She led them to a shallow stream filled with small flotillas of floating leaves, swirling and sinking as the water babbled gently over rounded gray and brown rocks.
“We are now walking along the trail of Saint James. The pilgrims follow el camino, the road above us,” she pointed up a small embankment. “Do not worry. I doubt anyone will notice us down here.”
“What is this water?”
“It is a stream. When it rains, or snow melts, the water swells into a stream. Sometimes to rivers.”
“Where does the water go?”
“It finds its way to the ocean, as all streams and rivers do.”
“Why?”
Iseo thought for a minute, “I really do not know, Celestino.”
“May I ask my Iseo another question?”
She smiled. “You may ask me anything you wish.”
“How many of my kind have you freed?”
“Only one...only you.”
“I am glad I am the only one.”
“I hope to free others, like you, who will fight evil.”
Celestino made no reply. They walked a while without further conversation, before Iseo finally asked, “You do not wish me to free others?”
“No, I do not wish to share my Maker.”
“The Lord is your true Maker. I am simply His vessel to command.”
Celestino dropped his hand from hers. “My chest burns when I am with you. The sensation is unpleasant.”
Iseo touched his arm. “You will find many things unpleasant in this life. Suffering is a common plight for humans. Our true glory is in Heaven.”
“Gargoyles do not ascend to Heaven. I am of this earth.” He turned away from her.
“Apologies, Celestino. I meant no—”
“I do not wish for Heaven.” He pressed his palm to his chest.
“Is something wrong?”
“The burn turns to sharpness.”
“Lo siento, Celestino.” Iseo touched his arm lightly. He put his hand over hers.
“Do you not feel this? When you touch me?”
“Feel what? The pain?” Iseo pulled her hand back. “No. I do not,” she lied.
“I will ask Father Tomas. He may have an answer.”
“Sí, perhaps it is something to do with your particular nature.” Iseo smiled. “Let us speak of something else. Maybe whatever is affecting you will pass?”
Celestino smiled, “Sí. Tell me more of the first man, Adam. And his Eve.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Father Avriel said Adam was not satisfied with Paradise?”
“I am not sure if dissatisfied is how I would describe it. This is rather a long story,” she said.
“Is our walk so short?”
Iseo laughed, “You are right. Entonces, the beginning?”
Celestino smiled. “Sí, my Iseo.”
She cleared her throat. “Adam lived in the most beautiful garden on Earth. We call it Eden. In the center of this paradise, God placed two trees.”
“What is the meaning of paradise?”
“A place where you are without need or want. Happiness is taken by what is already in your possession.”
“Living in God’s House is this for me.”
“I never considered it in those terms, but sí. I suppose there is no better place to be than in Compostela for a gargoyle.” She continued the narrative. “These were no ordinary trees. One was the Tree of Life. The other, the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil. God forbade Adam to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.”
“Not from the Tree of Life?”
“It is not so written.” Iseo continued, “Adam was alone in Paradise and God saw he required a mate. So, He created Eve from a bone in Adam’s side.” She put her hand on Celestino’s ribcage. “From here. She was the first woman and wife. I believe they were happy in Paradise for a time.”
“They did not remain so?”
“No. One day a snake spoke to Eve, telling her that if she ate from the Tree of Knowledge she would become like God, knowing good and evil.”
“But it was forbidden.”
“What would a human be if mistakes were not made? The snake enticed Eve to eat the fruit. She, in turn, enticed Adam to eat it.”
“Was God angry?”
“You could say that. As soon as Adam and Eve ate the fruit, they knew good and evil. They lost their innocence. After a time, God found them in the garden. Hiding. He called them forth and confronted them. Adam blamed Eve straightaway. He made certain God knew the fault was hers. I can imagine Adam standing there, in front of God, saying you gave her to me.” She said. “God banished them from Eden forever. Their punishment would be to suffer mortality and hardship. If they were to find paradise on earth, it would be through their own sweat and sangre. God sent the Cherubim to guard the gate, so Adam could not return to Eden.”
“To keep them from eating the Tree of Life fruit?”
“I suppose that is the most probable reason. If Adam had eaten it, he would stand immortal. Regardless, this is the story of how sin fell into the world. And why women are considered inferior to men, in the eyes of the church. And men.”
“I do not consider my Iseo inferior to anyone.”
She smiled. “I find it curious Adam’s singularity was the only imperfection God observed in all creation. God needed to make woman to complete the circle of creation. Eve was the cornerstone of God’s arch, as far as I see it. Woman should be revered, not relegated to second class citizenry and baking bread. And we certainly should have word about whom we are bonded with in marriage.” Iseo wrapped her arms around her waist as they walked. Suppressed fears of marriage erupted in a nauseous wave of anxiety in her stomach. What if I must marry someone I detest? What if I must leave Celestino?
They walked along the widening stream without passing words between them. After a time, she stooped to wipe the leaves clinging to the wool hem of her dress. Celestino knelt beside her, gently brushing the debris from places along the train of her dress and cloak she could not reach. His hand brushed hers, sending a warm blush to Iseo’s cheeks. Being near him is as too much wine, when one more sip threatens to overturn all good senses. She stood up abruptly.
“Is your mind burdened, my Iseo?”
She looked down at the ground. “We should return before the sky darkens.”
“As you wish,” he hesitated, adding, “but you did not answer my question.”
“I am fine, Celestino. I was only thinking that marriage is a pilgrimage. You leave behind everything you used to be, to become part of something larger than yourself. It is sacred. Marriage is the ultimate pilgrimage for a man and a woman. And yet, I will have no say when it comes my time to make the eternal vow.”
“I, too, am sorry you must make the vow. Perhaps, you will stay at Compostela and never make the vow.” Celestino stopped dead in his tracks. He inhaled the air deeply. “We are not alone, my Iseo,” he whispered, as he pulled her close.
“Are you supposed to be out of seclusion?” a voice behind them asked.
They both spun around, stunned to find Father Avriel standing there. Iseo immediately remembered the smokehouse, and how he literally appeared behind her without being heard, and disappeared in a blink.
Guilt slapped Iseo to the present reality. “It is my fault. I thought he could use a walk. Ease his restlessness.”
“Women make the most sinful of decisions,” Father Avriel chided.
“I took care we made contact with no one. He is safe with me.”
“And yet you failed to detect my approach.”
“I apologize,” Iseo said. She braced herself for harsh words.
“You do not understand what he is up against. He is not safe with you, out here.” He scanned the sky. “It is growing late. Get him back to the church quickly.”
Chapter 11
Of Wings and Warning Words
Darkness drifted across the small chamber of Celestino’s room. The silver sl
iver of moon cast only thin rays of light through the upper window. Celestino lay on his bed with eyes wide open, staring into the empty space above him. Sleep continued to evade him in his human form. He got up and lit a short, fat candle at his table. Iseo’s book lay on the table. He opened it, staring at the words. At first the black-inked letters appeared as nothing more than dark smudges and strokes, and then they began to swim and morph into segments of understanding. He heard his own voice inside his head as his eyes strayed across each line.
He heard...Felons, that charged me with coveting King Mark’s lands, I have come lower by far, for it is not his land that I covet. Fair uncle, who loved me orphaned, ere ever you knew in me the sangre of your sister Blanchefleur, you that wept as you bore me to that boat alone, why did you not drive out the boy who would betray you? Ah! What thought was that! Isolde is yours and I am but your vassal; Isolde is yours and I am your nephew; Isolde is yours and may not love me.
But Isolde loved him, though she would have hated. She could not hate, for a tenderness more sharp than hatred tore her.
The story of Tristan and Isolde unfolded in his mind, as himself and Iseo. He recognized the sharp pain in his chest as the suffering of Tristan. The candle flame sputtered in its own pool of melted beeswax as Celestino felt the dead hour approaching. He blew out the flame and sat in the dark in his chair, staring as before. The air shifted and grew heavy. He heard the soft fluttering of a large bird...inside his room. He stood, turning to see the intruder. The livingstone within him rushed to push forth his wings, his claws threatened to burst into combat. In that instant, a blinding light filled the darkness and spoke with a voice like thunder.
“Your duty is to God.”
“Who are you?” Celestino questioned. He reigned in his beastly sangre.
“I am the Archangel sent to guide you. Train you. Protect you when the humans cannot.”
“Reveal yourself that I may know my heavenly champion,” Celestino commanded, as he had been trained to do. Only a true servant of God could reach physical clarity under the sacred roof of the church. Any trickery would be forced to immediately depart.
The stunning light faded and the angel’s form became visible. He stood taller than a man, taller even than Celestino. From head to toe, the Archangel’s rose-gold armor gleamed. He fairly shimmered in the polished metal scales and entwined circles of silver mail. His sword was over half the length of his body from tip to pommel. His shield looked more like luminous light than metal. His face was chiseled perfection, his eyes blazed bluer than the sky. His hair hung in a cascade of raven black curls, spilling over his shoulders.
“Celestino,” he spoke. “You use your protocol as commanded.”
“What purpose do you have with me, Archangel?”
“Your consecration draws near. I am sent as your watcher.”
“I understand.” Celestino nodded in deference to the Archangel.
“I come also to remind you that your duty is to God, not to yourself.”
“I will choose God on my consecration day.”
“Yet, you are torn, are you not?”
Celestino did not answer the question, instead he remained silent.
“Beware attention from the female,” the Archangel warned. “They are complicated creatures, and not meant for your kind. Even the angels, who dared trespass the forbidden, procreated atrocities of flesh.”
“It is different with my Iseo. She is my Maker,” Celestino answered.
“You are not permitted to be her mate. Marriage is for those whose soul comes with grace. Angels and gargoyles live narrow paths within their choice to serve God.”
“I will make the righteous choice, Archangel. Do not fear.”
“I will always be watching you. I will appear when you need me most. I will not fail you, Celestino.”
“I sense another reason you have been sent to Compostela.”
“Perceptive, warrior. It is not yet the time. All things have their order.”
“Very well,” Celestino nodded and said. “You have not given me your name.”
“I am not required to. I will reveal it when you are ready to hear it.” The mysterious pronouncement was followed by a radiant light, a swoosh of air, and then a peaceful silence. Celestino knew what he wanted to do.
He crept through the shadows like a night wraith, through all the secret passages out into the nighttime. He made his way to Iseo’s chambers.
Celestino found her as he always did; peacefully asleep. He morphed soundlessly into his gargoyle form, folded up his wings, and curled up in a circle to sleep. He would find the balance between God and Iseo. He must, for both their sakes.
Chapter 12
The Final Lesson
“Ah, Celestino. We have been waiting. Por favor, take your seat. This day marks the final formal lesson. This night...your consecration begins.” Father Tomas had the secret text already opened and the pages laid out.
“I am ready, Father,” Celestino said. He took his accustomed chair across from Father Avriel. The room filled with scholarly breath, as the elder priest began the day’s instruction.
“We begin with possession. There is no way to describe the turmoil of a human soul possessed by evil. Truly possessed. When you see it, you will know it. The experience teaches you about the dark, as well as the light. You will know the power of goodness when you know the depth of evil.”
“For I cannot know light without knowing also the dark,” Celestino offered.
“Correct. Demons may not take possession of a soul within the house of God. Evil may enter under here, only if its victim was possessed elsewhere. So be on guard for evil in the guise of a sheep.”
“A sheep?” Celestino questioned.
“Not an actual animal. A sheep is a human, a reference to humans requiring a shepherd for guidance. As the Lord is the shepherd and we His sheep,” Father Tomas explained.
“I understand.”
“Under this roof, we are safe. Beyond these walls, the spirit realm has dominion over men. There is no absolute protection. This is why we...why you...are required in the world. It is why you are kept here. So you may be protected until your consecration is complete.”
“I may move amongst the people once this is complete?”
“Sí. You will be like us,” he pointed to himself and Father Avriel. “A man of the cloth is what people will see. You will have no flock of your own. You will give no sacraments, except last rites or baptism, when necessary. And you will live here for all your days.”
“I understand.”
“The two rites you are allowed can save a soul from eternal damnation. Once a soul is cast into Hell, it may never be retrieved. It is an eternal sentence of anguish.”
Father Tomas continued with the lecture, “We must finish with the dialogue on angelic presence. The Cherubim are the highest ranking angels in Heaven.” He turned a page and turned the book around so Celestino could see the brilliantly painted artwork depicting gold leaf flames amid bright greens, blues, and reds. “These are the Cherubim. The fiery angels of God who guarded the entrance to Eden; and guard the very throne of God.”
“They kept Adam from going back to eat from the Tree of Life,” Celestino said.
“How do you know this?” Father Avriel asked.
“My Iseo explained these angels to me,” Celestino said.
“You do learn quickly. Behind these fiery beings are the Seraphim, the Thrones. The lower orders of angels may come into your realm as aid. Primarily, the Archangels.”
“I am familiar with Archangels. One is appointed as my watcher,” Celestino said.
“Your watcher?” Father Tomas asked. “Gargoyles have no watchers. It is not written in the Codex. That implies—”
Father Avriel interrupted, “That he has his own guardian. An elevated position no doubt. To have an Archangel as a guardian.”
“How do you know of your watcher, Celestino? I was not aware this touched the realm of possibil
ity,” Father Tomas stammered.
“Perhaps, there is more to learn than you had supposed...regarding gargoyles,” Father Avriel suggested.
Father Tomas flipped through several pages. “The Codex offers no reference to this anywhere.” He sounded confused by Celestino’s revelation. “I am sure you are mistaken, Celestino.”
“He came into my chamber.”
“What?!”
“Last night. He spoke with me,” Celestino said, not wishing to reveal the primary admonishment the Archangel had given him regarding Iseo.
Father Tomas sat hard into his chair. “An Archangel? Here, in Compostela?”
“Sí.” The gargoyle assured.
“Did you see him? Actually look upon his countenance?”
“Sí.”
“What did he look like?” the priest asked, his curiosity piqued by the occurrence.
“Did the Archangel give you his name?” Father Avriel questioned Celestino.
“No, he did not. He said he would reveal all when I was ready to hear.”
“Perhaps, you are not permitted to discuss the situation further? You may have revealed too much already,” Father Avriel remarked.
“How would you know of Archangel law?” Father Tomas quipped, his desire for information beginning to grow greedily.
“You are not the only trained priest within these walls. Remember your place, Brother!” With this admonishment, Father Avriel’s countenance filled the space between them all.
The elder priest, rattled to the core, sat back in his chair and took a drink of watered wine.
Father Avriel returned the training back to its course. “Is there any further instruction required concerning the angels?”
Father Tomas cleared his throat. “They can be your most fervent allies in your missions to save souls,” finished the priest. “Sometimes their presence is required, when the enemy is particularly ancient, or closely allied with Lucifer.” Father Tomas opened to a section of the Codex separated by a red ribbon, gently smoothing the page. “The highest of all canon law for exorcizing demons is to command the unclean to reveal their name. Once you have the name, they can be diminished. And in the name of Jesus, they can be cast back to Hell.”
“What if a demon refuses?” Celestino asked.
“He cannot. He must give his name.”
“Why is the demon compelled to give his name, when angels are not?”
Livingstone Saga, Book One: Birth Page 9