Several days later, Haran returned to the village bringing the promised supplies. Malcolm met him at the village gate with a slight smile on his face. "Haran. You really pushed yourself too hard." Behind Haran came a carriage drawn by two horses that looked travel-worn.
"Once the season ends, and the weather gets cold, it will be much tougher to bring out supplies, so I figured I'd bring as much as I could this time."
"Far from me to refuse such help to the village. I see you didn't come with your vehicle."
"I rented these horses and the carriage; I need to return them to their owner once everything is unloaded."
"Looks like a parting gift to the village, would you say, Haran?" It was Agnus who came from behind. "Thank you for advance notice, by the way."
"I'll be with you in a moment. I just need to finish up with Malcolm."
"Oh, don't let me occupy you," Malcolm said. Then he signaled to two villagers, who then began unloading the carriage.
"Then we should get to the tavern, if you don't mind. I think I'll drink will do us both some good." Agnus said, signaling to Haran to go along with him.
"Yes, I think I'd enjoy some beer. It has been a moment since I drank Haugstad's finest."
The tavern they went to had a combination of rough stone walls on top of which were wooden beams going into the roof. The openings in the walls were small, latticed windows from which light shone into space. There was no internal lighting present, as it was still daytime, so while light was present, it was still dim inside.
Haran and Adel set down a rustic wooden table, settling in small three-legged stools.
"And what would you boys like to drink?"
"Two cups of your best brew, please, Bertha," Agnus said. Haran nodded, confirming the request.
"Coming right up," the woman said and left the two men in silence. It was hard for them to start up conversations. Even while they walked towards the cabin, they kept to themselves, walking in silence.
"So, what's your answer?" Agnus finally faced him.
"Not waiting around, are we? Very well. I want to tell him."
Agnus's expression didn't change, but something in his shoulders relaxed slightly. "That's a good answer. Better than I expected, if I'm honest."
"Adel was right. He deserves to know." Haran's voice was rough. "I just... After all this time, I can't just start being his father. What do I even say to him?"
"You start with the truth," Agnus said simply. "You tell him why you couldn't stay. And then you let him decide what to do with that information."
"And if he hates me for it?"
"Then you accept that. But Haran..." Agnus placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've been watching that boy for four years now. He's stubborn. But he's also got a good heart. Give him time, and he'll understand. Maybe not right away, but eventually."
Haran nodded, not trusting his voice.
"Martina and I will prepare him," Agnus continued. "When we think he's ready, we'll send word. Then you can come and tell him yourself."
"Thank you." The words felt inadequate. "For everything. For raising him, for giving him a home, for—"
"He's our son too now," Agnus interrupted. "That doesn't change just because you're stepping into his life."
The conversation got interrupted as Bertha arrived with two clay mugs, setting them down.
"Enjoy your drinks."
The two men drank their beers in silence. Haran didn't feel the need to retort to Angus's remark. He knew that Agnus was more a father to Heron than he would ever be, and it is not like he can just take the boy. His tenure at the church is ongoing, and he doesn't even know if it will end.
When the mugs were empty, Agnus stood first.
"I should get back. Martina will want to know how this went."
Haran rose as well, leaving a few coins on the table for Bertha. "Tell her... tell her I'm grateful. To both of you."
"I will." Agnus extended his hand, and Haran clasped it firmly. "Safe travels, Haran. And when we send word, I expect you to come prepared. The boy will have questions."
"I know." Haran's grip tightened briefly before letting go. "I'll be ready."
They parted at the tavern door. Agnus turned back toward the center of the village, Haran heading for the gate where his rented horses waited. Evening was setting in as the crosses above began their faint evening pulse.
By morning, Haran would be reaching Jamtara, back to his service to the church. As he returned, the news would reach him that an urgent task awaited him.