A Savage Moon by Theodore Brun

Author:Theodore Brun [Brun, Theodore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Corvus

He had called himself Skírpa.

It was, in fact, his own name. Before he became Katāros, he had been Skírpa. The name meant ‘ill-fated’ in the Norse tongue. A jest of the old shaman who had named him, who had been the closest thing to a father he had ever known. The vile old bastard had said young Skírpa was bound for an evil fate. It was only out of his own folly and soft heart that he had taken the boy into his care. Certainly it had been an ill-fate that had put him in the shaman’s path at such a tender age. In truth, at a time before memory. ‘My little Skírpa’, the man would call him, fondling the lobe of his ear. Well, fate had overtaken the shaman instead. And now he was rotting in the blackest halls of Hel, while his little Skírpa still walked the earth.

Narduin and his friends didn’t need to know all this, of course. But the eunuch had needed to give them a northern name, so that was what they got.

Skírpa.

There was a beautiful irony to it after all that had happened. He was the shadow now to the ‘Amadeus’ he had been – beloved of God.

He was loved by no one. And he would wear his lonely name with pride.

One night after supper, as the stars came out and the rush of the river made soft music to lull the pilgrims to sleep, Narduin came and sat by him and asked if they could talk a while. A full moon was rising, shedding its silver light over the smooth waters of the Rhein.

Skírpa sighed and sat up, hugging his knees to his chest against the evening chill.

‘There is something I wish to ask you, Brother Skírpa, since you have not volunteered it yourself.’

‘What’s that, Brother Narduin?’

‘I trust you will not be offended.’

‘How can I say until I know what you wish to ask?’

‘True, very true. Though to take offence is of the world. Did we not give up the right to be offended when we took up our cross to follow our Lord?’

Skírpa shifted impatiently; Narduin was full of such pious rhetoric. ‘Ask your question, brother. Please.’

‘I can see the wounds you carry. Oh, I don’t mean the attack you suffered, though the Lord knows that was bad enough. No, I mean…’ He hesitated. ‘You carry a great sadness in you.’

‘Do I?’

‘Is there not something I can do to lighten your burden?’

‘I… don’t know what you mean.’

Narduin’s eyes twinkled in the shadows. ‘I do not need to know your secrets. You travelled alone. I never asked why. We have carried you as our own.’

‘And I am grateful for it—’

‘That is not what I meant at all! I am not seeking your gratitude. Rather…’ He paused again. ‘Hah! See how abashed I am, even to ask. So I shall just jump on it, like a child catching a frog, heh? Best done without delay.’ He reached out and clasped Skírpa’s hand. ‘Would you not come with us back to Mettis? Our life there is simple but it is good.

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