Free Travel Bug by David Kempf Page A

would be far less painful to pay for one’s sins in purgatory than to live among the foul things of the night. He was starting to think that the monastery itself was damned.
    The following day was lovely and Hitchens saw what a hardworking, cooperative community resided at the monastery. He regretted his uncharitable assumption that these men were more evil than good. The idea of a cursed monastery seemed absurd by the beautiful light of day.
    “When you need a rest from your inquiry, we must discuss our favorite books, Father.”
    “Yes, Father Dawkins, we shall do that.”
    “I can still see a few words; I’m not completely blind yet.”
    “Good to hear it.”
    “Well, my hearing is still fine,” he said, laughing.
    “Very amusing,” Father Hitchens responded.
    “I enjoy the great Greek comedies. Does your master enjoy them?”
    “No, my master burns them.”
    It was at this moment that Hitchens and Dawkins realized they had something in common. They hated the censorship of the ones who would try and control the minds of all men. Aragon hated laughter almost as much as he despised anyone who dared to question church authority. He was the kind of man who would not have merely burned someone like Martin Luther at the stake. He would have had him tortured and humiliated for days. This was something that simply had to be done to prevent any future Martin Luther’s from rising up and questioning the sacred authority of God’s holy institution.
    “We enjoy them although we do not have many, Father Hitchens.”
    “I see.”
    “I hope you find no need to tell your master about them.”
    “I see no reason why these matters are important when people are being eaten alive by evil animals in the night.”
    Father Hitchens took a walk around the monastery. The sun was so beautiful and so welcome after a sleepless night, and his heart filled with joy. The glorious of God’s creation were all around him. It was moments like this when he felt closer to God than when he was doing the will of his master. Sometimes it was damned near impossible to think that Aragon’s wishes had one blessed thing in common with the Jewish Rabbi who taught men to love others unconditionally. Burning people at the stake or torturing them for hours did not seem to fall in line with any of the lord’s teachings.
    Father Darrow walked behind Father Dawkins and caught him by surprise.
    “Father Dawkins, I think that our guest needs to speak with me for a little while. I mean no disrespect but he is here on official business and not to discuss great works of literature. We shall see you at supper.”
    “You know, we have the best wine here,” said Father Dawkins.
    “Okay, off you go then,” said Darrow to Dawkins.
    “Sorry about that,” said Father Dawkins.”
    “That’s fine; he seems like a decent man,” said Father Hitchens.
    He was a very decent man and Father Hitchens and Father Darrow could easily see it.
    “Now would you like to continue this investigation of yours?” Darrow asked.
    “My men should be well fed soon first,” said Hitchens.
    “Yes, they shall be.”
    “We brought a great deal of food and supplies.”
    “We have little to offer you except the fine wine that our near blind brother was so quick to discuss. We all have our vices, yes?”
    “Yes. We do.”
    “I know that your master happens to feel that some are worse than others.”
    “I would agree. How exactly did Father Dawkins go blind?”
    “We should probably discuss that later.”
    The two men discussed the everyday running of the order and the ways that daily work was accomplished. Father Hitchens apologized and asked if he could take a nap. The other priest had no objections.
    “I would like to sleep under this tree but I’m afraid of the damned wolves.”
    “Then we shall have two men stand guard on each side of the tree. It’s okay, they’ve taken a vow of silence. They won’t disturb your sleep.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Sleep well, Father