Once the horse carriage slowed down, Ahser knew they'd arrived. Taking a deep breath, he donned the hoodie of his robe, hiding his face just as one of the riders parted the curtain of the booth.
"Brother, we're here," the townsman announced with a slight bow, his eyes watching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man hidden in the robe.
Ahser was used to people's curiosity. He edged his head deeper into the hoodie. "Thank you." He stretched his hand and dropped a few coins in the rider's palm, and hastened towards the gate. It creaked loudly and swung open by itself.
Asher walked into the quiet courtyard of the ancient monastery. The sound of the horses trotting away compelled him almost to look back. He stifled the desire. There was no going back now.
His eyes roamed the tranquil, aged premises. Faint rhythmic chants of monks permeated the air. He walked slowly towards the direction of the sound. Taking a bend between two blocks of building, he glimpsed a procession of novices, dressed in reddish-brown robes like him, standing before a tall and thin man.
His head was bald and shiny. His flowing robe was the colour of deep indigo and his presence commanded respect. He saw it on the faces of the novices. Their faces bore a mixture of anxiety and reverence as well for the man.
He must be the Abbot.
The Abbot raised his head at that moment and his deep-set eyes held Ahser's gaze, piercing. Ahser trembled inside, grateful for the flowing robe that hid his reaction but he held the Abbot's gaze.
"Don't just stand there. Join the procession," the monastery leader said, his voice deep yet gentle. Ahser nodded and stood with the others.
A monk with a white basin stood by the Abbot and the novices moved closer, one after the other, to drop in their offering. A symbol of leaving their past lives and embracing the ascetic life.
The Abbot dipped his thumb into a tiny silver cup held by another monk beside him and touched the forehead of the novices, marking them as part of the monastery.
Ahser was the last. He pulled out an old, wrinkled monochrome picture of a young lady and a gold ring from his pocket and dropped them in the basin. He raised his head slightly, ensuring the hoodie concealed the left side of his face and received the print of the thumb on his forehead.
Maybe it was his imagination but he felt a subtle jolt pass through him. His eyes met the Abbot's once again. The leader paled suddenly, turned and walked away. The other two monks hurried after him.
Once all the novices were settled into a single spacious room, a monk announced that the Abbot requested his presence in the office.
Ahser pulled the hoodie closer, hiding most of his face in it before walking into the Abbot's office. The leader of the monastery glanced up from his writing and waved to a chair across him. "Seat, please."
"Master," Ahser whispered, bowed and sat upright.
"You intrigue me, Ahser Wahdim. May I see your face fully? This is your home now. No need to hide who you are."
Taut silence filled the room.
Ahser slowly pulled off the hoodie. The Abbot gasped, his leathery face draining of colour as his lips grew thin. "Impossible!" He whispered, his eyes bulging and focused on the jagged white slash that ran across Ahser's left eye down to the edge of his mouth. His brown pupils had a white spot close to the iris.
The Abbot's thin hand shook as he stretched to touch Ahser's face but withdrew it when the young man pulled back. He clenched his hands and hid them in his sleeve pocket, his back ramrod straight.
"I-I'm sorry—," he started to say when Asher stood.
"You should be, father." He turned and walked out of the office.
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