Livingstone Saga, Book One: Birth

by Janell Rhiannon

  “That was not your concern last evening.”

  “That was different. We were together. It was late, and everyone was asleep.”

  “Do not fret, my Iseo. I was unseen. I would not think to give us away.”

  She stood and stared at him. Something was different, but she could not put her finger on it, nor could she lend voice to it.

  “Shall I help with the tray? Shutting the door is most prudent. Considering your concern.” Celestino moved to retrieve the tray from the floor. The wine decanter was still in the crook of her arm. He took it from her, as well. “Hunger is strong in the dawn.”

  Celestino ravenously ate the dried cod. He grimaced at the taste of wine, even when it was watered down to almost no wine at all.

  He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “May I request favor of my Iseo?”

  Smiling, she said, “Of course.”

  “I would hear more of Tristan and Isolde. Will you read from your book?”

  “Sí, Celestino. I will read to you. If you promise to learn to read on your own.”

  “It is the purpose, is it not?”

  She rose from the table and went to her shelf. Several leather bound books lined the middle shelf, and she ran her fingers along the spines until she found the right one. With her index finger, she tilted it out and lifted it from the company of the others.

  “I think we will start at the beginning. The Childhood of Tristan.”

  Celestino settled into a comfortable position across from her.

  “If you are to learn to read, you must sit beside me. Follow along as I read. In time, you will begin to see the words for yourself.” He nodded consent and brought his chair to sit beside hers. His nearness made her heart heavy and full, like a ripe fruit weighing heavy on a delicate branch. Each heart beat carried a whispered song with lyrics unknown to her.

  “Begin,” he said, “at the beginning. For all things have beginnings.”

  “And all things have endings.” She opened the book and read.

  My lords, if you will hear a high tale of love and of death, here is that of Tristan and Queen Isolde; how their full joy, but to their sorrow also, they loved each other, and how at last they died of that love together upon one day; she by him and he by her.

  Long ago, when Mark was King over Cornwall, Rivalen, King of Lyonesse, heard that Mark’s enemies waged war on him; so he crossed the sea to bring him aid; and so faithfully did he serve him with counsel and sword that Mark gave him his sister Blanchefleur, whom King Rivalen loved most marvelously.

  He wedded her in Tintagel Minister, but hardly was she wed when the news came to him that his old enemy Duke Morgan had fallen on Lyonesse and was wasting town and field. Then Rivalen manned his ships in haste, and took Blanchefleur with him to his land; but she was with child. He landed below his castle of Kanoël and gave the Queen in ward to his Marshal Rohalt, and after that set off to wage his war.

  Iseo gently turned the page. Her voice a soothing song of words to Celestino’s ears.

  Blanchefleur waited for him continually, but he did not come home, till she learnt upon a day that Duke Morgan had killed him in foul ambush. She did not weep, she made no lamentation, but her limbs failed her and grew weak, and her soul was filled with a strong desire to be rid of the flesh, and though Rohalt tried to soothe her she would not hear. Three days she awaited re-union with her lord, and on the fourth she brought forth a son; and taking him in her arms she said:

  “Little son, I have longed a while to see you, and now I see you the fairest thing ever a woman bore. In sadness came I hither, in sadness did I bring forth, and in sadness has your first feast day gone. And as by sadness you came into the world, your name shall be called Tristan; that is the child of sadness.”

  After she had said these words she kissed him, and immediately when she kissed him she died.

  Iseo closed the book and sighed. “It is a sad tale indeed. Tristan’s fate was sealed with that kiss.”

  “His fate?”

  “Fate is the path your life must follow. Your life is set in motion, no matter the amount of effort to steer it otherwise.”

  “His mother kissed him to sadness?”

  “I suppose. Her broken heart was part of his fate.”

  “Do you have a fate?”

  “Sí, I suppose I do.”

  “Does it inform you what you are to do?”

  “It does not work so easily as that. You never truly know your fate until you are behind the sight.”

  “I do not understand behind the sight?”

  “The knowledge that was there from the beginning, but you ignored, because in the moment the closeness of things blinds you to the truth. Not until moments are far away from you, can you see them clearly.”

  “Do I have a fate?”

  Iseo reflected on her visions, how he came to be...his birth. “I believe that you do.”

  “If you believe it so, then it is enough for me.”

  Speaking of fate reminded Iseo that her tenure at Compostela was limited. She did not want to contemplate what the future held for her. Instead, for the first time, she preferred the immediate present. “That is enough reading for one morning. I have chores to attend to, and you have a lesson with Father Tomas.”

  “And Father Avriel,” he reminded her.

  “I had forgotten.” She wished he had not reminded her. It still bothered her that he was able to sneak up behind her with such stealth. Monks were not known for their stealth.

  “I will take my leave. I think I have behind the sight for you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The farther I am from your company, the more clearly I see you in my mind.”

  Iseo laughed. “That is called distraction. Now, go. Go to your lesson. I trust you will allow no one to see you.”

  “I will move as a spirit moves.” Celestino’s smile warmed her in a way she knew it should not. It brought too much comfort, too much of an ache in her chest. So, she ushered him quickly out the door and brought the wooden lever down, securing a measure of safe isolation.

  *

  “Ah! Celestino, we were waiting for you.” Father Tomas had the sacred book already opened on his desk top.

  “I was...reading,” he responded.

  “Fine. Fine. Por favor, sit so we can begin the lesson.”

  Celestino sat in his accustomed chair. “I am ready to begin.”

  The elder Father began, “I was just bringing Father Avriel to the instruction point we last completed. This morning we begin with the great balance between the Light and the Dark. And the war being waged between Heaven and Hell, literally above and below us.”

  “Do you remember all your lessons on the creation of the world and mankind?”

  Celestino nodded affirmatively.

  “Bueno. Do you remember when you asked me why God would allow evil in the world, if He was indeed the creator of all things? And allow the Fallen to exist beyond the bounds of Heaven?”

  Again Celestino nodded.

  “This day, we speak of sacred knowledge. The Light and Dark faces of God,” Father Tomas began.

  Father Avriel straightened in his seat. “This should be informative.”

  Father Tomas continued, ignoring the comment from his younger counterpart, “God is the Light of the universe. He is the great Maker of the world, of all heavenly hosts, of mankind. His glory is His creation. Angels know God for they literally live in His presence. They commune directly with him and were given freewill, like man. Because of their close proximity to God, it is easy to choose Him. Humans, on the other hand, face a more difficult task.”

  “True, angels are closer to God than humans in the order of creation. You are wrong about the choice being easier,” Father Avriel casually remarked.

  Father Tomas narrowed his eyes at his spiritual Brother. “As I was explaining, God is the God of Light, of goodness, the Creator. In order for a Creator to exist, there must also be an equal being of Darkn
ess and Destruction. This Darkness existed at the moment of mankind’s creation, because without it humans could not exist. This is the God of Darkness, the spirit of Evil in the world. Thus, God is actually two entities, Light and Dark. The Dark side of the face of God is called Satan.”

  “God of Light is creator. God of Dark is destroyer,” Celestino restated his lesson.

  “Satan exists as an oppositional balance with God. And it is Satan who rules the underworld of Hell. It is Satan who is Lord of Temptation and destroyer of human souls.”

  Celestino shook his head in confusion. “Why does God not crush the dark side?”

  “He would be destroying a part of what makes Him...God. Remember, without the Dark in the world, we cannot know the Light.”

  “You have a fairly complex view of God,” said Father Avriel. “I have not heard any man discuss this duality in many years.”

  “If you doubt it, you can read for yourself in the Codex. It is all right here.”

  Father Avriel pointed at Celestino. “I believe just knowing that he exists is proof enough,” Father Avriel reasoned. “What do you know of Lucifer?”

  “Ah, that is in the next chapter,” answered Father Tomas, as he turned a page. “The nature of Lucifer is more complex, Celestino. First, you must understand the order of the angels. God created them for various purposes. Some are more illustrious than others.”

  “That would be an understatement regarding Lucifer,” Father Avriel offered.

  “Cherubim are the highest ranking angels. It was they who guarded the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden, protected the Ark of the Covenant. They were appointed to stand watch over God’s throne in Heaven. The most beautiful of all the cherubim was Lucifer. He was God’s ideal of perfection. He alone, among the angels, was granted full knowledge of good and evil.”

  “Lucifer was second only to the son of God. And that distinction was not enough for him,” Father Avriel scoffed.

  Father Tomas continued undeterred, “Angels have free wills, just as humans do. Just as you do, Celestino. Angels must choose to follow God. And so must you.”

  “And if he does not?” Father Avriel asked.

  “He is with us now. Protected by the Church, so that he may chose correctly,” Father Tomas insisted.

  “The Church cannot direct the nature of his decision, Brother. He must choose when he truly knows what is pitted against him. You show him words, not reality.”

  Celestino interrupted their argument, “I may choose God or evil?”

  “Sí,” the elder priest confirmed, even as fear pricked the back of his neck.

  “I choose God. I would crush evil,” Celestino assured both men.

  “How can you choose, Celestino?” Father Avriel argued. “You do not even know what evil is. You do not know the temptation of Satan. Lucifer was the most glorious angel in Heaven. It was his task alone to compose the melodies of the universe. God appointed him chief of heavenly song. We did not call him the Light of the Morning without reason. Yet, even he chose to follow Satan. He chose to be worshipped as a god, instead of worshipping the Creator. If the most perfect of God’s creation can be tempted by evil, then it is possible that any of God’s creations—man, angel or gargoyle—might choose to reject God. It is not as simple as choosing to crush evil.” Father Avriel fairly shimmered with his passionate discourse on Lucifer and freewill.

  “We?” Father Tomas questioned.

  Father Avriel clarified, “We, as in the Church. What reference did you think I meant?” The radiance Father Tomas caught in the corner of his eye disappeared the instant he uttered the word we.

  “Nothing. I am not sure why I asked the question.” He felt confused and dizzy.

  “Are you well, Father Tomas?” asked the younger priest.

  “Sí, whatever it was, it is passing now.”

  “Perhaps, it was the fish from breakfast?”

  “Sí, sí. Perhaps,” Father Tomas said, wiping his now sweating brow with his sleeve. “Let us continue with the lesson tomorrow.”

  Celestino nodded. “I will seek the company of my Maker to teach me reading again.”

  “Fine, go. Peace be with you,” Father Tomas shooed Celestino out.

  Father Avriel turned to send a blessing with Celestino, only to discover he had vanished like a shadow in the full light of day. Interesante.

  “You do realize, Brother, what would happen if Celestino did not choose God?” Father Tomas grimaced with lingering discomfort.

  “Enlighten me on the subject.”

  “He is sequestered here, under heavenly roof, for a reason...they all are in the beginning. If they are set against God...if they were to unite with—” Father Tomas collapsed in his chair. “The evil they are capable of is something there is no match for. Not even Saint Michael could defeat such a one as that, if he turned to the God of Darkness.”

  “Are you saying Celestino possesses power to rival the Lord of Archangels?” Father Avriel questioned.

  “A gargoyle twisted by evil is more powerful than any Archangel.”

  Father Avriel considered this thought. This particular truth was unknown to him. “How long will Celestino remain sequestered?” Father Avriel asked.

  “Until he is fully consecrated in the sanctuary. After his first forty days of flesh and his seven days of stone.”

  “Will his position be certain?”

  “He must make his own choice...as you so clearly brought light to bear on the subject. His newness in the world makes him vulnerable. After consecration, his decision to serve God is as compelling as that of man or angel.”

  Father Avriel thought of Lucifer falling like a burning star to earth. “Entonces, we can never be certain.”

  “No more than for you or I. We will have to trust his faith.”

  “He is without God’s breath. Absent that, how can he have faith?”

  “He has a heart. That is enough for faith.”

  “We shall see,” Father Avriel said.

  Chapter 10

  Trail of Saint James

  Iseo’s knees ached against the cold stone floor. So engrossed in the discomfort of scrubbing the floor, she failed to sense the large presence in front of her until a man’s boot came in contact with her wet scrubbing rag. She looked up the boot, the leg and then the torso to see Celestino smiling down at her.

  “I apologize. I did not realize you were standing there.”

  “That is evident.”

  “Are you finished with your lessons for the day?”

  “Sí, I am.”

  Iseo stood up slowly, rubbing at the muscle twinge in the small of her back. She looked around the hall. It was unusual for it to be so deserted this time of day. A wild idea planted itself in her head.

  “Celestino, would you like to take a walk outside?”

  “Is this not forbidden, until I am consecrated?”

  “It is forbidden that you have interaction with anyone.” Iseo heard herself bend the truth.

  “Did Father Tomas give his permission?” Celestino’s brow furrowed with the question.

  “No, he did not,” Iseo replied.

  Celestino fell silent. She could not read his face, and the silence began to embarrass her for even asking the question. Who am I to ask him to fall into disobedience? Embarrassment quickly turned to shame. Just as she was about to ask for forgiveness, his answer surprised her.

  “You are certain we will come in contact with no one?”

  “I promise. I have no wish to be discovered. There is a quiet section of the Camino de Santiago. If we happen upon any pilgrims, we may veer from the main road and wait for their passing.”

  “I will do as my Iseo requests.” The sangre in the livingstone pulsed quicker, compelling him to seek solitude with Iseo.

  “Meet me in my workshop. I must finish this floor or Father Anthony will be furious. He believes me slothful as it is.” She paused for a moment. “Here, you will need my key.” She reached into her apron, but C
elestino stopped her.

  “I require no key. If my Iseo remembers.” Celestino departed on soundless footsteps. She watched as his tall form disappeared around the corner, before she rushed to finish scrubbing the floor. An afternoon in the fall sunshine, walking with Celestino, might be the balm her spirit craved. Lately, she felt restless, ungrounded, like a leaf fluttering in a small swirl of wind.

  When she returned to her workshop, he was already waiting for her.

  “It might be prudent if we cover you up a bit,” Iseo went immediately to a trunk tucked beneath a worktable. She pulled it out and lifted the lid. Fabrics and clothing fairly burst from inside, spilling over the edges of the chest. She rummaged through embroidered silks and soft velvets, until she found what she was searching for.

  “Here it is!” She shook out a long, black leather hooded cape. “I made this for my father, should I ever see him again,” she mused. “A cloth merchant brought his cart of textiles with him on his pilgrimage. Imagine, bringing your wealth with you. It defeats the purpose, really,” Iseo recounted the story ambivalently. “It makes little difference now. I think it will serve our purpose.” She handed the garment to Celestino. “Is it not soft? The leather smoothes as velvet to the touch.”

  Celestino swung it around his shoulders with an expert flourish. A warm, pleasant weight filled his chest. He smiled at Iseo, flashing his perfect set of white pearls.

  She returned his smile with a slight warning, “Do not smile at anyone. As a matter of fact, do not even open your mouth.”

  They used the side door of her studio, keeping close to the back retaining wall of the cathedral grounds. Iseo led them to a section of the wall overgrown with tangled vines. Lifting the foliage up, she revealed an opening in the stone wide enough to allow them to pass through.

  When they emerged on the other side they were in a small, wooded area. Pines and dogwoods towered above, dry leaves scattered a brown carpet before them. Iseo grabbed Celestino’s hand, leading him along a narrow dirt line through the thin forest. They walked for many moments in silence with nothing except their entwined hands touching. Yet, the simplicity of the contact felt more intimate than anything Iseo knew. She thought of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. How they were naked before God and not ashamed. How beautiful that innocence of self must have been. That innocence, she thought, remains in children as a reminder of mankind’s original perfection. Here, under the clouded sky, surrounded by molting trees, she felt a prick of that innocent perfection.