Chapter Four

Upon entrance of the Glorious Chub it could be noted the interior did not match up to the attractive quality of the exterior, quite the opposite in fact. The seats were worn with scruffy cushions, the tables were shabby, dirty, and sticky, the carpet was blotchy with an assortment of congealed stains seeming to be a pattern, there were old, tatty curtains, bottom-of-the-bargain-bucket knickknacks intruding everywhere you looked, horrendous pictures of modern art, yet they were better than the dismal colour of the walls, that was truly an abominable paint choice, and it smelt like stale sweat and manky laundry. Disgusting in fact. Erwoll, thinking it a charity, decided not to relay the appearance to the monks, but the smell had them somewhat perturbed.

However the staff were friendly and they were cheerfully greeted. Maybe the food would be OK?

The monks explained their vow to the staff, they were told there were no female staff present and no other customers at the moment, but, having it available, they were generously given a private room in case a female customer should enter, and so it was safe to take the blindfolds off.

All the food option on the menus sounded too strange or bizarre to be tasty, and some of the options were completely foreign to what food sounded like, others sounded horrific such as, the bloated vole and poached marzipan oatmeal, the gore dumplings, or fish finger crumpets with whipped aniseed gravy. Also the prices didn’t look all that cheap.

While they were staring at the menus, almost in bewilderment or frightened dismay, the sweat faced chubby owner came to greet them and personally thanked them for coming in to dine. When they questioned him as to the odd and disgusting sounding food he said it was, ‘a taste of tomorrow with the pepper of the past, serving the potency of the present,’ whatever that was supposed to mean. Too afraid to make a choice (despite the long fast of the monks), they asked him to recommend some food, pointing out all the dishes they definitely didn’t want (certainly not the badger noses in a wild marmite broth). He said he’d surprise them. The drinks were hard work as well, the owner recommended squirrel and spinach tango, but they plumped on the pub ale instead, thinking it feasible that it would be at least mediocre in taste. So with meals decided they only had to wait.

It took half an hour to bring the drinks out, and how foolish to think them anyway feasibly ale-like, it looked like a slimy green-brown sauce with various bits floating in it, it was possible they were vomit milkshakes but it was deemed far too risky to have a taste.

After a further long wait the food was brought out. A revolting smell greeted them as their dishes were placed before them. A large offensive mess, with a sort of sickening meat substance, undercooked, part-baked, over-moist, burnt in spots and splattered with a yucky curdled sauce, some other hideous matter parading as food, half-alive and wriggling in a vile oily gravy, and some indescribable nasty business that definitely defied the subject of being food, as well as the matter of some abhorrent hodgepodge of side dishes that looked no less rank than the mains. It could certainly be described as evil and no one dared taste anything.

Best food in the wastelands? Charlatan dog walker.

They sat there in shock for at least five or ten minutes looking at this obscene lawlessness called food. The waiter came over to ask them how they were enjoying it, the monks were possessed of too much good-mannered Christian reservedness to say anything but Erwoll stated how inedible it all looked to say the least. The waiter tried to encourage them that it was completely usual for what they cooked, and said it tasted supremely better than it looked.

‘Just do me a favour, taste a bit and then tell me you don’t like it,’ said the waiter, gesturing to Gamallio, ‘have a go at that bit there, it’s absolutely delicious it is, I promise you, it won’t disappoint, go on just have a try.’

Gamallio, perhaps disarrayed by further forceful encouragement, asked Centen to pray for him then ate the smallest of the food. Of course it tasted worse than it looked by far. By far worse than that even. An inhumane cruelty and torture to be subject to such evil “food.”

Seeing Gamallio struggle to consume the dish, the waiter admitted that some people find it a bit of an acquired taste. An acquired taste? You’d have to eat this revolting stench and offense of food over and over again, and then apparently you might like it one day? I don’t think so.

So then, unable to eat any of the supposed food, and daring not for desert, Erwoll asked for the check and paid, (and actually the prices were something of a charlatanry, well definitely were considering what was served) and they left the restaurant, heading back on track for Ninidom, the monks redonning their blindfolds. (they had asked about the possibility of a lift in the van but the owner uncharitably said he couldn’t spare the staff to drive them, and their phone lines were down, so they couldn’t call for aid.)

They had been going some distance when, quite suddenly and blessedly, the drizzle stopped, the day cleared, and the sun came out, cheering them on their journey. Not long after this the sound of a car could be heard approaching from behind them. It was, amazingly to spot in the wastelands, a lime green four seater convertible, in fact beyond amazing to see out here. The car was sleekly proportioned, aerodynamic, and an all over gorgeous model. There was a private number plate that read, ‘she,’ corresponding to this was a beautiful young woman driving. She pulled by the side of our travellers, and said friendlily, ‘Hey there, need a ride? Where you headed?’

Erwol looked stunned by the appearance of the sporty convertible and said, ‘This is some ride you’ve got, I haven’t seen something like this for, in I don’t know how long, beautiful, just beautiful.’

‘Are you talking about me or the car now?’ she said with a chuckle.

‘It certainly must be both, lady,’ said Erwoll.

‘Look, hop in I can take you wherever you’re going,’ she said.

‘That would be fantastic, my name’s Erwoll, and this is Centen and Gamallio, holy monks of the wastelands, if you could take us to Ninidom we’d be indebted to you.’

‘My name’s Leanan, and it’d be a pleasure to take you there, I’m headed there anyway in fact, and as for being indebted, I’ll hardly ask for your souls in exchange for a ride,’ she said this last part jokingly, although to Gamallio who had been suspicious of this charming stranger, something came across amiss in the joke.

‘Well this seems lucky,’ said Centen, tired and hoping Gamallio would allow them to ride with the woman.

‘More than lucky indeed,’ said Erwoll.

‘Come on, get in already,’ said Leanan.

‘Thankyou for the offer lady, but we will be fine proceeding by foot,’ said Gamallio, his suspicion too well aroused at this seeming fortune.

‘Are you crazy?’ said Erwol, who had the car door open to let the monks in.

‘My brother and I have taken vows never to look at a woman again, it wouldn’t be appropriate our travelling with you,’ said Gamallio.

‘You don’t have to look at me, you’ve got your blindfolds on and I promise not to tempt you, come on just get in, you can’t make it all the way to Ninidom on foot,’ said Leanan.

‘Yeah just get in,’ said Erwoll.

‘No thankyou,’ Gamallio.

‘Well I’m going with her,’ said Erwoll.

‘Come on don’t be silly, get in, I’m not gonna cause you to sin.’

‘No thankyou.’

‘I promise a smooth ride, you don’t have to worry, I’m on God’s side,’ she said, and turned on the radio, playing some gospel music to try and persuade the old monk.

‘No thankyou.’

‘Just get in,’ she said, she said with a touch of frustration to her charm this time.

‘No thankyou.’

‘Get in,’ she said again, her friendly tone nearly departed.

‘No thankyou.’

‘Fine be a pair of fools,’ she said, and with Erwoll, had by this beautiful stranger, already gotten in the car, took off, leaving the monks on the road without a guide.

Abandoned by Erwoll they continued blind as best they could, which wouldn’t be well given they were lost on the road without direction. To worsen their fortune of being stranded on the road without any idea of right course, the drizzle restarted and the sun disappeared back into an overcast day. They proceeded with blind faith.

Sometime going on the road they heard the clatter of hoofs. It was a carriage approaching behind them.

‘Holy men, eh?’ said the carriage driver pulling along side them.

‘It’s our pursuit, but in honesty it’s not always our fruit,’ said Centen.

‘Bah, what’s your God ever done for me,’ said the carriage driver.

‘He’s created this wonderful world for us to all live in,’ said Centen.

‘Don’t give me that, this world’s gone to pot, take off your blindfold, you fool, it’s a waste.’

‘Even in the worst of things we can find something that sings.’

‘What nonsense, pure rubbish, you habit decked dolt.’

‘There’s no need for your hostility, friend.’

‘I’m not your friend, I hate religion and God.’

‘May heaven give you peace and grace.’

‘Oh shut up you fool, I spit on you and your God, what are you even wondering around blindfolded for, you pair of morons?’

Centen explained their vow to him.

‘How stupid, I know you monks are stupid, but that’s the top end of stupidity, what are you going to do next, vow to never open your eyes when you make it to your supposed heaven– pair of fools both, such an impracticable oath.’

‘We all have to bear our cross.’

‘I’ll bear being cross if I hang around a couple of God toadying imbeciles for too long, you two waste your life sucking up to divine duty, a curse be upon you, I spit on you again, may you meet with robbers and brigands– may that be the payment for your service. A pair of true fools!’ said the carriage driver, and continued by them, leaving them still guideless on the road.

A while later travelling and the carriage driver’s curse seemed to be put into action, they met with bandits. They demanded all their money and valuables, which, being beggar poor, they had none of. Angry at only lack in supply the bandits decided they would beat them up and leave them for dead on the road. It was four against two, and the sarabaites were soon grounded and about to get pounded with kicks when a gunshot was heard.

Someone on an open topped wagon was coming towards them with a firearm pointed, the bandits scared by this threat, and possessing no guns of their own mounted their horses and rode off. The monks however were too beaten up to make a retreat, not to mention being blindfolded (having retained them in the fight), were perhaps as much confused as frightened.

‘I could see those bandits had the best of you,’ said the new arrival, apparently a friend and not a foe. She got off the wagon and helped the monks to their feet.

‘Thankyou for your assistance,’ said Centen.

‘No problem, my name is Reila, you two ought to know it’s not safe travelling these parts, what brings you out here?’ she said.

The monks explained their starving situation, their vow, and their journey so far, and how they were now stranded in need.

‘I can take you to Ninidom, but I’m desperate with help for something first, please hear me out,’ said Reila.

‘Of course, what is it,’ said Gamallio.

‘My ten year old brother and I were exploring an abandoned church we found nearby this area while metal detecting for treasure, having thoroughly looked around, I left, thinking my brother, who was still interested in the church, would soon follow after me. I waited outside for him but he didn’t come out after a while, so I went back into the church to find he had completely vanished. Panicked I looked everywhere for him inside, but couldn’t find him. I don’t know where he could’ve gone, there are only one set of doors to enter the church, and I waited right outside them. So I left to find help. I have no idea where he’s gone, will you please come with me and help me search the church again? Please I beg you, good sirs.’

The monks agreed to help Reila, and they got onboard her wagon and headed to the church. The church was large, old and dusty, but had only been partially raided by wasteland bandits. It must have once been a glorious church, and to a partial extent retained some former magnificence, the stained glass windows were mostly intact, depicting angels and saints and Biblical scenes, there was a painted wooden icon on display, carvings on the wall, as well as quotations from scripture inscribed on the wall, half a dozen stone statues of saints, though a couple had been overturned, and some of the pews had been damaged and overturned too, the organ remained and functioned, there was a pulpit, the altar still looked holy with an unmoved cloth and had a candle on it, there was a brass eagle lectern with spread wings, and interestingly for a church there was a bookshelf with a lot of old, unwanted books.

Upon entering, Reila begged them to look with her, asking them to remove their blindfolds so they could actually have a look around. She mentioned the possibility of a secret passage somewhere and said she had tried lifting every book on the bookshelf in hopes it might be a secret door, and there was also, curiously, a cellar door in a side room which she thought more likely where her brother had disappeared into, but it was locked and it looked untouched by the dust on it. However the monks where adamant in keeping there blindfolds on with her present.

‘Please take them off and look, you’ve got to for the sake of my brother,’ Reila said.

‘If you leave we can look on our own, but we cannot break our vow,’ said Gamallio.

‘I can’t leave, we’ve go to look together, please!’

‘Dear lady there’s very little we can do with you present,’ said Gamallio

‘Please, I say again, please, good sirs, I need to stay, I want to find my little brother,’ she said and clutched hold of Gamallio’s habit, getting down on her knees in desperation, he gently unhanded her from him, distancing himself from female contact, and, at this point, Reila having guided them right by the brass eagle lectern, he bumped into it by accident as he moved away, knocking into one of the eagle’s wings, and the wing unexpectedly moved and a click was sounded, and the bookcase opened revealing a hidden passage.

Hearing the opening of the passage, Reila got up, saying, ‘There must be a hidden switch in the eagle’s wing! Some sort of sorcery invented device that activates that hidden door.’

‘A hidden passage in a church? I wonder what that’s all about,’ said Centen.

‘I don’t know but we must explore it,’ said Reila.

The hidden passage was dark and there were stairs leading underground inside it. However Reila explained that she was terrified of the dark and too frightened to go in, so begged the monks to look inside for her brother for her. The monks agreed, she would leave and when they heard the church door close they would take off their blindfolds and go into the passageway. First she retrieved a torch for them she had in her wagon, then she left, praying the boy hadn’t in some way met with doom, and the monks entered the secret passageway, making good as well to pray as they did so, in case they were to encounter some foe.