Chapter 1: A Strange Monk

"SILVER KNIFE"

By Alvi Chanti

 

Chapter 1

A Strange Monk

 

Once upon a morning; when the streets of the city, not yet warmed by the warmth of the late autumn sun, were deserted and cold; a young man of about fifteen or sixteen was looking for a job. Despite the early and biting cold that effortlessly penetrated through his patched-up jacket, the boy walked up and down the same street, keenly looking around. Recently, a gardener working here asked him for help and then gave him a whole pound of bread and five eggs. That was real luck! Not like yesterday, when his whole "catch" was a half-eaten chicken leg, which some gymnasium student left on the fence of the schoolyard, apparently not having time to finish it during a lunch break. He brought that leg home and gave it to his only relatives: his younger brother and sister. They gobbled up the remaining meat on the bones in a flash, and he, while looking at them, suddenly felt such an impulse of hunger, that he involuntarily wished to grab the leftovers and, even by taking it away from the children, eat those himself to satisfy the dragon had been settled in his stomach and demanding, demanding what he could not give him. It was an unattainable, impossible desire! With an effort of will, he gulped the saliva and ignored the dragon's rumbling in the stomach and turned away in order not to tease himself with the sight of food and insatiable machines; children who could eat themselves, given the opportunity.

When The boy was passing the street for the fourth time, a stream of dirty water fell on him from a window of the second floor of a yellow-painted house. He did not have time to jump out of the way, and the dirty water hit him. Then, a second stream fell on him, but this time it was human abuse. An elderly and plump woman swore at him in every way, shaking a copper pan from which she had just poured out dirty water.

The boy looked up at her with an angry look, but said nothing in response and moved to the other side of the street. Having finished scolding, the woman with the pan slammed the window frame and hid in the depths of a room. The street was still deserted, except for the sound of carriage wheels, heard around the corner. A carriage should pass by at any minute. The boy looked around and making sure there was no one nearby, dug a cobblestone out of the ground with the heel of his worn-out boot and took aim. A split second before he released the stone, a clear image of the flying stone and the shattering of the expensive window glass at the end of its flight appeared in his imagination. For some reason, this image made him come to his senses. The boy held back the already ready-to-shoot projectile and lowered his hand, relaxing. After standing for a minute, he released the stone, which hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Why didn't you do it?!"

The voice that suddenly spoke these words caught The boy off guard. A second ago, he was sure that there was no one around. Turning around, he saw the man who had asked the silly question. The man was standing by the gate, which explained his sudden appearance. The boy looked at the man's look, trying to guess his social status, in order to know how to behave with him. The man wore clothes similar to a monk's, but his robe was belted, a belt embroidered with gold, with an elegant golden beast in the form of a strange animal. An animal that couldn't exist in the real world. In addition, this man's eyes did not look like a monk's eyes either: the gaze of his pupils of some undefined, gray color seemed to burn through both the human and the imaginary wall that people build around themselves, trying to hide their true intentions. "A scary guy," thought the boy.

"I need to find a job," The boy finally answered, gloomily and unwelcomingly looking at the stranger. The day started badly and seemed to continue carrying out its course in the same direction.

"So what?" retorted sharply the stranger. "You can find a job on another street. But think about it, how great it would be to break the window of that b*tch! Ye, so that the old hag's ears ring! Come on! Do it! Take a rock!" The youth hesitated. The stranger's words had a strange power of coercion. Despite his inner protest, he reluctantly felt a wave of desire to do as the stranger advised, or rather say "forcibly advised" if such words could describe the predicament. He was about to bend down and pick up a cobblestone when for some strange and inexplicable reason, the stone suddenly jumped up himself and landed exactly into his hand. The desire to break the window of the offended woman was now so strong that he could not resist it anymore. Furiously swinging his arm, he threw the rock, which flew like it had been shot from a slingshot.

The youth watched the flight of the rock and, suddenly, he saw a picture of his home, his siblings, the children's always hungry sad eyes. The feeling of revenge and offense dissolved under the vision of this scene, and he regretted his impulsive action. But the stone had already flown its course and the glass shattered into a multitude of fragments with a ringing sound...

 

Jerry sat in the damp and narrow jail cell, repeatedly thinking about everything that had happened to him on that unlucky day. The wounds on his back did not allow him to lie down or sit leaning against the wall. And the half-rotten straw mattress didn't stimulate him to lay down either.

Jerry had never been to the prison before, although he often passed by this gloomy and grayish building with high walls, located not far from the governor's house. Sometimes he was even curious about how people, who are locked up here by the city court live, passing by. However, reality quickly extinguished the remains of such interest. Neither iron doors, nor the narrow corridors with flickering oil lamps, not even an executioner with a thick leather whip, who subjected him to what was called a "preliminary punishment"; nothing of those things, was interesting for his young mind, just a lesson of cruel life experience of the strong and wealthy.

Perhaps Jerry would have taken his position more calmly and even resigned himself to it if the only loved ones in the world had not been waiting for him at home. And now, when he is not around, anything could happen to them. If they don't die of starvation, then the slave traders can easily pick up children of their age. Jerry remembered a case where the baker living opposite his cabin offered to sell his children for a good price to such people.

Then he rushed to fight, but the baker was a sturdy adult man and he ended up being beaten. Now Jerry would have accepted such an offer. Despite everything, such a fate was still preferable to starving to death.

Jerry also thought about the strange monk who had betrayed him so treacherously and then disappeared. "If it weren't for that damn monk, I wouldn't be sitting here now," he thought, feeling a pulsating pain in his battered back.

The squeak of the sliding bolt interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to focus all his attention on the sound. The door to the cell opened and a faint light from the tiny window illuminated the person who entered. Jerry struggled to resist the urge to immediately attack the visitor. The person turned out to be a morning stranger, a man in a monastic robe with a golden belt. A feeling of hatred clenched him so strongly that Jerry involuntarily growled as if he were a wild beast protecting his territory.

The stranger, on hearing that growling sound of hatred, laughed. His laughter was loud and joyful as the laughing of an innocent child, highly contrasting with his appearance.

"O! I see you don't like me, Jerry! Jerry? Right? Your name, isn't it?"

Jerry, shocked, and offended by his joyfully friendly tone, kept silent. The monk, ignoring Jerry's reaction, continued as if nothing in the world could discourage him:

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"Yes! Of course! You are angry with me, because I left you with those puny minds, and they beat you a little."

The stranger's remark was too much for Jerry to bear. He couldn't believe that the stranger was so dismissive of the punishment he had received as if he hadn't been beaten, but rather lightly flogged with a whip. "I was beaten twenty-two times with a double whip!" Jerry exclaimed with undisguised anger in his voice. "If you had been beaten like that. You! Cursed monk! you would have kicked the bucket, for sure!" Jerry's anger and hatred seemed to amuse the monk even more. Laughing, he continued in a more serious tone: "Don't delude yourself, Jerry. An experienced hangman can kill with a few strokes of a whip if he wants to. Admit it! The executioner took it easy on your back, which, honestly, doesn't even have enough meat on it, to endure the real punishment. Look at yourself! Just skin and bones!" The monk was telling the truth, and the fact that he understood that made Jerry's words even more offensive. He wanted to give an angry response, but suddenly, realized that he had nothing significant to say in response.

"Alright, alright, Jerry," said the monk in a conciliatory tone, seeing Jerry's confusion, and reading his emotions as if they were written all over his face. "You shouldn't be so angry with me. I came here not to discuss your back, but rather to help it get out of this muddy place. By the way, my name is Luke. Father Luke. Do you know what punishment awaits you? The judge wants to sell you on the trading galley. But his assistant insists that you're too weak and therefore a poor and cheap product for them. So he suggests fixing you up for the mine. Then the price will be higher and you won't die so fast. These two were very hotly discussing the issue until I appeared and offered a third option, beating the others. So you're free now! Here you go!"

With the last word, the monk pulled something out of his robe pocket and threw it at Jerry. Jerry was stunned, both by the news of his release and by the generous gift, a small quarter-gold coin. The coin glinted in the dim light of the dungeon, rolled towards him, and strangely lazily, too lazily, fell onto its side, trembling, directly at his feet. Gold! Seeing his confusion, the monk cheered him up:

"Take it. After all, it's my fault that you ended up here! So it's a fair excuse"

Jerry picked up the coin still not believing in the reality of what was happening. "Really," he thought addressing himself, "he must atone for the morning's meanness."

...

As Jerry went through prison gates, he was forced to stop, even though he desperately wanted to run home and check on his siblings, little sister Ana, and little brother, Jose. But a strange monk took him aside and asked him before Jerry could escape:

"I have business with you, Jerry. Can you spare me a minute?'"

Jerry, reluctantly nodded, having a bad feeling that he would still have to work off the gold he had just received.

"I'm listening, Mr. Monk." The strange monk, again, exactly guessed his thoughts:

"You know, Jerry, I don't want you to think that you owe me something. Or that I'm obligating you to anything. You can refuse my offer and I won't be offended at all. You decide. I need a smart young man like you, for, basically, a part-time job. I'll pay one gold coin a week. You won't earn that much money in months."

"What will I be doing?" Jerry asked, amazed at the high pay. He wouldn't earn that much money, not in months, in his lifetime!

"Come tomorrow to the Black Monastery, you'll find out everything there. Until now, Jerry had been listening with interest, but as soon as the monk mentioned the Black Monastery, his face immediately changed to a worried expression. And the monk immediately noticed that:

"I see you're not very happy with my proposal, Jerry, I see. To be honest, I haven't expected people's rumors would scare you."

"I'm not scared," Jerry said with a little annoyance in his voice. "It's just..." He was unable to finish the phrase. He didn't really know something about the Black Monastery, just some phrases, heard here and there: bad place, damned place…

"Just what?" asked the monk, expectantly peering at him.

Jerry hesitated with an answer:

"Well... people talk. They say it's a bad place. Hope, you don't feel offended, sir monk."

The monk laughed:

"What are you talking about? For me to be offended by the foolish gossip of ignorant people! Just think, Jerry. It's all just words! Do you really think this city is a good place?" the monk's tone got sarcastic notes. "There can be good people in a bad place and vice versa: in a bunch of good places, there are so many bad people that it sometimes shocks! Haven't you noticed that already? You are quite an experienced boy, I suppose. Well, know what life is, I mean. Besides, I see that you know how to bargain. Do you want double pay? Two gold coins! Will that do? You are a thief, I'll bet!" The monk's smile was disarming. Jerry sighed and gave in...

 

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