The Pilgrimage
My name is Christoph, and judging by the cheers behind me, I seem to be the only one not enjoying my own banquet. Standing on the balcony outside the church dining-hall, I watched the skeleton of the unlit city. The moon barely illuminated the outline of the weather-worn buildings, only half of which would be occupied on a normal day. Now with the banquet going on, the already dying city looked abandoned. I had my eyes on the only building in the city, besides the church, that had any lights on.
"You should be bulking up now for your journey." Gabriel, one of the priests, said to me as he closed the balcony door behind himself. The man, like all of the city priesthood, had not eaten anything at the banquet, or even had much more than five dried meals this month. His fasting was his sacrifice for the city, but like many things the church did, it had negative effects despite good intentions. The man would be dead in a month if not shorter, and all his wisdom gone with him. Anyone who looked at his bony frame with its sunken eyes would know it, and even more importantly, he knew it. This gave him, and most priests, the idea that all their knowledge had to be passed to somebody before they died. For some reason, Gabriel had chosen to try and teach me.
In all honesty I had no desire to become a priest, but I listened to him often, out of respect. Recently I had been too busy to see him as much as he would have wanted. He was understanding of my situation, and visited the hospital as much as his job allowed. I was surprised to find that he had the patience to not take another pupil after I had come to speak to him a few months ago. He placed his bony hand on my shoulder when he saw where I had been looking.
Years ago when I had told him I was going to take a wife was the first time I expected him to give up on my lessons, yet he had continued to visit. When I had my daughter he was the first to congratulate me, despite my decisions taking me farther away from priesthood. Then, after my poor Sophia became ill I had told him I would not have time for lessons. Still he came and visited the hospital. Sophia loved him. She would ask almost every day if the bony man would be coming to tell her another story.
"You are a good man Christoph. I will make sure they are taken care of." He told me, before turning to go inside again. The priest always had a sense for how to deal with people. Right now I needed space, so he gave it.
"Thank you for everything," I said. I knew he would help them, not just because of the deal I made with the church, but because he wanted to. We both knew that despite his frailties, I would likely die before he did. With that thought in my head I sat on the balcony waiting for the sun to rise, content to listen to the joy my coming trial was bringing to the people.
I was eventually able to sleep last night, but it felt like I hadn't. I had been awakened before sunrise by two priests. They had handed me pure white robes specially fitted for me and led me to the edge of the city. The
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