Page 95 of Constantine
Valentine was the first to withdraw. “And now, I bid you all a good night,” he said. “I shall see you again when the weather does no threaten to turn my warmest parts to ice.”
Constantine laughed. “Expect Dori in a few days.”
“That will make Maria very happy,” he said with a smile. He clapped Stan’s shoulder and moved away into the darkness as the men wished him farewell.
Then Roman looked to Victor. “Do you need me for anything else this night, Father? Nell is teaching Isra to sew, and I’d fetch Lou from Jeremy’s lest Erasmus suffer further damage.”
“Go, go,” the abbot said, waving him away. “I’d have a word with Brother Stan and then make my way to the cottage. Good night.”
“Good night.” Roman looked briefly to Constantine and Adrian, who returned his casual wave.
Adrian walked past Stan and embraced Victor unabashedly. “I’ll look in on the barn. They say the doors are ready to be hung. God bless you, Father.”
“God bless you, Brother Adrian.”
Constantine and Victor continued to stand together on the rise after Adrian had mounted his horse and ridden down the slope, each of them looking at the fat, round moon in silence. Stan knew it wasn’t that night, but he could feel that the priest’s time with the brothers was drawing to an end.
“Going back to Melk soon,” he said.
Victor sighed. “Yes. Hilbert should have everyone cowering in fear by now. If Wynn hasn’t fed him to the tigers.”
Constantine chuckled and took hold of his horse’s reins, walking with Victor down the slope.
“There are Chastellet coins still unaccounted for, Constantine,” the priest said. “Perhaps they are only lost. Or in someone’s money chest. Or already melted down. But it is possible others might seek me, begging help for whatever hopeless cause they have been made victims.”
Constantine pulled the horse to a gentle stop in order to look directly at his old friend. “Then we will help them, won’t we, Victor? Isn’t that our duty now? To be the last hope of the hopeless because we ourselves were so long without it?”
Victor nodded. “I thought you’d say as much. I think you know by now that I’m not a prideful man in most things, Constantine. But I find myself believing more and more of late that helping the four of you was the reason God sent me to Melk as a young man all those years ago. And I’m quite proud of you all.”
Constantine returned the priest’s nod with a thickness in his throat that prevented any reply. Thankfully, Victor had one more piece of information to impart, sparing Stan the burden of conversation for another moment.
“I’ve found a rector for Fallen Angels Chapel,” he said brightly and suddenly as they headed once more down the slope. “A young man, just entered into study, but he should be more than ready to take on duties by the time construction is complete.”
“That is good news,” Constantine said.
“Yes,” Victor nodded. “Ethan Carmichael is his name.” Victor was quiet for a heartbeat of time. “I knew his father.”
They came to the bottom of the hill where the road split into two paths. Victor continued on toward the village without pause, lifting his hand and glancing over his shoulder at Stan a final time. “Good night.”
“Good night, Victor.” Constantine watched the priest’s outline meld with the shadows and disappear.
Then Constantine turned his gaze up to the black outline of the castle ruin, silhouetted against the infinite, star-pricked heaven above. He stared at it for a long time.
And then, having done his duty, he swung up onto his horse and went home.
