Mark pulled the bucket up from the well, which was heavy even though only half full. His skinny arms could barely manage, but he had taken on more responsibilities within the monastery of St. Christianium. At age eight the monks considered it right that the opate begin not only to learn, but also to labor. As he began to drag the bucket up the hill towards the outer building within the walls, he saw another child climbing over the stone wall left unguarded by a gatekeeper. Intrigued, Mark stood still and watched attentively. There weren’t any other children as young as he within the monastery, and he had come to forget his life without. The curious thing about this foreign child was the way in which it was dressed. Mark had a loose brown tunic on over brown stockings that befit someone living a monastic life, but this child wore a reddish garment, obviously dyed to achieve the color. The color alone was not only highly irregular, the fit was as well: the top was tightly laced and appeared to have beneath it a white shirt, and the bottom reached nearly to the ankle. Mark could see that the child’s hair was long and dark, even though a white cap tied under the chin covered it. Moreover, instead of running away upon seeing Mark, the child almost seemed to be hurrying forward. Mark wondered at this, knowing it was wrong to enter the monastery without the proper permission from the gatekeeper. The child, who now seemed to Mark to be a girl, came forward and stuck her hand out. Being unused to the habits of secular society, Mark did not know to shake hands.
"You mustn’t be here," he managed. She looked at least two years his junior and she smiled sheepishly, "Mother said I oughtn’t to come here ever, but I had to see." Despite being unfamiliar with people his own age, let alone of the opposite sex, he thought this girl exceptionally pretty. The very thought made him turn and begin walking towards the outer building, water sloshing outside of the bucket. The little girl hurried after him. "Where are you going?" Suddenly, Mark felt that he should have never spoken to this girl at all…he feared his fathers would think it sinful. Consumed by these thoughts, he refused to answer her, but he couldn’t help glancing back at her briefly before entering the building. The little girl merely smiled. A week later Mark wondered absently during his lessons whether the little girl had left the walls immediately, or whether she had walked about, as he sometimes did.
Part I
His Conflict
Brother Philip rounded the corner finding Mark leaning against the wall. His position was one of relaxation, which was not fitting for a monk. Mark stood up straight upon seeing Brother Philip. "Father Philip, forgive me." Brother Philip was very fond of Mark, and for this reason let many things go that he saw happening with the boy. Brother Philip nodded with solemnity and walked on, continuing to contemplate the boy further in silence.
It had been fourteen summers since Mark’s parents had brought him to Christianium, donating him to the monastery as an opate. Like many people, they could not afford another child: they were traveling laborers, and giving a younger child as an opate was a simple solution and one with which most mothers could easily live. Mark had come to Christianium as a child with no learning, and Philip took the sweet tempered child on as his own project. While Mark was quick to learn, he never seemed to be particularly interested in the religious texts. In fact, he enjoyed reading the Latin texts used to merely teach correct Latin, those pagan writings of antiquity, which monks were supposed to abhor, if anything. Philip perceived this, but kept it to himself. Mark was more clever than many of the older monks, and Philip grew fonder of him with every passing year.
Philip, although an academic himself, was particularly proud of Mark’s interest in manual labor. Once Mark had taken up chores, it seemed that he would much prefer to perform these tasks than any others. Philip felt very strongly that monks needed to keep their hands as busy as their minds. So, when Mark chose to labor in the fields, instead of at his prayers and studies, Philip turned a blind eye. Mark always gave the appearance of being dutiful, but Philip knew enough to see that his mind was inattentive. The frightening term ‘unorthodox thinker’ almost came to mind when Philip tried to pigeon hole his pupil. He was so different from the brothers and the other young men Philip had known in the past that it was impossible to correctly sum him up in one phrase.
It was commonly believed that if a child grew up within a monastery, the most difficult age would be childhood. By adolescence, it was presumed, the child would have become so ingrained in the ways of the Lord, that the brotherly society would be all he wished for in life. By now dissidents would have surely rebelled, and boys never meant for the monastery would have at least attempted to run away. Philip thought differently: thinking back to his own time as an adolescent, he remembered the difficulty of being a brother, while in childhood, authority was more easily accepted. There were also the new pleasures of the flesh, which began to tempt boys in their adolescence, and try as the monks may, the boys were often exposed to women in some manner during there internment in the monastery. No one was completely ignorant of the sacrifice made when committing oneself to God, and indeed, this became painfully clear for the first time upon the reaching of manhood.
As much as Philip wanted Mark to become secure in his position in the monastery and in his commitment to God, he feared that Mark would not emerge so easily from the questions of early manhood. Already, at age seventeen Mark was restless, less eager to devote himself to studies and prayer than ever, and gave off the appearance of being caged. What kept Philip from too much worry was the knowledge that Mark was fighting the battle in his head. Mark did not wish to leave the monastery, and he tried to please the brothers as much as he could. Philip thought a future in a more physically demanding monastery, where the focus was more on labor than the study of the holy texts would allow Mark to serve God as he was meant to do. For now, Philip merely tried to guide Mark’s activities toward the physical as best he could without attracting the attention of the other brothers, especially the Abbot who stressed devotion to the holy studies above all else. Philip wisely knew that an easy hand would do more to help Mark than a harsh one.
II
The heat of the day was oppressive as Mark worked in the fields on that particular day. The sun was high in the sky, but he would have to wait until none that night to eat. His body was lean but extremely muscular from the work he performed every day. He glanced around making sure no one was near and lifted up his tunic to wipe the perspiration from his face, exposing his tight stomach. He was outside the walls of the inner compound of Christianium; the fields--unlike the gardens--in which the monks grew their food were some distance away from the monastery. This was not an ideal situation, since monks were not supposed to leave their monasteries at all, if possible, let alone on a regular basis, but the lands had been granted some time after the formation of the monastery, and were not perfectly adjacent. Normally an elder was sent with the younger brothers on such a job, since they were outside of the walls, but it was so very hot on this day that the Abbot, who was not so much concerned with manual labor, declared that the less strenuous work of gardening should be enough for the day. Mark was stronger and younger than many of the brothers, and when he humbly asked the Abbot if he might be allowed to continue the work in the fields, the Abbot thought this to be a sign of great devotion and sacrifice. Having never had any quarrels with the boy, he consented, and Mark left to work the fields alone. And yet, Mark never felt as if he was alone. While he was taught to think of God as always at hand, he thought more of the ever watchful eyes of his elders within the monastery, and wishing to please them, he tried to act as he should, whether he felt compelled to do so personally or not.
Along the edge of the fields there ran a wood, and this wood separated the fields of the monastery from the town of Christianium, which had sprung up over the last ten years. It was far enough away that the monks were still relatively secluded, but occasionally one did meet a traveler along the path from the fields to the monastery. The path followed the edge of the wood for half a mile, before cutting away and heading up a steep hill towards the monastery. Mark’s eyes scanned the edge of the wood, and he imagined himself sitting beneath the canopy of the trees within, drinking in the cool shade. The heat was almost too unbearable to actually work, but he felt sinful in stopping, especially to enjoy the relaxation of the shade.
He sighed and picked up his hoe to begin pulling at the dark earth again. He hit a rock, and the metal hitting stone made an awful ring. "Another stone!" he said aloud to no one. The frustration was great among the brothers at the amount of stones within their fields. It was a constant battle, and it seemed that as soon as they were all cleared, more would push up out of the ground. Setting aside his hoe, Mark kneeled down and got his hands around the outermost part of the rock, but although he nudged and pulled, the rock would not come dislodged. Mark, loosing his temper, grunted and stood up angrily marching away.
Sometimes he couldn’t control his temper these days, and he couldn’t explain it himself. He would never lose his temper with one of the brothers of course, but he felt himself losing control in his mind and with his violent gestures towards whatever activity was at hand. He wiped at his forehead again, and with some defiance walked with his head upright. Mark stepped on the path and was bathed in the shade of the hanging branches of the outermost trees. The path was dry and covered in powder-fine dirt. Little clouds of dirt rose as his feet hit the earth. He hadn’t walked more than ten steps on the path when he considered that there was no reason to rush back, when he would only look foolish for having insisted on going to the fields and returning before it was time. So, he slowed his pace, but still remained upright in his position.
In the distance he thought that he could make out the shape of a person coming his way on the path, but the sun was in his eyes, preventing him from seeing clearly. Mark wondered to himself whether it was immediately obvious to others that he was a monk in training, even though his head was not tonsured and he was carrying himself erect. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted people to know this about himself. And on this day at this very moment, he felt very much that he did not. So, as the person came closer, he did not bow his head as was customary. Monks were not supposed to talk to people they met outside the monastery, unless it was necessary, and then perhaps only to issue a blessing. It gave Mark a private thrill to meet whoever this traveler was head on and perhaps to even make eye contact. No one was here to chastise him.
But when the traveler was within a foot or two, Mark was for the first time able to make them out for sure, and realized with embarrassment that this traveler was a woman--a young woman. It was unusual to see a woman traveling alone, and Mark would have never thought that the approaching person might be a woman. Mark could feel the color rise on his face, but it was now too late to look away, and as she stepped directly in front of him, her beauty struck him. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, and yet she strangely reminded him of something or someone.
"Excuse me," she said, and Mark felt bumps rise on the back of his neck and arms, her voice was so soft and feminine. "Excuse me, but can you direct me towards Christianium?" Without thinking, Mark answered, wanting to be of some help: "the town? It is a good two miles through the wood this way," he said pointing. She smiled, "thank you…I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit lost." "What are you doing traveling alone?" "And what am I doing talking to young men along the way?" she answered playfully. "I can take care of myself, thank you." Her spirit set Mark back for a moment, and he was about to move on, but he was compelled to speak again. "You are not of Christianium then?" "Oh, heavens no, I should hope I could find my own way home. I come from south of here, and I’ve come to try to buy things at market." "Ah, this month is the fair!" Mark thought little of the town happenings, but he did have some knowledge of them, and some of the goods produced by the monastery would be sold at the fair.
"Couldn’t your…husband come with you?" The girl smiled again, this time with a trace of a laugh, "I have no husband. My father was too busy, as was my mother. My brothers have all married. I carry a knife," she said with a bob of her head. Mark nodded astonished, this little girl carried a knife? "I must be on my way, but thank you ever so much for the directions." "And will you be returning tomorrow?" The girl blushed, "I can’t stay in the town alone at night." "There is the monastery, they grant lodging for travelers at the guest house." The girl turned to go, and glancing over her shoulder she laughed gaily saying, "thank you, Brother."
Mark lay in bed; the light of the one candle kept lit all night shed a very soft glow from across the room. He lay between the beds of two elder brothers, as was right for a younger brother to be placed within the sleeping quarters. Each night they got precious little sleep before the morning chant, but Mark could not fall asleep as much as he tried. Somehow the work of the long day did not seem so taxing now on his body, which refused to sleep.
That night at dinner he had not been allowed to eat with the other brothers. He had been made to wait until the servers were eating, and then forced to sit by himself when eating his meager meal. It was the first time such a thing had happened to Mark. The Abbot had been informed that Mark had not returned with his hoe. The Abbot awaited Mark’s broaching of the subject all the rest of the evening, but it had never come. Therefore, since he had not humbly made the Abbot aware of his mistake, he had been punished. Mark had totally forgotten the hoe in the field: he was so preoccupied with thoughts of the girl that it had never occurred to him. Now in bed, when his mind should have been consumed with shame over his mistake and punishment, his mind was still taken with thoughts of the beautiful girl. Mark didn’t think he had ever had feelings like this, and he had certainly never seen anyone so exquisite. Part of him thought about her beautiful face, while the other part worried about her safety and wondered where she was.
III
Nearly a month had passed since Mark had spoken with the girl in the road, and he had never spoken to any of the brothers about it, but that did not mean that his thoughts didn’t return to her in moments of silent reflection. He even caught himself watching for her when he was working in the fields, although he didn’t know what he would do if he saw her, especially with the other brothers ever present.
Philip had plans to go to Christianium’s market with the early shares of the season, instead of going through a middleman. He felt that they were being treated unfairly by their sellers and not given the proper payment for the goods. He brought this thought to the Abbot’s attention. The Abbot, being a proud man, agreed, thinking that this cheating was not only an affront to the monastery, but also a personal insult. "Who shall we send?" "I will go Father…but I shan’t wish to go alone." "No, that would be inappropriate, to be alone that is. I trust you Brother Philip, and I’m sure you will conduct yourself as is befitting and you will choose companions who are equally well behaved." "I thought bringing one of the younger brothers would be a good learning experience for them." "Yes, that seems to be a reasonable idea." And thus it was decided.
Philip’s first thought was to bring Mark, even though it had only been a month since his public punishment. It would not seem inappropriate as a test for the brother, and it would also be pleasing to Mark’s temperament. Philip did not much relish mixing with the common secular people himself anymore, but he thought the boy might have some confidence in the situation and prove to be useful besides. Mark met Philip’s request with solemnity, but actually dreaded the very thought. To have to behave in the humble manner befitting such an outing, when all he would wish to do is look around and engage in the town would be torture.
They left the walls early in the morning, before the sun had come up, but after the morning chants. The air was already warm, but thankfully they had on lighter attire: when a monk would go out into the world clothes of a better quality would be issued, only to be returned upon reentry. Mark and Philip carried bundles on their backs, and Mark also led a donkey that was suited with bundles as well. As they walked towards the town Mark thought that Father Philip was slowing considerably as time went on, and was reminded that Father Philip was much older than he and not used to such activities. They entered the town and set up their wares in one of the empty stalls. While it was still early, sellers were already active, and travelers from elsewhere were arriving. Mark tried to keep his head while still observing as much as possible. Father Philip did not seem to be looking anywhere but at the wares on their table. People slowly began to come up to the stall, a little wary having never seen these two before and perhaps bemused by the appearance of two monks. But then it dawned on people that monks would do a fair dealing, as men of Christ, and they began to see more customers than they had hoped.
Towards the end of the day Philip told Mark that he could go off to eat his food, while Philip continued to watch the stall. Mark walked to the outside of town, where there was some shade and quiet beside a dusty road. He had enough of the noise of the market, being so unused to any type of sound besides song and prayer. He pulled his biscuit with cheese out of the knapsack. It wasn’t nearly enough, but he was used to it, so he slowly chewed it, making the most of the meager meal. Mark leaned against the tree, and closed his eyes momentarily. He opened his eyes when he heard the light tones of a female voice.
"Brother!" the girl cried upon seeing him, her face breaking into a smile. Mark was speechless as he realized it was the girl from the roadside. "Who would have thought to have seen you here? May I join you? I need some rest myself…" "I…" Mark knew he should not be seen with a woman, especially not alone with one. "Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being very intrusive." "No, but…I didn’t think you lived in town." "I’m…I’m afraid I do. Alone in the countryside…I wasn’t apt to tell you what I was about." Mark was surprised to think that a woman would consider him a threat. "Well, we meet again, and I shall apologize," she said holding out her hand. Mark recognized that she wished to shake his hand, and with some amount of hesitation he held out his hand as well and griped hers lightly, not wishing to crush her delicate hand. He held her hand for a moment, feeling the softness of her skin acutely against his, and locked gazes with her. "I’m afraid I don’t even know your name" she ventured, blushing slightly. Mark looked down feeling as if he had gone too far, "Brother Mark," he said using his clerical title purposefully. "And mine is Delia…goodbye Mark." Mark watched her walk away and heard in his head the repetition of his name as spoken by Delia.
