Notes from the Future: The Tale of Henrietta

"This is a long story. And, like all long stories, it must be marred in order to tell it quickly. Cutting out those details necessary to keep the heart of credibility beating is painful to me and to the story, and it makes what will follow more difficult for you to believe. I will do my best to place a healing compress of explanation over every wound, so that we do not, by omission, murder our Ancestors.

"Long, long ago, there was an Abbey high in the French Pyrenees.  So high was this abbey, and so treacherous the roads that lead to it, that it was rarely visited by authorities of the Church. Being left almost completely alone for hundreds of years in close proximity to nature can change anything: a place, a person, a group. And anyone who has spent a great deal of time in the Pyrenees can tell you that those woods are full of old and wild things that no Papal Bull can charge, much less see.

"One day, the parish priest of a small town in a valley closest to the Abbey, but still far, far away from it, received a directive from Rome instructing him to journey to the Abbey and see if anything was amiss; apparently, Rome had not heard from the Abbess in some time, and every official representative sent from Rome had either lost his way or never returned.

"Knowing something of the local traditions, this clever priest went first to the riverbank, where he lost himself in contemplation and recited the Psalms under his breath as he allowed his eyes to wander over the smooth stones shaped by the melting waters of the snows of the Pyrenees. After several hours, possibly even a day or more, his eyes found what he sought: a smooth round stone, with a perfectly smooth hole worn directly through the center, naturally, by the river itself. He had found his first talisman.

"The second talisman was easier to find, though it still took at least a half a day, possibly more. It was a branch of Rowanwood, in a perfect Y shape, fallen naturally near the tree, with the base of the Y pointing North. This was his second talisman.

"The third and final talisman was rather curious, in that it was a simple weaving together of the leaves of Basil, Bay and Blackberry, which he then affixed to the oldest key he could find in the small town. Having gathered his supplies -- some of which were very curious or needlessly excessive in the minds of the townsfolk -- Father Robert set out on foot with a heavily-laden donkey named Abelard and a trusted mute manservant named Hannibal as his only companions.

"At the first crossroads they came to that day, he poured out wine and dropped coins and said some prayers, leaving a loaf of bread and a bowl of salt behind.

"At the second crossroads they came to that day, he poured out beer and offered an orange and some cloves, burning cinnamon and anise (costly spices now, even more so then) as he said more prayers.

"At the third crossroads, Father Robert took his staff and inscribed a circle in the dirt in the center of the crossroads; he was just about to offer another precious liquid when he was hailed by an approaching rider. It was Friar Rudel, the last person to go carrying a message to the mysterious Abbey high, high up in the Pyrenees. Only he was not coming from the road that lead to the Abbey, but from another direction.

"Friar Rudel asked Father Robert if he was headed to the Abbey, and when Father Robert answered in the affirmative, Friar Rudel said, 'Don't bother, Father Robert. There is no Abbey, only old stones and creeping vines.'

"'If you know that, why do you come from another place?' asked shrewd Father Robert.

"'When I found the Abbey, I could not find my way back to the road. When I did find the road, I had not found the correct road. It took me North. I am only just returning, though I must admit I spent a happy time in a green and distant valley, and I am half tempted to go back there and never return to Rome again,' was Friar Rudel's reply. 'If you like, I could tell you the way, that you might go there yourself and sample its sweet ripe peaches.'

"At this, Father Robert was sorely tempted. But at that moment, a bay leaf that had fallen into his lantern ignited; as it did, a glamour melted away from Friar Rudel, and in his place was a merry fool in a tattered patchwork, gibbering and capering in rage at having been discovered.

"'So you are more clever than most fools who wear the cloth,' the merry fool fumed. 'What do you have to offer me that I may allow you to go on your way?!'

"'I have nothing to offer, now, being but a poor traveler; but as I have left many things at crossroads past, perhaps you will find them there and enjoy fresh baked bread, salt, wine, beer ...' as he said these things, Father Robert saw the merry fool's eyes grow wide and hungry. Continuing to speak, Father Robert accidentally dropped a brace of hares in the circle where he stood. This is what he said: 'I only know that I wish to get to the Abbey that is highest and most remote in the mountains, and it seems there are no signs on this road. If I could find a sign, I would move quickly on my way. But as I can find no sign, I fear I must stand here all day in the hot, hot sun. Can you, perhaps, direct me?'

"As he said this, Father Robert watched the merry fool hungrily eying the brace of hares. Pretending to look about, Father Robert noticed the merry fool try to slip a finger or toe over the line of the circle Father Robert had drawn about himself. It would not work, for Father Robert had filled a hollow in his staff with salt; uncorked, the hollow had drawn a salt circle around him in the dirt. He was protected.

"Knowing this, now, the merry fool grew very still. Gone were his capering and nonsense, and his clouded eyes cleared and his height increased.

"'You seem to be wise,' was the last thing the merry fool said before he gave a cry and pointed behind Father Robert, who, turning, nonetheless watched the merry fool in a small silver mirror, and this is what he saw:

"The merry fool jumped into the air and stamped three times, both feet, with all his might, and the directions of the crossroads shifted, turning like the spokes of a wheel, until Father Robert, his donkey and mute manservant were faced in the direction from whence the merry fool appeared to have come.

"'No, not that way!' the merry fool laughed at them, 'That way!' And, looking in the direction the merry fool pointed, Father Robert saw that the road finally appeared to lead toward the mountains themselves.

"'I thank you, Merry Guardian,' said Father Robert. 'I hope you enjoy our offerings. We must be on our way,' and with that, he stepped over the line of the circle, breaking it with his staff as he went, and never looking back. When they were nine steps down the trail from the crossroads, they heard the merry fool calling out to them and turned back to hear him.

"'The Lady you seek is sitting, prim, Upon her holy virgin quim; She waits upon your every need, She waits to help you spill your seed; She waits and waits and waits and waits, And in her hair she braids nine plaits; She braids them tight and braids them long, But none may hear her mournful song!' Prancing and singing, the merry fool took up the brace of hares and went bounding down the road toward the other crossroads they had visited that day.

"Father Robert and Hannibal the Mute and Abelard the Donkey continued on their way. After a time, Father Robert said something to the effect of, 'I was not certain how that would go; but now I know we are on the right path.'

"To which Hannibal the Mute said, 'Gnnnnnrrrrrrr,' being a mute.