Chapter 39 Jude
Jude
To their surprise, Elden caught up with them less than an hour after they’d escaped the church.
He was breathing hard, his hat crumpled in his hands, but whole. He even smiled as he approached. ‘Told you I’d catch up.’
Maeve hugged him. ‘Good to see you.’
‘How’d you manage that, then?’ Jude asked as they continued walking. He applauded himself for keeping the fondness out of his voice.
Even still, Elden sent him a knowing grin. ‘Talked my way out. Told Mr Peters I knew where you were going, and I’d bring you back.’
Jude stopped. ‘What?’
He scanned the horizon behind Elden. Nothing. No dark, encroaching shape marred the snow-covered hills. Still, he couldn’t deny the shiver that coursed down his spine.
Maeve urged him on with a hand between his shoulders. ‘Glad you still have a sense of humour, Elden.’
Elden’s gaze remained straight ahead. ‘There’s a village on the outskirts of Whitebury. About an hour’s walk from the town centre. I reckon it’d be safer than going into the town proper. There should be more than a few groups of pilgrims to blend into the closer we get.’
Jude frowned. He didn’t remember telling Elden about their plan to pose as pilgrims. Perhaps Maeve had.
As the hours passed, they encountered several other groups trekking through the knee-deep snow towards the Abbey, just as Elden predicted.
He did most of the talking each time they encountered a new group, placing his wide-shouldered frame ahead of Maeve and Jude.
Mercifully, no one remained close for long, though Jude felt the weight of their eyes heavy upon him long after they’d left.
After the episode at the church, he was more suspicious than ever about watchful gazes and too-curious questions.
He scanned each face to see if he recognized anyone from the church. One man, he thought maybe… something about his gaunt frame looked familiar. Maybe it was the ampulla he had clutched in his fist, or maybe it was the pale shade of his eyes, keenly focused as they roved Maeve’s face.
But, like the others, he, too had continued on.
‘There’s an inn we can stay at once we get into the town,’ Elden said as they descended towards the low-slung village in the distance. ‘Maeve, you and Jude can hide there while I fetch the robes and whatever else we might need.’
Maeve’s dark eyes reflected the pale landscape surrounding them, snow dusting the tips of her lashes. ‘Hiding in an inn? Not really how I pictured making my grand return to the Abbey.’
The edge of her smile showed over the red knitted scarf.
His scarf.
‘Perhaps not,’ Elden replied. ‘Safest option, though.’
‘Is it?’ Jude murmured. He glanced at the new bag slung over Elden’s shoulder, its sides bulging.
Somehow, in the chaos of fleeing the church, he’d still managed to get the promised fire materials.
‘We have the wood and flint now,’ he continued.
‘Why not find somewhere to bunk down outside where it’s safer? ’
Maeve’s teeth chattered audibly. Elden shook his head. ‘Safer where we can get warm. I’ll sell the wood if needs be. Some extra coin wouldn’t be the worst thing.’
Maeve bobbed her head in agreement. The corners of her eyes were tight, two faint lines between her brows.
She’d been unusually jovial today after Elden had rejoined them, teasing and joking with a sort of frantic happiness that worried Jude more than if she’d trudged along in silence.
Like she was trying to conceal the sourness of her fear with sugar.
He hated it.
He felt her hidden fear as keenly as his own; had seen her turn to the sky countless times over the hours, blinking rapidly against the headache he knew was building behind her eyes. The Abbey’s hold grew stronger with each step towards it – why was she so determined to act otherwise?
Yet, as he watched Maeve laugh and gather snow to lob at Elden, he felt himself softening.
If she’d rather spend the last few hours of relative safety feigning happiness, the least he could do was play along.
No good could come out of dragging her into the pit of worry he was currently luxuriating in.
Jude bent and gathered a snowball of his own. Maeve squealed when it landed directly between her shoulder blades with a wet splotch, spinning around and running for him. Her cheeks and nose were rosy, her grin more genuine than he’d seen it all day.
In a flurry of limbs, she tackled him backwards into the snow.
It fell around them in a cold drift, flaking into his eyes.
She brushed the powder off his cheeks and nose with the tips of her gloved fingers.
Her lips turned up in a contagious smile.
He allowed himself the span of two breaths before he braced his hands on her hips and prepared to manoeuvre them both back to their feet.
The look in Maeve’s eyes stopped him.
‘Got you,’ she whispered. Her gaze flicked from eye to eye. He drew in a quick breath. Maeve’s eyes dropped to his mouth. Her own lips parted on an exhale. Cold, gloveless fingers touched the corner of his mouth. The side of his jaw. The soft hollow under his ear.
A faint shout sounded in the distance. Elden calling their names.
Maeve’s eyes landed on his for a heart-wrenching second before she pulled off him and onto her feet.
Icy air slid over him in her place. He gazed at the pearl-grey sky, contemplating the benefits of letting the snow consume him entirely.
Arousal faded into nebulous, anticipatory worry. Half want and half fear.
He’d kissed women before – girls, really, since he’d been barely fifteen the last time it had happened and his partner the same age.
Forbidden kisses at the back of a pub, little more than a clumsy fumbling of lips and teeth, neither of them knowing what they were doing.
Over eight years had passed since the last.
He’d done nothing else. Nothing.
If Maeve were to kiss him, if she were to undress and search out pleasure from his body, he’d be clueless.
Absolutely, damningly hopeless, just like he’d been in her bedroom when her waist had been warm under his hand, her eyes soft and wanting.
If he hadn’t been able to take what he wanted, what she’d offered then, would he ever be able to?
Never mind that his body was peppered with scars and tattoos, both from his hand and the elders’. DEVOTION was scored into his back, for fuck’s sake. Though she knew it was there, he shuddered at the prospect of her seeing it in real life, touching it.
She deserved better than him in every way that counted.
The very idea of that level of vulnerability with another person sent a wash of numbness down his limbs. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
But yet, he wanted. More than anything.
Putting his pathetic mess of worries behind him, Jude rose. He caught up with Maeve near the path. ‘There was a passing group of pilgrims. Two children throwing snowballs.’ She studied him, face lapsing into seriousness. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ He held out his arm for her to take as they trudged through the snow. ‘Well, no. I’m… apprehensive,’ he amended.
She hummed. ‘I don’t know what to expect. Especially once the hymns start.’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll feel more settled when we’re indoors.’
Maeve fell silent, squinting up at the heavy clouds above. ‘About relics…’ Jude began, hesitant. He’d been waiting all day to bring it up. ‘Do you think it could be how the elders access the magic in the icons? How they can control our memories individually.’
Her face was wholly unreadable. ‘Why do you think that?’
Jude tried to piece together his thoughts as quickly as he could.
‘You mentioned that they form a connection between the elders and the saints, and it was more metaphorical. But what if it’s not?
What if it’s real? We know that the icons tie us to the Abbey, and that the iconographers’ magic is what forges that connection.
But what if relics are how the elders use the icons? ’
‘Use how?’ Maeve asked.
‘Did you ever connect two tins with a string as a child? You hold one side to your ear, give the other side to someone else, and it magnifies your voice,’ Jude said. She nodded. ‘Maybe it’s like that. The saint is one tin, the icon is the other, and the relic is the string between the two.’
‘That… makes sense,’ Maeve hedged. ‘I have a memory about it, I think. One from years ago.’ Her brows furrowed in concentration.
‘I was maybe sixteen when I saw inside one of Ezra’s relics.
My first icon was waiting to be hung in the basilica, and Ezra was meant to bring me to see it put up.
When he didn’t show up, I went looking for him.
’ She paused, eyes losing focus like it took effort to dredge the memory.
‘I found him in his study. He was bent over something. A relic. He had the centre, the locket portion, open. I saw a glimpse inside it before he closed it. It was small. Hard to make out against the fabric lining. But unmistakable.’
She stopped. Met his eyes. ‘Inside… there was hair. A curl of human hair.’
Horror washed over him. He opened his mouth to reply, unsure what to say, but Elden’s approach froze the words on his tongue. Maeve pulled back, tucking her face away into her scarf as he arrived.
‘I’ve been doing some thinking,’ Elden said. ‘About the inn.’
It took Jude a moment to locate his legs to keep walking, his thoughts still circling what Maeve had told him. A curl of human hair… He shuddered. What did it mean?
‘Our funds aren’t exactly… limitless,’ Elden continued.
Jude narrowed his eyes. He was right, but why bring it up now?
Besides, Jude had budgeted enough for a few nights in a decent inn, anyway.
Vegetable farming was hardly the most lucrative business, but they had enough for food and lodging for perhaps a week if they were frugal.
They weren’t planning on staying nearly that long, but they needed to be prepared for their plans to go awry.
‘I was chatting to some of the pilgrims in that last group,’ Elden said. ‘There’s more coming this time than they expected. Not many rooms left. Not many at all. Prices have gone up, too,’ he said with a blithe smile.
Like a distant, horrifying mirage, Jude saw where Elden was steering the conversation.
‘We can share a room. It’s no problem,’ Maeve chirped. ‘It’ll be a bit unusual, three people together, but I doubt it’ll raise too many eyebrows.’
‘No – it definitely will,’ Jude interrupted, speaking before fully considering where he was going. ‘Especially if we’re posing as pilgrims. Two men and a woman in a single room? People will definitely notice.’
‘Aye,’ Elden said. ‘Jude and I will take one. Maeve, you’ll be in the other.’
‘She shouldn’t be alone,’ Jude quickly replied. Her grip tightened on his arm. ‘It’s not safe, especially with the Abbey so near. We’ll share a room instead.’
‘An unmarried couple sharing a room?’ Elden shook his head. ‘That’d be a scandal, too, no doubt. Unless…’ He tapped his finger on his lip, feigning contemplation. ‘You could always pretend to be married.’
Maeve stiffened. ‘Is that the best idea?’
Her words were like a dip in an icy river. The last thing he wanted was to force her into something she clearly didn’t want. ‘No, no, not at all—’ Jude backtracked. ‘If it makes you uncomfortable, Elden can pose as your husband. Or your father, maybe?’
‘I’m not that old,’ Elden grumbled. ‘But if that’s the route you prefer, Maeve.’
She didn’t reply. The way she looked at him, it was as though she’d heard every shameful thought he’d agonized over earlier. How much he wanted her, how afraid he was to have her. Something in her face softened. ‘I’d rather share with Jude if it makes no difference.’
He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. Married. He could do little more than nod.
He needed to keep his wits about him. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not for his sake or anyone else’s. Whatever brand of dread the prospect of intimacy surfaced in him wasn’t the same as his fear about the Abbey, but he felt its keen sting.
It wasn’t the same, he told himself. Nothing about it was comparable.
The Abbey had moulded him into something both cowering and devoted; a dog returning to its violent owner again and again, hoping for a gentle touch.
Maeve was nothing like that. She’d sought him out for warmth when she’d been cold, light when her world had darkened with the upheaval of her beliefs. She trusted him.
He didn’t want to let her down.
His thoughts dissipated like ink into water as he trudged through the snow. He may not have much in this world, but he still had enough left of himself to give to Maeve, which was exactly what he would do.