The Heroes had been back in Tarago for several days, and life had calmed down from the pace of their operation in Barcino, especially from the breakneck pace of their return. Now that they could catch their breath, they set about showing off the town to Andrea Espinoza, noted actress and their inadvertant guest from Barcino. The shipyards, the bull-ring, and breakfast at Jorge's which was still worth the wait. It was as though buying meals here, waiting in line with the dockworkers and shipwrights, was somehow to take part in the great construction underway. As though, Henri mused, he were a part of something glorious and proud, rather than skulking in the dark, lying and scheming and hiding himself from everyone around him.
Quinn was already at the Chapter House, helping to train the tyros-- early to rise and all that. Perhaps missing Jorge's migas was sufficient punishment for his absence. Asgard had taken to her rooms, brooding over something that she would not discuss, shuffling and reshuffling her cards. Henri and Cecil had therefore assumed the duty of hosts that autumn morning, a few days before the equinox.
While discussing Tarago's theater, a small affair whose brief season would be starting as the winter storms arrived, Cecil overheard troubling words, and frowned as he listened for more.
" ...some kind of robbery they say, but who would rob a priest? They're showing him at the Church today."
Andrea and Henri noticed Cecil lost in thought, and learned what he'd heard. A few discreet inquiries confirmed the morning's gossip. The night before, Padre Javier had answered a summons from a family requesting prayers for their sick child. He'd been found dead in the street, stabbed through the left eye. No one had seen his attacker, and no one knew why it had happened.
Returning to el Caballo d' Oro, Henri found an invitation to dinner, with thanks from Conseulo Basquez. Smiling to himself, he recalled his interview of the previous day with Roberto de Garcia, the most skilled painter he could find in Tarago. The man had goggled a bit at the commission: to paint a portrait of the right side of a woman's face, with especial attention to rendering her right eye life size and with perfect likeness. The price had been high, he thought, but he'd paid it without a thought. Soon he'd have what he needed to go to Vaticine City, to seek out the glazier his brother Reynard had recommended. With the glazier's handiwork, he could keep chipping away at his goal: to give a young woman, little by little, her face again.
The Chapterhouse was nearly complete now, nearly finished in the time they'd been in northern Castille. Pairs of knights sparred in the front courtyard, their blades whirring in the late morning sun. Master Elijah barked commands to his Sergeants, as Consuelo looked on from a seat in the shade. She was sewing, or relearning, and smiled as she saw the Heroes step into the courtyard, bow to her father, and come to greet her. Two young men stood solicitously by, one well dressed and self-assured, the other a student by the look of him, all elbows and awkwardness. They stepped forward haughtily as the Heroes approached, to be ignored by Henri, who craved the honor of presenting to her the señorita Andrea Espinoza de Soldano. Consuell brightened and asked if she was indeed the famous actress, and assured of this fact, introduced her two suitors before going on to engage Andrea in further conversation.
The dandy, Don Luis Aldana de Zepeda, had been at the ball months ago, had been the one to rush a drink to the lady, winded after her dance with Henri, who was delighted to realize that the young man was pressing his suit for the lady over the long term. The scholar, Enrique de Basquez, was a cousin of some sort and a student of mathematics. Henri took the trouble to feign interest in the young man's pursuits, musing to himself that such things must be of value to the poor, after all. With that same empty smile of bafflement and abstract curiosity, he followed them all in to dinner.
After they had taken their meal, the painter Roberto arrived, to begin preliminary sketches and get painting. Master Knight Elijah excused himself, and Consuelo retired to the drawing room to assist Roberto, leaving the talbe occupied by the Heroes, somewhat non-plussed at being so abandoned. They discussed what they'd learned so far, and resolved to visit the church to see the father laid out and see what more they could learn of his last evening on Terra.
A long line was slowly filing in, working their way up to the father's bier, then lighting candles, kneeling to pray, talking earnestly with the priests. Quinn took the Monsignor aside to ask about the letter that had requested Father Javier, a letter which had not been found on his body. With a clearer understanding of the neighborhood to which the father had been called, a block of merchants and tradesmen that was no slum, but not wealthy by any means, the Knight thanked the Monsignor and rejoined his companions. Henri was pleased to leave, having felt exceedingly self-conscious amongst the devout people of Tarago. Over dinner, the Heroes decided to visit the neighborhood, to see if they could learn more of the errand that had led Father Javier to his death.
That afternoon, Master Knight Elijah summoned two members of the order, Wandering Pedro and his Tyro Hansel, with an assignment. The church had requested assistance in protecting the priests, especially Padre Endrigo, who had received a request to visit the same child. As the Heroes met for drinks in La Cuernavaca, a small cantina on el Camino de Roberto, the two Knights began to trail the priest, stikcing to the shadows and keeping him in view.
As Andrea attempted to learn the name of any child that had been sick enough to require a pastoral visit, the others listened for anything they might hear that would shed light on the events of the evening before. All that could be learned, however, was that yes, there were sick children in the neighborhood-- when was there not-- but none were so sick as to make the parents send for a priest. At this, Henri nodded, saddened but not surprised.
As Father Endrigo turned onto el Camino de Roberto he paused suddenly, lookied down an alley, then went running in. Hansel, seeing him turn aside, alerted his superior as both began trotting to catch up. As they neared the alley themselves, a scream of shock and agony cut through the night air.
In La Cuernavaca, the Heroes shot to their feet, grabbing for their swords. As they ran for the alley from which the sounds were echoing, Hansel ran forward, slamming himself against a masked swordsman dressed all in black. Father Endrigo had collapsed against the alley wall, motionless. The Heroes raced in, Andrea and Cecil rushing to aid the tyro Hansel in wrestling the man in black to the ground, Henri to see if the father could be saved, and to stop the blood which was pouring down the left side of the priest's face, and Quinn through a spectacular leap which unfortunately sent him skipping off Henri's back just after the amateur surgeon had finished saving Father Endrigo.
The man in black struggled mightily, slammed his forehead against Hansel's nose, kicked at him to break free, but all to no avail. The Eisen youth held on like grim death, as Andrea repeatedly demanded the brigand's surrender and slashed at him whenever he continued the struggle. Finally, the man in black was pummeled into unconsciousness, and both he and the priest were carried to La Cuernavaca for emergency treatment. Wandering Pedro, having recovered his feet, made it into the alley as they emerged, in time to demand the Heroes' names and ask just what the devil they were doing there. They replied that they were merely interested citizens, only too happy to aid the Knights of hte Rose and Cross, gesturing to the now beaming Hansel.
Father Endrigo was laid out and examined, barely alive but safe enough for the time being, thanks to Henri's bandaging. Quinn and he tried to find a good means to stop the rest of the bleeding from a deep cut just above the left eye socket, but found themsleves unable to help the man without doing further damage, whereupon they resigned themselves to waiting for care at the Church's infirmary.
Andrea, meanwhile, had finished securing the attacker to a chair. Henri had several suspicions begin to brew in his mind, and wished for a chance to examine matters more closely in a discreet setting, as Andrea whisked the mask from the man's face. Henri closed his eyes, shutting out the view of the unconscious Enrique de Basquez, Consuelo's mathematical cousin, their acquaintance of the afternoon. Replacing the mask, the Heroes awaited the arrival of the watch.
As men with lanterns and muskets arrived, Henri moved to meet them. Quietly, he told them that a nameless individual had been apprehended assaulting Father Endrigo, that they should take him into custody, and might wish to keep the matter discreetly quiet to avoid damaging the reputation of the young woman in whose name her cousin appeared to be wreaking vengeance. The watchmen frowned, considered, and nodded assesnt, then led young Enrique away to jail.
Back at the Church, Father Endrigo was made comfortable, but nothing forther could be done for him. With luck, a sufficiently skilled surgeon could be called by morning, but even that was uncertain. Henri took the Monsignor aside, requesting his ear for a brief discussion. In private, he began to lay matters out for the Monsignor, explaining the involvement of the young man, and asking if there were more the church might do to still the vendetta that the Inquisition had stirred up against the church of Tarago, if matters could be smoothed over in some way. The Monsignor for his part replied that the Church had done all it could, welcoming the young woman home a few weeks back. With thanks for the Monsignor's time, Henri departed with his friends, wondering at the spite and cruelty he'd witnessed that evening.
Each of the parties had his name, were like twisted shadows of himself. The blundering do-gooder, stumbling into a vicious ambush and unable to save himself was all to reminiscent of his time in San Cristobal. The vengeful swordsman attacking priests in retaliation for Consuelo's wounded honor was likewise painfully familiar. Had he not wanted to carve her pain out of the hide of any man foolish enough to speak ill, or even clumsily, of the lady? Alone at last in his rooms he knelt in an uncomfortable, unfamilar crouch and prayed for a way to avoid becoming any of the things he'd seen that night.
"Theus, I know you and I don't talk to each other much, but please-- let me become something better than this. Teach me something worthwhile that I can be. It seems like I spread misery wherever I go. I guess what I need to know is this. I need to know that my escaping the Inquisition isn't what let them catch her instead. Theus, please, let that not be what happened."
Silence reigned in Tarago, and all was peaceful.