Act IV: Under the Mask (Part 6)

six

They worked until dawn, with no time to sleep. Fortunately, Yubi's high fever finally subsided after sunrise. Gradually regaining his energy, the vampire, naked, held up a Venetian hand mirror to examine the new marks on his back, turning his head and wagging his tail.

“My mother had this mark too,” he said excitedly, two canine teeth peeking out from his lips. “I finally have it too!”

Yakov sat yawning against the wall. He hadn't paid any attention to what Camilla's body looked like. "That's right," said Schumeer, who was washing up by the door. "I've seen it before."

"How did you see Camilla naked?" Yakov asked.

“…Madam likes to have me paint for her.” Schumeer held up a toothbrush made of a twig with one end broken into thin branches, his mouth full of wood ash and salt. “Do you remember the paintings on the table when you first met me? Most of them were portraits of Mrs. Camilla…like those.”

Yakov tried to imagine the scene, but found it not erotic, but terrifying. "Besides the mark, is there anything else?" he asked, concealing the expectation and resentment in his voice. "What else can you do?"

“No. But who knows?” Yubi smiled just like his mother, with dimples on both sides, and his curved eyes looked at Yakov. “Maybe in a few days, I’ll grow wings and be able to fly in the sky like my mother, my sister and brother!”

“I hope so.” Yakov pursed his lips, a half-smile playing on his lips, as if something was bothering him. “Then we won’t have to stay trapped here any longer.”

The three of them quickly washed and dressed, then hurried to the church. The morning sun was still hiding behind the mountains, and even the fog seemed greenish-blue. "I heard that the Knights Templar recite 148 prayers a day!" Schumeer said as he walked briskly, "26 after getting up, and 16 before meals. And that's not all; Christmas is coming soon, don't forget about fasting!"

"How can anyone have time to do anything else in a day like this?" Yubi exclaimed in surprise, "And people aren't even allowed to eat!"

"It's not that strict," Yakov commented dismissively. "Even true knights can't be bound by these rigid rules. Learn to be flexible. Once you've distinguished yourself on the battlefield, who cares how many prayers you've recited in your spare time?"

“Then isn’t this rule useless?” Yubi pondered, head bowed. “People can’t follow it, so it’s meaningless.”

“I also hate this hypocrisy.” Schumeer surprisingly criticized, “The rules are there, but people don’t follow them. Both those who set the rules and those who follow them know this, but they still treat it as gospel. They turn a blind eye most of the time, but when it comes to harming people, they spill everything out and make a grand judgment.”

"That doesn't sound like something a devout believer would say," Yakov chuckled, hiding under his helmet. "Have you been tricked by the rules before?"

"Who in this world hasn't been harmed by the rules?" Schumeer's face turned a deep shade of purple. "Just forget about it, pretend I didn't say anything!"

Yubi was completely bewildered by the conversation among these "adults," even wondering if his fever hadn't completely subsided. He had never been to a church, never prayed properly, and could only tug at Yakov's cloak, looking around and pretending to imitate them. Sister Gianda and the nuns were there, and Pascal and his soldiers were also there. The morning prayer bells rang, and several lepers lying in the hall slumped to their feet, reciting hymns along with the nuns. The small prayer hall was almost overflowing. Everyone closed their eyes, singing one verse after another, making Yubi yawn again during the day. Until he saw a large, long-haired, silver tabby cat quietly dart out from the corner, chasing a mouse, leaping and tumbling, fighting fiercely. This interesting sight immediately caught his eye.

“…Look!” Yubi tugged at Yakov’s cloak. “What a big cat!”

His blood slave ignored him and shook off his hand. Yubi, unwilling to give up, grabbed Schumeer's arm again. "What a big cat catching a mouse!" he whispered anxiously, afraid that the exciting scene was over and no one would see it anymore. But Schumeer remained silent, and his arm, which had been pulled askew, immediately straightened itself.

Yubi sighed dejectedly and fell silent. Just moments ago they had been discussing how useless and false these things were, as if they could see the truth of life, but now they were all so serious, as if they were truly two devout Christians. But Yubi remembered what Yakov had taught him, and his mood grew heavy, thinking that perhaps this was the only way for people to survive in the world. Disappointingly, the long-haired cat quickly caught its prey, and the fighting, more exciting than a circus act, became a show only he could appreciate. Finally, everyone began to sing. Yubi discovered that Schumeer actually had a smattering of musical talent, while the tunes coming from Yakov's mouth sounded like an old ox pulling a cart off course, falling into a ditch and then tumbling back up. When the music ended, the morning prayers also ended, and everyone exchanged blessings and went about their own business.

“We need to find something to do too. Everyone has something to do,” Yubi asked quietly. “How can we help?”

"Do you want to change the bandages for the lepers, or do you want to take turns guarding the gate with Pascal's men to watch out for the Tatars?" Yakov countered. "Go back to bed and don't cause any trouble."

“There are many things I can do, but you have to pick something I can’t do!” Yubi retorted angrily. “There are so many places that need people, like the kitchen, the well, and the stable. I can do all of those.”

This superior and arrogant self-righteousness infuriated Yakov. He thought, "The vampire's child probably hasn't had enough of being hated." "How could the nuns let a half-grown man like you sneak into their work area? How do you know they welcome you?" He quickened his pace towards the door. "What if you get another fever?"

“And what about Schumeer? And you?” Yubi followed him. “You guys are allowed to help, but I have to stay inside?”

“I have to stay inside too, just like you,” Schumer slowly followed behind them. “Yakov is right, we’d better not do anything and avoid trouble.”

"Aren't you going to paint a new portrait for them?" Yubi's eyebrows shot up in anger as she blurted out, "Look at the one hanging in front, it's so much worse than yours, crooked and twisted, it doesn't even look like a human!"

Upon hearing this, Schumeer rushed forward and covered his mouth in fright. "Sir, please don't get me killed by the nuns!" he cried, both amused and exasperated. "That's an image of the Virgin Mary, holding Jesus in her arms, the Holy Child! It's not enough for a painting to just look like her!"

"It's really difficult for a Jew to explain this," Yakov thought. Yubi was finally convinced, and with a wry smile, he stopped talking. The three were about to leave when they heard Mother Gianda calling to them from behind, laughing. Yakov's heart skipped a beat. How much of what they had just said had this woman with her keen ears overheard?

“It seems you are feeling much better. Thank you for your kindness. If you would like to help, there is something you can do.” Granny Gianda smiled, her face crinkling like flower petals. “Christmas is coming soon, so we should do some preparations. Decorate the church, copy books, arrange activities, see what you would like to do. It will help pass the time and also make the patient feel happier.”

The three exchanged glances. "...Then can Schumeer and I go find some books to read?" Yubi asked cautiously, "We won't disturb the nuns."

Mother Gianda nodded, giving him a meaningful smile. Yakov remembered Pascal smiling at him like that once, and for some reason, it sent a chill down his spine, as if his iron mask had been seen through. He was about to refuse firmly when he heard Schumeer sigh deeply beside him.

“Mother, thank you for your forgiveness.” The Jewish man bowed his head, placing his right hand on his left breast in a gesture of respect. “You are a truly kind and generous person.”

Yakov, ironically, became the one with nothing to do. Wearing his helmet, he sullenly sat alone in the prayer hall, watching the nuns busily tending to the sick, occasionally lending a hand. Yubi and Schumer had gone to the library, nowhere to be seen; even the long-haired cat in the room had its own business, a haughty hunter. Yakov, completely clueless about nursing, was gently refused three times by the nuns, and finally found a wooden stool, sat down beside a patient, and hung his wet hands in the shade of his iron gloves. The church windows were open for ventilation, making his wet arms feel cool. Sunlight streamed in, but couldn't penetrate his helmet. Yakov glanced at the person beside him, tightly wrapped in bandages, motionless. He thought, what's the use of ventilation? Not a breath of wind touches them.

“Brother,” the leper, wrapped up like a mummy, suddenly spoke, “was everything your servant said in Brasov true?”

Yakov was momentarily dazed, then realized that he was being spoken to.

“My name is Henry, Henry de Lancy,” the patient said to himself. “I’m from the same place as Pascal; I’m also from Blois.”

"Nice to meet you." Yakov turned to look at him, but found that the patient no longer had the strength to meet his gaze, so he turned his face back.

"Nice to meet you, may God bless you," the knight named Henry said weakly. "I really want to have a proper talk with someone. I'm too far from home, and I guess I'll never be able to go back."

At first, the thought of escaping surged through him, but Yakov thought that would be too cruel for a dying man. So he sat there, silent, and listened quietly.

Henry understood the tacit agreement. "Thank you, my brother," he continued, rambling on. "My family has no land; by my generation, we only have enough money for a horse and a suit of armor..." His Latin was poor, mixed with French words, which Yakov could barely understand. "Actually, someone in my family died of leprosy a long time ago, and I thought that maybe one day I would die covered in sores like that... so I don't care that much. But... I think I've come at a good time. If I can see the Holy Tomb of Jesus while I'm still alive, it won't be a wasted life. Right?"

“The East is too far away,” Yakov said, head bowed. “This is a difficult matter.”

“I know. But many things are difficult, and that’s what gives people hope.” Henry’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling of the prayer hall. “You know, on the outskirts of the Holy City, there’s a village inhabited entirely by lepers. They have their own order of knights, no less cowardly than you healthy people. If I survive and go there with Pascal, I’ll join that leper knightly order. You know, the Knights Hospitaller don’t actually accept knights with leprosy…”

Yakov looked up and saw the black robe with a white cross folded at the head of the bed. "Pascal is probably going to be punished for this," he mumbled under his helmet.

“Pascal was a devout man. I’m not saying he was particularly moral or how many prayers he recited each day.” Henry sounded a little agitated, but he was used to controlling his emotions, speaking slowly and deliberately, not letting his saliva choke him. “When people are in situations like this, they always have to think about what Jesus would do if he were here. Pascal always made the right choice. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here.”

"It's a pity I'm afraid I won't be able to see the holy tomb, nor climb the holy mountain..."

Yakov didn't know what to say, so he just lowered his head and pondered.

"Have you been there?" Henry suddenly asked. "Have you been to the Holy City?"

The fake Templar Knight paused, recalling the lies Schumer had spun for him, calculating the years. "...I've been there." His brow furrowed deeply beneath his helmet.

“That’s wonderful!” The leper beside him laughed breathlessly, his chest heaving. “Tell me, what was the street where the Son of God suffered his crucifixion like? What did the True Cross look like?”

Yakov racked his brains. How could he answer this question? Many years ago, he had skimmed through the Bible, but he had long forgotten its fragments. He wondered, what would the East be like? How could he describe a place he had never been to?

“…The streets were lined with jujube trees, and clear springs flowed down from the mountains, just like the Garden of Eden,” Yakov said. “The True Cross was gleaming with gold and stained with blood.”

Henry closed his red and swollen eyes beneath the bandages with satisfaction, seemingly unconcerned about the truth of the words. "Thank you, my brother," he murmured softly. "If you have time tomorrow, come and talk to me again."