by K C Norrie
"Why yes. Yes, I am. I am your new grand-mere. I expect we shall have dinner together a few times a week, and there must be games we can play together. I also expect to be invited to the market on Saturday. I haven't even seen the angel statue yet."
Cari then winked at Riene; whose jaw had dropped.
****
It was a pleasant fall day, unseasonably warm when they traveled down to the village. Cari held Gemma on her lap. They stopped at the statue first. She watched as the children found their family member's names on the plaque. Max showed her where Silas's name was engraved, and she reached out to caress it with her fingers the same way the children had done. They read the poem together. The sculptor had done an amazing job with the angel. Cari thought it looked just like her grand-mere.
They met Uncle Gabel at the market. Gemma ran to him. He welcomed Madame Cari formally, no doubt he could see, the bricks that held her prisoner were gone. She told him her sorrow at losing his mother and then invited him for dinner at the Chateau.
****
Max adored his Uncle Gabel, who knew all about the universe and the moon and stars and the other planets that shared the sun. But he missed his father. His favorite place in the village was the angel and the plaque that included his father's name. His mother brought him and the adopted children who lived with them now, to the square frequently. She let them search the names for their families. Max always ran his fingers across the engraving that read "Silas Joseph Montrell." He thought the angel looked to be a man angel, and he thought it looked a lot like his father.
Chapter 25
Bernard first heard of the corpses buried with silver nails in their heads while sweeping the floor at Hurst's Pub in Paris. The job at the bar paid a pittance. After paying his rent he barely had enough to live on. Luckily this wasn't his only job. He had a knack for burglary. There wasn't a lock smart enough to keep him out. He wasn't greedy though. He'd sneak in and out of his various situations with a gold ring here or a few coins taken from purses there. Most people he stole from didn't even notice. They thought the jewelry was misplaced, or they had miscounted their coins. He only took enough to give a little quality to his life. He liked the ladies, and the ladies liked him. At least until they found he had no intention of marriage, then they seemed to cool right down. Lucky for him there were so many.
From time to time, he would sneak into cemeteries, but only when desperate. As a rule, he always felt watched and judged when he robbed a grave. He always said a prayer and apologized justifying, that the dead needed no jewelry or coins in their eyes. A single silver nail long enough to pierce a skull would last him years if he were careful. He could eat better. Get some boots for the cold winters. And no one need be the wiser. Why would a dead man need silver?
As he listened, he scoffed to himself when he heard the man say the silver nails kept the bodies from rising back up from the dead. They must be a superstitious lot in Saint Ange. But some remote villages were that way.
He arrived in Saint Ange on a night with no moon, camping on the outskirts. He dressed to escape notice and wandered the streets until he knew exactly where the cemetery lay behind the church. He was careful not to have been seen lurking nearby. He returned to his camp and waited until dark, memorizing the direction he was to go. He ate the bread, cheese and grapes Janiece had packed for him when he told her he had work out of town. When it was time, he grabbed his shovel and tools and headed off. He arrived at the cemetery and began digging into a grave located near the edge. He didn't think he could be seen here by the church or any neighboring residences.
He inserted his shovel. He was lucky. It must have recently rained. The ground was soft and pliable. His shovel cut through the dirt like a knife through butter. The digging went on uneventful except for once when an owl hooted out somewhere behind him, startling the fear out of him. He carried a rope ladder and staked it firmly to a tree. It would have been terrible to be caught in the grave six foot down unable to climb out. That was why most grave diggers worked in groups. Bernard worked alone.
He reached the coffin. He examined it with a lit match finding it a simple box nailed shut. He just needed to pry out the nails. He had created enough room on one side to kneel on and so began the job of opening the coffin, feeling for the nails one by one in the dark.
Something happened that almost made him pack up and head back home. As he placed his gloved hand against the lid to pry a nail, he felt something give a push from the other side. He froze there in the dark. He was actually thinking of hammering the nails back in, when he came to his senses. He'd listened too much to that man in the bar and now his imagination was running away. Bodies didn't rise from the dead. Cautiously he placed his hand over the coffin again. Feeling nothing, he continued laughing at himself. He was down to the last few nails, when suddenly the lid slammed open and something burst out from the coffin. Bernard leaped for the ladder and was nearly over when something grabbed his ankle. He screamed like a woman when he tried shake it off. His shovel. He grabbed his shovel and bashed down with all his might, freeing his ankle. He ran back to his camp in the dark, leaving everything but his shovel behind him. When he got back to Paris, he would go see Janiece. She'd told him her father would offer him a job in the family business. It was time to settle down, get married, and start a new career.
****
The cemetery groundkeeper filled in the dirt of the open grave the next morning. This was the second time such a thing had happened. Thankfully someone had already killed the dead thing. He smoothed over the ground with his shovel and seeded some grass. Then he covered the whole thing with some dead leaves. Father Pierre must never be told. He'd make him dig up every grave in the cemetery if he ever found out.
Chapter 26
Madame Cari invited Gabel to come live at the Chateau. She gave him the room in the turret where he could once again view the sky. Three years later Riene and Gabel married.
The years passed. The children grew up and left Saint Ange for work in Paris or to attend schools. There were Chateau weddings as they married. There were babies born to the grownup children who came to the Chateau for visits where they were welcomed as family.
Then came Max's wedding followed by Max's babies. Riene could not have been happier. She basked in the glow of grand motherhood.
When Grand-mere Cari passed away, she was greatly missed.
Years later when Riene passed away, Max was a grandfather himself. It was he who changed the name of the Chateau la Montagne to Chateau de Riene.
When Gabel died mere months later, so did the red tea.
Max never drank the tea. He believed his Grand-mere Montrell, that the tea was tainted. He still associated it with the death of his father all those years ago. He placed a decree that he would pay money for anyone who brought him the vine with its roots attached. He kept a fire-pit to burn it all. In a few years the vine was all but extinct. No one minded much. It was more fashionable to drink tea from Paris and so the red tea just faded into the past.
Max and his wife Stefra, seldom came to Saint Ange. They spent most of their time in Paris and their lives were kept private.
****
No one from the Chateau de Riene visited the Angel in the square anymore. Eventually there was no one left who remembered the persons named on the plaque and the etched poem could barely be made out. The vine that had been uprooted and burned was replaced with crisp lawn.
When new priests replaced the old priests, they were supplied with silver nails and orders from Rome to carry on the tradition, but that practice was questioned and considered primitive and superstitious.
The only things that lasted were the stories of the storms and the rising dead, but they were no longer believed as anything but stories. Gabel became a wizard in one of the versions and in another Madame Cari was cursed by a priest through all her generations, accused of practicing witchcraft, when an old talisman of the fertility goddess was said to be found among her possessions.
&
nbsp; In every version of the story there was a storm and someone who died, who rose to life to kill another. Some say the "Wizard Gabel," never really died and could be seen on the mountain as strange lights searching for the vine. Others say Riene comes back disguised as a white wolf. The red tea was something mythical and the yellow syrup forgotten as life carried on without it.
I've got a secret that nobody knows
But it won't keep quiet and it won't stay closed
-Stavvick
Part 2
The Secrets
Prologue
There was sobbing and weeping all around the church. Arturo was too young to die, but here he was, his body lifeless, his eyes closed, laid out in his death clothes atop the funeral pyre within the church. He was a son, and both his mother and father sobbed into each other's arms, their dreams for him wrenched from their hearts when life left his body. He was a husband and father, and his young wife was heartbroken holding an infant in her arms as she wept in the arms of her own mother. He was a brother, a cousin, a nephew and a friend. All the memories of what he had been, gathered together as Arturo made the journey to heaven and left his loved ones behind to mourn and carry on alone. The congregation was chanting the prayer, and the priest was sprinkling the holy water.
"Hurry," thought Sandria, Arturo's wife. "Please hurry. Please don't let him wake."
The priest motioned, and they all fell to their knees. The priest chanted a prayer in Latin and the two watchers touched their lighted torches to the pyre, and the body erupted in flames; but not soon enough. Sandria saw the eyes open. The cold colorless irises found hers, just before the flames engulfed his body, and she screamed.
Are those really stars out there or just holes in the darkness where the light shines through."
~The Book of Answers
Jai`Doro
1941
Chapter 27
Paul Mateo, with his beautiful wife Linde on his arm, waved at someone across the elegant banquet hall at the ceremony held in his honor, celebrating his election to the Mayor of Jai` Doro in Brazil. Prefeito Mateo.
The campaign had been a battle.
He wasn't born here, but Linde was. The people saw her as one of their own, a village girl who left to see the world. When she came back, she was married, sophisticated and glamorous. It was her win as much as his.
It was the 1940s, and the world was at war. Paul had recently completed a tour of duty in the United States Army.
He'd met Linde at a USO dance before his deployment. He wrote to her when he could, and she'd waited for him. They married shortly after his return.
Up until his discharge from the army, Paul led a life filled with promise. In high school he was both the football captain and the class valedictorian. Anytime there was an award to be given, Paul was there to accept it. He excelled at math and science and envisioned a career working in a laboratory, making discoveries, or creating inventions that would change the world.
But first he wanted to see some of that world.
He enlisted into the army shortly after high school graduation along with many of his high school friends. Paul took to the training and the disciplined routine of army life. He proudly wore the uniform of his country and felt the anticipation of adventure, as he boarded a ship to Europe.
A deadly battle of war wiped the boy from him. Fear of death froze him in place as he witnessed soldiers from his platoon killed by bullets and grenades. Men whom he'd just eaten breakfast with that morning and who'd laughed with him, would never eat, or laugh again.
Their platoon had been last in a long line of soldiers headed towards a battalion stationed to the east, where they were to receive further orders. Enemy soldiers appeared from nowhere and began firing. In the ensuing battle, Paul's platoon was cut off from the rest. Now they were being picked off one by one.
Sergeant Felton was dead. Corporal Sanders was dead. It was just a matter of time before it was Paul's turn.
He didn't want to die and shook with fear. He was a coward. As he accepted his lack of courage, he looked for a way out spotting a gasoline can in one of the jeeps they had been driving. It gave him an idea. He motioned for the other men to follow him. He had them wait behind a wooden storage building while he dashed back for the gasoline can. He also picked up some grenades he spotted in a dead soldier's bag, before running back. A boy named Carter, and another named Jonesy, covered for him, spraying the enemy with gunfire and tossing grenades while Paul grabbed the items.
Once behind the shed, he lined up as much ammunition as they could spare along with the grenades, against the shed's back wall, dousing everything with the gasoline.
Now the tricky part, he thought. The timing had to be just right. There was no safe place for cover once they stepped out away from the shed and the enemy soldiers would be upon them any moment.
"Run," he commanded. The men ran following Paul. When he estimated they were far enough away, but not too far, he stopped. He instructed them to fire at the shed when he gave the signal.
Paul ran out to where the enemy soldiers could see him. He was the decoy. As he hoped, they had advanced themselves nearly to the shed. At once they began to fire at him, but he was out of range. He gave the signal for the others to begin firing at the shed. Again, as he had hoped, the enemy ran for cover on the other side of the shed at the sounds of returning gunfire.
Suddenly, there was a huge explosion as the shed, the grenades, and other ammo exploded into fire. Paul felt the ground quake beneath him. They heard the enemy's screams. Then they heard nothing.
There were no cheers. They scouted the area for stray enemies and finding none, they loaded into three jeeps that were still usable and went in search of their company. They were seventeen men left of the original thirty-five.
They gave Paul a hero's medal he didn't feel he deserved. He was a coward just trying to get away; trying to escape. He confessed this to his newly assigned sergeant.
"But that's how it's done. You survived, and the enemy did not. You were able to save the other men along with yourself. For that, they give medals."
"That was only because I didn't want to die alone."
"No one wants to die alone."
Four years later when Paul finished his term of enlistment and returned to his hometown of Galveston Texas, he was a much-decorated hero.
At first, he didn't notice how much the world had changed. He didn't notice how much he himself had changed.
At first, he was content just to be home. They gave him a welcome home party at his parents' home, where he held Linde in his arms and proposed.
As he slept in his old bedroom, he wondered what had happened to the boy who slept there a lifetime ago. The awards that adorned the wall were for someone with good grades, who played football. The awards he earned now were for killing. The microscope sitting on the desk was used for looking at single drops of blood, not the massive amounts of blood on the battlefields. Pictures of friends who were now dead were still tacked up on a cork board; friends who had gone off to war like him.
Linde kept him busy in the coming days. They picked out china, a sofa, and found a small apartment that needed painting. She had no family here; she was from a small village somewhere in Brazil and Paul's mother adopted her as a daughter. They attended bridal showers and teas in her honor while Paul painted the apartment. After the wedding they honeymooned in New York City.
****
When the couple returned to the little apartment in Galveston, Paul tried to revive his boyhood dream of attending college and studying something he loved. He strived to recapture the passion for researching the universe, discovering life on other planets or the enthusiasm to work in a laboratory creating vaccines and medicines that could cure diseases.
But the new Paul felt his youthful plans a hopeless quest. There were too many ways to die. Disease played such a small part in death. Could death itself be cured? Was there research into that? He already felt small in a world too big. Studyin
g the universe would make him feel even smaller. The future he had planned for himself no longer fit. The future that used to lay before him had died.
When he began to talk about re-enlisting and returning to the war, Linde began talking about visiting Jai` Doro.
"Look around you," she told him. "The world is changing faster than we can think; spinning so fast it is making us dizzy. But not in Jai` Doro. In Jai` Doro everything stands still. Nothing changes. Ever. Besides, Jai` Doro boasts a special drink, a special tea that you have never tasted the likes of here in Galveston Texas. I grew up on it. To this day I still crave for it. What you need my husband, what we both need, is a visit to Jai` Doro and a cup of their nurturing red tea. Once there, you will find your dreams again."
Linde was right. The red tea was extraordinary. He drank it for the first time while sitting at his in-law's kitchen table. They had no electricity, so they visited by candlelight. They also had no indoor plumbing, and they used a wood-burning stove to cook on.
Jai` Doro was a village of people cut off from the rest of the world, and they had grown self-sufficient.
During the day they took him on a tour of the village. The beauty of the area lay in the architecture. Every house was built of stone or brick imported from the capital, with tiled floors and glass windows. The churches stained glass windows, rivaled those Paul had seen in Europe.
There was a meeting hall built large enough to accommodate the entire population of three thousand or so. They used it for celebrations such as weddings, and village meetings. It abutted the city hall and Prefeito offices. Paul noted posters that proclaimed that the current Prefeito, Manuel Consigo was up for re-election. He appeared to be running unopposed as Paul saw no other posters.
They took him to the Gerro Silver Mining Company still in operation after nearly one hundred years, where most of Jai` Doro's wealth derived. They took him up into the mountain where the tea vines grew abundant and where he looked down onto the pretty village of Jai` Doro, and another village far away on the very edge of the horizon.