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The distant wood grain of the ceiling above becomes sharper with each passing second as Oczy awakens during the night. He is by no means a heavy sleeper, his newfound life has assured him that no time he is given is above suspicion. His other senses begin to catch up languidly, while he tries to figure out if it is his bladder or some noise from outside that forced him to awaken.
It is the crinkling of paper that turns his head towards the far end of the room. Even from this angle he can make out the figure hunched over the table, face practically pressing against it, silhouetted by the dull orange glow of a single candle. It is a common sight to see Badeni occupying his time with various equations and subject matters that stimulate his mind and make sleep an impossibility. Or he does it because Oczy is asleep, which, now that there is no imminent danger, feels like a wonderful idea, as the nighttime view pulls itself into a hazy vignette. It is the stifled curse and the dragging of nails against the old table that halts his return to sleep.
Alarm fills his veins, jolting him upwards from his mat. Not caring about his state of undress, Oczy navigates around the trapping supplies left out in the room, picking up discarded papers on the floor along the way. As he arrives at Badeni's side, Oczy notices the loose pages and books scattered in disarray upon the table. Several pages are balled up in Badeni's fists, cracked nails piercing through. There are several fresh red marks on his knuckles.
"Useless." Badeni releases the papers and finally acknowledges Oczy's presence. "It won't be long now. I need more time."
Oczy places the papers within his hands aside on the table. "Let me see."
Badeni clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head away. "You should know what it looks like. It can't be that different now."
"Still, please." Oczy urges.
A huff of air, then Badeni relents, turning his head back around. His face points up to Oczy as the eye widens to allow easier inspection. Bending down, Oczy grips at the edge of the table for support, using what little light the candle affords him to look into what was once Badeni's good eye. He knows not to move the candle too close to the other's face, lest he wish to send Badeni into a panic and himself to the floor begging for forgiveness. It is a fearful secret, one which was shared with him years ago. Nor does he touch the face, it is another piece of the secret of a price paid. Oczy only leans in close enough to get a clearer look.
What Badeni expects is true. The cloudiness in his eye is no more worse than what Oczy observed the last time. That does not mean that there is not a change inside, under all those layers, some strange part of the inner workings of the eye is breaking down where he cannot see it. It was months ago that he first noticed the peculiar habits it brought out. Badeni stumbling over things that were easy to avoid, knocking items off the table like a curious cat, or even questioning where items left in plain sight were located. He tried to disguise his problem as nerves and sleeplessness or even his other eye mucking up his actions. Sometimes even simply blaming it on his grown-out hair covering his eye, though refusing to cut it even during the heat of summer. Each of Oczy's questions were met with anger or deflection. Once Oczy saw the eye for himself, he had to corner Badeni just to tell him that this pride did him no good when Oczy could see him better than anyone else.
Once the shroud of pride was lowered, Badeni endeavored to write down and see everything possible while he still could. Words spoken by scholars and saints, strange plants and creatures in nature, even old recipes he would never bother to cook, whatever he learned and saw in his life needed to be recorded while he could see his hand move. With what little resources they have, it is difficult to acquire that much paper and ink. They make due, even if Oczy has to search further for work, while secretly tightening his belt by an extra notch.
It is either the prevailing silence or Badeni's ability to still be able to read Oczy's face that reinforces what he already knows. He places a hand on the pile of papers, each with various degrees of deteriorating penmanship and smudges. "It's all a blur now, my own words." His jaw tightens as he pulls himself away from Oczy's gaze. He taps on the table repeatedly as he gathers his thoughts. "I need to go outside. Clear my mind. I should at least be able to make out the light of the stars."
"I'll join you." Oczy volunteers himself, before Badeni awkwardly has to ask or command it. He does not question if it is possible for Badeni to see the stars. If it is not an excuse to go snap some felled branches or punch something until his knuckles bleed, then it is undoubtedly a goodbye or a challenge, of sorts. He offers a hand to Badeni to help him up from his chair. Badeni scoffs at it and puts a hand up in refusal, pushing the chair back with his legs and leaving it on his own. He can still move perfectly fine and get his own clothes. Oczy lets him be as he organizes the paperwork and the writing utensils on the table, then retreats to grab his own clothes by the side of his mat.
For some time, they have settled in an abandoned village; another relic of plague or war, with homes pillaged so thoroughly that they were down to nothing but the bare bones of necessity and items too large to carry. Homes now occupied by beggars and exiles of various backgrounds. They all keep to themselves, bound by an unwritten code of honor. There is no pressure to share, they rarely ever talk, but they do not steal or harm.
The last time the pair spoke to anyone was when they stumbled upon their closest neighbor trying to pierce through the dry, rocky soil with a cracked shovel. Beside her was her older female companion, eyes closed to the world, locked within the finality of death. Even without the sight of the survivor's bandaged hands or sleepless, reddened eyes staring into his, Oczy would have asked to take over the task. Oczy dug heaps of soil as the woman held her companion's cold hand. When the shallow grave was dug, and the woman placed her companion in her final resting place and covered her in that shroud of soil, Badeni said the funerary prayers to make it as close to proper as it could be. They never shared their names, nor did the surviving neighbor share hers even when she thanked them and left for the solitude of her dwelling. Nor did they ask where the fruit, too shiny and unblemished to be foraged in the surrounding area, that was crudely wrapped and left at their doorstep the following morning, had been procured.
No one knows what actions have brought the others here, nor do they care to judge. There is something about it that reminds Oczy of his life before his eyes were opened to the Earth's beauty. Existing for the sake of it until one meets their maker. To Oczy it is a manageable life; he has always been considered nothing, a step or two above the true dregs of society. It is so easy to slip down another step, with the odd comfort that there is no need to try and climb beyond one's reach. However, for Badeni, who slipped from the realm of nobles and then that of the clergy, what strain on the mind can it be for one man to have such greatness in this world ripped from him? To take such a plunge into the filth of the world to join Oczy as an equal in nothingness. It took him much longer to adjust to this life, that Oczy wonders how he has not gone mad.
Oczy navigates Badeni to the outskirts of their village that they have designated as the best for stargazing; a clearing among the trees, now leafless and frosted from the cold of winter. It encapsulates them in their own world under the heavens. They have no astrolabe to measure the positions of the stars around them, such a treasure is difficult to find and purchase from common villagers, so it takes Oczy some time to position and guess where to look based on the time of year. Then he finds it, or does it let him find it? Hidden among the countless stars is the Lepus constellation. Badeni had told him of the story that surrounds it; up in the sky, a cunning hare forever eludes Orion the Huntsman and his loyal hunting dogs, who desire nothing more than to skin its pelt and devour its flesh. Such a lonely, frightful tale, to place oneself among the stars, yet never truly have a moment to enjoy the peace and serenity they give. Still, he finds hope knowing no matter what, the Lepus has the strength to endure it all the same.
Oczy positions himself behind Badeni so that he can lift his arm above his shoulder to help him find the general area of the constellation. Badeni points his chin up to the sky and focuses. Moving over to Badeni's better side, Oczy mimics the same positioning, only if it helps to hide his true intent to watch the watcher from the corner of his eye. The squinting, further exaggerating the permanent furrow carved between his brows, the tiny frown that waxes and wanes from concentration, how his hair, left unbound this night, has grown and travels down his back in messy waves. The way the few white strands that now mingle with the gold, catch and magnify the faint light of the star spray above. A heavenly radiance gathers around the man like a veil. Badeni now resembles the wife Oczy had created for one of their many fabricated backstories for their travels within backwater villages.
How tragic it was to lose his beloved Zima to that terrible bandit attack that left him and Badeni scarred so terribly. How he bemoaned Zima, that intelligent woman who was so fiercely well-spoken and an all around imperiously competent person. A sight, too, with her long golden hair that contrasted her sharp, grey eyes.
"She sounds awfully similar to the other man you travel with", the villagers would reply, an undercurrent of wariness and skepticism to their voices.
"B-but of course", Oczy would rectify his story, realizing his imagination was not so vivid to conjure up a unique woman, "they were twins after all!" To further separate her from her counterpart, he would then tell them on days where her happiness faltered, they would hold each other and dance slowly in the comfort of their home as she wept all her sadness away into his shoulder.
And so the story would build upon itself. Two men, brothers by law, were traveling aimlessly to escape their tragic past and ruined home. To stay in one place would risk the chance of losing family and friends they cared so dearly for once again. Annoyed at what Oczy had created without his carefully constructed input, Badeni added to his story a wife of his own. Thus, Oczy's, or whatever name he used for himself, twin sister, Uszy came to life. How wondrous it had been for their village to be blessed by many sets of twins that year! Unfortunately for Badeni, brutish Uszy was the last woman available for marriage. So it was out of convenience that he married that tall woman, with wild black hair, and breasts bigger than her head, and nothing more. Then, much to her credit, Badeni did occasionally slip in a few kind words and say Uszy had often surprised him when he least expected it. She also was the only one who truly listened to his words and understood them. It felt as if she had been created on this Earth just for him. It was an awful thing to see her fall to the bandits while she protected their child, Usta, to the end.
"Oh, my lost child! Usta's smile used to light up the world," Badeni would say with some unconvincing theatrics, "and, oh, how I wished I could have been able to save them and if only we had time to make more children,” then he stomped off elsewhere in a mood, leaving Oczy alone so he could tend to the villager's tasks and mounting questions.
"Pay him no mind, he mourns differently than most." Oczy would explain, clutching his chest from a sudden burst of insecurity.
They would not stay in these villages forever, with a few close calls already, every day added to the risk of someone figuring out their true identities and those of who were still pursuing them. They had given up their dream of passing Heliocentrism to the world, for Badeni's name was tarnished beyond repair and there was no way he would pass any of his work under a pseudonym. It had been the same case for Oczy's diary, the one that Badeni had burned, yet said it existed in the world, somewhere, somehow. It was not Oczy who had memorized that there had been sixty pages in total, rather Badeni who had been, for lack of a better word, disappointed that Oczy could not recall every word he had written and how it was all organized. How could he explain it to someone who only wrote about greatly researched findings and not inner thoughts? It was something that he wrote when the words came to him in the moment. If he did not stain the pages with his thoughts then and there, they would eventually be lost to the fog of time. Even when he did write them down, many times it took him the next day to rewrite and edit them for the words to make any sense.
When their combined efforts produced only thirty two of the sixty pages, plus a few thoughts scattered in between, Oczy believed it to be a miracle that any of it was preserved or even worthy of such preservation. Badeni, on the other hand, grumbled loudly at his own poor memorization and how he was certain some of the writing was not even in the correct order. Afraid to question the personal reasons as to why Badeni was so bothered by this half-completed restoration, Oczy only questioned why the order was so important.
“It has to be in that order or else it loses its soul completely, an imitation of its potential, if it does not unravel as I have seen." Badeni argued. Realizing it was a defeat, he finally said, “it is up to Grabowski.”
"Why not contact Grabowski? Maybe enough time has passed."
“He is being watched by whoever has replaced me as his subdeacon. In fact, I believe the whole village is still not above suspicion.” Badeni explained, gravely. “Do you think the inquisition will truly believe it when the villagers show their disdain for me or trust their claims that they did not give us shelter during our escape? They would be the most suspect. No, the church will be watching Grabowski for the rest of his life, even if he knows it or not. Only time will tell if the book exists once again as it was.”
So with nothing to write and the mystery of how Badeni preserved his diary in the first place never explained beyond, “the pages are alive”, Oczy had nothing to preoccupy him at night. So when he tried to sleep and Badeni was not awake to fill the silence with various facts, complex words to enrich his vocabulary, and theories of the world, Oczy would sometimes think of that pretend child Badeni had made up. Who would it resemble more? Would it have hair of gold and eyes of grey, or eyes and hair of black? A shapely face or one with jagged features? Would it rely on wit or strength? Like most children, would it be an even blend of both parents? The thought made him wither. Oczy knew it was pointless and strange to think on it, they did not even- they could not even- yet, it was another peculiarity that kept his mind busy when sleep eluded him in his unpredictable new life.
One thing was for certain, he would discard the silly names Badeni thought up. Not that he ever expected to be a parent, if by some absurd chance alone, he would like to name a daughter, Jolenta, to honor their friend that perished in their absence.
He was certain, beyond all doubt that the heavens and the holy spirit placed upon him, she would be safe from their heresy when Badeni failed to name her as an accomplice and that her father's rage would protect her from any enemy. But, by terrible chance they overheard it in passing, about the proper course the upcoming bishop had taken. It was celebrated that Jolenta, the young witch who did not know her place in the world, was righteously burned alive for her transgressions against the church. The brilliant teacher who raised Oczy a step above the ignorance of the world, was naught but discarded dust and ash thrown to the wind to be trampled into the dirt. While Oczy was reminded of the prevailing underlining ugliness of the world and cursed it, he was not alone in his suffering. Try as he may to hide it, Oczy could not help but see the tears that Badeni shed, along with the murmur of, “what was it for?” After all the hardships they had endured, it was the first time he had seen his stoic companion cry. As he watched those acrimonious tears slip down his face, Oczy offered his shoulder to hide and absorb them, only for it to be bitterly rejected.
It is the gnawing of teeth that snaps Oczy from his thoughts. "I don't even know why I tried. Tell me everything you see up there."
So Oczy leans over and explains everything in his own words. Over the years he has memorized the names of the planets and constellations in the sky. He spots the Lepus once more and traces its path with a finger. As he moves, he can see Badeni stretch out his hand, either to mimic the action or soothe his aching body. He must be tired, never giving himself enough sleep with and without his limited time.
Oczy has been doing better in the past years, describing things around him and making his jumbled thoughts understandable. He relishes in his tiny, mortal accomplishments. He has begun to find his voice in his late-thirties. Soon he will be forty. It is rather unbelievable and makes him wonder how much time is truly left. He feels it in his body, every wound and muscle ache beginning to catch up to him. Yet, his strength has not failed him, rather, them. It is a strange word to consider; them. There should not be a them. They were never supposed to remain together, with Badeni desiring to flee to the Republic with his treatise, while Oczy lived on elsewhere with the dream of university life. In these thoughts, he accepts that it was not by choice that their lives were forced together and keeps the word to himself.
Still, is it not a gift in its own right? With all of his progress, there are times he still stumbles over his words, feels every time his heart squeezes and thumps like mad against his chest betraying the calm he has built up. Even in his moodiest days, without fail, Badeni is there to pick up those thoughts as if they were soft clay and forms them into something eloquent, beautiful, even. This progress reverts when Oczy hears a few unexpected words.
"May I touch your face?"
Oczy catches his breath, a puff of white against the cold air, before he turns away from the sky and onto the man who studies him with that face fighting against his diminishing senses.
"Why now?" Is all Oczy can utter as he clenches his hands to keep himself from doing something stupid.
Badeni speaks like he does when he shares scraps of knowledge on an ancient scholar or when he prepares another counterargument to Oczy's many counterpoints to their growing amount of debates. All in that barbed tongue that acts as if it is a chore to share the knowledge of the world, yet so utterly bound by the need to share it nonetheless. "I'll be navigating my world by touch soon enough. You're conveniently close by, so why not learn you first while I can still see you?" He raises his hands and unfurls his fingers. “May I?”
Always wanting to help, Oczy must pretend this is nothing at all, though he can hear the failure drip from his voice. "Go ahead." Closing his eyes, Oczy almost startles when he feels a lone, surprisingly warm fingertip touch his chilled skin and trace the contour of the bone beneath his eye, touching the edges where his wrinkles have begun to form.
The second joins the first and together those hands gently glide fingers imprecisely over Oczy's frost-worn face. They trace the outline of his eyes, feel all the ridges of the harsh, roughly healed scars under the beard he is trying to grow, touched by silver just like his brows. One brushes against the prominent bridge of his nose as the other delves further back against the edge of the hairline down to the nape of the neck beneath it.
A low hum rumbles in Oczy's throat. The ever-present need to apologize bubbles up within, but, maybe if he says nothing, it will go without notice. He opens his eyes when he feels those fingers pause.
Badeni's face shows no trace of anger or disgust. No berating follows as the fingers remain in place. "Does that actually feel nice?"
"Yes. Sorry." Oczy casts his shameful gaze downward at their knees.
"It's not a peculiar reaction." Badeni says, moving closer by a single step. After trying to study the face or the expression upon it, he returns to the motions, slower, more precise. "But, I wouldn't know."
With Badeni closer, Oczy adjusts his gaze upward towards the treeline where he sees their breaths float and disappear. The closeness makes Oczy aware of how easy it would be to hear any noise he makes. Instead he decides to embolden himself with a question. "Do you think you could ever allow the same?"
Thinking on it, Badeni taps a few times at Oczy's hairline before he answers. "It's not necessary for me to know what it's like. Maybe when I can no longer see the approach. Maybe then you-"
"Me?" Oczy sputters out the word. Is he not like the candle that threatens to harm?
Clearly annoyed at the childish way Oczy cut him off, Badeni raises his voice. "Who else would it be? Am I not the only one who has touched your f-" Badeni loses the fire in his voice as he guides his knuckles beneath Oczy's beard to the facial scars once more. "And yet you let me, for the first time."
"...second time."
"What's that?" Badeni asks.
Realizing he said what he was thinking aloud, Oczy says the rest. "This is the second time you've touched my face." Oczy recalls the moment that lives in his mind without fault. The chill of the moonlit night where he finally realized he had something to fight for; a faith without fear. A truth worth giving up his newly found pacifism to take up his sword once again. Then came the unlikely voice and figure that emerged from the shadow inside the barn. The Lord's prayer, spoken so resolutely, that stayed his death march momentarily and the blessed thumb that sealed the words into his skin. What it meant was as strong as the protective prayer itself; he was no longer too tainted to avoid. Heaven was open for him despite the lowly creature he thought himself to be. "That night I had to leave you, give you time for your letter. You forgot? Don't tell me you're becoming forgetful in your old age." He finds it easier to tease than it is to call upon that time with grave seriousness.
The chuckle that shakes Badeni's body is unexpected, but it does not stop one hand from moving upwards and mimicking the gesture from so many years ago. This time the other hand holds his chin. "No, I did not. I think there is a difference to it, though, I suppose I am stuck in a void of desperation as I was then.”
Oczy knows the words are true in many ways. Desperation is all they have known. It was there when they chose to repurpose most of Badeni's monastic garb as bandaging or fuel for torches, redistribute what clothing they had, then huddle together for warmth when the frigid, unforgiving night stole the warmth from their exhausted, famished bodies during their first nights of escape. Badeni never did return Oczy's vest, deciding to keep it as his attire for his new self. He can see the hem of the burgundy vest poke out from beneath all the other layers Badeni has wrapped around himself now.
Then the thought lingers beyond what is necessary, to those touches and moments that one could not claim to be made from desperation. Or was it desperation hidden by another name? Such as those when they shared and passed the few books they earned or found. The chance brushing of fingers, the accidental click of fingernails, all beneath those layers of parchment and animal skin. It lingers more than it should ever, as does the brief, but knowing gaze they share. Since their hands are hidden from sight, so are the feelings of whatever possesses them.
Some nights, Oczy can see the shadow stretch across the wall he faces or simply feel Badeni standing over his mat. With that comes the fluttering thought of what he needs; some task that requires muscle or his eyesight? To share the mat? Many times during his days as a duelist he overheard or was subjected to his guild mates gleefully recanting tales of their trysts and escapades with the most unlikely of nobles, whom they would never fully name, because they valued their lives. Sheltered, haughty creatures of wealth who desired to taste something forbidden, to try something rough and uncultured only someone of a lower status, whom they claimed to be looser and freer with their passions, could give them. That had to be the reasoning for these moments, with the only explanation being that Oczy was there when he felt that need, that he would be considered at all. Oczy does not fully open his eyes, nor does he ask what is it that Badeni wants. What if Oczy is mistaking his intent? What if Badeni still holds himself in regard as the holy man Oczy knew him as? His fears only let him wait until the other turns away and retreats across the room into their shared silence.
There is something between them, like a gate of a fence held together by a single lock, with both of them at opposite sides. Was the lock fear? What was the fear?
No longer did Oczy have the ever present, faultfinding swath of eyes in the night sky to bring him fear. Usually Badeni's was enough, even with the light burning out. Nor could he say it was the fear of his judgment day and the questions that would sear damnation into his soul. For he would question why those thoughts and desires had been placed into his head, of the tenderness that only conspirators share in their embrace, and all that he had believed to be wrong. Why must it be a trial for him to overcome?
He can name the fear and wonders if Badeni feels it, too. The fear of wanting, and that want leading to having, then once it has been had, the fear of that initial want dissipating. Maybe the fear is that it was never that strong in the first place. That satiation leading to the other's desire burning out into nothing but a shade of regret and what they will be left with, well, would two people who were never meant to stay together be able to stay as one with that pressure and embarrassment? It is best to keep things as they are so that it never becomes a worry. What they have now is enough. To want more is asking for trouble to come their way.
Still, Oczy knows both of them are playing with the gate's lock just a little too much tonight.
With his thumb over Oczy's forehead, Badeni then asks, "Oczy, do you remember?"
"Remember what?"
There is a dry rasp from Badeni's throat as he opens his mouth to speak, only to lose the words and rearrange them. "Do you remember what you told me as we left that prison cell?"
Despite the worry that his thoughts may one day be impeded by too many hits to the head from fights and minor accidents, Oczy could not forget that night if he tried. It is an incomprehensible happenstance within this puzzling world that should not have came to be. Oczy can recall every word he and Badeni shared within that cell. Every word mattering within the finite time remaining. With each word peeling off layers towards a truth, the fear of death slowly faded. And that death was the only thing meant to be shared between the two.
Then with the creak of the cell door opening came with it the strangest person of all. He believed his name was, Damian. They were only introduced to each other briefly when Oczy and Gras were duelists tasked with guarding that heretic; another strange man who changed the course of his destiny. Damian had hesitated to follow Nowak's orders during his torture, as he pried the lid of Oczy's eye open in the dungeon. That hesitancy was the only kindness he ever needed to show Oczy, but as he held the garb that marked them as dead men in his hands, he hesitated once again. Uncertain if Damian expected them to walk over and take the garb from his hands, Oczy stood up and began his approach. He only stopped when the man began to mumble something.
“-then with some bizarre strength, you managed to overtake me and slam my head against the wall.”
“What?” Oczy took a step backwards, stopping short when he bumped into Badeni's shoulder.
Damian did not respond, only continued with his odd rambling. “And once I was incapacitated, the two heretics found their way to the south door, which was unguarded at the time. I did not see this, my eyes were covered, and I was unconscious.”
Was he intending to let them go? "Why are you saying this?" Oczy asked, pushing through the pain that burned from the sides of his mouth and up his face. The guilt that had begun to fade, overtook him once more. "Those three men I killed-”
Damian snapped out of his daze. The sharpness in his eyes showed that he was serious on the matter. “Nowak has certainly killed more before he joined us. Who can say if those men truly earned the death he gave. And yet, he has been granted salvation by our bishop, who has... Was this a personal vendetta after all? Is the afterlife the only place a sinner can atone? You've suffered enough, your chest of heresy is no more, you are powerless, what can you even do if not atone on Earth?" The clothing began to shake within his hands as the man dwelt on questions Oczy had no answers for. “What I saw tonight, what I participated in, it, it – there has to be another way. I must reflect on it.”
"It must be a trap to get it in writing that I attacked members of the church with you," warned Badeni, eyeing the open cell door and man with an incredulous expression.
Oczy knew he was a fool who took too many things for face value. There was no time to dwell on the possibilities. His mind and soul swelled with hope. Badeni snapped his head back when Oczy turned to face him with that hope marked on his face. "We must try! Follow me wherever I go. I'll protect you." Oczy vowed, as he held his hand out.
Oczy was sure that he would be barraged with words aimed at his very core, when Badeni looked down at the offering, calculating every risk.
Instead, Badeni grabbed that hand. Trust, fright, determination flashed on Badeni's bare face with every heartbeat Oczy felt pounding at his chest.
With the infinitesimal chance that he could lead them out of there alive, Oczy thanked Damian for his mercy. Damian made no effort to reply. Instead he only walked away from the open cell door, as he quietly tangled the garb around his arms and face. Then he dragged his back against the wall until he slumped upon the floor in a false state of unconsciousness. Whatever happened, Oczy hoped Damian could lie his way out of suffering in their stead.
Passing through the open cell door felt as if they had passed through the gates of Heaven themselves. With each step they took, the further they put that prison cell behind them. Oczy made sure to take it slow, it would put a quick end to their freedom if their stomping echoed up the stairs and hallways. True to Damian's word, the south door was free from any guards presence. Hesitant to find out what was at the other side of the door, Oczy stilled when he felt the squeeze upon his trembling hand. He did not need to look back to know that Badeni was ready and still placing faith within him. He opened the door enough to peek outside. Off to the left, he saw two men tending to a lone horse tied to a post. Without the horse, it would make their escape and the ability to place enough distance between them and the inquisition, that much more difficult. It would be too difficult to incapacitate or fight them both in silence, with Oczy's dominant arm suffering from a loss of movement from his duel with Nowak. They could not wait too long either for them to leave, with the added threat that they may use this door for entry.
Without taking his eye off the men, Oczy motioned back to Badeni with his free hand. Two, to the left, no. Then he squeezed Badeni's hand as he tapped his chest, then pointed to the right to designate their only free path. The decision was wordlessly agreed to with a squeeze to Oczy's hand. With no time to wait, Oczy guided them outside, the light sound of gravel and grass both a welcoming and worrisome sound. Their footsteps went unnoticed as they kept to the shadowed walls, the men preoccupied with digging something out from a chest to aid them in tending to the horse. Onward, they crept until there was no doubt that they made it as far as it was necessary. Then they ran and ran, until their lungs faltered and weakened legs collapsed. Even with exhaustion at its peak, they rose to their feet, ran, fell, arose, then kept going ever forward -
"You're daydreaming." Badeni's voice and the pinch against his cheek bring Oczy back to the present. "Unless it is you who is growing old and forgetful. You told me to follow you wherever you go and that you would protect me. I'm bound by those words. I must follow you still even if I can't see you." A sigh, a struggle to swallow, then the words that follow make Oczy's heart drop in his chest. "That means you must protect me still."
He knows Badeni better now, how he avoids saying things that break that exterior of calm he has so expertly crafted. Once the exterior falls, he knows not how to place it back. Oczy knows it is unfair to think he is the only one with fears, Badeni's are only harder to spot. Oczy can spot how the other fears being used or perceived as stupid or useless. What Badeni desperately pleads now is; Don't abandon me when it happens.
Knowing this, Oczy squeezes his eyes shut, and releases away his fears. He grasps one of the hands that touch him, positions it over his lips so Badeni can feel his words against his palm. "Your fate is mine to bear. As long as you're beside me, I will serve you." Oczy slowly opens his eyes, feeling born anew once again. He wants to say so much more, tell Badeni impossible things, that he would give him the world, and if not that, then at least give him an eye, if he could. Rip it out and give unto him a darkened eye that could see the infinite sky and the beauty that graces Oczy's soul everyday. One of the same eyes that Badeni sacrificed his life for, thinking it to be the last thing he ever did.
That exterior of calm falls for a moment, enough to let a lone tear slip down Badeni's face. Badeni says nothing, only shifts his hand within Oczy's palm. His thumb presses against Oczy's lip, sealing the oath. Though his priestly status has been stripped away long ago, Oczy still expects to hear the silence filled with an, Amen. He does not expect to hear, “I will try to do the same for you.”
Oczy does not find tears to be a sign of weakness, rather he knows he has numbed himself to never let them spill. To cry from a cut or stab in a duel would only blur his sight and ensure his quick demise. In the past when he felt tears sting at his eyes during moments of intense grief or joy, he often reminded himself that pain was part of his earthly penance or if he should rejoice at any moment of happiness, it would ensure only sorrow followed in its wake. Yet, it is in the way the words are so willfully said, that they bring tears to Oczy's own eyes. Words he never expected, nor deserved to hear, even if the actions of their lives have shown him otherwise. Badeni does not leave him or admonish the tears as they fall, as his own face shows his growing struggles to keep anymore from spilling. It is not Oczy, but Badeni that pulls the other closer, into a long awaited embrace to hide their tears, as they begin to fall in numbers. Hands dig into clothing, fingers press into their backs, as they weep. Oczy tangles his fingers within Badeni's hair as he cradles the back of his head.
There is much to weep for; tears for each other, for Jolenta and other friends and family lost, all the physical and mental pain endured throughout their entire lives, opportunities and change that could never be, fears and pride that stole away everything they wanted, even tears for their small victories, and so much more that they could not put to thought or words. As Oczy's tears dampen Badeni's hair, and Badeni's dampen Oczy's shoulder, there is clarity found with the broken tension of so many years spent together. It did not matter if it was some cosmic force that forced them together, it was their choice to stay together afterwards. There were many chances for them to break apart and go their separate ways, never knowing if the other lived beyond those days. It would have made it easier to avoid detection. It was by choice they stayed by each other's side, so that if death and fire finally cornered them at last, they would meet it together. It did not matter if it happened tomorrow or any of the years beyond that. And if anything else happened between now and that time, they would have to see where it led them.
They held each other for several minutes more, even after the last tear had been shed. Pulling apart, Badeni looks up to Oczy, face red from crying, and breaks the silence.
"I have to take back some words I said long ago."
"Which words?" Oczy asked, trying in vain to breathe through his stuffy nose.
Badeni's stoic tone returns as if it never left him for a second. “That it was a waste to teach a peasant to read and write. I'll be relying on you from now on to write down everything I dictate to you. You must do it, it's part of fulfilling that oath.”
A dull ache throbs in Oczy's forearm, where a brutish scar remains. It reminds him how imprecise the movements of his hand have become and with it, the fear that he may not be able to complete the job as neatly as he would like. That baseless fear is quickly quashed, Oczy knows he would gladly write all Badeni asks of him, no matter how long it took or how rough it looked. He wipes his face with the back of his hand as he chuckles at the candidness of the request. “Of course, you unsentimental fool.”
Badeni's mouth falling open in shock only makes Oczy's struggled laughter louder, even with a finger poking into his chest. “I'll give you a chance to take that back if you help me find a place to sit by the creek. The sun will be rising in an hour or so and I don't want to miss it.”
"I can do that. Need help getting down to the creek?" Oczy offers his hand, more as a gesture for Badeni to refuse and keep his pride that slipped away this night.
Badeni frowns down at the hand, then looks up at Oczy with a brow raised. "Only if you promise to get me a walking stick or cane sometime soon. I can't rely on your charity all the time."
"I can- I will do that."
Badeni's hand goes to grab Oczy's, only for him to pull it back a little. "And not some thin twig either. I want something sturdy and intricately carved if I am going to be holding onto it all the time."
"Whatever his eminence desires."
"Something tells me I'm going to need a lot of time getting used to your newfound humorous side." Badeni says as he tries to hold back a smile. He places his hand within Oczy's, intertwining their fingers; the same hand and fingers that hold the memory of his face. The sight of it gives Oczy room to pause as he smiles down to Badeni, as he wonders how he will describe the wonder of it and the world to him in the future. Oczy guides them both down to the creek, as the gate's lock is left behind them.