Chapter 6: The Night’s Cathedral

With a gasp, Peter awoke from his trance. He clawed at the arms that shook him. “Ouch, Your Grace, it’s me, Jakov of House Božić, I saved you, Remember?” Peter stared at the goofy grin and cheery eyes that beamed from the boy who disrupted him. The squire tried to both balance himself and the canvas sack he hauled across his shoulder. His narrow face quivered as his lord leered back at him.

“I was resting.”

“Didn’t look like rest to me, Your Grace, you were thrashing about terribly.”

“For good reason, they’re coming, I understand now, why the High Priest was so worried.”

Jakov looked down at the ground. “Yes, that’s why I’m here. The High Priest said he needs to see you, that they’ll tear apart the city whether you surrender yourself to them or not. There’s another way to save the city, only he knows, but said it can only happen with you.”

“And why are you helping him? The knight you serve seems to think differently, j-judging by the guard outside”

“Oh yes, Your Grace, very much so. But my family swore an oath to protect yours at all cost throughout the generations, and I don’t intend on becoming an oathbreaker to you anytime soon. Besides, between you and me, Sir Branković hasn’t been the kindest.” He got down on one knee. “My sword is yours, My Lord, til my dying breath.”

Peter lunged out of his bed and paced around the room, as if he were looking for something he could not find. “That’s great and all, but how are we going to see the Priest if I’m trapped here?”

“Oh, that’s easy, Your Grace, the guard, Vedran, is fast asleep on watch, only cannon fire can awake him…don’t ask me how I know that. I’ll escort you to the Cathedral.”

“Suppose we should get to it then.”

Jakov brought down and opened the canvas sack. “Oh, and Your Grace, I er, borrowed this from my master’s chambers. Might fit a bit better, keep a lower profile.”

Jakov opened his sack and plopped a blackish brown gambeson on his bedding. He took off his ornamentation and signed in relief as he could move his arms again.

…

Jakov creaked the door open ever so slightly. Like he said, snoring rang throughout the halls. He shuffled his feet as he motioned for his Lord to follow him. Peter attempted to adjust his eyes to the increasingly dark surroundings. Without electricity, his eyes felt completely blinded under the natural darkness that engulfed him at night, with only the occasional torch bearing to give him any sense of direction. He followed behind Jakov as they approached the source of the wheezing snores.

A boy, no more than 19, sat asleep in a chair while he heaved out his rumblings. The winding stairway ahead already annoyed Peter to no end the two times he’s had to use them so far. The shrunken steps were not designed with his feet in mind, requiring him to descend them with his feet pointing sideways. Jakov led him down the descending staircase. Peter followed but missed the first step. He clomped down his foot in a panic as he searched for any sort of guardrail.

The slumbering guard mumbled in his sleep, but the heaving continued. Peter felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest from the literal misstep. Jakov motioned for silence, only to meet Peter’s annoyed face through the dim glow of the torches surrounding them. Peter moved slower than he’d like with each step, making sure to perfectly position his feet before plotting his next move. Jakov already stood at the bottom of the stairwell, looking around for any torchlight that warned of an approaching guard. He motioned for Peter to hurry up.

Peter planted his final step onto the ground floor. Torchlight and whispers grew from the hall ahead, Jakov ducked behind some wooden barrels that were emptied from the buttery below and Peter followed suit. He held his breath as he picked up on what parts of the conversation he could from the guards.

“Vojvoda my Ass. You ever seen a grown lad grow a head taller in a couple of months’ time?”

“I’m more impressed with the stone he gained, you ever grown a gut that big?”

“You’d know, with all the lard you suck!”

Peter looked down at his belly. Though he wasn’t completely happy with it, he figured he might’ve lost a bit of weight from not eating at work, though by Medieval standards, he figured he must’ve looked truly regal in every sense of the word. Jakov peeked over the barrels and motioned for Peter to follow behind him.

They reached the courtyard and there was not a torchbearer in sight. Jakov picked up his pace to a near sprint, with Peter trying not to lose his breath while keeping up. From there they reached the vein of cobblestone streets that reached from the castle walls to the dock entrance.

“The cathedral is in the heart of town, we should be able to reach it within a stone’s throw.” Jakov darted from the walls surrounding the courtyard and deeper towards the market square. He ducked behind one of the street corners as the faint glow of torchlight loomed in the distance. Peter ducked behind him, but that silhouette was unmistakable, Sir Luka Branković himself was marching down the road.

Jakov darted his eyes around in a panic. He put his feet onto the wall opposite of him in the alleyway and flopped his body in tandem, slowly crawling his way up the narrow alleyway. He motioned for Peter to do the same. He looked up at the squire in disbelief, there wasn’t a remote chance of him being able to pull off such a trick on his own, not if he could barely get his feet down the stairwell. He attempted to mimic the boy, nearly falling flat on his face as he attempted to balance himself between the two walls. Peter shook his head and Jakov sneered. The sound of plate armor became all too strong. He knew the gig was up.

A metallic scream, not unlike the abomination he heard earlier in his vision, erupted from the night sky. Peter looked up and swore he might’ve seen something reminiscent of a giant bat or owl stalking from the night sky above. The sound of plate metal stopped dead in its tracks. Another scream roared out, this one farther south towards the docks. Luka must’ve broken into a sprint from the sound of fading plate metal pounding against the cobblestones, until it became nothing more than muffled noise against the horrifying cries. Jakov squeezed himself down from the alleyway walls and stood once more besides Peter. He motioned for him to move forward. Peter obliged and also broke into a near sprint.

The cathedral now towered over the two of them, its spires shooting deep into the night sky as far as one could draw up their head. Peter felt an overwhelming sense of smallness as he climbed the steps with Jakov. The door to the cathedral was already wide open, and an array of candlelight dotted the interior. High Priest Roko stood at the altar with a solemn face and elbows bent around his scepter, as if ready for a battle to ensue. While his eyes softened upon noticing the two men approaching, his stance remained poised, as if he expected someone, or something, with bad intentions to come…