Sebastian - Immortals

Sebastian

If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?

If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?

If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call?

If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand at all?

"My beautiful boy."  Sacrist Payne laid a soft hand on the blond head of the boy. "Such hands, such eyes." He caressed the soft cheek. "You are indeed a gift of God."

Sebastian blushed, his blue eyes going downcast. He spared a moment for the modest blush, and then his eyes lifted to the canvas before him and he began to finish the painting.

Sacrist Payne watched him. His heart bursting with affection for the talented young man.

Sebastian had been delivered to the Abbot of the monastery at only nine years old. The Abbot had been so impressed with Sebastian's artistic talents, that he assigned him immediately to Sacrist Payne so that Sebastian could become an Illuminator, painting scenes from the scriptures that Sacrist Payne scribed.

Sebastian's mother had died in child birth and his father left the boy with his grandmother and was never seen again. When she fell ill, she begged the Abbot to take him and keep him safe. Sebastian had only ever known the soft, warm love of women. Sacrist Payne was a gentle quiet man and he treated Sebastian with kindness.

The monastery was not a hard life. Sebastian spent his days painting, praying at all the appropriate times, as many as eight prayers per day. No matter what he was doing, no matter how intent on his work, he would kneel and recite his prayers. Such a good boy.  The monks had all taken vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. Living among the monks, the same was expected of Sebastian.

He grew into a handsome man, quiet and thoughtful, with soft hands that painted glorious scenes. He seldom saw anyone outside of the monastery, except when he accompanied Sacrist Payne to pick up ink, canvas, parchment and paint.

Sebastian enjoyed these trips. It was then he got to see the Shopkeepers wife, Marie. She was pretty and blond, with sparkling eyes and a sly smile. She was almost old enough to be his mother, in fact,  she was just as he pictured his mother would be. And she graced him with that sly smile each time he glanced her way. Though he often shyly looked away, his gaze always returned to her.  The years passed, and the glances from Marie became more assertive. She would brush her hand on his, touch his back. And once, when no one was looking, she even pressed the back of her hand against the front of his pants, making him shiver all over.

One day in the beginning of Sebastian's 17th year, Sacrist Payne was not feeling well and sent Sebastian alone to pick up the supplies. Sebastian had never been alone outside of the monastery, and he was excited. He took the scenic route to the shopkeepers, wandering, admiring the city and enjoying a new freedom. The shopkeeper was not in the store when he arrived and it was his wife who wrapped up the supplies for Sebastian and took his coin.

Then she gave him that sly smile and beckoned him to the back room. Curious and intrigued, Sebastian followed. There, away from any prying eyes, Marie slid her arms around Sebastian and gathered him to her warm soft breasts. The things she showed him that day, would change Sebastian forever.

He returned to the monastery, but he couldn't take his mind off of Marie. He could not help himself. He painted her and hid the canvas. When they ran out of supplies, earlier than expected, he persuaded Sacrist Payne to let him go alone again; why should they both waste their time when he was perfectly capable. Surely the Sacrist's time was more valuable.

And so it went through Sebastian's 17th year, stealing away to meet Marie for stolen trysts in the backroom of the shop or on some bed of grass in a tucked away field. Sebastian passion for painting waned. All he wanted was Marie.

Though surely the Sacrist must have become suspicious that his young Illuminator had taken more interest in shopping for supplies than painting, it was the Abbot who uncovered the affair. A farmer came to him and said he had seen Sebastian and Marie lying in a field together, naked beneath the sun.

The Abbot had been chaste for a very long time. He had long ago stopped longing for the pleasures of women, but the temptation of young boys still pulled at him whenever he was near them. Sebastian had been an incredible test of his faith. But he had never touched the boy. He had provided shelter and food and a vocation for the boy. And the Abbot felt a horrible swirl of emotions upon finding out that the young man was not chaste.

The Abbot directed this anger and frustration at Marie. He went to the shopkeeper and told him of his wife's infidelity and then Sebastian was locked away.

Sebastian was frenzied. The calm quiet boy that everyone in the monastery knew was gone, and in his place was a mad man intent on escaping their prison. He paced and screamed, pounded at the door until his fists bled, and ran at the door until he was exhausted. He could only think of Marie and what horrible fate had befallen her. Surely the shopkeeper had beaten her, or worse, killed her.

Sacrist Payne is the one who lifted the bolt from the door and let Sebastian out. It was a cold midnight, and he gave Sebastian a coat and a pouch of coins, his scrimped savings. "Go away from here." He whispered to his beloved Sebastian. "I can't bear to see you kept like a dog."

Sebastian laid a grateful hand on Sacrist's Payne's cheek and kissed him, and then fled into the night. But he did not leave the city. He waited until daylight and watched for Marie at the shopkeeper's house. And there she was as always, with a basket of supplies over her arm, leaving for the shop. Sebastian caught her and pulled her behind a tree.

Marie's wide blue eyes stared in disbelief at him, her lips parted. "Sebastian!" She gasped.

Sebastian was ardent. "Run away with me." He urged. "Leave with me now. We can be together."

She paused only for a second and then turned her head away from him.... and screamed.

Her husband was there in a moment and his drew back a meaty fist and caught Sebastian right on the chin. Sebastian fell back, but before he could scramble to his feet, the shopkeeper was kicking him, stomping him. In the ribs, the head, the back, wherever his foot could find contact.

He lay there behind the tree in the field beside the shopkeepers house for two days. His ribs were broken and he could barely breath, bubbles of blood rattled in his chest. His back was broken and his arms and legs would not move.  No one came.

For two mornings, the shopkeeper and Marie passed by the field, knowing that the blue smear in the grass was the broken body of Sebastian, but not once did they glance to him. They were waiting for the stench of death before they would move the body.

On the third night, the Master came upon him. He knelt, laying a cool pale hand on Sebastian's back, feeling the heartbeat so slow and quiet. The scent of Sebastian's blood was sweet, and the Master meant to finish him. He rolled the boy over and slid a hand behind his neck, the other supporting his back, then he dropped his hand down just enough to open one side of Sebastian's neck for access, and then he paused.

Sebastian's blue eyes were on him, the face largely untouched from the battering he had received. The beauty was undeniable, irresistible. He didn't seem afraid of the Master as their eyes met.

The Master knew this boy. He had seen him at the church. Not that the Master would step into the church. It was one place he feared. In his long life, he had been branded a demon, satan, and every name for the devil that you could imagine. He watched the church with interest and wary eyes. "Do you want to live, young man?" The Master asked him.

"I have laid here dead for two days." Sebastian replied in a voice so sweet that even the hoarseness of death could not hide it. "If this is death, then I do not want it."

"If I give you life, will you trust me, follow me, and serve me?" The Master asked in a quiet voice. "Will you tell me of the church and whisper your prayers to me instead of God?"

"I will." Sebastian replied with the very last bit of strength he had.

And the Master embraced him, burrowing his face into Sebastian's neck. And so the orphan Sebastian, who had spent most of his life painting God's words, became a child of the Immortal.