24 - Scriostóir

 

 

Cerdic watched the two young men with some amusement during lunch. Rick would inch towards Manny, trying to be subtle. Once Manny realized what he was doing, he’d either tense but remain where he was or move away, all the time seemingly unable to keep his eyes off of Rick. It became a comic ballet in several acts but eventually Cerdic grew tired of it.

 

“Boys, if you’re feeling antsy, and from what I am seeing I believe you are, might I suggest you work it off by chopping wood for the fireplaces. It may be warm outside at the moment, but by this evening the temperature will have dropped considerably.”

 

Manny and Godric immediately jumped up, stopping at the sink long enough to wash up their dishes before heading back outside. Cerdic waited until they had left and then refilled his coffee cup, taking it with him to the bench by the large picture window in the main room.

 

He looked around the room, once again marveling at how it took him back to a time long ago when life had been so different. Here, and only here, did he truly feel at home.

 

Leaning against the back of the bench, he studied each of the tapestries in turn, recalling when he had acquired each one and why. The three largest had been woven by his mother and sisters and depicted the history of the family. Two centuries after his death he had made the acquaintance of another Scriostóir and, through not so subtle blackmail, had convinced her to return to the period just before he had slain his family and bring those tapestries back with her. Of course, once she had, he felt it necessary to kill her, not wanting word of what he’d forced her to do to reach the ears of those who might not understand.

 

A shaft of early afternoon sun through the window behind him hit one of the tapestries. The women of his family, including his new sister-in-law had finished it a mere months before their deaths. It depicted the weddings of his father and brothers in sequence. As he focused in on the sunlit portion, he felt a chill. Standing quickly, he strode over for a closer look.

 

“Now I know,” he spat out as he stared at the portrayal of his youngest brother’s wedding. The bride stood shyly beside her new husband. “It’s in the eyes, and the lips,” Cerdic growled. “What are you, Rick Ward, or to be more precise, Godric Aylward? Scriostóir sent to spy on me or Caomhnóir here to slay me?”

 

Taking a deep breath to rein in his rage, Cerdic returned to the window to stare out at the two boys. “Whichever you are, you will not make it through the night alive, Godric.”

 

23 - Scriostóir

 

 

Cerdic stood on the balcony outside of his second floor bedroom, watching Manny and Rick as they talked, knowing they were unaware that he could see if not hear them. His lips curled up in amusement. He wondered which one was coming on to the other, and if said other would accept or walk away in disgust. They both looked so serious, but then humans were like that. To them sex and romance were the be all and end all of existence.

 

With that thought, he walked back into his room, but not before he saw Rick throw his arms around Manny, hugging him tightly. So, they indeed are going to extend their working relationship into something more. This could prove interesting. He hoped that wouldn’t cause complications. But if it did, he’d handle them.

 

* * * *

 

In the woods at the far end of the cabin’s backyard, Manny smiled, stepping back. “He saw, now to see if he believed.”

 

“Good thing you spotted him up there when you did,” Godric replied seriously. “Now if we play it up more while we’re around him, it could give us the chance we need.”

 

Manny tapped a knuckle against his lips, deep in thought for a moment. “We shouldn’t make it look as if we’re going to jump into bed together the first second we get the chance. Let’s keep it a dance. You’ve made the first move; I’m interested, but still uncertain. After all, as far as he knows, this will be my first time with a man.”

 

“Would it be, if this was real?” Godric asked.

 

“No,” Manny told him, chuckling. “Point of fact, I’ve been with men before, but never with a woman.”

 

Godric broke out in laughter. “Then you probably know a hell of a lot more about it than I do.”

 

“You can’t be serious. I mean, I thought that’s what you did, what you were doing, umm, you know what I’m saying.”

 

“I should amend that I guess. I know how to satisfy a man with my mouth, but I’ve never actually gone beyond that.”

 

“So when I was watching you, before I recruited you--?”

 

“It was all an act set up with the help of a campealdor who was asked to assist me,” Godric told him.

 

“I see. No wonder you sounded so scared the first time we did a job together. He almost took it further than you were willing to go.  What about women?”

 

“Not to brag, but with them I’m far from being a virgin. They’re definitely my preferred sexual partners.”

 

“This is too funny. Maybe I should have been the one coming on to you.”

 

Godric snorted. “That, he would never have believed. Anyway, back to what you said, you’re right I think. You play it hesitant, even maybe having second thoughts.”

 

Manny nodded. “What if, going with that, we have a blowout in his presence? If we’re angry with each other he might drop his guard and try to step in, because our just attacking him outright is not going to work. He’s too old and experienced.”

 

“He’s only a few years older than me. However I’m quite certain he’s much more vicious than either of us. And have not doubt about it, this is going to be a fight to the death as far as I’m concerned.”

 

“Between the two of us, we should come out the winners.”

 

22 - Scriostóir

 

Godric’s first thought when Manny said they needed to talk was that the young man was about to come on to him. He steeled himself, trying to think of some way to turn him down without hurting his feelings.

 

Manny must have seen something in Godric’s expression because he took a step backwards, shaking his head. “This is not what you’re thinking. We’re friends and I want nothing beyond that. Although…" He paused, a flurry of emotions crossing his face.

 

“Although what, Manny?” Godric asked when the silence stretched uncomfortably.

 

“There are things I need to tell you and I want you to promise not to say anything until I’ve finished. Can you do that?”

 

Godric nodded slowly, wondering where this was leading.

 

“To begin with, Manny is my name, just not…my full one. Officially I was baptized Manfred Van der Venne, in 1497 A.D. I died in 1515, a traitor to my country although I saw myself as a rebel. Others, needless to say, did not.” As he spoke, Manny watched Godric carefully. “I made a choice, just as you did. However my offer came from the Rialóir Deiridh.”

 

“Caomhnóir,” Godric said quietly, uncertain if he was angry or relieved.

 

“I am,” Manny replied, lifting a hand to stop Godric from saying more at the moment. “I was asked by mijn commandant to infiltrate the ranks of Cerdic’s boys since I look young enough to be one. I’ve been with him for three years, passing on the information I’ve gathered not only to him but to mijn commandant as well. That way we stand a chance of foiling at least some of Cerdic’s plots.”

 

“Why are you telling me this? I’m presuming, from the fact that you are, that you know what I am and must have for a while now.”

 

“Mijn vijand, my enemy. And yes, I knew from the beginning. Sometimes, very rarely, Caomhnóir and Scriostóir work together against a common foe within their ranks, in this case Cerdic.” Manny smiled slightly. “I gather that he’s made at least one formidable enemy within your order. Two, if I count you.”

 

Godric returned Manny’s small smile with one of his own. “In my case I’m only looking for revenge. When he’s dead I’ll go back to my duties as any good Scriostóir would.”

 

“And I’ll continue to be a loyal Caomhnóir. Until then however I suggest we join forces and eliminate Cerdic once and for all.”

 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Godric replied a bit sardonically. “None the less, I accept your offer of help.”

 

21 - Scriostóir

 

 

Godric stopped just inside the door of Cerdic’s cabin, which was deep in the woods a hundred miles north of the city. A feeling of nostalgia flooded him as he looked at the large room that took up half of the first floor. It was in so many ways reminiscent of his own home from thirteen centuries ago. Not a direct copy of course, but the feel was there. He could almost envision the times when he and his sister had played games of hide and seek. He would slip behind tapestries much like the ones he was looking at now, certain she couldn’t find him. She, being three years his elder, would pretend to look for him everywhere but where he was until he started giggling because he had thought he’d fooled her.

 

All that ended when she had become betrothed to Cerdic’s youngest brother. From that moment on she had spent all her time until the day of her wedding learning how to be the perfect wife. The day of her marriage had been the last time Godric had seen her alive. She became one of the victims of Cerdic’s murderous attempt to take over his father’s small kingdom. He had succeeded, only to be killed in battle a few months afterwards.

 

Nine years later, Godric was dead as well. It was centuries before he discovered that, just as he had, Cerdic had become a Scriostóir, as well—and centuries more before he was able to find him. Now he had only a few more days to complete his mission and destroy the one creature that he truly hated, heart and soul.

 

Godric jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You were off in space somewhere,” Manny said, laughing. “I know this place is impressive, and you haven’t seen the half of it. Come on, I’ll show you around.” He paused, looking at Cerdic. “That’s if it’s all right with you, Mr. Wyndham.”

 

“Please do. I’ll unpack and start lunch.” When the boys looked at him in surprise, he chuckled. “This is a small vacation for all of us. I intend to do my share of the work.”

 

With a grin, Manny slung his arm around Godric’s shoulders and took him into the next room, a well-furnished den with all the entertainment features boys their age could desire. From there, he led Godric through the rest of the house. Finally he suggested that they take a look at the grounds, since there was still time before lunch.

 

As they walked down the long, sloping back lawn to the edge of the woods, Godric was already plotting how he could get rid of Manny so that he would be free to slay Cerdic, or, he admitted honestly to himself, perhaps be slain by the Scriostóir.

 

“Come, look at this,” Manny said, breaking Godric’s train of thought.

 

Ahead of them a few hundred yards into the trees, Godric saw a swift-running stream. “Good for fishing?” he asked as he followed Manny down to it.

 

“Very good,” Manny said, “and very private too. We can’t be seen from the cabin unless he goes onto his balcony.”

 

Godric looked at him in surprise. “Why would you care about that?”

 

“Because we have to talk, somewhere where he can’t hear us.”

20 - Scriostóir

Godric looked up from his homework when Manny came bouncing into their room like a kid on speed. “What?” he asked in amusement.

 

“Mr. Wyndham’s taking us up to his retreat for the weekend. Just you and me, as a reward.”

 

“Reward for what?” Godric asked a bit warily.

 

“Cause we did good on the jobs. Sometimes he likes to make us feel special when that happens.”

 

“But the other kids—“

 

“They’ll get their turns when they earn them. I think it’s partly because you’re new and he wants to keep you around you know.”

 

“No problem there. I’m liking this place and everything,” Godric replied, lying through his teeth. But he knew that’s what he was expected to say.

 

“I’m with you there. So, anyway, we gotta pack so we’re ready to leave first thing in the morning.”

 

Godric nodded. There was only one thing that he had to take with him. And it wouldn’t need a bag to carry it; just the sheath that was always strapped to his thigh when he wasn’t in the gym or the shower.

 

After closing his book, Godric dragged his backpack from under the bed. “How cold is it up there?” he asked Manny while studying the clothes in his half of the closet.

 

“This time of year? Cold and snow, so you’d better take sweatshirts and more than a couple of pair of socks, on top of the usual.”

 

Godric nodded, and a few minutes later had his pack full to the brim with just enough room left for the sundries that he’d pack in the morning. Dropping it on the floor, he flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. This could be his one and only chance to complete his self-appointed mission. Only Manny stood in his way, but that problem could be dealt with once they got up to the retreat. He frowned, looking over at him.

 

“What exactly is this retreat anyway?”

 

“Only the coolest place in the whole world I think. He’s got this huge cabin in the middle of nowhere. And I mean cabin, with wood walls and floors and stone fireplaces and all that but still it’s got everything anyone could want, even a Jacuzzi.” Manny paused, apparently thinking about the place. “There’s these fancy rugs on the walls with pictures on them. Umm, tapestries he calls them.”

 

“Sounds different,” Godric said, even as his mind flew back to before his death. And he wondered if in some way Cerdic was trying to recreate if not the house then at least the atmosphere of the times when they both had been alive.

 

He’d know soon enough.