At least for now.
One of the dead things, for me, is The Crown of Druthal, which was my attempt to justify the full-world worldbuilding I did by coming up with a series idea that involved traveling around the whole world. It did not come together, or more correctly I was not yet the writer who could handle it. Either way: not going anywhere with that.
But, it had some good bits, including this one where my main character, Augustine, has accidentally caused a major incident by committing a sacrilege in the eyes of the religion in the country they were visiting. Eager to make things right, he's agreed to a public atonement ceremony: receiving nine lashes with a whip in the public square.
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The streets of
Galena were crowded with onlookers as they marched to Trelan Square. Augustine walked in the center, with Gregor
and Andus at either side of him, the soldiers forming a square around
them. The throngs opened to let the
train pass, keeping a respectful distance as the soldiers led Augustine along
the way. Some of them shouted, some of
them raised up their arms. They were filled
with energy, with excitement, but not anger.
“Am I wrong, or
are they praying for me?” asked Augustine.
“Of course they
are,” said Andus.
“I thought they
hated me,” said Augustine.
“They did,” said
Andus. “Not anymore. You’re engaging in repentance. That means you’ve accepted your sin.”
“I suppose,”
said Augustine.
“Accepted
responsibility for them at least,” said Gregor. “The public spectacle of these
things is mostly about what you say.
You’ve accepting responsibility and taking the penance, so they have to
at least say that they’re forgiving you and praying for you. I’m sure some of them mean it.”
“Peace, Mister
Sarton,” said Andus.
“Sure are a lot
of people, though,” Augustine said.
“From what I’ve
gathered, Mister Montrose, you are possibly the first foreigner, first person
who is not a member of the Acserian faith, to willingly accept a penance from
the Church. That’s quite a unique
thing. Many people will come to see it.”
“Wait until we
reach the square, Aug,” said Gregor. “I think the whole Kannan Assembly will be
on hand. Not to mention the Prince of
Pelkin, and whole hosts of lords and ladies.”
“Wonderful,”
said Augustine. His stomach was starting
to knot up.
“Just think,
you’re the Acserian social event of the year!”
“Shut it!” snapped
Augustine. Gregor’s smile melted off his
face. He mumbled an apology, and dropped
back a pace or two.
Trelan Square
was impossibly full of people. Augustine
had never seen anything like it. Even
the Maradaine Cup, where rowers from RCM and the University of Maradaine would
race on the river, bringing out the teeming crowds on both shores, never had as
many people in one place. Augustine’s
heart nearly stopped.
The center of
Trelan Square was a large stone platform.
This was an important place for the Acserians, Augustine knew. When Acser was alive, he preached on that
stone to the people. He told them that
the next prophet would reveal himself on it. Two hundred years later, an orphan
boy named Galena ran up the steps, and suddenly scores of birds flew down and
landed on the stone and the boy’s arms.
Except for the
Citadel itself, it was the most sacred place in all of Acseria.
Several
Acserians stood on the stone, notably DaiKanna Zalnim. The old man looked thrilled to see the Druths make their
approach. There were several other
zealot guards with him, in full regalia of bright red cloaks and armor.
“Is there one
there who seeks the forgiveness of the Rei and the Holy Church of Acseria?”
called out Zalnim. Augustine was about
to speak, but Andus put his hand on his shoulder, and stepped forward.
“There is,”
returned Andus. “We present him to your mercy.”
Major Haliert blew his whistle again, and the soldiers separated,
leaving a clear path for Augustine to climb up to the platform.
“We recognize
him as a sinner,” said Zalnim. “Approach, sinner, so that you may be
forgiven.” With a nudge from Andus,
Augustine stumbled up the steps onto the platform. As soon as he stepped up, two of the zealots
grabbed his arms. Their grip was firm,
but not too hard.
“Your name,
sinner,” said Zalnim.
“Augustine
Montrose,” said Augustine. He must not
have said it loudly enough, for Zalnim looked at him expectantly. “Augustine Montrose!” he called out,
projecting his voice through the square.
“Augustine
Montrose, citizen of Druthal, you are charged with heresy by mouth, that you
did speak blasphemy in the presence of the Holy Rei and several members of the
Kannan Assembly. Do you accept this
charge?”
“I do,
DaiKanna,” said Augustine.
“You are charged
with causing willful damage to a sacred creature, in the sanctified Aviary of
the Citadel, in the presence of the Holy Rei.
Do you accept this charge?”
“I do,
DaiKanna.”
Augustine looked
up and saw that the Druth soldiers had pulled back, with several of the Crown’s
crew staying within their perimeter, an island of Druth faces in the sea of
Acserians. Past the crowd on the
ground, there was a hastily built riser, with several people watching from
above the crowd. Augustine spotted the
Rei up there, and several other Kanna and DaiKanna. Near the Rei, Baron Milton and Jensen stood
with Prince Restimadran. They were all
too far away for Augustine to get a good look at their faces, get a sense of
what they were thinking. Other people
from the Crown were likely out and around in the crowd, but Augustine
couldn’t find them.
“You have
accepted that you must do penance for these sins, to remove the stain in the
eyes of the Church and God?”
“I have,
DaiKanna.”
“The sinner has
accepted his penance!” Zalnim shouted out to the crowd. There was a great cheer from them all. The crowd was jubilant. Was it possible that
they were truly happy for his contrition and repentance?
Did they really think they were saving his
soul?
“His Holiness,
Rei Nalesta IV of Acseria, has declared that your act of penance shall be as
follows. For the sin of blasphemy, you
are to receive nine lashings with the calizar here in the public
square. For the sin of willful damage to
a sacred creature, you are to receive a sacred getazán privately, from
the Rei himself.”
“A what?” asked
Augustine. This was unexpected. He wracked his brain to remember what a getazán
was. It was an old word, from the
ancient Futran. He looked out at his
friends in the crowd. Gregor, Cale,
Andus, all of them, looked shocked and confused.
“Do you accept?”
said Zalnim.
“Well, what
is...” started Augustine. Old words
flashed through his brain. Getazir was
a Futran word meaning “task” or “chore”.
Was the Rei going to giving him some other thing to do? What was it?
“Do you accept!”
barked Zalnim. It didn’t sound like a
question.
“Yes, I accept
the penance!” blurted out Augustine. The
crowd gave another shout of joy.
“Very well. We shall perform the nine lashings from the calizar!” The two brought Augustine over to a wooden
post that was mounted on the platform.
One of them went behind him, and as quick as anything, cut open his
shirt from behind. Augustine would have
preferred that they had just taken it off him, or asked him to do it
himself. It was too late to say anything
about it now. The shirt fell to the
ground, and the other man took Augustine’s arms around either side of the
post. He pulled out a leather strap, and
wrapped it loosely around Augustine’s wrists.
Augustine was bound to the post, but he could easily drop the strap and
be free.
“The relamé
is a badge of honor, given to the penitent,” the zealot whispered to Augustine,
indicating the straps around his wrists. “It is a sign of your compliance. Respect the relimar, and do not release
it.” Augustine nodded. If I drop it, they’ll probably tie me to
the post for real.
DaiKanna Zalnim
came over to Augustine. “The blessings
of God are upon you, my son,” he said, touching Augustine’s face with one
hand. In the other hand, he was holding
the calizar. The whip was crueler
looking than Augustine had expected. The
long cord of leather was bound in several places with barbed metal. A wave of
panic filled Augustine.
As Zalnim walked
behind him, it took ever bit of control and courage to not drop the relamé
and bolt off the platform. He looked out
at the crowd, his eyes seeking the risers.
He scanned over the people up on it.
“One!” shouted
Zalnim from behind him, and a moment later, his back was torn open. Augustine screamed in agony. It was the worst pain he had ever known. Almost instinctively, he gripped the relamé
and pulled it tight against the post. He
refused to let go. Tears coming to his
eyes, he looked again at the risers.
There he
was. Elgin Jensen.
“Two!” Again, his
flesh was shredded as the lash raked across his back. Augustine screamed again, but did not shut
his eyes this time. His eyes were locked
on Jensen.
“Three!” He was
on fire. He could feel blood dripping
onto his feet. He didn’t scream that
time. He channeled every ounce of pain
and anger into his eyes, which bore into Jensen. Were he a mage, he was convinced that fire
would blast out of them and incinerate the man.
“Four!”
“Five!”
“Six!” He was
certain that he’d been cut to the bone.
His knuckles were white around the leather strap. I won’t break, he thought, I won’t
give you that satisfaction.
“Seven!” Again, a scream broke out from his lips,
despite himself. His legs buckled out
from under him. He dangled from the
post, half kneeling.
“Eight!”
If there was a
nine, Augustine never heard it, for the pain overwhelmed him, and the world
became black.
