Her Billionaire, Her Wolf(43)

“At the time, I didn’t really get it. But, what I did get was that this was no ordinary old man. And, it didn’t take me long to love him for it.

“We started working with wooden batons. He came for me each day after morning prayers, sometimes shouting down the other monks who thought I needed to spend more time with books and writing in the lecture hall. But, Brother Janos wouldn’t hear of it, pulling me out of there and off to some old broken down part of the monastery.

“Blocks of fallen stone and moss covered walls surrounded my instruction grounds and he showed me how to spin and parry with wooden sticks until I was battered and dead tired. The old bird knew what he was doing and when I went back to studies with the rest of the boys later in the day, most of the time I was so tired I was falling asleep on top of my books. On the other hand, I stopped picking fights altogether. I was just too damned tired to bother.

“It went on like that for months and then the wooden batons were put away to be replaced by iron shod staves. Eventually, those too were set aside and wooden practice swords took their place.

“He had a lot to say, too, in his accented english. Lessons and stories mingled until I couldn’t tell anymore if he was teaching me or just spinning tales. In the end, it was one and the same, and I don’t know if even he knew anymore which it was.

“I didn’t care. The time I spent with him was marvelous.

“He made me feel special. Set apart from the rest of them.

“I guess, maybe, that I was.

“The monastery was different from most in that a nun's cloister was just adjacent to it. A high wall ran between the two and seemed to be enough of a barrier as they needed, when back in the day, it would have been unheard of. But the old days of coffers overflowing from donations meant to buy back people souls were long gone, and those people of the faith had to make do. The Church was behind them in spirit, but nowhere to be found when it came to cold, hard cash.

“The first time I saw the woman, I thought she was a ghost. Brother Janos told endless stories about blood drinkers and their habits. Or, he spoke of the undead and their restless souls as they hunger for the flesh of living men. He spoke of beasts, too, masquerading as men in the world. And about that, I had already had some ideas.

“I was practicing lunging with my wooden sword, then whirling about to parry an imagined foe before Brother Janos arrived for that day's session. And, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a ghostly white face not quite hidden among the ivy covered walls that ran the length of our makeshift practice yard.

“It was just for a moment, but it sent a chill through me. A face without a body, and such sadness in its large eyes. There and then gone again just as quickly, I was almost unsure that I had seen anything at all.

“Later, when I had summoned my courage, and while Brother Janos had nodded off after working with me, I went to that section of the wall. And, there, among the overgrown stones, I found where some had fallen away leaving a hole that traversed the wall.

“It didn't take me long to forget the whole thing. A boy's life has so much happening all at once, it's not always easy to sort out the important from the not.

“Except that a couple month's later, I saw her again. Still just a flash, but enough that I was sure she was real and not some phantom from one of Janos's stories. After that time, I didn't forget anymore because I had seen enough to notice something. The face was that of a woman. But, it was also almost like looking into a mirror.

“Eventually, I asked Brother Janos about the woman who came to look at me through the wall, but, for once, he didn't have an answer for me when he never lacked one for everything else.

“Soon enough, though, we were practicing elsewhere, changing almost every day until, finally, he started taking me down into the catacombs under the monastery.

“There, far down and under the very feet of the boys of the orphanage, I learned what it was to wield a sword as Brother Janos taught me all that he knew. By lamplight he taught me to parry and to feint. In darkness, he taught me to see without seeing and how to move in perfect silence.

“I grew stronger as the months passed. I grew stronger, even, than him. The light wooden swords were long forgotten and in their place, we fought with lead cored hardwood blades, their tips well blunted but perfectly capable of putting out an eye or breaking ribs like match sticks.

“One day he took me down there, but instead of taking up our weapons as usual and warming up with some basic routines, he drew me with him down a long corridor that I hadn’t noticed before.

“We went down old stone stairs and through oak doors that were falling apart on their hinges. At last, we stood beside a sculpture of a man lying upon his back on the floor, a sword barely visible in his stone hands for all the dust the years had banked over onto the thing.