Nico dreamt of a feast, of tables laid with food, of people in fine garments, of candles, of music. Even in his dream, he knew the clothes of the guests were suspiciously like those of the people who’d ridden through the gates today, and the feast was probably inspired by the dinner served in the refectory that he had glimpsed from the outside. He hadn’t been allowed to present. Most of the monks, save for the few old and trustworthy ones that Thaddeus had picked to serve the food, had retreated to their rooms after the evening prayer, and so had Nico.
He knew he was dreaming, and yet he clung to it, almost tasting the exotic food, almost hearing the music. Music was forbidden in the monastery, yet it sounded pleasant in his dream, and he wanted to hear more.
He woke up in the dark, the silence interrupted only by the snoring from the next room. The small square window offered a glimpse of the tall wall across the yard. The sunrise was probably hours away.
He turned to one side, then another. The dream had left him unsettled, as if he had been thrown out of that hall and forced back into his cold little room. The contrast was jarring.
With a sigh, he sat up. Perhaps the night breeze would wash the thoughts out of his head. Leaving one’s room at night was forbidden, but he had done that before, and had sometimes seen others out in the night garden––including Thaddeus himself, strolling in a leisurely way along the moonlit paths. He’d never heard of anyone being caught or punished for doing that. Night air was too good a treatment for insomnia to be denied.
Nico stepped out into the corridor, tying his sash. The windows were larger here, the moonlight rendering his surroundings visible. He looked right and left, making sure there was no one in sight, then walked towards the stairs.
It was darker on the stairwell, and he took his time descending the stone steps one by one, until the moonlit rectangle of the door was right in front of him. He stepped into the courtyard, breathing in the fresh air, and then his foot landed on something soft.
He heard a screech, and jumped back, looking down, expecting to see some animal, perhaps a rabbit that had escaped from Tulio’s enclosure.
Two eyes, undoubtedly human, stared at him with animal-like incomprehension.
“Pepe,” Nico breathed out. “What’re you doing here? You should be in the stables.”
The man on the ground, clad in rags, sat straighter, and began to blabber in his gibberish language, most of it constituted by the ‘pe’ sounds—the habit for which he’d gotten his name. If he had a real name, he couldn’t tell it. The poor beggar was too feeble-minded to understand what he was being asked, let alone give any precise answers. He had arrived in the monastery the previous autumn, and nobody had believed that he would survive the winter. Yet it was summer now, and he was still there. He had even begun to grow fat, despite the questionable quality of Felix’s cooking.
“Shhh,” Nico said, looking around. All the windows of the dormitory were dark, not a flicker of a candle in any of them. “Be quiet, Pepe. Stay here if you want.” He started walking, hoping to be out of sight before anyone got awakened by the noise. As he moved away, Pepe’s blabbering gradually ceased, and when Nico turned the corner, everything was quiet again. He stopped by another wall, took a deep breath, looked up, and froze.
Above him, in a window on the second floor, stood a man. With the candlelight behind his back, his face was in shadows, but it was clear that he was looking down.
“Hello,” said the man. The voice was soft but carried far in the night.
Nico suppressed the instinct to shush him. Shushing royalty was likely a bad idea. He knew the owner of this voice, even though he’d only heard him speak once.
“Hello?” Prince Emery repeated. “I’m addressing you.” He pointed at Nico, as if there were other people but him in the dark yard.
Nico opened his mouth, then closed it. Thaddeus would be furious if he found out that Nico had spoken to the prince. On the other hand, Thaddeus had instructed them to answer if directly addressed.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Your highness.”
Emery nodded, likely guessing the answer rather than hearing it.
“Come here,” he said, and moved away from the window and out of Nico’s sight.
Nico gaped at the now empty window, the weak light inside the room moving constantly in the draft. Why would the prince call for him? He had servants. Still, disobeying a royal command could land him in trouble.
He walked to the entrance. Whatever Emery wanted, he should quickly and quietly bring it to him, and there would still be a chance this whole situation would remain undiscovered by the abbot. Leaving one’s room at night perhaps wasn’t a big offence, but if on top of that he went against the instruction to avoid the guests, Thaddeus wouldn’t be happy. Nico shivered, climbing up the steps, trying to gauge the degree of unhappiness this would elicit in Thaddeus. Would he be punished? It’d been years since any of the Brothers had been flogged, but the possibility existed.
He hoped to find the door to Emery’s room closed, but it stood ajar, weak light spilling out. With a heavy heart, he pulled his hood up to hide his face and pushed the door open a little more, peeking inside.
“Come in already,” said a voice, and Nico obeyed.
The room had been neat and lifeless when he had been here last, making the bed. Now, there were items of clothing, a discarded cape, and a book on the table by the window that Nico quickly identified as belonging to the monastery’s library. Two candles burned next to it—a dangerous proximity, for a draft could cause the flames to jump, ruining the precious book and possibly starting a fire.
One more candle was on the headboard of the bed, its light playing on the face of Prince Emery who stood with his hands crossed on his chest. He wore some soft, dark clothes that, even without any glittering stones on them, still looked exquisite.
“Why the hood?” said Emery, watching Nico.
So that looking at you wouldn’t corrupt me.
Nico lowered his head so that only the floorboards remained in his field of vision. Removing the hood was out of the question, and so was explaining why he had to wear it.
There was a pause, and then an exasperated sigh.
“Damn monks,” Emery muttered. “It’s true no man in his right mind would live here. Anyway!” He raised his voice. “Do you have a name?”
“Nico.”
Emery hummed. “A pretty small name for a pretty big man. Is there a full version of it? Nicolas? Nicolay?”
“Just Nico, your highness.” He surveyed the irregularity of the floorboards to keep himself from looking up.
“Fine, Nico,” said Emery. “What’s with that abhorrent beggar downstairs? I wanted to go see that garden that your abbot praised so much, but he was blocking the exit.”
“That’s Pepe,” Nico said, relieved by the simplicity of the question. “He lives in the stables.”
“He most obviously isn’t in the stables now.”
“It was probably just all the noise and the new people that confused him. Usually, he keeps out of sight.”
“Why do you keep him here? He’s not a monk, and he’s clearly too dumb to be a servant.”
“He asked for a shelter, so we let him in.”
Emery hummed again. “You let anyone in like that?”
“Those in need, yes. It’s the ‘mercy to beggar’ rule. If a person’s life is at risk and he asks for a shelter, it must be provided.”
“Even to a leper?”
“Yes.” Nico nodded. “We’d make sure to not touch him, but yes, we’d let him in.”
“I’m surprised your monastery isn’t crawling with lowlifes, if that’s your policy.”
“The life here isn’t all that attractive for most people. Those we let in have to live by our rules, which are strict.”
“Still, a roof over one’s head and a free meal is sure to attract some beggars. No wonder you demand more lands. One monastery won’t be enough if you take all the junk in.”
“More lands?” Nico almost looked up but stopped himself.
“Damn right. Always begging. Every place we go to, it’s a bit of hospitality, and then the never-ending requests. A whole country of beggars. Why don’t you look at me?”
The change of topic was jarring, and Nico blinked under his hood. He had begun to get absorbed into the conversation, pleased that the prince was showing interest in their life and asking real questions. Yet the last one reminded him that this man wasn’t someone he could safely chat with.
“I can’t talk to you when I don’t see your face.” Light footsteps followed, and Nico saw Emery’s polished boots before him. Then, the hood got pulled back from his head.
The light was instantly brighter. Emery stood right in front of him, outlined by it, peering at him. For a moment, they just looked at each other, with Nico taking in the traits of Emery’s face that looked even more handsome up close.
Emery frowned, then stepped back, shaking his head.
“I’m…surprised,” he said, “that not all monks are ugly, or a hundred years old.” His frown was replaced by a curious look. “Why would anyone so young want to live in such a place?”
“It’s not a bad place,” Nico said, and then added, surprising himself, “I’ll show you, if you want.”
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