part0017

Arledge paused, staring at his friend Olin, dumbfounded. “Why would you think such a thing? You’ve seen me at mealtime.”

“Where you’ve said nothing for months, which means you might as well have been dead to us, your brothers.” Olin eyed him up and down. “Well, I see you’ve found your tongue again. Your vow of silence is over?”

Arledge nodded. “It is.”

“As one would imagine.”

“And why did you undertake such a thing?”

Arledge’s stomach flipped as yet another lie was about to be uttered. “Penance.”

Olin’s eyebrows shot up. “Penance? For what? It must have been something horrible for it to have lasted so long.”

He searched for words, words that might save him from lying to his friend. He suppressed a smile. “I’m too ashamed to say.”

Olin frowned. “Then it must have been something truly terrible.” He patted the donkey at Arledge’s side. “Where are you off to now?”

“The abbey in Sunderland.” This, at least, wasn’t a lie. It was his first stop marked on the map.

He stared at the ground, more to hide his shame, though it did fit his act. “Additional penance.”

“My word! Did you murder someone? What could you have possibly done to merit such punishment?”

“I-I cannot say.” He led his donkey toward the gate. “I’m afraid I’ve already said too much. The abbot said I don’t deserve conversation with my brothers after what I’ve done.”

Olin stared at him in horror, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. “I-I’m truly sorry, Arledge. I will pray for your soul and the Lord’s forgiveness for whatever it is you’ve done.”

Arledge flashed him a weak smile, not feeling very worthy of any prayers after lying to so close a friend. He passed through the gates, following the very path the abbot and the others had passed a day ago, his heart heavy as he stared at the only home he had known for so long, leaving behind the only friends he had ever had.

The only family he remembered.

The story of his disgrace had been concocted by Abbot Ceolfrid before he left, and Arledge had been assured he would be forgiven for any sins he might commit in furthering the belief he had committed some atrocity worthy of banishment from the abbey for a period of time. The damage to his reputation was heartbreaking. Ceolfrid had also assured him that all would be set right when he returned successfully, and his brothers would rejoice in the truth of what he had done.

Yet if Ceolfrid’s fears were correct, and the abbot didn’t return from his journey to Rome, then there would be no one to set the record straight, leaving his good name tarnished among his brothers forevermore.

He stared at the lonely window as he turned the corner, his sole bit of freedom from his workplace prison, and closed his eyes, burning it into his mind, for he feared this would be the last time he would see his home, and his brothers, who now thought him a sinner beyond pale.

Please, Lord, should I fail, at least clear my name of all the ills heaped upon it this day, so that my memory never bears this false shame that now burdens me.