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literature
A Cursed Town Ch. 2
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Literature Text
A Secrets of Marfath Story
Father Josef took a breath and began to relax as he looked around the smithy. It was clean, and the storefront was well stocked. Elaborate silver chimes and bronze doorknockers, delicate iron fence caps and hand-worked copper baking pans hung from the walls to display the blacksmith's skills. Common items like pins, nails, hinges, and pot blanks were set out on tables. A place like this was bound to have a smith capable of fixing a carriage, whatever had broken. Luck, the priest thought, did occasionally turn up good.
It didn't take long for a burly, soot-stained young man to come in through the back entrance, wiping his ash covered hands on a towel. "Hallo! Didn't see you come up," the youth smiled. It was a warm and genuine expression and Josef found himself smiling back.
"I didn't wait long," he assured the young man.
"Oh good, good. Gular is always after me to watch the front. I do try." The youth laughed and held out his hand. "Name's Alin, by the way. Alin Reave. I'm a journeyman smith here. Can help you with just about anything, 'less you're looking for gentle-work."
Josef took the proferred hand. "I'm Father Garten."
"Oh? Thought we were gettin' the priest tonight! You made good time, hey?"
The holy man shook his head ruefully. "Not exactly. The carriage I hired broke down about two miles outside of town and I had to ride in alone." He grimaced and tried not to think about his sore bits. It would be awhile before anyone could talk him back onto a horse. "The driver said he needed a cartwright. I want to say it was an axle? Maybe a spring?"
Alin tapped a long, rough finger against the table. "Can't say as we do much carting here, not since the docks shut down. A bit of wagon repair and some pulleys, sometime. Done that." He huffed and pulled at his leather apron for a moment. "Well, what say we send a wagon out and fetch your carriage back? We can probably get it rolling again, if not much else."
"I think the driver would rather that than being stranded on the road."
"Oh, aye. I bet he would! You got to watch the damps after dark, hey?" The youth laughed, though his fingers still tapped nervously on the wood.
"The damps? Oh, yes. The swamp. Wild animals and the like?"
"Oh, the like, the like." Alin shifted his feet. "I best tell Gular what's going. Did you want to ride out too?"
Josef winced. "Is it necessary? I think if I'm not needed that I'd like to see to my arrangements."
"Oh! Oh no, you don't need to be coming on." Alin leaned forward, his eyes nervously flicking toward the rear entrance. "I suppose you'll want the boarding house, hey? After what happened to old Father Tomas?"
The holy man raised an eyebrow. "I was told he died at peace, in bed. Is there something I should know?" He couldn't help but think about the ominous lines of the old priest's letter.
The youth shuffled back, grabbing for his dirty towel. "That - well, yeah, he just died in bed. The rectory though. All his stuff's there. Could be . . . troubling, hey? That's all." Alin ducked his head, turning away. "I'll just get right on that carriage of yours. Never mind me though! Gular says my mouth runs off on its own! Right off!"
Perplexed and more than a little nervous, Josef let the youth go. He loved a mystery as did all men of learning, but he hated unfounded rumor and suspicion. Sideways looks and whispered comments. If Father Tomas died under suspicious circumstances, it could plainly be said! And if not, then silence was the golden rule.
The priest made his way out to Saul. The beast's temperament was no better than his own just now. Saul's ears were back and his haunches twitched in equine angst.
"Give me no trouble, you brute," Josef hissed. They shared a long look, large brown liquid eye to tired, squinting blue. When the priest felt certain they'd reached an understanding, he untied the horse and led it back down the road. Saul seemed to be pleased they were leaving this part of town behind. He walked at a sedate pace along the rundown street, giving only the occasional snort in token rebellion.
They went past the main street again, and the holy man tried to be pleasant. Nods and waves, a friendly hello to the people he saw. A few returned the gesture, several scowled and turned away, but most ignored him. They looked lost in thought, gazes distant and unfocused. Josef tried not to let it bother him. Not every town was amenable to the church nor its servants. Father Tomas' letters hadn't said it, but neither had his mentor indicated a warm relationship with the people of Marfath.
In Josef's experience, there was something about cold, remote regions that fostered a certain personal distance. It could be crossed, but only with time and effort. That could make his investigation harder in the short term. "Nothing good is ever easy," he sighed.
Saul bobbed his head, tugging the bridle nearly out of the priest's hands.
"Watch it there, you." Josef warned, but his heart wasn't in it. The big shaggy beast wasn't so bad when you weren't on his back, the priest thought. Saul was a little too smart for his liking and entirely too fiery, but not so wicked as he'd seemed when they raced into town.
The church was easy to see from the street they followed. The city founders built it on a hill to the north of the city, overlooking the cold marsh to one side, and the village on the other. The church bell tower rose above the rooftops like a beacon, copper roof stained a dark green, grey stones blanched of color by the ever present sea breeze.
There was home, the priest thought. Something familiar in this strange place. The bell tower guided him through a small market square where people bobbed their heads and solemnly frowned, past empty inns, and abandoned shops. By winding, narrow streets, Saul and Josef made their way up the hill and into the older part of the city, where the wealthy once made their homes.
Here the houses were replaced with looming mansions, wooden monstrosities with peeling gingerbread and cracked glass windows in faded rainbow hues. Once, this would have been a beautiful place, thought Josef. Now, these ageing dynasties sat and gathered dust as their scions withered or moved on to newer burgs.
It was, the holy man reflected, like walking through time. This place had a feel to it of some slow and plodding creature that would not give up, but perhaps should have. Josef sighed. How long, he wondered, would he be here? The archbishop's orders had been clear. The priest was to answer questions surrounding Father Tomas' work in Marfath, to put the diocese' affairs in order, and to report in full on all findings. How long could that take?
As Josef approached the church and rectory he held in another sigh. It hadn't been empty for more than a few months, but the place already had a desolate feel. Grass grew between the walkway stones and the walls were salt-stained and moldy. Someone had put boards over the windows along the church sides and at the rectory front as well. Perhaps they were broken?
Several of the statues were in pieces. Saint Francis was missing his hands and two of the angels were headless. A stone cross lay on its side in the dirt, a crack wide enough for daylight splitting it in two.
The holy man let go of Saul's bridle and took a few steps toward the broken statuary. The horse snorted at him and lowered his head to nibble at the shoots of grass. At least the neglect was being put to some use feeding God's creatures. Though, to be honest, Josef wasn't sure Saul counted as one of them. The beast eyed him as if it understood his thoughts.
"Don't you look at me like that," the priest warned it. He considered tying the horse to one of the statues but he wasn't sure it would hold. Hopefully grazing was enough or he'd be chasing the beast across town.
The door to the rectory was swollen shut, the wood wet and chill to the touch. Josef tried the handle, and while it would turn, the door did not budge. After a few tries, the priest gave up and just shoved his shoulder hard against it. The door gave an alarming creak and then with a sudden metallic snap, it swung open. A small, metal latch hung from the jagged end of a rusted nail in the door frame. Had it been locked from inside? The priest set that mystery aside for the moment and peered into the rectory gloom.
From what Josef could see, the place was a mess. Stacks of books and papers lay across the floor or sat in crooked piles on nearly every surface, and there was a smell of rot and mildew. So much for a restful night in the rectory, he thought. At least it appeared nothing had been changed since Father Tomas' last days here. That could be good, the holy man thought. He'd get an unvarnished look at his mentor's notes and journals.
Barely two steps into the dim interior, the sound of shouting drew Josef back out again.
"Father! Father! That you in there?" A woman's voice rasped with a combination of relief and exasperation.
The priest stepped back out onto the shallow wooden porch. "Yes? I'm Father Garten. I only just arrived-"
Her hands fluttered impatiently. "Yes, yes I can see that. I'm just glad you did. We were worried you'd be too late!"
Josef raised an eyebrow.
"Well, are you just going to just stand there or come on?"
"I'm sorry?"
The woman sighed and put her fists to hips. "We had a death this morning, Father Garten." She stressed his title as if she was making a point.
Though he didn't know this lady or her husband, still he felt a pang of sympathy. "I wish I'd arrived sooner to give your deceased the last rites. I deeply apologize Mrs?" The priest took a few steps toward her.
"Mrs. Salton, thank you and it's fine. That wicked old man didn't need any blessing."
These people were all mad, Josef thought. From the oddly calm Claudia to the twitchy Alin, and now this woman. If her deceased needed no blessing, why come to the church and shout to him from the lawn? She was clearly out her head with grief. There was little one could say to soothe such a troubled soul. He didn't reply, just settled for tucking his errant hair behind his ear again. Even Saul seemed taken aback, his ears twitching toward the woman as he grazed.
Mrs. Salton pointed at him, her finger shaking. "Now look you, you're new here, and so I understand maybe you aren't quite ready to jump in with both feet. But there are traditions to be observed! A vigil without a priest is like fishing without nets!"
"A vigil? You would like a service for your loved one?" This was more solid ground for Josef. He didn't feel ready to perform a rite yet, but it was a sensible request.
"No!" The woman stared at the ground, mouth working in a silent mutter. When she finally looked up, she wore the expression one did when dealing with the mentally infirm. "You got to come to the house," Mrs. Salton said slowly. "And stay with my man til the sun comes up. Alright?" She drew out the last word, her head nodding slowly.
Josef gave her his best sympathetic smile. "I see. Mrs. Salton, I understand. I can come say a prayer over the man who's passed on, and to those in mourning. Just give me a moment to refresh myself-"
The woman gave an annoyed snort. "Say a prayer? Say a prayer! And what'll that do? No! You need be coming to the vigil and sit with my man until dawn. As Father Tomas always did with our dead, I might add." She shook a finger at him, her face pinched with annoyance. "It keeps the mischiefs at bay, you know?"
The priest was about to explain that this was not possible, nor even a duty. He wanted to make a good impression, he really did, but a man needed to bathe and change and rest. A man needed to eat! Even if he was a servant of God! Thankfully, Alin with a cart in tow, interrupted at just that moment.
"Hey there! Father! I came with your things from the carriage!" He jumped down from the wood bench with a wide smile. "And look! If it in't Annie Salton come to welcome our new priest."
"Welcom'n him with a vigil, if he'll stop stalling." The woman gave Alin a withering look.
The youth was impervious and merely nodded. "I guess that means old man Salton's not with us? Pity that."
"Oh you would," Mrs. Salton's frown deepened until the edge of her lips drew perilously close to her jawline.
It seemed as good a time to end the mess as ever, Josef thought. "Look, Mrs. Salton, I've offered my blessing and I will come by to deliver it later today. For the moment, Alin and I need to unpack my things and make arrangements for my stay here. I'm sure you understand."
Annie opened and closed her mouth, teeth clacking.
In an act both kindly and malicious, the youth butted in, still grinning like a fool. "Oh that's alright Father Garten! I can stay here and unpack your things. I wouldn't want to keep you from the necessaries, hey?"
Frustrated, tired, and still confused, the priest just nodded. He'd never sat with a dead man overnight. With some luck, there would be food and a comfortable seat. And, Josef reflected, Mr. Salton was bound to be more pleasant company than his wife.
"Take care of the horse for me, Alin. Saul belongs to the driver." The priest gestured to Saul, who was still gamely munching the grass and trying to ignore the human goings-on around him.
"Oh, aye! I'll just take him to the smithy and put him with our nags." Alin chuckled. "Bet they'll appreciate having a man in the house - er, barn. You know?" He flushed a bright red as he said it, and rubbed a hand over his face.
Josef nodded, doing his best to smile at the youth's joke. "I'm sure."
Mrs. Salton didn't waste any more time. She grabbed his arm with hands like vulture claws and dragged him down the road. Saul watched him go with what the holy man assumed was a look of amusement. Damn that horse.
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This is part 2 of a multichapter series. If you haven't read it yet, please start with: A Cursed Town Ch. 1
At the request of his recently deceased mentor, a young priest ventures to the small town of Marfath in the northern marshes. It is a town of secrets, as so many small towns are. A place where spirits of the air make their home and faith is tested. Many mysteries wait for Josef there, and answers too, if he has heart enough to seek them.
Next: A Cursed Town Ch. 3
Please let me know what you think of the story! This is a new format for me - rather than posting the story complete or in 12-15 page entries, I'm parting them out in short chapters. How do you like this format versus a longer form? What did you think of the town and characters introduced so far? This chapter is a little slow, with more dialogue - was it enjoyable? Any critique is helpful!
As always, thank you for reading
At the request of his recently deceased mentor, a young priest ventures to the small town of Marfath in the northern marshes. It is a town of secrets, as so many small towns are. A place where spirits of the air make their home and faith is tested. Many mysteries wait for Josef there, and answers too, if he has heart enough to seek them.
Next: A Cursed Town Ch. 3
Please let me know what you think of the story! This is a new format for me - rather than posting the story complete or in 12-15 page entries, I'm parting them out in short chapters. How do you like this format versus a longer form? What did you think of the town and characters introduced so far? This chapter is a little slow, with more dialogue - was it enjoyable? Any critique is helpful!
As always, thank you for reading
© 2017 - 2024 Zara-Arletis
Comments17
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It's nice to see Josef bonding with Saul. Alin is emerging as a fun character, too.