The Prophecy - 8. Chapter 8

Simon was thinking. What could he do? A hasty escape, a panic-stricken flight would only play into the monk's hands. Four roads led out of town, one in each cardinal direction. Four roads and four monks. Simon was sure they were watching the town’s exits. He would never make it to England. He would never find the man Jason within only one week, but he could not hide in Paris for a long time either. A thought came to his mind. What if he returned to Saint-Denis, confided to the abbot and repented his sins? Would the man forgive him and save him from the hands of the scoundrels?

Simon rose to his feet and moved on. The alleys were meanwhile deserted. Finally, he found what he had been looking for, a small chapel at the end of a lane. The door was unlocked and Simon sneaked in. A few candles illuminated the altar and the heavy smell of incense filled the air. Simon made the sign of the cross and knelt down in front of the altar. He folded his hands and lowered his eyes. He prayed and meditated like he had learned it in the cloister. He was in silent communication with the Lord.

Finally, Simon asked the Lord’s forgiveness, rose to his feet and retreated from the altar. He lay down on the stone floor in a dark section of the chapel and briefly touched the leather bag that was fastened with a cord to his waist. He touched his upper arm and sensed the parchment against his skin. He had pushed it far up the sleeve of his robe. Simon closed his eyes. He was an outcast, a man on the run, but he was also a man with good intentions. He had stolen the parchment. He had committed a sin. But if the Lord held a protecting hand over him, then, Simon was certain, he would find a way to escape unscathed. Simon drifted to sleep.

He awoke in the morning at the noise of the door. Simon blinked. A churchman bowed down to him and eyed him suspiciously.

"Good morning, Father," Simon said in a guilty voice.

The man did not respond. He just looked at Simon grimly and then he reached out his hand. His fingers were crooked by the gout, the nails were long and yellow. Simon jumped to his feet and retreated from the man who suddenly showed an ugly grin. Simon made another step back, and then turned around and ran from the chapel. He hastened down the lanes until he reached the market place and saw the merchant’s booths and stalls.

A thought came to his mind, a risky plan. Simon blushed at his own idea. It would be a dreadful deed and an awful sin, but it could save him from the scoundrels. The plan would work out if he hid in the crowd and left the town with the merchants. All he needed was a perfect disguise. Simon eyed the booths and stalls again, and then he approached one and quickly bought a woman's cloak and hood. He left the market place and entered a back yard. He had just put on the clothes when a female voice addressed him.

"You can’t hoodwink anyone with this," a woman said mockingly.

Simon turned around and gazed at her. The woman approached him, reached out her hand and touched his cheek lightly. Simon’s muscles tensed. The woman's dark hair wasn’t braided nor covered by a bonnet. It hung loose and down to her buttocks. She wore a thin white robe that looked like an undergarment. A whore, Simon realized. He made a step back.

"Whoever you want to cheat with your disguise, it won’t work out, believe me," the woman said with a smile.

She reached out her hand again, touched his face and moved her index finger down his cheek and across his chin. Simon realized what she wanted to say. His beard. He had not shaved in two days. The woman was right. Everybody would see through him in an instant.

"I could turn you into a woman," the woman said with an ambiguous smile. "Whoever you want to cheat, you must not tell me. It’s not my business. But if you want to cheat, then do it right. I can help you if you can pay me, that is."

She pursed her lips. Simon’s heart beat wildly. The woman smiled again.

"Come, dear," she purred. "I’ll help you with it. Two copper coins for my efforts. "

Simon gave a nod and followed her to a door that led to a single room in the rear house. The woman pointed at his cloak. He took it off and handed it to her. The woman smiled and pointed at a wooden stool. Simon sat down and looked at her.

"The hood," she said.

Simon took it off and also the cap that he was wearing under it. The woman gave a laugh at the sight of his tonsure.

"So you’re in double-disguise, my dear?" she asked, casting him a meaningful look.

Simon did not respond. He could not help but gaze at the woman. Her undergarment revealed more than it veiled. Simon looked up and fixed his eyes on her face, but her long hair distracted him largely.

"So innocent," the woman purred, bowing down to him.

Her breasts were right in front of his eyes and Simon could not help but stare at them. Finally, he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He would withstand the temptation. He would not fall for the sin.

"All right," the woman said curtly. "I’ll shave your face and I’ll darken your eyebrows. I have a queue of chestnut brown hair that I will sew to your hood. Your eyebrows ought to fit to it. Your cloak is too short. Everybody will look down and see your big feet that are definitely those of a man. I’ll go and trade your cloak for one that fits you better. Two copper coins for my efforts and one for the queue of hair. Can you afford it?"

Simon gave a nod. "I’ll pay you when you have done all that you have offered," he said.

"One coin in advance," she said swiftly, narrowing her eyes and casting him a dark look.

Simon shook his head. "The first after you have shaved my face and dyed my eyebrows, the second when I hold the hood with the queue of hair in my hands, and the third when I have the new cloak and find that it fits," he said brusquely.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You have not always been a man of the church, have you?" she asked.

"My father is a merchant," Simon said curtly.

The woman gave a nod and smiled briefly. She turned to a chest, seized a cloth and threw it at Simon. Then she poured water in a bowl and took a knife from a table.

"Don’t move," she said harshly. "I'm going to shave your face."

An hour later, Simon had turned into a woman. He was sceptical, but the woman assured him that the disguise would do, as long as he refrained from talking to someone and didn’t look others too long in the eyes. Simon handed her the final copper coin, and then left quickly.

The woman looked after him. "Poor guy," she said sadly. "So sweet and innocent." She hesitated for a second, but then she straightened and walked up the lane. She knocked at a door. It opened slightly and someone talked to her from inside.

"He ran into my arms," the woman said. "I was about to set out and seek for him when he entered my back yard. There was no need to persuade him. The same idea had already occurred to him."

And then she described in detail how Simon looked and in which direction he had gone. The door opened more and a Black Monk looked out. His face was hidden by his hood. He handed the woman a silver coin that she seized with a trembling hand. The monk closed the door and the woman turned away.

"So sweet and innocent. Forgive me, my dear, but I must make a living," she said as she walked down the lane.