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Every gunshot makes Brother Mathieu flinch, curling up against the solid limestone of the aqueduct. He still expects the noise to make his ears ring, but they’re so far away. They ran – Mathieu does not know how long they ran. The abbey seems so far away.
The abbey seems so far away, and it is ablaze.
Mathieu can scarcely believe it. Through every danger the abbey has faced, through every threat and misbehavior and murder, he’s never been able to imagine something like this. His home is on fire. Their place of God is on fire. They have burnt down a holy place, and Mathieu is too stunned to cry. At every cry of alarm and every clang of metal, his mind returns a new loss: the books, the sacristy, the mural of the Dance of Death. All of it in ashes. It is like they have tried to burn down God Himself.
He is lividly angry, yes, but more than that, he’s so scared. All of those people up there want him dead… or, at least, do not care if he burned up in the ashes. They have already burned down his home, but every snapped twig could mean a peasant rounding the corner to burn up his body. Mathieu does not want to die.
It is the fear that threatens to overwhelm him more than anything else, so much so that when Brother Rüdeger coughs next to him, Mathieu snaps, “Would you be quiet!? You’re going to get us killed!”
Rüdeger doesn’t complain, because he never complains. He only turns towards Mathieu and, with a face that would put any elderly hound to shame, looks genuinely stricken.
Rüdeger might be the only one who can make Mathieu feel bad for such things. Mathieu rarely considers himself wrong in his judgment of people. They were in a place of God, they should act appropriately, and Mathieu considered himself a rulekeeper of sorts.
Combined with the fact that if Rüdeger hadn’t been there, Mathieu would most certainly be dead…
The fire had started at the bottom of the library, causing smoke to rise to the top. They had managed to start down the stairs, together, but the smoke… it seemed no more than a few steps before Mathieu was entirely blinded by it. No matter how many times he polished his glasses clean, he felt like he was going nowhere.
And – sweet Rüdeger, kind Rüdeger, who had been practically babbling to himself just minutes before, had taken his hand. How he could see better than Mathieu, he didn’t know. The grace of God, perhaps, had let them escape, but Rüdeger had been invaluable.
Then, amidst the fighting peasantry, they’d ran. They’d ran out of the abbey, past the soldiers. The only reason why they hadn’t ran clear out of Bavaria was seeing the crowds of people clustered around the windmill. It’d prompted them both to hunker down here.
No. He needs to be kinder to Rüdeger anyway, but now most of all, he cannot be cruel.
A stifled noise from Rüdeger makes him turn. Rüdeger’s face is red. His Adam’s apple bobs furiously in his throat, like he’s choking. Mathieu looks up the hill they’d ran down. The peasantry up there seem so close, distracted only momentarily by whatever is up there, and they really can’t afford to –
Mathieu’s decision is made for him. Rüdeger abruptly lurches forward, onto his hands and knees, and empties the contents of his stomach out onto the dirt. Mathieu winces… but, nobody comes running down the hill to skewer them.
He rises to his feet and puts a hand on Rüdeger’s back. Rüdeger flinches as if Mathieu’s slapped him. The man has always been sensitive (it is why, Mathieu believes, he is such a good singer – he is more aligned with God than others), but ever since they’d been locked up in the library, he’d grown almost child-like with his vulnerability. His eyes shine wide at him but curiously flat, like a hand mirror.
“It is alright,” he whispers. Certainly, it’s not alright. The smell of fire is all around them, too distant to provide anything but emotional pain, and they can still hear the fighting up at the abbey. Behind them, up the hill, they hear the mill burning down. Almost certainly many of their brothers are dead. Some of the nuns, perhaps.
“We’re safe, here.” Nor does he know if they’re safe. Mathieu has not left the abbey in so long. None of this is familiar to him. He has only seen these ruins at a distance. He is almost certain they would not be welcome to take refuge in the town… and where else would they go? The closest town would be days’ walk away. If he can even recall where they’re going.
“You need some water,” Mathieu announces. Finally, something he can do. Rüdeger has retreated from his puddle of sick to lean against the aqueduct again, next to his side. There are children’s drawings all around it, faded with time. Rüdeger doesn’t respond, only bringing his soot-stained knees up to his chest.
He looks around. The nearest well should be… or not, rather. In front of them, water trickles down from the jagged end of the aqueduct. Run-off from the last storm, it must be. He gets to his feet, but before he can do more than take a step, a slender hand wraps around his wrist.
Rüdeger is terrified. The blank, haunted expression has disappeared, replaced instead by a man looking into the face of his own death.
“Don’t…” He has no voice. Rüdeger is barely shaping the words around his air. Even that makes tears spring to his eyes. “Leave.”
Mathieu’s heart threatens to shatter.
He is no evil man, he thinks. Mathieu does not believe he sins by caring as he does for Rüdeger. Love is one of the holiest gifts given to them by God, and God - neither man nor woman Himself - could not take fault with that. Every moment he spends with Rüdeger only makes him reinforce his faith.
In fact, Mathieu half-believes that Rüdeger was sent to him by God as a gift for his loyalty, his faith. A person that he can love dearly, without the risk of having his duties interfered with – the kind of interference only a child could bring. He can serve God and love Rüdeger, and he insists on doing both. If God does not like it, then he has had nearly a decade to show his disapproval.
Which. The abbey is burning down, now, but if it were to punish him, then…
No, he can’t think like that. It is the peasants’ wickedness that caused this, nothing more. He has Rüdeger and he has God yet. Mathieu puts a hand up to Rüdeger’s own, squeezing his fingers as he pries them off.
With his free hand, he points towards the broken aqueduct. “I’ll be right over there,” he says, hoping Rüdeger can understand him. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Rüdeger looks towards the water, looks at him, and seems to understand. He lets Mathieu go.
Mathieu feels eyes on him as he approaches the man-made waterfall. The moon is shining so brightly down on them, that he feels as if anyone in the valley could see their presence here. He has to shake himself out of his fear. If he doesn’t get Rüdeger water, then they’ll both be discovered and that will be that.
His second problem is more pressing, and more easily resolved. Though he has nothing to store water in, a dusty red curve peeks out from beneath the dirt. He gives a quick prayer for at least one Romans’ soul to be saved before digging out the ceramic bowl. It’s shallow, won’t hold much, but he’ll come here a hundred times if he must.
Rüdeger is fighting down another cough when Mathieu returns. “I don’t think they’ll find us here,” he tries to soothe, and when they doesn’t work, admits something closer to the truth. “I don’t want you to be sick again, Rüdeger.”
Nodding, Rüdeger brings up his sleeve to muffle the sound of his retching. It does sound horrid. Mathieu’s lungs still burn in his chest, sure, but the flames clearly hadn’t licked him the way they’d licked Rüdeger.
And he has no infirmary to bring him to. Mathieu has no idea what herbs and plants might grow out here that could help; he’d just as easily be feeding Rüdeger poison.
It… will be fine. It has to be.
Rüdeger stretches out his hands out for the bowl, but they shake so violently that Mathieu refuses to give it to him. Instead, he simply knees by his lover’s side. Only when he raises the bowl himself does he realize that his own hands are trembling, too. He knits his eyebrows together to make sure that he doesn’t spill a single drop, not when Rüdeger needs the water so.
Rüdeger’s eyes slip shut as he drinks from the bowl, like he’s fallen into slumber. His chest doesn’t rise or fall easily. When he reaches the bottom of his lungs, his chest staggers a little, like it has to fight for the last possible inch of space.
This danger is less threatening than whatever they might face outside of their hiding spot. Doesn’t set Mathieu at ease, though. When Rüdeger has finished the last of it, Mathieu rests the bowl in his lap.
“Another?”
Rüdeger shakes his head.
Mathieu is almost disappointed he can’t do anything. He places the bowl on the ground and shifts so that he’s sitting next to Rüdeger again, his back against the wall of the aqueduct. This view is perfect for the destruction of the abbey. Mathieu frowns a little, the flames reflected in the shine of his glasses.
“My… my voice, Mathieu.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate further. Mathieu knows what he means. Rüdeger’s voice sounds like it has been dragged over hot coals – the truth is not so different. Ever since they first met, Mathieu had been enchanted by Rüdeger’s voice. Whether he’s singing a hymn or whispering sweet nothings, Mathieu adores it. There is something holy in it.
Now, well. Quite the opposite. Scraped through the mountains of Hell.
As it is, it’s moot now. This is not the best place for Rüdeger’s singing, is it? He doubts he could sway the townsfolk as easily as he swayed Mathieu.
“Can you breathe?”
A slow nod. It looks painful. Rüdeger gingerly touches his throat as he does.
“In the morning,” Mathieu promises, “We’ll find…”
He wants to say Brother Florian or Sister Gertrude. They’ll know how to fix this. Mathieu is not above promising empty things, but something about their names stick in his throat. Are they dead, now? Succumbed? Burn to ash in their own home?
For that matter, he does not know what they’ll do tomorrow. The abbey still burns tonight. It may even yet burn tomorrow. What if the abbot is dead? What if they are all dead? What if the village wants to hunt down the rest of them? Beyond what ifs, what will they physically do? Tonight is answered for them, but they can’t hide at the base of this aqueduct forever.
He –
There’s another hand at his, again. He looks down, and then looks up, and there is Rüdeger smiling at him kindly in the moonlight. And it is Rüdeger, his eyes looking all the way into his soul, the way he always does. Mathieu’s heart begins to quicken.
“We’re… going to be alright,” he forces out hoarsely. His throat must be agony, and yet he’s forcing himself over needles and blades to give him false hope.
With him.
Mathieu had never considered leaving him – lately, anyway. There had been a brief period of several months, years ago, after they’d been discovered by Andreas Maler in the library. He’d been terrified, put an end to things. It had been utterly miserable. Even the abbot had questioned him as to why he’d suddenly become so cold and angry. You’re performing in a most un-Christian manner, Mathieu.
And yet, he’d never really, intentionally planned to live the rest of his life with him. He had only assumed he would. Brothers in a monastery rarely left. Mathieu expected to be abbot one day, and Rüdeger seemed happy wherever he went.
Now, with the abbey in flames, his life stretches ahead of him. Far from freedom, it’s disorienting. He feels like he might fall straight through the Earth.
To steady himself, he squeezes Rüdeger’s hand.
No, whatever happens next to him – whether they are chased off by peasants, whether they resume work in a burned-out abbey, whether they leave this town altogether and join somewhere new…
He will be going with Rüdeger. God will have no choice but to approve it. He would sooner cut himself in half than face whatever happens next without him. Rüdeger is the reason he survived, and Rüdeger is the man he loves, and Mathieu chooses to remain by his side. Whatever happens.
As if to finalize it, he turns to the side and tilts his head. The kiss he gives Rüdeger is brief, remarkably chaste, but Rüdeger nevertheless gasps in surprise anyway. He tends to. There’s a distinct scent of charcoal lingering about his lover, as if he’s still on fire himself, and when he pulls away, his own lips are burning.
“Together,” he promises. “We will be alright together, Rüdeger.”
Rüdeger’s fingers creep forward, one at a time, inch by inch, until they’re interlaced between Mathieu’s own. Mathieu squeezes his in return. Together, they turn back to stare at the abbey. How far the flames stretch into the sky. There are no stars hanging there tonight. The tall tower of the library looks no stronger than a toothpick. He cannot bear to think…
But, there are only two things in the world that Mathieu cannot fathom losing. Everything else is a tragic loss, one that he cannot fully wrap his mind around yet. But Mathieu still has his faith, and he still has Brother Rüdeger, and therefore the light of God still shines down on him this terrible, terrible night.
He lets his head fall to the side, cheek pressing against Rüdeger’s robes. Rüdeger leans against him, too, until he can feel the bristle of his beard against his scalp.
Mathieu doubts he will be able to sleep tonight, but exhaustion is lurking right around the corner. He can feel it. Rüdeger’s shoulder, despite the chill in the air, is warm.
And – yes – his eyes are starting to shut. He tells himself, at first, that it is only so he does not have to witness the burning of the abbey, but there is something so peaceful about the insides of his eyelids…
“Mathieu.” He hears it vibrating through his chest. “Bible. Do you…?”
Rüdeger can’t utter anything more. Hardly matters. Mathieu twitches his hand towards the pocket of his robes. Yes, thank God. His own personal copy. To think, if he had casually set it to the side in the library, he would be utterly without it. Strange to think of. Mathieu has not been without a copy of the Bible for most of his life, now, and while he can quote large chunks of it from memory, it isn’t the same as holding the leather in his hands.
“ Could you…?”
That question requires a little more parsing. Mathieu looks up at Rüdeger, whose eyes are only half-lidded. He blinks, considers, and finally asks: “Do you want me to read it to you?”
Without another word, Rüdeger nods. He closes his eyes fully.
That is something he can do. In fact, he’s eager to do it. He likes to have a task – he likes to help – and if there is any time to call upon the word of God, it’s now. So long as he avoids Revelations, he thinks it might even raise his spirits.
Mathieu drops Rüdeger’s hand to open his Bible. In return, Rüdeger throws one arm over his shoulders to draw him close. That touch is unusual. They rarely have time to sit with one another in such casual intimacy, but this way, he can smell incense underneath all the smoke. It’s a comforting thought.
It will not be so bad, he thinks, to spend one night here. It will grant him the strength necessary to face tomorrow and whatever it might bring. God, and Rüdeger, grant him strength.
Clearing his throat, Mathieu presses his glasses higher up on his nose. In a soft voice – barely audible over the blast of gunfire in the distance – he begins to read.