I had several people ask if I had more of Leviathan’s story. I appreciate all the compliments given, and all the support makes me want to write and learn even more about my mysterious Templar. For those that want to know, the inspiration came from a favorite song of mine called “The Truth Beneath the Rose” from Within Temptation. It’s about a Templar that starts questioning her faith and what it truly means to be a warrior of God. Enjoy!
Leviathan’s hands clasped together as if she were grasping onto the hand of the Father himself, and her body shook from the resentment she had toward her blade. The booth she sat in seemed almost like a courtroom with the High Priest sitting on one side waiting to hand down her sentence and her in front, cowering beneath the critical gaze.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she whispered, her voice filled with the turmoil she felt. “I have sinned against my Almighty Father and brother.”
“The Lord be in your heart and upon your lips that you may truly and humbly confess your sins: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” came the reply between the crosshatched wicker.
She repeated the teachings she had been taught throughout the training as a Templar, although it felt like acid on her tongue. “I confess to Almighty God, to his Church, and to you, that I have sinned by my own fault in thought, word, and deed, in things done and left undone; especially driving the silver through the gypsy child’s chest. I pray God to have mercy on me. I firmly intend amendment of life, and I humbly beg forgiveness of God and his Church, and ask you for counsel, direction, and absolution.”
“It was not a mistake, my child,” the priest replied, his voice sounding as if it were coming off a recording. “The child would have grown not in the way of Christ, but in the way of a savage.”
“Could I have not saved his soul? Turned him from the way of evil and unto the love of the Father?”
“Nay, I say. Satan never would have let go of the resentment and hatred toward God.”
“Father,” she began, her voice shaking as much as her sword had after drawing it from the child’s chest, “God forgives everyone, and if I had taught him the ways of Christ and his followers, perhaps—”
“No,” his voiced caused her to jump, and her gray eyes turned to the wicker, “he would have resented you and the Church more than Christ.”
“I do not understand how the Father’s teachings would not have taught him to forgive as you are forgiving me now.”
“I am not forgiving you, Child,” he said, shifting on the other side of the wall between them. “The Almighty Father God is forgiving you.”
“But are you not the vessel in which he speaks, Father? Are you not the one channeling his forgiveness and mercy?”
“Perhaps, but if you truly speak forgiveness, does it not come from within me, but within the angels that deliver his message and his response?”
“I do not understand, Father. We are taught within The Inquisition that forgiveness is only handed down through the blood of Christ.”
“Did you not spill the blood of the savage child? Does that not justify the means? You do not need forgiveness, Child, but clarification of what the Word of God speaks. Satan has a strong hold of your heart, twisting your beliefs until you think you have done wrong. You have rid the world of the very evil that is wrought upon it, and for that, the Gates of St. Peter welcome you.”
“I should not ask forgiveness for spilling innocent blood?”
“It is not innocent if it goes beyond the hands of God.”
She bit her tongue to a retort. “Yes, Father.”
“Now, you should return to your quarters and study the word of the Father. He will lead you in the way of forgiveness, my child.”
She slid out of the booth, her heart a little more heavy than it had been at the beginning of the session. She knew the priest was feeding her lies that The Inquisition had taught him, but there was no way to stop it.
Lest she wanted a sword through the heart like the blue eyed boy.