Father Donovan was spry for his age. He moved through the hallways with great speed when he wanted to, checking in to ensure all tasks were completed. On the way he ran into big Father Dagrun bringing towels. Father Dagrun was the cook and obviously enjoyed his food.
“Good morning. Are we finishing with all the preparations?”
“Oh, yes, almost done. The rooms needed a good scrubbing after being empty for so long. I think the spiders had taken over,” Father Dagrun said. Father Matthew, one of the newer monks, was standing nearby and nodded in agreement.
“When will our guests be arriving?” asked Father Matthew.
“They should arrive before lunch, just in time to join us. I hope we are preparing something good to welcome them, Dagrun.”
“Yes; it should be almost done, though I should probably be checking in to make sure all is well. I suddenly have a feeling I’m needed.”
“Have you seen Father Lemoine?” Father Donovan asked.
“Last I saw he was headed for the armory … something about straightening still to attend to, didn’t want anyone tripping over a misplaced halberd …” Father Matthew laughed. “Is everything all right, Father?”
“Yes, yes. Our visit is just earlier this year and I feel a little behind. Our spring cleaning is not usually done until the snow is gone. Seems the proper time to come out of hibernation.”
“Do we know anything of our guests?” Like everyone else here, Father Matthew was curious when it came to visitors:.
“Yes and no. Mr. Thomas Ridgeway is part of a historical theology group studying old texts that are seldom seen, and relating them to the church then and now.” Father Donovan returned from his thoughts, turning to Father Matthew with a look that was both serious and concerned.
“The monastery here is a perfect reason for his visit because of his field of study.”
“Yes, it is a perfect reason. Sometimes things can be a little too perfect so that they bear greater scrutiny,” Father Donovan said with a finger placed to his lips.
“What of Sebastian?” Father Matthew was always looking out for Sebastian and knew too well his place in the castle monastery.
“Sebastian will remain, of course. He would be missed; he does some work that Mr. Ridgeway could be familiar with. We swore to protect him when he came to us, and that is how it will stay.”
Father Donovan was always thinking. Father Matthew felt more relieved after speaking to him, knowing the old man was on top of things.
Father Donovan zipped down the hallways, passing monks, intent on the day, when he came to the armory. It was aptly named because it was lined with weapons of every sort. Some would think this is sort of strange in a monastery, but it was a castle after all. Father Lemoine was in charge of this room. He was a historian over the use of many weapons and proficient to the point of being an expert.
“Our day seems to be progressing well,” Father Donovan said, almost as a question.
“Oh, yes. Everything is in order. The armory is ready for a grand recounting of the estate’s past as if we were living it still.” Father Lemoine was beyond proud of the armory. With great pleasure he kept the weapons in spectacular condition.
“There is nothing dangerous lying around that curious hands could get a hold of, is there? We don’t want anyone accidentally losing a hand or any other necessary limbs,” Father Donovan asked, knowing all was well.
“Everything is in its place. But I can’t promise no one could injure themselves in here; the room is filled with weapons,” Father Lemoine stated. “And our guest?”
“Mr. Ridgeway will be bringing his family along, his son and his daughter. It seems he takes them with him when he travels, educating them, showing them the world. Do not concern yourself; they are old enough that we should not worry.”
“How old are they?” Lemoine asked with trepidation.
“I believe they are both eighteen. I think that I recall they are twins.”
“Oh, yes, we don’t have to worry about teenagers running around the castle,” Lemoine said with a touch of sarcasm.
“Yes, they are teenagers. And though I have not been a teenager for some time, I think I do recall getting myself into a bit of mischief. We shall have to inform Mr. Ridgeway of some rules he should impart to his children, and we should keep a watchful eye on them. I think we have a very good person for that task.”
“Sebastian?” Father Lemoine asked hesitantly, his surprise clearly evident.
“Yes. I think Sebastian will be perfect. This will also occupy him and keep his mind off of other things. He has been troubled lately and I don’t know why. Hopefully this will be a welcome distraction,” Father Donovan added with a measure of concern.
Father Donovan was still making his rounds when he could distinctly hear two raised voices arguing over something as he approached the library. He wasn’t too worried because he knew the voices and expected as much. Still, he thought the combination of the two being monks and being in a library, they might show a little more restraint. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he laughed a little out loud, knowing how silly that was.
“Ahem,” Father Donovan said, and the two stopped and looked up at him.
“Anything I can help with?”
“No,” they both looked at each other simultaneously, noting he was not too amused.
“Then everything is in order? I do not want Mr. Ridgeway to think our pride and joy is unkempt.”
“The library is ready for inspection,” Father Andrew proclaimed.
“Good!”
Father Donovan’s thoughts shifted to Sebastian. He knew Sebastian was ready for any occurrence. The area had been peaceful for almost as long as he could remember, but he knew the pendulum can only swing one way for so long before it comes charging back. Father Donovan felt a shudder come over him like a vision.
“Sebastian.”
***
With all the commotion in the monastery, one would have thought the pope would be arriving. The normally quiet place was buzzing with activity, except at this end of the castle where one could hear his own thoughts or that of the nearest mouse if he listened closely enough. This was the private area of Sebastian.
Father Matthew wandered here because there was so much going on at the other end, but something was missing—the presence of his friend. He opened the door to find the cozy library dimly lit, just enough to see the rows of books. The room was a world unto itself, one he enjoyed escaping to.
How many hours had he spent here, sneaking away when all the daily jobs were done? This was Sebastian’s library and the two had become friends. He greatly enjoyed this time when he could get away, but time here was sporadic.
Today he came here, drawn from pure curiosity. Father Matthew walked the room until he came to the other door, the one he had never gone beyond. How he wanted to open it and wake his friend. Sebastian had been extremely busy of late, going on one of his many walks to points unknown. Father Matthew reached the door. As he felt the cold brass of the doorknob in his hand, a voice brought him back to reality.
“Father Matthew!” Father Donovan called.
Father Matthew turned, startled at the call of his name. He’d been unaware that Father Donovan entered and had been observing him.
“Father Donovan, I …”
“Sebastian is resting on my request and after many days without sleep. I hope you understand he is not to be disturbed for any reason,” Father Donovan said.
“I just wanted to check on him.”
“I am sure Sebastian is fine, but he would be happy if we just let him rest. I am also sure he would be happy to know there are some here who would be concerned for him. I do not believe that is always conveyed very clearly,” Father Donovan stepped further into the room.
“I know everyone has different feelings for Sebastian and that you two have become close friends,” Father Donovan said, taking in everything like it was his first time there. “I must ask you to let Sebastian come
out as he feels fit.”
“Father Donovan,” Father Matthew called as Father Donovan turned to leave.
“Yes, Matthew.”
“Do you think that Sebastian knows how we feel about him?” Matthew asked.
“I feel deep down Sebastian knows he is loved.”
“But do you think that he feels like he is part of us? I imagine even after all this time he doesn’t believe. I always get a sense he’s somewhere else even when I get close to him,” Father Matthew said.
“You must understand, Matthew. Sebastian has had a very hard life. He is in a different place sometimes. Sometimes he is with his family, you know. You left your family of your own volition. Sebastian was taken from his at a young age,” Father Donovan repeated the story everyone knew.
“He saw the whole of his family killed. Such a traumatic event will dominate your life. So yes, you can understand he may not feel part of the whole, and we must do what we can to be family. Not the family he lost, for we could never replace his true family. Now, let’s go and let him sleep and get you back on task. Hopefully we have not wakened him with our intrusion.” Father Donovan placed his hand on Matthew’s shoulder, ushering him toward the door.
Father Donovan looked back into the room. How delightful it was finding Father Matthew coming to do the same thing he also wanted. Once again, his faith in the monks he called his friends and brothers was reassured. He only wished he could have spent a little more time in the library.
Father Matthew was making small talk about the upcoming months as he walked down the hallway. Father Donovan was barely taking in what he said, lost in his own thoughts about what was to come. Sometimes you just know when life is about to change; there is an awareness, like a tingling or a thought in the back of your mind you can’t quite grasp. The only thing you can do is keep your eyes open and be ready to walk the road ahead.
chapter THREE
THE AFTERNOON CAME AND WENT without any sign of the visitors the monks were expecting, and they were getting a little antsy with expectation. Later that afternoon, about 4:30, one of the monks came into the monastery and yelled that a car was coming up the road. This alone was an event since the monastery kept no modern transportation; they lived in a place that clung to time and tradition from long ago.
The monastery came alive, like a kitchen at night when the lights are turned on; what was seemingly a peaceful place turned into a flurry of movement like mice scattering to find a hole. The monks were coming out from every conceivable place to welcome their newly arrived visitors.
A taxi came to a halt in front of the remarkable building that was the monastery. First out was a tall man with glasses who seemed very glad to be out of the car. As if on cue the other doors opened and out poured the twins. Thomas Ridgeway was a student of history; even so, he felt like a kid again. He found himself in a place he had only heard of, a place with a mythic quality to its existence. Yes, this was a happy day for him.
Jacob was the older of the twins by thirteen minutes and turned eighteen this year. His father knew it also by the way he acted. Jacob was asserting himself as the man he was becoming, while still holding on to the joy of youth one can get away with at that age.
His father convinced him to come along with him on this trip, telling him it might be the last great adventure the three of them would have as a family. Jacob wanted to go off on his own to begin his new life but was finally convinced by his younger sister, Jessica, who always loved going on an adventure with her brother.
Jessica was torn between going to a school of her own choosing or attending wherever her brother decided to go. Not that she wasn’t an independent girl; she just loved her brother more than anyone she knew, except maybe her father. But even her father could not truly compare to the closeness she felt to her brother. Twins have a connection most people cannot understand.
At that moment, a voice came from behind the monks; the voice could only be from Father Donovan. The monks parted like the Red Sea to let the old man through to welcome their visitors.
“Welcome to our humble home.”
Mr. Ridgeway’s head popped up to see the weathered man coming their way. He quit wrestling with the luggage to shake hands with Father Donovan. Ridgeway was pleasantly surprised by the firmness of the old man’s handshake, but there was something more to the man besides a firm grip.
Jacob and Jessica looked at each other and smiled; this was exactly the type of man they had expected to see, an old man with a thick beard wearing monk’s robes. Since they were living in a monastery in the hills with a bunch of boring monks for a while, they would have to seek adventure on their own. At least that was the plan.
“Father Donovan, I believe I recognize your voice from our phone conversations.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you could recognize my voice in a crowded theater. It has a kind of raspy something to it,” he waved his hand nonchalantly as he said this. “I hope your trip was pleasant?”
“Well, yes. I could tell you of our luggage at the airport terminal, or the taxi driver who seemed to know exactly where we were going but always got lost, or should I tell you about the herd of goats?” Ridgeway alluded to painfully.
“And who are these young people?” Father Donovan asked, bringing Ridgeway out of his story.
“Yes, this is my son Jacob and my daughter Jessica. They think they are here to keep me company.” Thomas Ridgeway whispered, leaning in slightly to Father Donovan. “They don’t believe this trip will be any fun for people of their age; you know, being in a monastery with no TV in sight.”
The twins looked at each other, surprised their father would embarrass them. Both opened their mouths to protest, but their objections were half-hearted.
Father Donovan was smiling, knowing all too well the thoughts of the young, having once been there himself and now occasionally looking over monks around the same age.
“Ah yes, I would imagine the thought of spending too much time with a bunch of … old monks praying … could get tiresome. That is why I don’t recommend it. No, I think you will find your time here to be quite diverse. There are monks of a wide age range here, from me on the higher end down to some almost your age,” Father Donovan acknowledged.
“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. I’m sure that you will also meet Sebastian. You will find he is also around your age, although he is not a monk.”
“Not a monk, but he lives here?” Jacob inquired, not fully understanding why anyone would live in a monastery if he wasn’t a monk.
“You mentioned he’s around our age. How old is he?” Jessica asked.
Father Donovan enjoyed the enthusiasm of youth; it keeps the old young at heart.
“Sebastian is seventeen,” he said, speaking the truth but not the whole truth.
“Well, we can spend all day outside but we might catch a cold if we do. Let’s get their things inside. We will finish introductions at dinner where we will be more comfortable,” Father Donovan urged the monks into action.
Entering the monastery, the newcomers took in the subtle splendor of the castle. Their bags were whisked away while monks dispersed down the hallways. Father Donovan spoke as he led them further into the castle.
“The castle has endured in some form for over seven centuries that we are aware of. It has been the home to several lords of the land. The castle has had many names, but we call it home … a much more pleasant connotation than many I have heard. But I’m afraid I am not the best historian here. I only remember things I have heard others say, ones who are more familiar with such things,” Father Donovan trailed off.
“Father Donovan,” Father Lemoine approached.
“Ah yes, this is Father Lemoine. He is much better at telling tales of the castle than I. Though I believe he has a tendency to exaggerate his tales on occasion, he is great fun to listen to. He will show you to your rooms.”
“Is it easy to get lost in the castle?” asked Ridgeway, looking as if he was already lost.
“You c
an get lost easily enough, but it is almost just as easy to find your way again. The castle was designed to ensure that people who didn’t know it would get lost easily, thus confusing intruders. The trick is to know there are markings on the walls and over entrances that form a kind of map one would not normally look for unless informed.” Father Lemoine stopped and held up a finger pointing to a doorway that had a sitting stag etched into the stone.
“What does it mean?” Jessica asked.
“Does it correlate to the name of a room?” Jacob asked.
“I see that this may be more fun than you anticipated,” Father Lemoine observed with enthusiasm.
Past the doorway they came to one of the great staircases in the castle. The staircase was exactly as they had imagined, adding to the awe of what erroneously appeared from the outside to be a simple structure.
“These stairs lead you to the guest chambers. In the middle of the stairs you can look out those windows on the east lawn, a magnificent view at sunrise, or like now with the blanket of snow.” Father Lemoine loved talking about the castle to those who would listen. The three visitors looked out the windows with a sense of awe and peace. Just past the lawn was a wall of woods growing darker as the sun was setting.
“I see why one would want to stay in such a beautiful place,” Jessica observed. Father Lemoine nodded his head in silent acknowledgement, knowing she only understood half of the truth.
“At the top of the stairs, down this hallway are your rooms,” Father Lemoine said.
Through the door the Ridgeways entered into the common room between their bedchambers. This was no ordinary hotel they were staying in. The monastery was a living, breathing history that pervaded everything down to the doorknobs, and they were soaking it up.
Jacob and Jessica walked about the room, which was appointed much more than most of the castle they had been in. There were paintings all over the walls, the carpet was rich, and the woodwork, from the furniture to the walls, was finely crafted. The fireplace was massive and already blazing.
saint Sebastian the Rose Page 2