GNO Chapter Excerpts Page ~ B1C3 Quick-Browse

Chapter Quick-Browse For Graven's Grotesque: A Gothic Epic

Chapter 3 Excerpt Teaser
Description: Lazarus and Friar Odino in the Abbey Wine Cellar ~ 7 Paragraphs

“You did not gather that I was coming?” Odino asked him, the words spilling sloppily from his wine-whetted lips.
“What?” Lazarus asked sleepily.
“With you and Ivan—out of the Abbey.”
“I did not know.”
“And if you leave without me, I shall chase after the both of you and beat you with a goat.” They chuckled together. “In an odd way, I shall miss this Abbey.”
“And the wine?” Lazarus asked. Odino cast a disapproving eye at him.
Lazarus paced about the room, touching every thing as he went and heading nowhere but about again, in child’s play.

At length, Odino again spoke, “I have noticed a fire burning in you the past days—your blood is hot. You wish to be free of these catacombs, yes?”
“I wish to see the world—outside of books. And birds—live ones—flying. Not like the dead one you brought me.”
Odino burst forth with a hardy laugh. “You still have that thing?”
“I opened its wings—it fell to pieces. I wrapped and laid it in one of the crypts. Did Friar Ivan tell you when we shall leave for Burgundy?”
“Soon enough, boy. Soon enough.”

After a short pause, Lazarus asked, “Friar, may I ask you something?”
“Indeed.”
“Are you not even a bit troubled over leaving the Abbey?” Lazarus searched his face for more than words.
“The routine has grown stale. I cannot keep up with the days.”
“What shall we do, then—without the Abbey?”
“Well, for one thing, we shan’t have to live the order of the day. Does that not please you?”
“I suppose—I do not know.” Lazarus lowered his hooded head.
“Of course, you do not. ‘Tis all you know—these catacomb walls and the same dreary routine. Yet, you shall see, soon enough. You do not belong down here—your father knows it well. He sees what I have seen for some time, now—a bird fluttering in its cage.”
“What bird?” Lazarus looked about the cellar. “Where?”
“You are the bird and the Abbey is the cage,” Odino clarified.

Lazarus leaned against the table, beside Odino. “Does the wine taste as it smells, friar?”
“Even better.” The monk smiled and toasted the boy with a flourish before drinking deeply from the rough wooden cup.
“It smells bad. It must taste so, as well.”
“After a few cups, one does not dwell upon taste.” Odino wiped a sleeve across his grin and held the empty vessel out to the boy. “Help a fat and tired fool, my boy.” Lazarus took the cup.
“Why do you drink the wine more than the other monks, friar?” Lazarus asked, approaching a wine keg.
“First Timothy, 23 of 5?” Odino hastily questioned.
The boy did not hesitate. “No longer be drinking water, but a little wine be using, because of thy stomach and of thine often infirmities.”
“Once more—this time, in Latin!”
Lazarus replied obediently, “Noli adhuc aquam bibere sed vino modico utere propter stomachum tuum, et frequentes tuas infirmitates.”
Odino laughed, stopped abruptly, and snapped his fingers. “Not that barrel! This one, boy,” Odino stated, pointing to another keg. Lazarus moved to a nearer keg and carefully filled the cup. “’Tis all the same, I gathered? Why, this barrel, friar?”
After Lazarus returned and gave the goblet to Odino, the monk asked him, “Luke, 39 of 5?”
Again, the boy did not hesitate. “And no one, having drunk old, doth immediately wish new, for he saith, The old is better.”
Odino rolled with such a hearty laugh that he sloshed wine all over the cellar floor. Like a confused dog, Lazarus cocked his head to one side and froze as a statue whilst Odino collected himself.

Then Lazarus asked, “What is it? I speak it correct.”
“Indeed, you do—as you always do, Lazarus. Yet, now I have discovered the secret of it,” the monk sputtered, still shaking with restrained jollity. “As I see it, you have a small scriptorium of very tiny books beneath that mask of yours. And you turn their leaves with your nose.”
“I have no tiny books, friar,” Lazarus plainly replied.
Odino laughed at his earnest reply. “Yet, how do you do it, boy—recite every word as you do?”
“I can read.”
“Yet, words do not remain in the minds of others as they do in yours. How might you read something only once and know it forever? None in this Abbey can do it—in all of my days, I know of none, save you. Tell me the magic of it.”
“I only recall it, friar.”
“Of course you do, boy.” Odino sighed. “And only the Lord knows the depths of such an uncommon blessing as yours.” Again, he toasted Lazarus before gulping the last of the wine from his cup. Then he thrust the goblet toward Lazarus, for refilling, yet found him turned away and facing the cellar entryway.

Lazarus turned back to Odino. “Friar, someone approaches! Perhaps three, I gather.”
Odino scrambled off the workbench as though his seat were aflame. He waddled hastily to the back wall, thoroughly wiping his mouth of all trace of wine as he hid his goblet behind a vat. Lazarus moved to the other wall, pulled the torch from its bracket, dipped it in the oil pot, and extinguished every feature in the cellar—the room fell black as pitch.
In the darkness, Odino searched with arms waving in the direction where he last saw Lazarus. “Come here, boy. Lead me,” Odino whispered.
“Lead you where, friar?”
“Shush—mind your tongue. Lead me out of here. I cannot see,” Odino hissed impatiently, feeling through the air for Lazarus.
“Where do you wish to go?” Lazarus asked, gently taking Odino’s hand.
“Blazes of Angels! Anywhere, boy! Get me out of here!”
“To a crypt, then?”
“Yes, a crypt! At once!” Odino hissed.

Lazarus led Odino out of the wine cellar and down the black passage. “Here, friar,” he whispered, guiding Odino’s hand to a thick iron handle. The monk pulled open the heavy door, gesturing in the darkness where he had last heard the voice of the boy.
“Inside! Make haste!”
“I am in here, friar.” The voice came from behind him now, inside the sepulchre.
“Lazarus,” Odino whispered, pushing the door closed, “How can you know so much, and yet gather so little?”
“I do not gather your meaning, friar.”
“Of course not. You can read from pages in your mind, yet you do not see my meaning?”
“I did not know where you wished to go, friar.”
“Ah! Then, you do gather me.”
“You did not tell me where you—”
The catacomb doors opened and Odino cut him short, “Shush, boy—they are coming.”
Three monks marched a bit down the tunnel to fetch torches and a pail of oil. Just as hastily, they left again. After hearing the catacomb door close, both Lazarus and Odino slipped from the crypt. Lazarus returned to his room, and Odino, still drunk, followed the walls out of the catacombs and returned to his dormitory quarters...

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