Wolves Among Us(42)

Stefan considered burning it, simply walking down the aisle and throwing it into the fireplace in the dormitory. No one would ever know. The flames would destroy all evidence. He would only have memory, and memories could prove nothing.

Stefan stood, his palms pressed against the altar, staring down at the book he had been so thoroughly warned against. Tearing the empire apart even now, the book ripped apart churches and families. No one disputed that it was God’s Word. But the Word became a sword flashing back and forth across all kingdoms, and people disputed God’s will. Was it wise to read it? Was it best left to the educated priests?

Stefan lifted the book to carry it to the dormitory, but his legs did not move. He held it in midair, deciding.

He felt a clear and certain piercing in his soul. Truth was the one incurable wound in this world, the rip in the wineskin. If he opened the book, if he set his mind on understanding God as revealed in these words, there might be no end to the suffering in this village. Men like Bastion persecuted witches, but other men burned those who dared read this book.

Stefan carried it into the hall and hid it in an empty cupboard. Stefan had always hated that cupboard. He prayed for riches to fill it with serving pieces or relics like the other churches had. God never seemed to hear those prayers.

Remembering that night, Stefan lifted the heavy book and set it on the top of the cupboard. The table sat under a good window, and the sun allowed for perfect reading. Straightening his shoulders, he opened it. He thumbed through the pages for the first time, examining the Tyndale Bible that caused so much outrage throughout the empire. Stefan stepped back, rubbing his hands down his legs.

“I cannot believe I am doing this,” he said, kneeling. “God, treat me as a child. And forgive me as such, if what I do here is wrong. I have no idea where to find what I need. I do not even know if it is in this book. But I know that Bastion’s words do not seem right, yet no one can argue with him. If this is indeed Your true nature, to burn and scourge, to ask your saints to punish the sinners, then show me. But if Bastion is wrong, if You are indeed a kind and gentle God, even to the worst among us, show me that.”

Stefan stood and opened the book once more. His eyes fell to a woodblock illustration, a scene of sorrow and grief. A blade had carved into soft wood to show Christ crucified, His mother mourning at the foot of the cross, His disciples staring helplessly. In the background, a triumphant rooster crowed.

Turning the page quickly, he saw another woodblock of an empty tomb. A huge stone rested against the edges of the frame. Inside the tomb a great, gaping hole slashed into the wood by the unseen artist, Stefan saw darkness. Nothing remained inside it except for grave clothes, discarded. His stomach twinged. He flipped the pages once more and saw another woodblock, an illustration of Christ, triumphant, broken hands stretched out to the people. Stefan worked to sound out the strange words, words in his own language:

“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent Me, I am sending you.”

Stefan glanced over his shoulder, thinking of his village. They had no peace. Their graves remained filled. Where was Christ in this village?

Erick rang the bells for Mass. Stefan replaced the book and went back to his work. He had to tend to people, not riddles.



The afternoon warmth faded as evening approached. Mia stepped outside to close the shutters, pulling her cloak in a bit tighter. Alma’s afternoon nap stretched into the mealtime hour. Mia smiled. Alma had played hard today, chasing the kitten through the bursting green leaves, returning every few minutes with a new bloom for Mia.

She had smelled rain as she gathered wood earlier today, watching Alma. It might rain yet, she thought. Hard to judge from the dull gray sky, hanging low and listless above.

Bjorn came down the path. “Leave the shutters,” he called. “I’ll attend them.”

Mia stood with her hands at her sides. Her face turned hot, so she looked down, picking her skirts up so she could see the condition of her shoes. Bjorn’s work made him good at spotting a liar. He would be just as fast uncovering betrayal. They were the same thing, really.

He went to work fastening the shutters into place, then squinted up at the sky. “I smelled rain earlier today. ’Tis a shame it did not come in the afternoon and cool us off. I got soaked through with sweat.”

“It was that hot today?” she asked. “I did not think so.” She pressed her lips back together. “Were you working hard?”

“What goes through your mind? What else would I be doing?”

Mia flinched and stepped back.

Bjorn cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I had a lot of work today. Last night Bastion gave me a list of inquiries to be made. He wanted me out the door early this morning, to get it all done.”

“I did not mean to say I doubted you. I didn’t know.”

“Because I didn’t say anything, I know. But Bastion asked me not to. He even asked that I not tell you of that conversation. He didn’t know I would have to defend myself to you. He’s not married. Probably knows nothing about women.”

Mia rested her fingertips against her mouth, bringing her other hand to her throat. She said nothing.

Bjorn sighed. “Rose gave us names. I had to make arrests today, bring women to Bastion for interrogation later.”

“Did you see Bastion today?”

He slammed a fist against the window frame. “Of course I saw Bastion. I am following his instructions.”