The five of them burst into the hidden room, a cacophony of complaining voices and confused limbs. John was once again the subject of David’s ire as the latter blamed the former for a misplaced elbow, but in the dim light, it was hard to say whose elbow was whose.
The Nameless Hero quickly scanned his newfound surroundings. The chamber was lit by a couple of candles sitting upon a desk. Behind the desk sat a sour faced soldier, his hair white and thinning. There was a large, dark mass upon the floor. This, upon their entrance, groaned, and turning over, revealed itself to be the preacher from earlier. He rolled up onto his hip and rubbed his eyes.
“David, report!” the man behind the desk shouted.
Suddenly dropping his dispute with John and jumping away from the others, the bastard came leaping to the desk. Standing stiffly before his captain, he said, “I found Hank; goaded him into a fight. Knocked him down good, but they pulled me away before I could finish. He won’t be getting up for a while, though.”
“He won’t be getting up,” Anderson said. “I got news before you came. They brought him home, but he was dead. You did good.”
“No!” Mary blurted out. “Davy, thou shalt not kill.”
“This is war,” Anderson answered her. “Even your preacher here understands that.”
The robed figure on the floor yawned and answered, “I fight not against flesh and blood.”
“No, but your preaching is great propaganda against our enemies,” Anderson went on. “And you wouldn’t be fighting flesh or principalities or anything else if it wasn’t for us.”
“I thank you,” the Monk went on. “I wouldn’t have escaped my pursuers without your people, and wouldn’t have escaped the noose were it not for your young swordsman there, but my life and death are not in your hands. To paraphrase the righteous youths, ‘The God I serve is able to deliver.'”
Anderson’s eye fell upon the Nameless Hero. “So, this is the man?” he asked.
Andrea’s voice came from the shadows, “He’s the one.”
“You should see him!” David blurted.
“David!” Anderson barked. David was silent. A hush fell over the dim room, a stillness washing over them all save for the captain whose busy hands were moving slips of paper around upon his desk. “David,” he said softly, “what can you tell me?”
“He’s a magician. There were a bunch of soldiers after him, like a dozen—”
“Half a dozen,” Andrea corrected.
David went on, “—and he killed them all, except the one I got. It was like magic.”
“Magic?” the captain said, raising an eyebrow at the stranger.
John scoffed, “That’s nothing.”
The captain grumbled slightly. With a sigh, he asked the stranger, “Who are you?”
“A fish,” John interposed again. “A thin, boney fish which jumped into my boat, and if it’s so impressive to you that this fish escaped the soldiers’ net, then stand amazed at the one whose net prevailed.”
“I seek no intercourse with you, John,” the captain harumphed. “Go back to your boat.”
The monk rolled up onto his knees, and wobbling stood. “I will make you fishers of men,” he said.
“Preacher,” the captain said, “if you will—”
“I am a stranger,” the Nameless Hero said, his whispered voice quelching Captain Anderson’s fire. “A killer, as you know.” He walked like a shadow, his footsteps silent upon the floor. “I am a wanderer fleeing from a just avenger. I am tired and weary, and my life has been one long train of unending violence. But today, I heard something new.” He had come in course to stand before the monk. “I didn’t understand the words, but they meant something.” The slim figured closed his eyes. “Blessed are the meek,” he repeated slowly. He opened his eyes and asked, “How can the meek be blessed when they are lambs in a world of wolves?”
“They shall inherit the earth,” the gentle voice of Mary said beside him.
“How,” the stranger asked, not turning towards her, “when all they can do is die?”
“He who will lose his life,” the preacher said, “will find he finds it.”
“I have many times been ready to die,” the stranger said, “and each time my life has been returned to me.” He added as an afterthought, ” . . . with a price.”
“If you would,” Captain Anderson cut in, “now is not the time for theology.” He rose from his chair, leaning forward and placing his hands upon the table. “It appears you have already made enemies in our town, perhaps enemies elsewhere too. Maybe it’s time for you to make a few friends? Allies? If I may differ with the monk here, it is the strong that survive, their offspring that inherit the earth. We will be stronger together.”
“He wants,” John said, “what we want, what I want. I want to fish, you all want to open up the port again, and he wants out upon the sea. We make a merry band, us seven, wanting different things while all wanting the same thing too.”
“Shut up!” David cried, raising his fist.
“Hold!” the captain commanded, and David froze. “For once, John is right. If what you want, young man, is passage out of here, we can help with that, but only if we kick these pirates out. The crown will send you anywhere in the world if you help us.”
The Nameless Hero turned toward the captain and asked, “How?”
Tale Told 