by R W Sowrider
“Why yes, kind fellow,” Rowen replied, flashing Sera a smile. “We could indeed use a helping hand.” While the sea had not been parted, perhaps God had other means in mind.
“My name is Francois,” the stranger said, bowing his head. “But I am known as the Lion of Lyon.”
Rowen gasped. “Clearly, it is a sign from God,” he whispered to Sera. “First, Richard the Lionheart, then Rowen the Lionheart, now the Lion of Lyon.”
“Who calls you Rowen the Lionheart?” Sera whispered back. “Are we calling you Rowen the Lionheart now?”
After shushing Sera, Rowen turned back to the Lion of Lyon. “It is a great pleasure to meet you. I am Rowen.”
“You need not introduce yourself, good child. I, of course, have heard of the Angel of God. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
“The honor is mine, Lion of Lyon.”
“I have heard that you are on a Crusade to the Holy Land, and it just so happens that an acquaintance of mine, a wholly trustworthy fellow, has at his dispense an idle fleet of seven ships. It would be my pleasure to ask my acquaintance, a generous Christian like yourself, to provide safe transport for you and your followers. I, of course, would be happy to bear the expenses and to escort you during the voyage.”
“That is wonderful news, kind sir. We would be ever so grateful and our Lord and Savior will surely bestow upon you infinite blessings for your generosity.”
Sera cupped her hand over Rowen’s ear. “May I have a word?”
“Excuse us, Lion of Lyon. I need to have a quick aside with my companion.”
“But of course, young Rowen. Be my guest.”
“Rowen,” Sera said sternly, once they were out of earshot of Francois. “Are you sure we can trust this man? He looks quite suspicious and his offer is beyond belief.”
“Have faith, my dear. He is a Christian just like us. And no doubt, he is a gift from God.”
“How can we trust him?”
“Faith, my dear. It is what we do best. Believe in God and His will will be done. Do you not remember how God aided the Crusaders in the last siege?”
Sera looked blankly at Rowen.
“After three long years of battle, the army was poised to strike Jerusalem,” Rowen explained. “But in their way were 50-foot walls that were 10-feet thick. An insurmountable obstacle.
“In order to scale them, they needed ladders and siege towers, but of course, they had nothing. And of course, the heathen had leveled all trees in the area.
“But the Crusaders scavenged the terrain for wood, and as God would have it, they uncovered a hidden hole in the ground that contained enough ready-made logs to produce the necessary ladders and siege towers.
“God had given them a gift. Just like He is giving us a gift now.”
Sera furrowed her brow. “Rowen, that’s a lovely story and I don’t mean to question it, but if it was God who had lent them a hand, don’t you think He would have already assembled everything? I mean, yeah, it’s great to find ready-made logs and all, but there’s still a lot of work left to be done. And I can’t imagine it’s easy when you’re a sitting duck. I mean c’mon, You’re God, it’s not all that hard to finish the job, is it?”
“What are you getting at, my dove?”
“I’m just saying that if the logs were a gift from God, perhaps they would have already been in the form of ladders and siege towers. And if this gentleman were a gift from God, perhaps he wouldn’t look like a homeless pedophile. ”
“Faith, my dear,” Rowen replied with a condescending God-works-in-mysterious-ways look. “God works in mysterious ways.”
“Well, if you truly believe it in your heart, I will trust you.”
“God is great!”
***
“Land, my boy,” Francois said, pointing from their ship’s deck to the Port of Alexandria in Egypt. “We’re just about there.”
Sea gulls had come out to greet them and as they swirled above, their calls mixed with the sound of waves crashing against the hull and wind thrashing against the sails.
As it was a clear, sunny day, Rowen had no trouble spotting the coast. “Praise be to God!”
“I’m so pleased to have been able to guide you all this way,” Francois said, placing a fleshy hand upon Rowen’s bony fingers.
“I delight in your delight,” Rowen replied.
“When I was a boy your age,” Francois said, squeezing Rowen’s fingers. “I spent every night wondering where my next meal would come from.”
“That sounds horrible,” Rowen replied, compassionately.
“It was. I thought for sure that even if God existed, He’d forgotten about me.”
“God would never forget one of his faithful servants. He has a plan. Although we may not know it, there’s a reason for everything.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I certainly didn’t know it, until I saw you and your invaluable followers. You are a gift from God.”
“I appreciate your kind words, but I am nothing more than a servant of His will. ”
Francois flashed a depraved smile. “And I am nothing more than a servant of opportunity. By simply delivering you to the land of milk and money, I’ll never spend another night hungry again.”
“God helps those who help themselves.”
Francois shifted his fleshy grip to Rowen’s wrist. “I couldn’t have said it any better.”
“I know that He will take care of you for all that you have done,” Rowen replied, patting Francois’ hand amiably, but eager for him to remove it as it was causing him considerable pain.
“Yes,” Francois replied, licking his lips as the ship began to dock. “God, and a few wealthy slavers.”
Rowen, smiling in confusion, glanced at Francois whose eyes sparkled with greed and madness.
“There’s nothing so tasty as a free meal,” Francois continued. “Thanks to you and your multitude of mommy-less followers, it’s free meals for me for life.”
“I’m sorry?” Rowen asked.
“And even though you have a disgusting booger mole on your face, those golden locks and blue eyes will fetch me a pretty penny.”
“I do not follow,” Rowen replied, trying to free himself from Francois’ grip.
Francois jerked him back to the railing. “Just look in front of you, boy. Open your eyes. All you’ll ever need to know is right in front of you.”
Rowen lifted his head to the shore. Just off the docks, there was a dusty square where groups of forlorn men, women, and children stood in chains.
“Come now, boy,” Francois snarled, tugging Rowen toward the exit ramp.
“What’s going on?!” Sera cried as she dashed toward them from the cabin upon detecting Rowen’s distress.
“We’ve arrived at the promised land,” Francois said mockingly as he seized Sera by the wrist as well .
While being forced to disembark, Rowen spotted all the sinister-looking men in flowing robes and fine turbans. They were inspecting the helpless captives and bartering amongst themselves with great zeal.
“Do be good little Angels of God and do what these men tell you,” Francois hissed as he led Rowen and Sera into the market where they were put into shackles.
Within hours, Rowen and his remaining followers – two of the seven boats had shipwrecked along the way – were sold into slavery.
Within a month, Rowen died from malnutrition and unrelenting beatings.
***
“Come to the light,” a reverberating voice sounded once Rowen had breathed his last breath and his soul slipped away from his French 11-year-old body.
With muddled consciousness, Rowen went gently into the bright white light.
“Have a seat,” the voice said soothingly as Rowen neared the source of the light.
As if by gravitation, Rowen found himself straddling what felt like a horse. “What’s happening?”
“Your life is over. I’m taking you back to Verixion.”
“Who … who are you?”
“What’s the deal with this light?”
“Like a moth to the flame, the human soul is drawn to light … that is to say, to divine truth.”
The source of the light was the tip of the divine being’s long tail which was currently dangling in Rowen’s face, in effect blinding him.
“Also, would you have answered my call having seen this?!” she asked, dimming the light to reveal her form .
“Holy shit,” Rowen gasped, feeling at once frightened and nauseous.
Al-Barghest, despite having the graceful body of a winged horse with a fluffy pink tail, was not much to look at from the neck up. The distinguishing features of her fully rotatable wolf-head were her pig nose, mole rat teeth, and naked sphynx cat ears.
As Rowen gagged vehemently, she rotated her head forward, let out a maniacal laugh, and galloped off for Verixion.
The last thing that Rowen remembered was a crashing sound as if the universe were ripping.
Verixion II
“I’m so honored that you’re back, young Angel of God,” a sarcastic voice sounded as Rowen slowly regained consciousness. His eyes were once again flooded with bright light, so it was difficult to make out the surroundings, but the mist flowing around him seemed very familiar.
Then it clicked. Verixion . Delemor .
Rowen reflexively adjusted his body so that he was sitting on his heels deferentially.
“What happened?” he asked feebly as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light and Delemor’s intimidating figure began to take shape on the opposite side of the table.
“You died.”
“I’m so confused,” Rowen said meekly as images from his past life fluttered through his head. “One minute we were being taken to the Holy Land, the next minute I was a slave.”
“Yeah, life’s like that.”
“But why?”
“That guy. The one that told you he was gonna escort you to Jerusalem. He made a boat-load of money selling you and your army of followers to slave traders. A pretty shrewd move, financially.”
“What happened to Sera?”
“Oh, my young cabbage-cabbage, you do not want to know. It’s about a thousand times worse than the most dreadful scenario you could possibly dream up. You realize that you were in Egypt, right?”
“But why? Why did that have to happen? Especially to Sera. She was a loving, faithful follower of Jesus Christ and God the Father. No one believed more than she did.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Yahweh really appreciated that.”
“So then how did that happen? Wasn’t everyone on our side? ”
“Everyone on your side?!” Delemor let out an incredulous laugh. “Do you have any idea how boring it would be if we all took the same side?!”
“But we were taught to have faith in the one true God.”
“Yeah, isn’t that funny?” Delemor chuckled. “It seems like everyone’s taught that. And they all think theirs is the correct one. Talk about hubris. To think that you’re so special that only the God that you believe in is the ‘one true God.’ Re-dick -ulous! But it makes for good watching.”
Rowen’s mind was swimming in confusion.
“So aside from being sold into slavery and being beaten to death, how was it?” Delemor asked. “How would you grade yourself?”
Rowen continued staring off into space trying desperately to make sense of what had happened during his life and what Delemor was saying to him now.
“Answer me, you testicle-less surrender monkey!” Delemor roared as Rowen felt a pain of outrageous proportion in his thigh.
“Eeeeeeeep!” he screamed, partially due to the intense pain, but more partially due to the sight of the jet-black cobra with its neck fanned out who had sunk its venomous fangs deep into his leg.
“Oh My God, I’m Gonna Die!!!!!!” Rowen shrieked.
Delemor once again burst out laughing as the snake released its bite from Rowen’s thigh, spit on it, and slithered back under the table.
The instant the snake retracted its fangs, the pain coursing through Rowen’s entire being vanished.
“Oh my God, what was that?” Rowen asked, panting.
“I guess you could call that my tail. If you’d like to avoid visits, I suggest you answer my questions in an expeditious manner.”
“I’m very sorry. What was the question again?”
“How would you grade yourself? How do you think you did? ”
Rowen furrowed his brow while reflecting on his life. “I think I did pretty good. I did my best as a son and shepherd, and then once I was touched by God, I did my best to lead a Holy Crusade.”
Delemor burst out laughing again. “I still can’t believe you thought you had anything to do with those ‘miracles.’ You should have seen your face. ‘Get up and walk!’ you said. The guy was paralyzed!!!”
As Delemor laughed so hard it seemed like he would suffocate, Rowen heard a loud thud on the table, then a rolling sound coming toward him, and then another thud as an object fell directly next to him.
“What … what is this?” Rowen asked cautiously once Delemor’s laughter had subsided.
“You can keep it, my chou-chou de pute .”
Rowen eyed the crystallized, fist-sized orb in wonder.
“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Delemor said. “Your innocence … nay, your ignorance provided a few moments of entertainment, so I’ll give you a little credit there.”
“So I did good?” Rowen said, swelling with hope. “Do I get to go to Empyrean? I’m sure Sera’s there and I’m aching to see her again.”
“Absolutely not,” Delemor replied, seemingly offended. “I admit you had a couple things going for you, but you’re nowhere near passing the test. Not a chance.”
Rowen’s heart sunk. He felt as if the life had yet again been knocked out of his body.
“But you’ve earned another try,” Delemor said as the door to his chamber swung open and a cool mist wafted in. “Wash that disgusting stink off and we can chat again.”
Rowen slumped out of the room, sparkling orb in hand, and staggered down the stone path to the bathing facilities.
After setting the orb on the counter beneath the mirror, he considered the three bottles full of shimmering liquid.
“Use the crimson-colored one!” Delemor shouted from his chamber .
“May I ask what it is?” Rowen replied, suspiciously.
“Goat blood.”
Rowen gasped.
“It’s just soap, buddy. Just soap.”
As Rowen washed his body with the raspberry-scented shampoo and basked in the transcendent tingling, he noticed a pinky-sized tiger staring wide-eyed at him from atop the second lowest pine cluster of the miniature evergreen tree. It had a fluffy black and orange-striped coat and was beaming at him.
“Hey, guy,” Rowen said cheerfully, stretching a hand toward it.
The tiger playfully jumped into his palm and began licking the base of his thumb. As Rowen brought his hand back toward him to get a closer look at the adorable creature, its eyes flashed and it leapt at Rowen’s family jewels, managing to sink its teeth into one of his testicles.
A searing pain shot through his body and he reflexively clapped his hands on the creature as if trying to crush a mosquito.
The little tiger let out a piercing yelp as it fell to the ground where it promptly shot Rowen a dude,-what-the-fuck?! look and scampered off.
“Care for a drink?” a sultry voice inquired.
Rowen turned to again see the gorgeous vision from last time. He couldn’t help but admire her voluptuous breasts.
“Was that a miniature tiger?” he asked, reaching for the intoxicating beverage.
“Yup. Cute little devil, isn’t he?”
“Not really.”
“I see you’ve got one of Delemor’s tears,” she said, indicating the sparkling orb with a slight nod of the head.
“One of Delemor’
s tears?” Rowen repeated.
“Yeah. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“It’s like a huge diamond,” Rowen said.
“Care for a dip?” the Goddess asked, turning her attention to the mysterious, misty body of water.
Rowen polished off his drink. “Sure.”
The soothingly warm water contrasted nicely with the cool air.
“May I ask your name?” Rowen said as they floated along a current heading toward a luminous being who seemed to be gesticulating by himself on an island for one.
“Aphrodite,” she said, flashing a seductive smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
As they floated closer to the being, Rowen couldn’t help but feel in awe of the light radiating from behind it in concentric circles.
“You talkin’ to me?” it said menacingly, pointing at a reflection of itself in what appeared to be a floating mirror. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?!”
“Who’s that?” Rowen whispered to Aphrodite.
“That’s Yahweh—God of Wrath, Salvation, and Inferiority Complexes Of Preposterous Proportion.”
“Yahweh?!” Rowen repeated, trying desperately to align the recollection of God he had from his past life with the being that he was now looking at.
“His name means, ‘I am what I am.’ It’s the appellative equivalent of the expression, ‘It is what it is,’” Aphrodite explained, raising her voice so that Yahweh could hear. “So yeah, he’s kind of a douche.”
At the sound of Aphrodite’s voice, Yahweh spun his head in their direction while giving a swift kick to what appeared to be a pair of winged bunnies sprawled out at his feet. They immediately snapped to attention. “Holy! Holy! Holy is Yahweh! His glory fills the whole world!”
While short in stature and quite hairy, Yahweh’s body was ripped with muscles and he had a presence about him that was at once awe-inspiring and confoundingly pathetic.
“It is a great honor to meet you, my Father,” Rowen said, bowing .
Yahweh flashed a self-satisfied smile.
“As I’m sure You know,” Rowen continued. “I dedicated my life to You and Jesus.”
“Who?”
“Jesus. Your son born to the Virgin Mary who preached about You and died for the sins of mankind.”