Awaken_A Rose Caldwell Tale

by JM Bannon

  Chapter Two: Saturday, the 16th of September, 1851

  10:30 AM, The Reliquary at the Carmelite Convent

  “What are you up to?”

  Rose jumped, she had a book out and was reading. Not reading as much as she was looking at the pictures, she could read a little, but certainly not this old English hand written, illuminated manuscript. The ancient volume told the story of Saint Ostric with beautifully detailed drawings.

  Although she couldn’t read the text, Rose filled in the missing pieces of the story in her head, based on what she had heard by word of mouth and from the pictures in the book.

  The tale described how the Monk had visions of a battle between an angel and a demon here in Chester and of his support of the holy and righteous King Aethelred. She was admiring the illumination of the King and the monk standing before the demon emerging from a chasm in the ground when the librarian, Sister Madeline surprised her.

  "I was just looking.”

  “We are caretakers, not readers.”

  “Sister, I have completed my chores and I just thought…”

  “My dear, Mother Maria decided that you were to work here, not me. I do not need nor do I want your help,” said Sister Madeline.

  “Is it not our responsibility to know the location of all the tomes, that they are kept in good condition and have some general knowledge of the contents?” asked Rose.

  “No, you are to be obedient, just as I am. Our superior has instructed that we are to work together and as I am librarian, I require you to tidy the place. Then you can sit and pray for guidance from the Holy Spirit,” said the elderly French nun.

  That meant fall asleep, like Sister Madeline did.

  Rose resisted the old nun’s authority and didn’t know why she couldn’t read rather than sit and pray. “I just thought…”

  “I just thought… I just thought, I would spend my days in devotion at the convent in Arles, but we were all sent here, along with that box,” said Sister Madeline pointing at the wooden box in the glass case.

  “Yes, Sister,” Rose whispered sullenly as she closed the tome and set it back on the book rest in front of the relic case.

  “The dusting in this place is never done. Make your best work of it, Sister,” said Sister Madeline

  Rose went to the shelves and began dusting the books. As she went about her work, she looked at the spines. Some she could read, others she could not, but even those she could not made her wonder about the tales within. Some of the books were treatises, the work of theologians trying to understand the human condition and interaction with the spiritual world.

  This was most of her day, tidying and organizing the books, waiting for when Sister Madeline would doze off in her chair. Then she would pull a book off the shelves and read or look at the pictures.

  Sister Madeline jerked awake, almost falling out of her chair. Her own snoring had likely wakened her. Rose smiled to herself and quickly stuffed the book back in the stack.

  “I am going to check on Sister Anne in the kitchen,” said Sister Madeline, standing up and making her way to the door.

  Rose went to the table where Sister Madeline had been sitting and pushed the chair into the table. She then walked back to the cabinet where the book and relic were kept.

  Rose stood before the glass cabinet. In the past, when the cabinet was opened and the box moved, it was under the direction of the bishop. Rose looked around to be certain that Sister Madeline was gone. With the glass door opened she carefully worked the lid off the old case. She wondered when the last time was that someone had opened it. She was careful to not damage the box, but the top was snug, and she worried she would break something in her urgency to get the box open.

  With the top opened, she peered inside and was shocked to discover a skull gilded in silver; the cranium was open and replaced by a crystal dome allowing the observer to see into the skull. Inside it was a collection of other bones, maybe finger bones, pieces of fabric and feathers. The artifact seemed too large, but who was she to know how big a skull should be.

  Reaching in, Rose lifted the skull out of the box. She thought the whole idea of preserving a man’s skull a bit savage and un-Catholic but here she was holding a dead saint’s remains. She placed the relic back in the box and in the process pricked her finger on the sharp nose bridge of St. Ostric. She reacted by sticking her fingertip in her mouth to stem the blood flow. As the iron taste of her blood hit her tongue, she felt a swoon overtaking her. Her head spun, and she felt as if she was falling.

  She did not hit the ground, however. Someone caught her mid-way and steadied her. Rose turned to see a man dressed in monk’s robes standing next to her. His deep blue eyes were piercing yet warm. He had an aura about him that spoke of more than being a simple monk. He had a regal air and he held himself erect.

  From the shadows that formed behind him, a slice of golden light split the darkness. Rose’s senses told her that the light was connected to the infinite as from out of the light walked a golden-maned lion of immense size. She heard the heavy padding of the beast’s feet hitting the floor as she looked back to the wild man who had helped her.

  He just nodded, and when she turned back, the animal was gone and in its place was a form, human-like yet twice the size of even a large man. It was adorned in billowing robes that floated and flowed as if suspended in flowing water. The fabric of the robes streamed endlessly behind the figure, connecting it with the golden light piercing the shadows.

  The figure addressed the young nun. Rose listened in awe but could not understand a word of the strange language.

  At that moment the regal man spoke, “You have been chosen by Ariel the Arch-Angel, the lion of God. If you respond to the call you to will one day speak the tongue of the Enochian.”

  “I don’t understand, what did he say? Who are you? What…” said Rose, as she felt the blood from her finger trickle down her hand. She looked down to see a drop falling to the floor. Her vision was focused and telescoped onto the bead of blood that dripped from her hand as it fell to the floor.

  It happened in silent slow motion, its shape and color clear and sharp as it fell. It hit the floor and splashed, and the world crashed back in around her with the sound of the ocean smashing against a cliff.

  She was back in the Reliquary, alone in the still silent room. On the ground at her feet another drop of her blood dripped onto the old stone. There was nothing to confirm her vision or what she had heard.

  Rose stuck her injured finger in her mouth again and this time the world stayed in place. She sucked the blood and realized she needed to be quick. She took her handkerchief from her pocket and mopped up the blood on the floor then wrapped it round her hand before quickly closing up the relic box and the cabinet to hide any evidence that she had touched the holy object making sure there was no blood on either.

  Chapter Three: Thursday the 18th of September 1851

  1:30 PM, Chester Book and Print Chester, England

  When Rose was called to the Mother Superior’s office after breakfast she was afraid that her transgression in the reliquary had been somehow discovered. She was relieved to learn that the Mother Superior, aware of her friendship with the Mason family required her to visit them and ascertain their needs if any at this time and when the burials of the Master Mason and his son would take place. She used the opportunity to visit the book store on Duke Street owned by Mr. Cooper.

  Rose had been in the store a few times as a little girl but her hard-working family had little money to spend on books for a girl. Steeling herself she stood before the door, taking a deep breath before entering. The small shop was located on the street level of an old wooden Tudor building painted the traditional black and white.

  The aged door required a hard shove to open, announced by the faint tinkling of a doorbell above her head. The elderly man who came out from the back of the shop was wiping his hands on a rag, chewing on food in his mouth. He waved his hand to his face in a nonverbal request to
wait until he had swallowed, “Good afternoon, Sister. How may I help you?”

  Rose looked out the window of the shop to see if all was clear, then stepped up to the counter.

  She removed a note from her habit, unfolding it and smoothing it out on the counter. “I have copied this from a book in the library I was hoping you could help me read it.”

  The man looked around the counter then chuckled and on felt the top of his head, finding his reading glasses. Dropping the glasses to his nose he looked at Rose’s note.

  He gave her a look over his glasses then walked around the counter to a bookshelf. The shopkeeper stepped up onto a small footstool to reach the top shelf and pulled down a thick tome. Making his way back to the counter he opened the book and flipped pages back and forth. The man hummed to himself as he deciphered the writing.

  “It’s a title, The Exultation of St Ostric. Illuminated by a Brother Aetherwel, of the Abbey at Bardney,” disclosed the man.

  “What else does it say?” asked Rose.

  He put his glasses down on the book, “Sister, this is a most strange request. Is there no one capable of translating this for you at the convent?”

  “I am afraid there isn’t,” Rose answered feeling a resistance from the shop owner.

  “Not the librarian?”

  “I suspect her letters are as bad as mine. Mr. Cooper, would you teach me to decipher this, as it is unreadable to me? It doesn’t look like Latin or English and if it is French, the old nuns won’t help me out of fear that I would now know what they say behind my back.” said Rose.

  “You appeal to my biggest weakness; that of learning, and to teach another is such a temptation, but think what you’re asking? This task will take months and you would need to bring this book for us to work on together. If it was discovered that a young nun was taking works from the convent and meeting with a man. Well, it would not be good for either one of our reputations,” finished Cooper.

  He was right. She would be punished, but he could be run out of town or worse. “I have an idea. I will transcribe from the book as I did here today. The next opportunity I have to come into town, I will leave the letters with you for your transcription. Then we can arrange for a short lesson, with you sharing the translation,” Rose proposed.

  “That is an interesting thought, but this is a far bigger undertaking than you imagine. You will need a reason to come into the store,” Cooper grabbed a small book from behind the counter and handed to Rose, “Can you read this?”

  Rose began slowly reading.

  Cooper interjected, “You find the book too difficult, do you?”

  “No, it is manageable,” said Rose.

  “Good, then you read that book, when you're done you bring it back and I will give you another. First, we will improve your English, then we can work on Latin and an old form of English and then the French. The books I lend to you will be selected to support our research,” the shop keeper conspired.

  Rose liked the idea and couldn’t think of a reason there would be trouble with his plan, the Mother Superior was often heard grumbling about the lack of education of these young English nuns. If Rose could say it was helping her Latin surely, she would approve. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” she said with gratitude, turning to leave.

  “Sister, it is never too late to learn. You will be better for this endeavor as it will bring strength and fitness to your mind.”

  Chapter Four: Monday the 2nd of August 1852

  1:30 PM, Chester Book and Print Chester, England

  Almost a year had passed since Rose entered Cooper’s shop and received her first book. Now she placed several books on the counter, two books of poetic verses in Latin, from the fifteenth century, and a current work of research into the imagery of northern European monastic illuminations, by a German Academic. Rose’s studies had progressed over the last year, and she no longer brought her scribbled transcriptions to Cooper. Now, he was more of a guide to her research.

  “Mr. Cooper, I brought back the volumes!” she called.

  Rose stepped behind the counter and peered into the back room. Cooper was coming up the stairs from the cellar with a hand full of papers and a book under his arm.

  “Sorry Sister, I got a little lost in my work,” said Cooper.

  “Right, I had a breakthrough last night, I discovered an interesting passage in the ‘The Exultation of Saint Ostric’,” Rose repeated the Latin quote from memory, “regnum suum redire Marbas Ostric sancti Angeli singillatim speculo

  “To return Marbas to his realm St Ostric wielded the mirror of angels,” Rose’s teacher interpreted.

  “That means something to you?” she asked.

  “Vere respondet de occultis. Qui regnare facit morbo et curavit eos. Dat sapientiam et scientiam mechanicis et aliis figuris mutare potest. Et huius signum est, quod praedictum deferri

  Rose looked up to the rafters as she translated the words in her head. A year ago, she struggled with some of the books Mr. Cooper gave her written in English, but now she could read and write in Latin.

  “He answers truly of things hidden. He causes diseases and cures them. He gives great wisdom and knowledge in mechanical arts and can change men into other shapes. And his Seal is this, which is to be worn as aforesaid.”

  When she looked down to get confirmation of her translation from Cooper, he had a dire look on his face.

  “Yes, Marbas was one of Lucifer’s cadre, the host of those that tried to overthrow Heaven and were cast down,” he said.

  “But what of this angelic mirror of Saint Ostric?” she asked.

  Mr. Cooper left the front shop without a word and walked into the back. Rose watched him go downstairs under the shop rather than upstairs where he lived. He returned with a small book. He set it in front of her. As she went to pick it up he quickly slapped his hand on top of it, stopping her from picking it up, “Sister, I share this with you but be clear, I will disavow any knowledge of you getting this from me if you are found with it.”

  Rose’s curiosity was piqued. Furthermore, she couldn’t grasp why her possession of this book would be a worse offense than what Cooper and she had been up to for the last year. A nun going outside the convent to study with a man would already be seen as a violation of her vows of obedience. “We’ve gotten this far, haven’t we?”

  “This book is different. It is a copy of the diaries of a Sir Edward Kelly. Some say this isn’t even his hand, a hoax, but I have read these and think there is a thread of truth in them,” said Cooper.

  “Why is this man’s works a concern?” asked Rose pulling the book from Cooper.

  “He was a compatriot of Sir John Dee, the court Astrologer and advisor to Queen Elizabeth. He was seen by many to be an occultist and the Papists looked at his work as witchcraft. Kelly was a confidant and contemporary of Dee. Some say he had the power to scry.”

  “Scry?” said Rose.

  “To see into the future, to look to other worlds. It was said that Kelly spoke Enochian and conversed with the dead,” as Cooper spoke the words, Rose’s stomach rolled and her skin prickled, Enochian!

  “Would you have any books on the subject of Enochian and how it is spoken?” asked Rose.

  “The heavenly language of the seraphim,” Cooper said with a chuckle, “Nine months ago you couldn’t read Latin and now you wish to learn to tongue of the angels. Take the book and see if that is any help,” said Cooper with a knowing look.

  “Your Saint Ostric performed a great miracle and helped to save King Aethelred from Marbas and his succubus. He may have used an object to help him see the world and workings of Marbas. Dee and Kelly were believers that angelic powers were attainable through the occult,” Cooper concluded.

  Rose put the book in her satchel and scampered off to finish her errands around town. She was excited to get through the day and back to the quiet of her room to read Kelly’s secrets.

  Chapter Five: Friday the 17th of September 1852

  11:30 PM, The Reliquary at th
e Carmelite Convent Chester, England

  Rose finished reading the story of Saint Ostric’s exaltation and rise to heaven. She stared at the hand-painted drawing in the margin, showing the monk being carried to heaven by the Archangel Ariel. Down below on earth, the Saxon and Celt armies watched with King Aethelred on his knees in prayer.

  She smiled, admiring the illustration of the bizarre tale and its scenes. She considered the beautiful but simple drawings ironic, given the tale of souls in peril. She was proud of her accomplishment. It had taken nearly a year to learn to read the Latin language and countless visits with Mr. Cooper to translate and understand words and phrases. It was an arduous process pulling meaning from the Old Latin, written eleven hundred years ago by a scribe who also spoke an English so different from the current day as to be a foreign language.

  She wondered if Ostric had visions and dreams that led him on this path and how he obtained the strength and guidance to save the King and stop a demon. Rose was excited by the adventure and wondered how Ostric had dealt with his call to face evil. Rose had the desire to stand up for good and help those who suffered; all she needed was direction. It was well and good that an angel had chosen her, but for what? Why was it that the stories of the saints seemed to be knee deep in mystery and magic all the time?

  The tale of the wilderness monk who saved King Aethelred’s soul began when the King deserted his throne after his wife’s death. Wandering in despair, he came upon the lands under rule of the Clans of Briton; these Celts had been at peace with Mercia after having been conquered by Aethelred's army five years before.