Notes from the Future: The Tale of Henrietta, Part II

"The first night of their journey, they made camp in a stand of Oak, using only fallen wood for their fire. After a simple dinner of grains and fresh trout, Father Robert cast some powders upon the fire and offered a prayer of protection for them in their journey. Curious, Hannibal the Mute pointed to the earthenware jar in which Father Robert kept these powders, asking, 'Gnnnnrrrr?'

"Father Robert nodded and said, 'Dried powdered Rowanberry, dried powdered Thyme and Sage, with one or to added secrets for good measure,' and, getting up, he went to the largest and oldest Oak in the circle of trees, kneeling before it and placing his right hand upon its trunk a little above the base. He spoke quietly for some time, then sprinkled a few dried, aromatic herbs in the dirt at the base of the Oak. Moving clockwise, he did this at every tree in the stand -- there were twelve in all. Then he lay down to sleep in his bedroll, and Abelard the Donkey became quiet and restful, as at the same time Hannibal the Mute fell into a deep sleep.

"All three weary travelers slept so deeply that none noticed a figure in the night, out beyond the circle of Oak, watching from beyond the light of the dying fire.

"The next morning, before they began their travels, Hannibal the Mute pointed out strange footprints beyond the trees to Father Robert, who nodded sagely and went back to rolling up his bedroll as if it was the most ordinary of mornings.

"They did not come to a crossroads that day, or the next. But every night they slept in a stand of trees, and every night Father Robert burned powders in, on or near the fire and knelt at the base of every tree. And every morning, there were the same strange footprints outside the ring of trees, as though whoever was watching them could not enter.  Thus nine days passed.

"Late in the tenth day as the sun was beginning to set, they came at last to a crossroads in the foothills. And there, under a Holly tree to one side of the crossroads, was Friar Rudel, roasting a duck. Father Robert gave no sign of suspicion or uncertainty, but hailed his old friend and met him merrily; embracing Friar Rudel, Father Robert slipped a Bay, a Blackberry and a Basil leaf into the fire. Nothing happened, and thus Father Robert knew this to be the true Friar Rudel. Sitting down, invited, at Friar Rudel's fire as Hannibal the Mute unpacked their bedding and tended to Abelard the Donkey, Father Robert was surprised to learn that Friar Rudel could not remember where he was going, or where he was coming from. All he knew was that there was somewhere he should go, and that each day he would have his goal clearly in mind, he would get up and pack his few supplies on his stout mule, and they would take to the road. By the end of the day, he would find that he was at a crossroads, with a perfectly ideal campsite under a Holly tree, and he would sit down and set to cooking his duck.

"'Only slowly have I begun to see the strangeness of my days,' he said. 'And as they pass, though I know they pass, I cannot seem to remember where or even who I am; so it is that my journey has become strange to me, and the one thing certain in my mind is that I have this duck to look forward to each evening. I hope you will share it with me; indeed, its breast is so plentiful that I am hard-pressed to finish eating each night.' As he said this, smoke from the fire carried the scent of roasting duck so that it wound about the two holy men, and Father Robert began to look very much forward to tasting that delicious bird.

"However, it was also clear to him that something was amiss. Why should Friar Rudel be so easily confused, when his mind was known to be one of the clearest and canniest traveling these roads? Throwing more wood on the fire, Father Robert noted that it was fine, hard Applewood. But where, he wondered, are the Apple trees from which it comes? Asking this same question of Friar Rudel, he received this answer:

"'I have seen no Apple orchards yet, and we are not high enough that they would grow best. But I know that Apple wood is at my campsite each night, so I suppose that some hospitable peasant keeps the wayside stocked out of kindness. This duck will be ready soon; I have a most pleasing wine which compliments it splendidly, if you would care to partake,' and, uncorking a jug, Friar Rudel began to fill two earthenware tumblers.

"But Father Robert was uncertain, and knew he could not enjoy his meal without knowing the answers to certain questions. So casting about him, he found many twigs and leaves of the Holly tree, which he wove together into a star-shaped wreath; and though the thorny leaves pricked his skin, he placed his thoughts on the Crown of Thorns afflicting the Savior and knew that there were greater torments than mere pinpricks in one's hands. 

"Completing the wreath, he placed it on the fire and threw the merest pinch of powder from his incense pot onto the twigs and leaves as they began to catch. The moment the powder hit his Holly wreath, there was a great gasp from the fire and the flames suddenly leapt downward, between the rocks that ringed the firepit, before leaping skyward again in a sudden roar that ended in an explosion of smoke and sparks. There, floating above the fire in the smoke and sparks, was the shape of the Holly wreath. As Father Robert and Friar Rudel watched, it transformed to a tree which then bent until it was growing in four directions before the breeze dispersed the shape. Father Robert found that he was staring at his bundle of belongings, sudden clarity in his heart and head.

"He went to his bundle and withdrew his second talisman, the Y-shaped rod of Rowan. This he took to the Holly tree, where he knelt at the base and spoke a prayer before standing, calm and composed, holding the branches of the rod well but relaxedly in each hand, facing North.

"After a time, he began to move, light small steps, one at a time followed by a pause and a turning this way or that; then he began to move with some slight purpose, as if pulled. Finally, he found himself drawn in a clockwise circle toward the fire, until the rod was pointed directly at the firepit, fairly quivering. Father Robert looked at the pit, then at Friar Rudel, who was looking from the pit to the rod. There was doubt in each man's eyes.

"'I'll try again, and then we will eat,' said Father Robert.

"'Do, and in haste. My mouth waters for this succulent fowl,' Friar Rudel responded.

"And so a second time Father Robert began facing North and, even more quickly, was drawn like a moth to the fire. Baffled, he almost sat down to eat some duck. But, seeing Friar Rudel begin his prayer of thanks prior to eating, Father Robert had an idea.

"Kneeling again at the base of the tree, he said more fervent words and, taking a fresh Holly leaf from the tree itself, placed it in his mouth, on his tongue. Then, standing facing North, a very curious thing happened.

"The divining rod pointed straight up in the air and immediately pulled him straight to the fire -- but not the fire. The rod was pointing at the duck. And, looking closely, Father Robert saw not a delicious roasting fowl. With the aid of the helpful Holly leaf, he saw the rotting head of some abomination: part goat, part human child and part giant insect, it was covered in maggots that writhed and squirmed, dropped sizzling into the fire.

"Looking about him, Father Robert saw a track worn in the dirt leading out of the campsite and back into it, and he saw Friar Rudel's mule, starved to skin and bones, lying weakly tied to a tree. 

"Friar Rudel saw none of this, but was poised with knife and stick to cut into what he thought was a savory roasting duck, whose fat sizzled in the fire -- not maggots from the rotting head of a nightmare.

"Holding up a hand to forestall Friar Rudel, Father Robert looked at the sizzling abomination more closely; as he did, he realized that the writhing was not merely that of maggots on the surface, but that the thing itself appeared to be pulsating, rippling under its surface. Though it pained him, he tucked the Holly leaf to his right cheek and spoke to the roasting abhorrence.

"'What are you, thing?' he demanded. 'Speak truth as I have cast out lies and deception with the prickly leaf of this holy Holly, and you have but one chance before I kick you into the flames!'

"The thing shuddered and writhed and appeared to be turning to look at him from under a surface that began to erupt in boils and pus and blood; the stench from the burning secretions was awful. A mouth seemed to form beneath the pus, and then bite through a layer of skin, expelling tiny black beetles which also fell into the fire, popping like corn and shooting out into the dry brush, igniting small fires. 

"Friar Rudel leapt up and ran from fire to fire, trying to stamp them out. He still had not seen the abhorrence on the spit; what he did see stopped his fork and his appetite, however: the duck, turning, had begun to grow a head and flap and quack and struggle on the spit as if alive. So it was that as it gave a particularly loud squawk, he glanced at it, tripped, and landing hard on his knees, cut his right hand among rocks and leaves. Putting his hand to his mouth, he took the tiniest piece of Holly leaf, mixed with his blood, and the glamour fell away instantly. Seeing his beloved mule near death with thirst and starvation, he turned to run to the nearby creek but was halted by what he saw at the fire.

"Father Robert was standing over the fire, the quivering divining rod straining in his grasp as it pointed at the face of some foul thing on the spit; realizing he had eaten of its flesh, Friar Rudel was struck with the need to vomit, but his retch froze halfway to his mouth at the shrieking that came from the head over the fire, and he was unable to move. He saw Hannibal the Mute running toward the creek, and prayed that the Mute could see the truth of things as well as his master.

"'Dusty books and fusty cloth! Filled with maggot, rot and moth! Broken, twisted, bent and raped, Tearing muscle, salty scraped! Shit and bones and filth and ashes, Gouging eyes and earhole gashes! Nails in your brainpan pounded, Thus are you by iron bounded! Fuck your ass with splinterwood! Fangs in penis, rip it good! Babies born with tongues for hands --'

"It was here that Father Robert bit the Holly leaf in half, accidentally, trying to adjust its pricking the inside of his cheek. In that moment, as the juice of the leaf mixed with his blood, he swallowed the tiniest amount, then coughed involuntarily, spitting Holly juice and blood all over the screaming foulness and the fire.  In that moment, as his blood and saliva and the torn Holly leaf hit the thing in its face, it seemed to scab over completely, its mouth and burning eyes becoming leathery and hard, all the maggots and pus falling into the fire as the entire head turned grey and papery and the screaming curses faded to a roar and then an angry buzz under the surface. In a very short time, Father Robert and Friar Rudel realized that what they were staring at was, in fact, a hornets' nest. And it had begun to split.

"Seeing the first malevolent insect peeking out of the hole, scrabbling to attack, Father Robert let loose the divining rod which shot, arrow like, straight into the nest, taking the wooden spit and nest directly into the heart of the fire which roared up into an inferno of blue-white intensity as the hornets shot out of their broken home, only to burst into sparks and flames like multicolored fireworks in the column of fire which was several times the height of the two men who stood awed beneath it. 

"As the nest and its inhabitants were consumed by the fire, a shape began to emerge in the column of flame, an image of a woman in red sparks and blue flame. She was nude, her back was to them, and she turned, seeming to sense them, her eyes alight with amusement as she watched these older men with mouths half-open staring in frank wonderment at her firm breasts and secret womanly parts in which no man of the cloth was supposed to have interest. Then she looked closely at Father Robert and both men heard her speak.

"'You have broken my thrice-woven glamour. What kind of priest knows the things you know, and calls himself a man of the Church?' She was smiling as she said this, and her left hand absently traced a circle around the nipple of her left breast, and Father Robert felt a heat and tingle spread from his own left breast to his groin, studiously neglected save for needed elimination for decades. In the silence that followed, he realized she waited for an answer. Unable to help himself, he smiled as he spoke.

"'Lady, I know not what or who you are, only that you are beautiful and that you stir in me thoughts I have not had since my long-faded youth. Such small wisdom as I have has been gathered from a lifetime among the peasants as their teacher, friend, healer and shepherd. I call myself what I choose, regardless of what I know,' and here he bowed, a little. In spite of the strangeness of the night's events, he felt light and more youthful than he had in years.

"'A wise answer, Robert of the Lost. I know why you travel this road. You have challenges yet, and I am eager to see how they strike you. Enjoy your dinner, Holly men,' and, cocking her head to the right with a smile of bemused indulgence, she disappeared in a sudden burst of sparks.

"Looking around them, then, Father Robert and Friar Rudel saw that Hannibal the Mute had indeed put out all of the little fires -- if indeed there had been any to begin with -- and had brought water and hay to Friar Rudel's mule. Just at that moment, Hannibal the Mute was walking in to the firelight with a whole bait of trout slung on a stick.

"'Hannibal the Mute, where did you get those trout?' Father Robert asked him, doubtful now of all food near this crossroads.

"'I heard a voice calling to me by the creek,' said Hannibal, and Father Robert fairly fell onto his backside in amazement. Friar Rudel threw his hands into the air and backed up to the Holly tree, stuffing his mouth with a bunch of fresh, prickly leaves.  Laughing, Hannibal the No-Longer-Mute continued, 'I followed the voice to a wide, deep pool. That merry fellow was there, the one we met yesterday, and he told me that if I cast but a string into that pool, the trout would fairly throw themselves at me. He was right, I turned to thank him but he was walking away and called out, 'I am thanking you, Hannibal! Give my regards to your generous Master!' Which is when I realized I had spoken to him.' Smiling, sitting down to sharpen sticks upon which to cook their fish, Hannibal said, 'How many more wonders are we to see on this journey, Father Robert?'

"Father Robert made no reply, merely casting some leaves into the fire to see if the fish altered in any way. They did not, so he began slicing onions, a little smile on his lips.