saint Sebastian the Rose

by Glover, Michael W.

  “Yes and no. They held the castle that night, what was left of the men. Some stayed and others left, never wanting to see that place again after such a battle and for fear that there would be more to come.”

  “Okay, if so many died, wouldn’t there be a great cemetery for all the dead?” Jacob reasoned.

  “There is,” Sebastian said.

  “Where is it?” Jessica asked.

  “The dead from the battle are still here. You walk the very ground they defended, they died on and are buried in,” Sebastian spoke, his voice growing stronger with every word.

  “The monastery is home to a very large mass grave which is not marked in any normal way. The entire castle is surrounded by the graves of those who came to defend the land on which they lived.

  “The cemetery is lined with two very distinct rows of stones sticking up from the ground. The walls of the moat hold all of those who died that night. The moat is no longer, but it is the final resting place for what has been said to be nine thousand dead.” Sebastian turned his head to once again gaze into the fire. The fire’s reflection made his face look alive as the light danced, but it also appeared sad. How could it not with so sad a story?

  “So tread lightly when walking the moat, because it is a peaceful place now.” Sebastian finally made his way to a chair where he sat very calmly and was quiet again.

  “An amazing tale and one worth telling. I have only heard it told a few times myself and no one does the story more justice than Father Lemoine and Sebastian,” Father Donovan spoke after remaining quiet all this time.

  “It is amazing to hear of great events such as this with the many questions they still pose and how they seem impossible based on the facts that are known,” Thomas Ridgeway said, while holding the great spear that was part of the story.

  “So this is actually one of the spears that was used and the only one left that you have here?” Ridgeway asked.

  “Yes, a very rare artifact with a very dark past. It truly is one of a kind, unique in every way,” Father Lemoine added.

  “I must ask. I have noticed something I can’t really come to terms with, and am not sure I am seeing this correctly.” Ridgeway paused.

  “Yes. I think you are right in your assumption, Mr. Ridgeway. You are very observant. Most do not recognize what I think you are about to ask,” Father Lemoine remarked.

  Ridgeway sat there, still going over things in his head to make sure he was not completely out of his mind. He silently asked himself why, for what purpose, or was it altered? His mind just kept coming to one question till he could ponder it no longer.

  “Is it my imagination or is the spearhead made of silver?”

  Both of the twins looked to the spear tip. Then they looked to Father Lemoine and back to their father. Jacob and Jessica were both caught off guard. Why hadn’t they noticed and why was this so strange?

  “Very observant, Mr. Ridgeway, and to answer your question, yes, the spear tip is made of silver,” Father Lemoine said.

  “It took me awhile to wrap my mind around the strangeness of it, why it would be silver. Surely this is a lone example. The expense would have been extraordinary,” Ridgeway reasoned aloud.

  “You are correct in your judgment of how expensive that would have been having so many spears made of silver. Perhaps this one belonged to Lord Courtshire himself, and how lucky we are to maybe have his spear, and only his, left.”

  “Mysterious!”

  “Like so many tales that are told when not all of the facts are available to the listener, how wonderful they seem,” Father Donovan said.

  “But I like the way you told the story, so full of life and detail like you had seen it for yourself, so real and compelling,” Jessica added.

  “How cool it would be to hear all of the details from someone who was actually there,” Jacob said.

  “Yes, I am sure the story would yield some interesting details from someone who was actually there … some horrible things,” Sebastian said as he turned to Father Donovan.

  chapter FOURTEEN

  ALL OTHER PARTIES had dispersed and were heading to their rooms, but Jacob lingered in the study, unwilling to leave his comfortable chair. He looked around the room, taking in all the artifacts, and decided he would investigate.

  He walked over to the wall where the spear had been placed and reached out to touch the shaft. His mind came to life with the story and all of the possibilities that he would never know.

  “Do you really believe it all?” Sebastian said, walking up behind Jacob.

  “You don’t? You told the story as if you did,” Jacob said as he walked the room.

  “What does it matter? It was long ago, just a fireside story now, something to amuse the guests,” Sebastian said, standing before the fireplace once again.

  “I guess you always want the fantastic stories to be true, the great adventures, hoping that you will be a part of one someday, and your life will be something special, something to tell others,” Jacob said, more to himself than to Sebastian.

  “Would you have really wanted to be a part of that story?” Sebastian asked curiously.

  “Yeah, how awesome would that have been?” Jacob replied as though there was no other answer.

  “You would have wanted to be there, amongst the suffering and death that was to your right and your left, in front of you and behind you? To hear the cries of pain that rose up like a symphony recorded on your brain that won’t stop? To see your best friends die around you? To see the innocent come running out of the castle on fire, like demons from hell with their mouths agape?” Sebastian pounded Jacob with questions.

  “Was that what happened?”

  “So they say,” Sebastian said quietly.

  “Did the castle burn? That wasn’t part of the story,” Jacob asked.

  “There are many details of the story that were not told, and yes the castle burned, again!” Sebastian said with finality. “You will notice there are walls in the castle that appear to be made of some kind of black stone. The stones are not black; they are burned,” Sebastian said, entranced with the fire in front of him that was slowly burning down to a low ember.

  “The castle has burned many times. It is not unusual for a castle that has endured for a long time to have burned at least once in its past, what with fireplaces, candles, kitchens and attacks. But this one has seen the purging fire so many times that it should have earned a name to go along with all of the other names it has acquired over its long history.”

  “Don’t you think it still would have been awesome to have gone through that and survived?” Jacob asked, walking over to the fireplace. He wondered how the fire could entrance someone as much as it did Sebastian.

  Sebastian turned to Jacob, looked him in the eyes and held his stare. He thought of how eager and innocent Jacob was. He searched for some part of him that he recognized, for they were basically the same age. The fire’s last licks of flames played on their faces and made Jacob’s sandy hair shine and his blue eyes sparkle like gems in an idol.

  Yes, Sebastian saw his reflection in that face, in that beautiful face that reflected what he also saw in Jessica. They were similar; he could see it now. They were also similar in their eternal youth, youth that they would never lose, youth with a curiosity for anything that was new or foreign. Sebastian looked back to the fire, not wanting to see what he thought was a reflection of himself at a time he didn’t want to revisit for too long.

  “Survive? Do you really think that they survived? Do you think they did not suffer from the things they experienced? Do you think they did not die themselves and merely become shells of themselves as they tried to do anything they could to forget?” Sebastian walked away from the fire and its memories.

  “How do you know all of this?” Jacob was curious to find out how Sebastian knew so much.

  “I have the journals from the aftermath. I have felt the words that are written there,” Sebastian said as he made his way to the door.


  “Can I read them sometime? I want to know what you know,” Jacob asked eagerly. Sebastian stopped but did not turn around.

  “To know what I know is to see more than with eyes that read,” Sebastian said and left the room with Jacob standing in the middle of the study, the museum to all things.

  ***

  Sebastian walked the halls with the story still on his mind. He had told that story many times, and every time he felt it. Were the survivors the lucky ones? That thought had always plagued him; maybe the ones who died were the lucky ones. They fought for their existence and lived till the moment of their death. They didn’t have to go on day to day with the images of so much of themselves lost on that night.

  The halls at night could be very dark. Sebastian was reminded again of the black walls. He stopped and put his hand to the stone; even stone turns black with so much fire. The stone felt almost warm to his touch as if the fire were still burning.

  He turned and walked, and before he knew where he was he realized without looking up he had come to his chapel—his quiet place, even though he had many quiet places; he searched them out, hunted them endlessly and made them his own.

  He entered the small dark chapel, making his way to its interior. There were not many like this, his chapel, which he was aware of. It was only big enough for a small gathering and not ornamented with murals and gold. Dull by any standards, but if you looked closely there was beauty.

  The room was stone and wood, from the pews to the saints lining the walls. The only thing out of proportion was the height of the ceiling; one would not expect such a small space to have a ceiling that high, but it went up in the center to almost thirty feet. This would be hard to tell because of the darkness. There was one thing missing from this space—windows.

  Sebastian found his place in the pews, knelt down and laid his head down on his hands. He was never sure if he was actually praying so much as offering up some part of himself.

  The silence was comforting, and he lost himself in his thoughts. Then there were footsteps, light ones, and then silence. He turned around to find Father Donovan in the door.

  “I did not know if I should enter. Maybe I should come back another time?” Father Donovan asked Sebastian.

  “Did you want to use the chapel alone?” Sebastian asked, unsure if Father Donovan used this chapel.

  “No, no. I came here looking for you. I thought you might seek it out this night. It appears my guessing has not diminished too much with age.”

  Father Donovan walked into the chapel since he got no indication from Sebastian that he wanted to be alone. He sat down next to Sebastian and lowered his head for a short prayer.

  “That was a grand telling tonight. I am sure our guests appreciated the effort made,” Father Donovan said.

  “I know what you are thinking,” Sebastian said to his friend.

  “Yes, I suppose you do. It is always that way between two people who have known each other for so long, but I know there is more there than is ever said,” Father Donovan said.

  “I did lose myself in the story a little tonight. I was there again; I was taken back and led down the path to where it all ends. I guess that is why I am here,” Sebastian confessed. He paused.

  “I am afraid again,” Sebastian said after a moment.

  “Tell me what you are afraid of; it has been some time since we have really talked. I do miss my friend and our conversations,” Father Donovan said.

  “I think my fears are coming true. I think the time is coming again. I believe we may all be in danger, and I fear I will lose all that I love in the process, like before,” Sebastian said.

  “Tell me what worries you. What has happened?” Father Donovan said with more urgency.

  Sebastian looked down as if he couldn’t even say what was in his head and his heart, as if giving words to his worries would make them come true. He looked up into the eyes of his friend and mentor and steadied himself.

  “I have had visits,” Sebastian acknowledged. Father Donovan sat back and looked up to the ceiling that he couldn’t see and took a deep breath.

  “Someone whom I do not know what to make of, someone who scares me for all of the reasons we know there are to be scared.”

  Father Donovan sat with his eyes and ears open to what he was not expecting to hear from Sebastian. He had expected to come here to counsel and console a friend. Now he was receiving news he had known might come one day; he had just hoped that day would be after he was long gone.

  “Sebastian, what has happened?”

  “He came to me one night. I had reached the old spot, and I was just going to sit for a while. I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know why. Then I knew what was wrong. I felt his presence—the presence I wished I would never feel again.” Sebastian talked, looking into the darkness, into the shadowy faces of the saints looking over the two friends.

  “What was he like?” Father Donovan asked, probing for any information. “You said he visited you. Do you believe he sought you out?”

  “Oh, yes. We talked, but not at length. It was strange. I felt threatened but not in danger. He wanted me to notice him,” Sebastian said, recalling the events.

  “He warned me!” Sebastian looked Father Donovan in the eyes with concern for his friend.

  “Sebastian, what did he warn you of?”

  “He told me he had been watching me. He said someone is coming.” Sebastian could not sit any longer and stood up and started to pace the room.

  “I told him the area was not open for anyone. And he remarked that I had not been here as long as some.”

  “How many times have you seen this visitor?”

  “He has come to me twice in the last week. I was hoping to find out more before I told you, but I fear I may be too late already.”

  “Do you trust this one?” Father Donovan asked hesitantly.

  “I trust him from a distance. He was strong, that much I could tell. His eyes were red like some demon in the dark, and when I approached him he melted away like a shadow,” Sebastian recounted.

  “Sebastian, he has made himself known to you and has not threatened you. He has warned you of something, something you must find out more about,” Father Donovan said, looking at Sebastian with a raised brow.

  “You want me to seek him out?”

  “I am afraid that is exactly what you must do. We need to know more,” Father Donovan said.

  “I thought for sure you would be going to see your family tonight. I figured that was the path where the story would lead. I just wanted to give you some support,” Father Donovan said.

  “I do plan to go there tonight, unless something keeps me, but I will go and seek my Companion to learn more.”

  ***

  Jessica was playing with a small box from the table as her brother walked into the room. Jacob wandered in and walked past her out of the common room into their bedroom. Jessica watched her brother rifle through his suitcase and then walk over to the dresser where they had unpacked most of their belongings.

  Jacob zipped from one end of the room to the other, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake. When all was upturned in their room, he walked through the doors and headed across the room towards their father’s bedchamber. Moments later a few items could be seen hitting the floor.

  Jessica didn’t say anything, but a look of amusement crossed her face as she watched him. Still playing with the box, she adjusted her sitting position to get a better view of the whirlwind.

  Again, her brother came into the common room, this time looking to and fro and opening any drawer he could find. Finally ending up at a table next to the couch his sister was on, he pulled open the drawer and looked in its empty space. Their heads were only feet apart when he looked up at her.

  “Yes?” Jessica asked questioningly.

  “Flashlight?” Jacob snapped.

  “I put it under the mattress just in case I needed it at night.”

  “Ahh, I should have known. Not in a pl
ace that anyone else could find it if there was an emergency. Good thinking, Sis.”

  “Is there an emergency?”

  She watched as more things went flying after he had retrieved the flashlight. The quest was on again but for what? Now he was scanning the walls of the bedroom.

  “You could just ask me instead of tearing up the room beyond recognition!” she yelled at her brother.

  He emerged with the flashlight in hand and stood in the doorway. Jessica was doing all that she could to read his mind, but she really had no clue what he wanted.

  “Crucifix?” Jacob exclaimed.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Jacob turned around and continued his mission.

  “What do you need a crucifix for?”

  He came back and stood in the doorway, plaintively questioning her again. Jessica cracked a smile of playful guilt.

  “Under my pillow,” she muttered.

  Jacob retrieved the crucifix Jessica had obviously discovered in the room and stashed under her pillow for comfort. He returned to the room and sat next to his sister on the couch. Jessica looked at her brother looking at her; he was really annoying her tonight with all of his silent communication. She was too tired to play his games.

  “What are you going to ask for next, holy water and a wooden stake?”

  “Nah, I don’t need a wooden stake, but I am sure we can get some holy water from the chapel I found you in. I don’t plan to ever get close to something we need a wooden stake for,” Jacob rationalized.

  “We?” Jessica stammered.

  “We!” Jacob countered her. “We … might need them tonight.”

  “Oh, no, I am not going anywhere! I had enough ghosts and goblins the other night to do me for a while,” Jessica said, as she moved from one couch to the other.

  “Come on! You won’t make me go by myself, will you? It won’t be as much fun without you,” Jacob pleaded.

  “You expect me to go and get the wits scared out of me again? I really thought I was going to come out of my skin! Now, you have a flashlight and a crucifix. Is that supposed to make me think happy thoughts about some adventure?”