Xavier and Anatole settled back into monastic life. The daily routines of services, some beginning as early as two- thirty in the morning, were refreshing for their souls. Glad to be back in the sheltered environment of an abbey, away from the sinful world the two novices attended to basket weaving chores and helping out in the garden. They also helped in the kitchen at times of feasting.
Abbot Gregory left them to get on with their duties and their studies. He asked nothing of their background as with other novices. He was a trusting monk and took people at face value.
After six months of blissful abbey life, the two monks were one night in the, otherwise empty, Warming House. They were sitting chatting by the fire when there was a knock at the door. Anatole stood up and made his way across the flagstone floor. After opening the door, he stepped back in horror!
“Oh lord, ww… what are you doing here,” he said in a wavering voice.
Into the room strode Hel in the form of Mari with blazing red eyes. Xavier fell onto his knees and prayed.
“Get up,” she said, as the door slammed shut by itself.
But he kept on praying, louder and faster. He rose, with his knees still bent, until he was staring into her eyes. He looked at the floor and shook. Hel broke out in a wicked laugh.
“You pathetic fools, did you think you could just walk away from me,” she croaked.
“But we strayed from the path and are now repentant,” whimpered Anatole.
“Repentant! I’ll give you repentance,” she growled.
Xavier rose further up toward the ceiling and then flew backward, crashing into a wall cupboard sending the contents flying. He tried to move, but found he was pinned to the smashed shelving.
Meanwhile, Anatole heard the word betrayal being repeated louder and louder in his mind.
“Let him down!” Anatole shouted, as he found he couldn’t move either.
The large axe the monks used for chopping up wood for the fire rose to head height and then flew with blinding speed at Xavier. It severed his head, which then fell to the floor with a sickening thump.
Anatole vomited as Xavier’s headless body levelled out and spun at excessive speed, spraying blood around the room. After a moment the body slowed down and fell, twitching, to the floor.
Hel turned toward Anatole, covered in blood and vomit. “Now take yourself from this place and found an order to usher in the new world.”
Anatole nodded without looking. He was trembling so much his legs were having difficulty supporting the rest of his body.
Summoned by other monks concerned by the noise, Gregory ran into the room and gazed at the sight of the headless body, and the blood splattered walls.
“What’s this… what have you done?” he roared at a dazed Anatole, still staring at the floor.
Anatole looked up slowly, the evil he thought he had rid himself of came flowing back.
“You self-righteous fucker to whom do you think you are talking?” screamed his mind.
“I have done nothing,” he said, looking around the room for Hel, but she had vanished.
“How did this happen?” Gregory asked, his voice taking on a fearful tone.
Anatole fixed Gregory with an icy stare.
“The Goddess has returned,” he spat.
“Oh, you must go… and go now," said Gregory. "You must never return!”
Anatole stormed out of the Warming House and ran to the dormitory where he pulled off the stained habit. He then retrieved his old clothes from under the bed and put them on and left. Then kicking open the front door of the Abbot’s House he ran in and plundered a chest full of coins, which were collected as rent from the Abbey lands. He then walked out of the Abbey; out into the darkness.