Bedtime Story: Reflections Of The Past: Air: Chapter 14

Reflections of the Past A Story of the Guardians of the Well By Vanda Inman These words are written in honour of the guardians of the past,

And those who journey in the name of love,

Light and all that is good.

The answers to all the questions we might ever ask can be found in the ground beneath our feet.

Part 2 Air The Story of St Cledoris The Holy Spring and the Village Church Chapter 14 Brother Cleda had almost finished copying the writings of his namesake,

St Cledoris.

It had been a long and arduous task,

But the slight smile on Brother Jeremiah's face and the slow nod of his head were reward enough.

Brother Jeremiah did not give praise of him,

But when he did,

As far as Cleda was concerned,

It was worth waiting for.

Cleda arranged his parchments precisely,

A glow of satisfaction spreading through him.

Next,

Brother Jeremiah might show him how to bind them together.

Another task which would take some time,

And allow Cleda to sabre Jeremiah's company a little longer.

He hoped when this was completed,

He might become Brother Jeremiah's assistant,

Entrusted to copying out more scripts,

And they could spend many months and even years working together in perfect harmony.

This task had enabled Cleda to prove himself,

To show Brother Jeremiah his true worth,

And was the best thing he had ever done.

Although pride was not an attribute he should have allowed into his life,

And he would certainly need to confess his sin,

Pride was undoubtedly how he felt.

Glancing outside,

Cleda noticed the shadow spreading across the square of grass,

And the single toll of the bell reminded him it was his turn to prepare the church for evening prayer.

At least,

Though the days were drawing out,

The walk along the valley was a little more pleasurable,

As long as he did not encounter Rhiannon.

Collecting all he needed,

But finding time to stop for a short prayer along the way,

Cleda left the building and hurried towards the church,

Oblivious to the beauty of this sunshine-filled afternoon,

His thoughts full of manuscripts,

Prayers,

And Brother Jeremiah.

I knew you'd come!

Rhiannon jumps down from behind the hawthorn tree,

Where she had been waiting for Cleda to pass,

Lying with her back against its gnarled trunk,

Enjoying the trickle of sunlight through the fresh green leaves and admiring the tightly closed buds waiting to burst into flower.

Come with me now,

Up to our special place!

She smiled invitingly.

The afternoon is warm,

We can lie and watch the sky and clouds through the leaves.

She paused.

No one will know we're there.

Cleda brushed her arm aside and scowled,

All thoughts of manuscripts and Jeremiah banished from his mind.

I've told you over and over again,

Leave me alone!

Rhiannon pouted,

Scrutinising him through narrowed eyes.

You don't mean that.

I do,

I've told you.

But what of the times we spent together,

When you kissed me?

It meant nothing,

A mistake.

Now go away before anyone comes.

Cleda turned and hurried along the path towards the church,

His heart racing with anxiety,

Focusing on the prayers he knew would calm him.

Rhiannon stood for a long time,

Staring at the spot where he disappeared around the bend in the path,

Humiliation burning inside her,

Which slowly turned to cold anger.

It fed the spark of the fire which had been ignited the previous evening,

After kindling for such a long time,

Whenever she thought of the sacred spring,

The church and the way the brothers had robbed the women of their heritage.

And one fed the other,

Until Rhiannon knew,

Without a doubt,

That one day she would make Cleda sorry for his words.

One day,

In the not-too-distant future,

She would make them all pay.

The day of balance passed,

And the time the brothers called Easter was upon them.

They had made some effort to explain to the villagers how their god had been crucified at this time,

Only to return to life a few days later,

And the importance of this story to all good Christians.

Although she understood the cycle of life and death,

Rhiannon failed to see why this god died at a time when everything was bursting with new life,

Even if he did return.

It made no sense,

And on questioning brother Dominic she found he had few answers,

And appeared to feel much the same as she did.

It was as they roamed the valley,

Searching for herbs for one of Dominic's sows,

They saw the first swallow of the year.

They spotted it at the same moment,

Swooping down out of the clear spring sky.

Then another appeared,

And another.

Dominic sighed,

His thoughts returning to Rhiannon's questions.

It is simply the same tale retold,

He began,

In an attempt to explain the story of the resurrection of Christ.

Look all around.

Nature lives,

Dies,

And is reborn in one eternal cycle.

Nothing is lost forever.

As the sun disappears on the shortest day,

So it returns and the days lengthen.

Just as the swallows leave in the autumn,

They return again in spring.

He picked a dandelion,

A few days before golden in the sunlight,

Now seeded into a mist of white.

He blew,

And some of the seed heads dispersed,

While others floated towards Rhiannon and tickled her nose.

Don't concern yourself over much,

Continued Dominic.

Things come and go.

Everything passes in time,

And it's for the moment we should live,

Enjoying the beauty we see around us.

Rhiannon nodded,

Wondering,

Suddenly,

If she should confide in Dominic and tell him of her vision.

But he was one of the Brotherhood,

And perhaps this was where his loyalty lay.

I wish,

She began,

After a long and torturous pause,

I wish I had known my father.

She stopped,

Blushing,

Wondering where the words came from,

For they were not in her mind seconds before,

But tumbled out unbidden.

She glanced at Dominic,

Waiting for the wisdom he usually imparted,

But found him staring into the distant hills.

There are more coming,

He stated,

Pointing towards a number of swallows,

Swooping towards them.

And then he turned and walked away,

As if,

Rhiannon thought,

She had never spoken at all.

And then he rose to heaven,

Brother Jeremiah told the villagers on Easter Day,

A day which fell very soon after their own festival of the balance of light and darkness.

Rhiannon had been thinking about this ever since her talk with Dominic,

And calculated that this dying,

Then rising from the dead,

Then going to heaven,

All seemed to coincide with their own festivals.

The dying coming soon after the balance of day and night,

And the rising to heaven falling when the Beltane fires would be lit.

It seemed the brothers would,

Yet again,

Be taking over,

And trying to change one of the festivals the people had celebrated for generations.

As she stood,

Crushed in the huddle of villagers,

On this special day,

Enduring the extra-special church service,

They were all expected to attend.

Rhiannon's thoughts were elsewhere.

Her grandmother had taken a turn for the worse during the night,

And it was almost as if,

Since she had given the leather pouch and its contents to Rhiannon,

She ceased to care if she lived or died,

As if her life's work was over,

And she was free to leave.

Rhiannon had wanted to remain at home,

But her mother insisted she attend the service.

This was difficult to understand,

For her mother hitherto would have nothing to do with the church or the brothers,

Despite the trouble it caused over the years.

But now Rhiannon determined to ask her grandmother about the contents of the pouch,

If she possibly could,

Before it was too late.

Squashed tight in the group of bodies crushed inside the church,

Listening to brother Jeremiah pontificating,

Rhiannon began to feel weak and light-headed,

Until Jeremiah stared straight at her,

And she was unable to look away.

She already knew he had a passion for his religion,

Being the one of all the brothers who spoke most zealously and emphatically about his god,

The light of fanaticism shining in his eyes.

But as he spoke,

His voice raised to the small congregation and the heavens,

She realised all his attention was upon her.

Feeling like a rabbit,

Mesmerised by a fox and unable to run for its life,

Rhiannon finally tore her gaze from brother Jeremiah's large bulk,

His podgy fingers held together in prayer,

And the thin sheen of perspiration upon his ruddy face,

But was left with an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach,

And the certain knowledge there was more to be afraid of than she realised.

She longed to be outside,

To feel the cool air,

Heavy with the scent of gorse and hawthorn,

Upon her face.

She wondered how her grandmother fared,

And longed to be at home.

From his vantage point,

Brother Jeremiah found it difficult to contain his excitement,

And raised his voice and arms to the heavens in ecstasy.

He had seen the expression on Rhiannon's face,

Noticed how she was unable to look away,

And knew,

Without a shadow of a doubt,

She felt exactly the same as he did.