THE KING, THE PAGE, AND THE HERMIT:
A CHRISTMAS STORY
Read Chapters 1 & 2 HERE; Chapters 3 & 4 HERE; Chapters 5 & 6 HERE; Chapters 7 & 8 HERE; Chapter 9 HERE; Chapter 10 HERE; Chapter 11 HERE; Chapter 12 HERE; Chapter 13 HERE; Chapter 14 HERE.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Vengeance belongeth unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord” (Hebrews 10:30)
Word spread quickly of the Duke’s murder. Podevin was on his way to the rotunda church dedicated to St. Vitus for the daily divine services when a merchant called out the dreaded news.
Hearing this, Podevin’s stomach twisted violently. Despite his weak knees he rushed to the merchant, grabbing him by his tunic, “What did you say? It can’t be true! I was just with him last night.”
“Forgive me, page, it’s true. They say it was Bolslav who ordered it,” the merchant said as he pulled his hat off in respect.
“How?” was all the page could manage to ask as his arms fell limply to his sides.
“With a sword…” the merchant said with downcast eyes. “They say he was run through in front of the church of the Unmercaneries and nothing can be found to remove his bloodshed from the marble floor. His innocent blood remains as a testament that his death was unjust.”
Podevin thought he might be sick; he fell to his knees. Wailing, he began pounding the ground. His ruler and Master –his friend– was dead. He had died an unjust death, a horrible death, with no companion by his side.
Overcome with grief and anger Podevin made haste to acquire a sword. Without a second thought he set out to avenge his Master’s death.
Podevin couldn’t think straight; in fact he didn’t think at all. He acted, propelled by intense feelings of rage mingled with hopeless sorrow for his Master, even perhaps anger at himself for not having been by his side to at least die with him if not defend him.
He arrived at Boleslav’s castle without rightly knowing how he got there. He concealed the sword under his cloak and entered without drawing suspicion to himself. There were servants in like-garb all about rushing here and there in the wake of the ruler’s execution.
Podevin knew who killed his Master because everyone knew who Boleslav’s main conspirator companions were: Tira, Čsta and Hněvsa. They were at Boleslav’s side at all times, and were known for doing all of the coward’s dirty work.
While he and the Duke walked to the guest bedchamber the night before, Podevin happened to see Tira enter a chamber not far from the one Vácslav stayed in. Podevin stealthily crept toward that chamber door now.
With a burning anger in his chest, Podevin quietly entered the chamber. He watched as Tira sat at table, eating. As his back was to the door; he hadn’t noticed Podevin’s entrance.
“You miserable wretch,” Podevin sneered drawing the sword, “God will care for my health and salvation, but you have lost both your health and salvation long ago!”
As Tira jumped to his feet, whirling around to see who was speaking to him, he was met with the blow of Podevin’s sword, “Now you will die in sin for eternity!” he shouted.
Tira fell to the ground dead still clutching his supper’s bread.
The loyal page threw down the sword next to Tira’s body. Looking on the man whom he had killed Podevin’s grief and anger were suddenly transformed into horror and remorse. He stumbled back in shock. His mind seeming to return to itself for the first time since the dreadful news of the Duke’s death burned his ears not one hour prior.
Those who live by the sword, die by the sword… what you’re about to do, do quickly. Father Jiří’s words now rang in Podevin’s ears, as though they had always been there in his mind, something merely stood in the way of the page’s understanding them.
Return and repent, was all Podevin heard now. In a trance-like stupor he dropped his bloodied sword and fled the castle, drawing far more suspicion to himself now than when he arrived.
He nearly ran the entire way to Father Jiří’s hut; not once stopping to see if he was being pursued. He hastened with the hope that he would find that dear old priest in enough time to repent. Although his feet traveled quickly, it was as though his thoughts traveled in slow motion.
He now understood Father Jiří’s every word. He realized the priest-hermit had foreseen his vengeance. He understood that his “youthful loyalty” – as Father Jiří had labelled it – was the reason he rushed to avenge his Master. He anticipated his own death every moment that passed, knowing Boleslav would order him to be killed.
matushka constantina
lessons from a monastery 
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