The Spy [short story]

Raw nature. That’s how it looked from this side of the hill all the way North towards the peaks. Not sunny, not colorful, but joyful nonetheless. The joy of the unexplored forest, brimming with hidden life and the long treks of brother Giorgos, every afternoon at two o’clock. All against the advice of the Romanian monks, who keep warning him of brown bears roaming about in search of raspberries. But does he ever listen? One of these days this will end in one big drama.

But Brother Giorgos’ curiosity seems to surpass his fear. He was raised to take the path of a celibate monk, spending the last seven years among the torched cliffs of Holy Mount Athos in Northern Greece. He had been dying to go somewhere wild and fresh—at least that’s what people have been saying about him since he settled in Romania. Here at Frasinei Monastery, tucked deep in the Carpathian foothills, he is said to be fascinated with how the dramatic changes in seasons. That’s why he takes long trips by himself into the backwoods of the monastery, carrying a crooked staff as both climbing aid and defense. The bishop from the county capital who often visits says Brother Giorgos strikes him as Moses in Exodus with the notable difference that nobody would follow him for fear of the wildlife. The bishop. Always poking fun at the monks.

Brother Giorgos walked through the woods with serene confidence, as a monarch surveying his domain, able to spot any flaws in the scenery. And, though sporting a long, unkempt beard, ragged monk habit and a cold demeanor Brother Giorgos looked absolutely beautiful...

But Sister Eleonora checked herself. Such thoughts were going against her vows. Crossing herself three times and kissing her holy beads, she started to crawl back from the edge of the bluff, overseeing the back of the strict monastery, where not even female animals were allowed. She took one more look at the young monk, starting on his regular nature walk. Helping himself up the incline with his royal staff, he followed the animal trail out of the meadow and into the forest.

As Sister Eleonora accepted her fate once more, she turned her gaze away with a sigh. But before she left the edge of the hill, she turned for one last time. Her eyes searched across the valley, but only met the empty path entering the forest, leaving behind a lonely meadow.

With fingers intertwined below her chin, she pleaded to the Heavens: “My Lord, I beg you, keep the bears off!”

Read my other short stories: Onore| To the Stone Bull Bluff| The Shifting Path | The Spy | Picnic on the White Cliff

image credits: Bogdan Apostoaia