Chapter 34

They had on mantles with the hoods low down

Before their eyes, and fashioned of the cut

That in Cologne they for the monks are made.

Dante, Inferno, 23.61-63

The temperature had dropped so much that Dante and the others resorted to wrapping their blankets about themselves once more. The trail had bent in what seemed to Dante a southwesterly direction. The peaks at the end of the valley were now quite close, rising above them just to the west. They looked even blacker and less forgiving than when he had first seen them. He scowled at them and returned his attention to the trail.

Ahead of them Dante saw two figures approaching, walking along the trail in the opposite direction. They moved slowly, but their motions appeared fluid and calm enough that they seemed more alive than dead. As they got closer, Dante could also hear their voices, so they clearly were not more of the dead come to attack. But Dante had long since realized this did not preclude anyone here from having hostile or malicious intent towards them.

As they came closer, Dante could see the figures were men in robes, and their cloaks were much more regal-looking than the humble, coarse blankets in which Dante and his companions had wrapped themselves. The golden robe of the preacher who had supposedly resuscitated the dead man was flashy enough, Dante had thought, but these were so outrageously ostentatious, they would have embarrassed the Benedictines at Cluny. The robes Dante now saw on the two men were purple with gold embroidery throughout. The embroidery included swirls and patterns of the most expensive and intricate kind. Even a prince would pause to wear these, they were so gaudy. These seemed more like what would be worn by someone who intended to dazzle and distract the weak-minded. Someone like a barker in a carnival or circus, calling out to people, trying to gull them with unlikely promises that they should know better than to trust, but which they let themselves believe because it gives them some pleasure. Dante also noticed the robes’ edges were lined with the luxurious, warm fur of the red fox, and he had to admit a pang of envy for the warmth and comfort they must offer in this desolate place.

The men themselves were middle aged. The one was of average height and build, his companion a little shorter and stockier. Both wore their dark hair quite short. They were smiling as they approached.

“Hello, strangers,” the taller one greeted them.

“Hello, sirs,” Adam said. “Is this the trail that leads to the highest plateau in the valley?”

“Yes, it is,” the shorter man replied. “Just up ahead, you’ll see the last part of the trail that goes right up the cliff. You can’t miss it, but it’s a tough climb. Lodar and I had a terrible time with it, both ways. My name is Catalin. Who are you people?”

“Just refugees, fleeing the plague,” Adam said. “We will cross over the mountains and be free of this place.”

The one called Lodar raised his eyebrows at that. “Really? I never heard of such a thing. Well, Catalin and I could barely make it all the way up to the mines, so I doubt we’d make it across the mountains. Just not cut out for that kind of work!” He pointed to where two logs lay near each other on the ground in a V shape. “You’ll need to keep up your strength. Let us rest here a bit and have some food and drink. We have plenty, right Brother Catalin?”

“Oh my yes, Brother Lodar,” the other said, as he sat his bulk down on the one log. Lodar and Dante sat on either side of him, on the same log, while the other three sat on the remaining log.

“You are monks?” Dante asked, as the two robed men produced a rather surprising amount of provender from enormous pockets in their cloaks.

“Yes. We’ve just come from preaching to the miners higher up in the mountains,” Lodar said. He took a bite from a chicken leg and passed it to Dante. Dante took the smallest possible nibble and gave it to Bogdana. She looked to Adam and Radovan, who nodded, then she instantly took the whole thing apart in two bites. “Telling them the great value of piety in these dangerous, difficult times, exhorting them not to give in to carnal temptations. We counseled them all to abstain from women and wine. Some of them responded with a godly fear and a proper gratitude.” From somewhere in their robes both he and Catalin sent up a jingling sound, at which they snickered and slapped each others’ knees.

Catalin took a swig from a wineskin, grinning as he handed it to Dante. “Well, those miners up there that take to preaching. Or talking. Or have money. Some of them just aren’t as jovial as we are, if you know what I mean?” He laughed harder than before.

Dante took a small sip from the container. It was spiced wine, and he was grateful for the surge of heat it sent through his drained, exhausted body. Besides the monks’ sodden rapaciousness, he’d also noticed how both of them stole careful but hungry glances at Bogdana. Dante handed her the wine, which she took only a tiny sip of before passing it on to Adam.

“Yes, I’m sure many of them don’t wish to hear such austere preaching,” Dante agreed, holding his disdain in check.

Both the monks looked sideways at him as they chewed on more food they’d taken from their pockets. Catalin smiled less, though his rosy, cherubic cheeks still expressed some mirth. “You’re not from around here? You don’t know about the miners up there?”

Dante shook his head. “No. We just know there are mines further up the mountains.”

Catalin nodded as he chewed. He seemed to consider what to say, then smiled more when he’d decided. “Let’s just say you should all be careful up there. They’re an ugly, unpredictable lot, that’s for sure. But you all look intelligent, and I imagine you’ve seen your share of brutes and thieves, if you’ve made it this far up the valley. You should be fine.”

“Speaking of thieves,” Lodar said, “did you see our colleague Nicholas? Wears a golden robe?”

Dante had just taken a bite of black bread, so Adam answered. “Yes. We heard one of his sermons.”

Both monks guffawed at this. The wineskin had come back around and they each took a long swig after their raucous laughter. They looked quite flushed now. “That old slickster. That shameless quack! You didn’t give him any money, did you?” Lodar asked them.

“No, we refrained from making a contribution,” Adam said.

“Good, good,” Catalin said. “As I said, you all look intelligent. I didn’t think you would’ve. But you got to give it to the old trickster. He puts on quite a show! And it works out well for us. He’s getting too old to do all this walking and climbing, so we take our show on the road, and he stays down there and lives off the fat of his sheep, and no one gets jealous or upset. Good, eh?”

“Oh, quite good indeed!” Lodar agreed as they drank more wine. This time they did not pass the skin back to the others.

“But I bet that greedy bastard Malok took a big bite, didn’t he?” Catalin asked. He looked mischievously over at Bogdana and giggled. “Oh, excuse my language, my dear!”

The man’s girlish twittering, and the way he looked at her, made Dante want to punch him in the face. He supposed it would be pretty much expected and acceptable in this wretched place, but he fought down the urge as he swallowed the bread and handed the loaf on to Bogdana.

“Yes, he did,” Dante said.

The two monks laughed and continued to drink. “Well, no offense to him,” Lodar said. “We all have different fish to fry, different sheep to fleece. He’s just making a living.”

“His colleagues didn’t seem too pleased when they found out he hadn’t shared,” Dante added with some satisfaction.

The two monks paused for a second to look at one another then burst into more peals of laughter, followed by more gulps of wine. “Oh, my, you’ve made my day.” Catalin gasped when they’d calmed down a little. “I always told him to be careful, not to get too greedy, but who listens to me?” He clapped Lodar on the back. “You got to cut your friends in, right? Otherwise they gang up on you, turn on you, and then all your money won’t help you! Right, friend?”

Lodar stood up and hauled his stouter companion up after him. They clasped each other for a big hug then turned to the others. “Well, friends, I hope this was as refreshing to you as it was to us!” Lodar said. “But we should probably be going.”

“We wish you luck, getting where you want to go,” Catalin said between hiccups.

“You as well,” Adam said as the four of them also stood.

Dante watched the two monks’ backs moving toward the tent city, and he could hear one of them – he thought it was Catalin, and again his fists clenched and his head burned with anger – say in a soft voice: “What a sweet, little thing. Too bad her friends don’t have more of a sense of humor. How can people be so serious in a world like ours?”

“We should pay Nicholas a visit tonight,” the other replied. “I bet he’ll have some of that nice muscatel you like so much. And he adores this spiced wine, and we have a lot of it, so we can trade.”

“Oh, you’re right! That’ll be splendid!”

Their voices and laughter faded away after that, leaving Dante with his angry, violent thoughts. Such imaginations were slowly fading when Bogdana put her hand on his shoulder to pull him away and get him moving forward again.

“At least they had good food,” she said. “Ignore the rest of their foolishness.”

“Yes, they were good for something, I suppose,” Dante agreed, though he could never have her sprightly, graceful tone. Dante turned and followed her, still wondering how people as different as Bogdana and the two deceitful friars could both be so happy and content, while he only knew doubt, anger, and sadness.