Gregory.

“Are you sure?” One of them asked, in a peculiarly high-pitched tone.

“Positive. Leonas paid him last night. Providing a description was easy. Who could miss a priest as fat as a cow with the face of a pig?” They both chuckled. The second was older than the first, his voice deeper with a slight rasp, possibly from a cold or old age.

“Well, I’m glad the business is done with. Nothing worse than to remove someone from the fold. As gluttonous and simple as the man was, I am saddened by his passing.”

“The conditions could not have been more justified. And it was not we who committed the crime or even condemned the man.”

“Indeed, brother.”

“The Lord will surely forgive us the small part we played.”

“I pray He does.”