Back up the winding dirt path, Marin climbed. He was a knight charging into battle: helmet down, shield ready, and sword gripped tightly. If the consequence was that his steed should throw him to the ground, his breast plate crunched under a horse's hoof, his honor lost, then so be it. That was the price of love. Wasn't it?

Tilly was still working in the garden as he walked back through the arched entryway of The Order's compound. This time he greeted her first, "Hello, Tilly."

She pulled a weed, threw it onto a pile, wiped her hands on her aprons, and stood up. "You look determined. I guess that means your business in town was successful?"

"In a way." He nodded. But as he was standing still, his heart slowed and his confidence started to crack. "I need to go speak with Abbot Osbert."

"That serious?" A crease between her brows formed, the corner of her lips tightened.

"Unfortunately."

"Be well, Marin," she said, reaching out to pat his forearm. "Maybe later we can talk."

He looked down at her hand, momentarily surprised by the friendly gesture. "Yes. I would appreciate your... insight." He wondered what else she might know about Jocelyn's condition. It was likely she would be called upon to be her midwife. Would that be awkward, especially now that he was going to accept paternal responsibility?

With that passing thought, Marin realized, suddenly, that he had no idea how Tilly would react to the news that he was the father of Jocelyn's child. Would Tilly even believe it? She had been suspicious about the pennyroyal tea and teased Marin about his choice of taverns for lunch. How much of the truth would she be able to piece together?

"Let's talk later," Tilly agreed, her eyes squinting at him.

Before Marin could change his mind about what needed to be done, he turned on his heel and heading into the monastery and towards the Abbot's office, which was on the ground floor.

When he reached the vestibule in front of the large imposing doors, Edwin was standing at a lectern, studying a book. The boy glanced up at Marin's approach.

"I need to speak with Abbot Osbert," Marin requested.

"He's not available at the moment," the boy said in a bored voice, his eyes returning to what he was reading.

"Will he be long?"

Edwin huffed, but didn't bother to look up. "I'm uncertain."

"Okay. I will wait then."

"Suit yourself."

Marin sat down on the long wooden bench that lined the opposite wall. A huge painting of the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian hung on the wall behind Edwin. It showed a young man tied to a tree. His shirt had been torn off, and strips of brown and gold embroidered cloth hung from his thin, emaciated waste. Three guards wearing black berets and red tunics stood facing him with bows drawn. Several arrows already protruded from the man's bare chest, one more from his thigh. Yet, his face was serene. His eyes glancing towards the heavens. There was no malice towards the men causing him harm.

Marin hoped to emulate this example. He would take the arrow for Jocelyn and not complain.

But as the shadows in the hallway shifted, and Edwin's pages kept turning, Marin felt his legs go numb and prickle. Was that a sign that perhaps he wasn't meant to confess?

Doubt was creeping into the peripheries of Marin's vision just as Edwin looked up, his eyes still heavy with boredom, and said, "Abbot Osbert is ready to see you now."

Marin didn't know how the boy knew this, but he didn't ask. He just stood, bowed his head, and walked back into the ornate office where he had been just this morning. Had that been just this morning? His entire world had shifted since then, and it seemed ridiculous that his life could be so disrupted in a matter of hours.

"Have you prayed on your answer, Brother Marin?" the old man greeted Marin in his lilting baritone.

"Yes, I have," Marin said with a bow of his head.

"Sit, sit," the abbot gestured at the plain wooden chair.

"Thank you."

"And, what, pray you? What answer have you come to give me?"

"I must confess my sins and ask for forgiveness," Marin nearly choked on the words as they came spilling from his lips.

"I see." There was a pause. Abbot Osbert knitted his fingers together in contemplation.

As the silence stretched, Marin felt like the Abbot's clear blue eyes were staring straight into his mind, digging for answers, trying to determine the truth of the matter. But Marin had nothing to say, so he let the quiet linger until the Abbot spoke again. "When you joined our order, you were but a boy. A novice who trained and showed early promise. So much promise that we promoted you to medic soon after coming of age. Yes?" His voice started off soft, but slowly grew.

"Yes," Marin agreed, his eyes only glancing up from the stone floor for a fleeting second.

"As a boy, especially a boy who had so recently lost his mother, you were here as an apprentice of sorts. Promised to us by your father, but not of your own volition. A trial period, as it were. A time for you to understand this life. And, therefore, it was only once you became a medic that you took vows. Yes? This is true?" The Abbot's voice continued to rise in volume, almost although he was speaking to a whole congregation, and not just Marin, small and meek in one hard wooden chair.

Marin thought back to that day he had become a Medic. His palms being anointed with oils. The smile on his father's face knowing that all their sacrifices had been worth it. They had accepted Marin as a man without question. Embraced by the order. Praised for his talent. "Yes, Abbot Osbert, that is true."

"And they were Sacred vows. Our healers must be holy. One of those sacred vows was a vow of celibacy. Yes?"

"Yes." Marin's lip trembled.

"Celibacy, which requires that you abstain from physical forms of love. Yet, the child in Jocelyn's womb is evidence that you broke this vow."

"I confess that I am a sinner." Tears rimmed his eyes.

"Another of those sacred vows was to protect the innocent and do no harm. Yes?"

"Y-yes."

"Yet, Jocelyn accuses you of forcing yourself upon her. Of taking her against her will. Of harming her." The Abbot's voice was taking on form and shape.

"That is the accusation." Marin whimpered.

"You have just confessed to breaking both sacred vows." The Abbot paused for emphasis, before softening his tone. "Now, our faith preaches forgiveness, that is true. But, forgiveness must be earned. Worked for. Do you understand that?"

"I will do anything you ask of me," Marin said, feeling the heaviness of the falsehood he had just taken ownership of.

"I have sent Edwin to grab your personal affects."

Just then, Edwin returned holding a traveling cloak and Marin's satchel.

"Abbot Osbert?" Marin asked, confused.

"You may no longer live within these walls. We cannot have someone who has committed such a serious crime living so close to our convent."

The irony struck Marin with deadly accuracy. His greatest fear had been being forced to live in the convent, and now the Abbot was saying he was not even safe enough to life next to it.

"Where am I to go? What of my father?" Marin was so shocked by his punishment that he was surprised he could even form questions.

"Your father? He committed no crime. The father does not bear a son's shame, just as a son shouldn't bear his father's. Brother Hobard will continue to reside here and do his duties as usual. But, as to where you should go, I cannot tell you that."

"So, just leave?" Marin was in disbelief. "How do I repent by just leaving? Shouldn't I–"

"Leave," Abbot Osbert cut him off. "Leave the premises and pray. You will find a want to repent and seek forgiveness. And when you do, then we will welcome you back with open arms."

The Abbot looked down at his desk. He was done speaking and had moved on. Edwin handed Marin his cloak and satchel and then guided him by the shoulder out the doors and through the gardens.

"Edwin, please tell my father that–that I love him. I will see him again, soon," Marin pleaded, but the boy's face did not reveal any sympathy.

"Marin?" Tilly called out, jumping to her feet and running after them to the gate.

"He is no longer part of the Order, Tilly, and I need to ask you to step back," said Edwin.

But Tilly, who was older and taller than the boy, pushed by him. "Marin, tell me what happened."

"I–I..." he couldn't form an answer.

"Well, no one can force me to stay away from you," she gave Edwin a pointed glare. "Let me walk you down to town, and I can give you my insight."

Marin, unable to answer, just nodded dumbly, and the two of them walked down the oft traveled path towards town.