Christiana

by Jim Pappas

  "I'm not sure I follow your obtuse reasoning, Pappy. But then I don't imagine many can, seeing that you come from such a dim-witted town as Stupidity. But all that aside, I'll wager that if you take a poll of so-called 'pilgrims', you will find that most agree with me."

  "That I very much doubt. And if any do, they will certainly not shamelessly promote their evil ways as godly, as you do."

  "'Tis only because few are so honest as I. But if you could look into their secret lives, I'll wager, two-to-one, that you will find them teaching by action what I teach by word."

  "I truly hope not."

  "'Tis verily true. The only difference is that I am not a hypocrite - which places my virtue ahead of theirs. In fact, if there were not so many interesting diversions along the way, I would have been into the City long ere this."

  "What! Do you dare put off your salvation?"

  "Ohhhh, salvation . . . smalvation," snorted Self-will. "All days continue as this one. My Lord delays His coming. There is no hurry."

  "Tell me, O self-willed dawdling one If you had a week to run twenty miles or else forfeit your life, would you wait until the last hour of the week to start out?"

  "You are comparing apples to oranges, good man," retorted Self-will. "A journey will take a given amount of time no matter what. But to repent and be forgiven is a business transaction that can be done in the last ten seconds of a man's life. So enjoy yourself. Eat, drink and be merry, for God stands eager and ready to forgive."

  "So. You would defraud God of the strength of your youth and then bring Him the tattered remnant of your life at the last second, eh?"

  "Oh, puh-leeze, old boy. Don't put it in such crass terms. Life was meant to be lived and I intend to drink its sweetest while I may. Time enough in old age to repent and be pious."

  "Well, young man, I may not be so bright as you; but because I wend my way a bit more slowly than most, I see many things that others miss."

  "Oh do you now? Like what?"

  "I have seen some begin their pilgrimage in all good health who have died a few days into their pilgrimage."

  "Umm, hmm. Interesting."

  "I have seen others begin with such weakness of mind and body as would make you think they would never pass the wicket gate. Yet these have gone on from victory to victory and have entered the city more than conquerors."

  "Hmm. Fascinating. Simply (yawn) fascinating."

  "I have seen some sprint as a runner from the blocks - whom I later saw running just as fast the other way."

  "A hem! And what is the point of all this?"

  "Hear me out, please."

  "Yes, yes (yawn)."

  "Some have begun by speaking very highly of the pilgrim's life, only to end by cursing it."

  "Hmm. Really now."

  "Some have begun by singing the praises of Paradise, only to end by declaring there is no such place."

  "Then I heard Self-will say, under his breath, 'Oh, weary dreary. How did I ever . . . '"

  "'Pardon me?' said I."

  "Oh, nothing. Nothing. Do carry on. Please do."

  "I have heard some boast of what they would do when they met danger, only to flee back at its first mention."

  "And what does all of this tell me, Old One?"

  "It shows you what your end shall be."

  "Oh puh-leeze, sir! Spare me the lecture. I feel in my heart that I shall end my journey at the same place as you! And, if I should perchance happen to arrive a few years later, why, what difference in eternity? And now, if you will excuse me, I shall pass over this little bridge and, uh . . . shall I say, refresh myself."

  "And what lies over said bridge that is enough to take you out of the way?"

  "Why, Madam Bubble, of course."

  "Who?"

  "You do know about the luscious woman who dwells hereabouts, don't you?"

  "Nay. And how did you learn of her?"

  "Why, from that merry young wench down yonder - and also from her many sisters along the way. They told me to keep my eye out for a little bridge leading out of the way which would lead me to pleasure to end all pleasures."

  "I have heard nothing of her."

  "Hmmm. Amazing. Well, Pops, if you had enough strength of mind and a little extra virtue, I would share a few juicy tidbits about her. Perhaps even invite you along. But I perceive that your faith is weak. You have no reserves of righteousness to enable you to indulge a bit of vice. Therefore I shall say no more. Ta-ta, Pappy. See you in the kingdom."

  "If you do, it will be because you have been converted and mended your ways."

  "Nay, nay, nay. There is no mending to be done. 'Twas all done for me at the cross. Fare thee well."

  "And that, Great-heart and company, is the last I have seen of Self-will."

  "And probably the last we shall ever hear of him," replied the guide.

  "Unless we chance to come upon his bones farther up the way," observed Christiana ruefully.

  Then, from far up the path they heard the voice of alarm crying:

  "Back! Back! Go back!"

  Then Great-heart and Old-honest drew their swords as the boys readied their staves and clubs.

  "Ho there!" shouted Great-heart.

  But the man came running on, shouting, "Thieves! Robbers! Ruffians! You men of war and you four young men, man your weapons! There are murderers and thieves about who will steal you blind!"

  "Wait. Wait one moment! Calm down," cried Great-heart as the man came galloping up to them. "Give us details, man."

  "No details to give," said he, pausing but a few seconds in his fearful flight. "They are villains and marauders of the worst sort. So just put the tender women in the center and flee back while you may."

  "But you may join forces with us and continue towards the City. Come, travel with us," urged Great-heart.

  "Nay, nay. I'm sick of all the dangers along this narrow way. I'm going back!"

  And with that, the man turned and raced headlong on his fatal flight back down the trail.

  "Is he one of those who boast of no fear until the first rumor of danger?" Great-heart inquired of Old-honest.

  "It would seem so, judging by his direction. But certainly, had he wished, he could have joined us for protection."

  "What was he running from, Old-honest?" asked Matthew.

  "Oh, he has probably seen those rogues who accosted a man named Little-faith. He foolishly slept in the way and when he awoke from his ill-timed nap, there were three knaves standing over him to part him from his purse. Do you remember their names, Great-heart?"

  "Aye, that I do. They lurk about Dead-man's-lane which lies just ahead of us."

  "What an odd name," noted Mercy.

  "Aye. So named because of all the murders that are committed hereabouts. As I recall, their names are Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt."

  "Aye," agreed Old-honest. "Let us go forward in good hope though. For I doubt they would dare challenge more than one. Why, even teenage James here is already man enough to put them to flight."

  And so they went them on, all the while keeping a sharp lookout for the thieves who haunted that place. But they saw none (somewhat to the disappointment of the young men who were eager to make the way safer for we who would follow after). After a few more miles, Christiana felt a weariness come creeping into her bones and noticed that the youth and Mercy were also beginning to drag a bit. Then said she:

  "Great-heart. We begin to grow weary. Is there perhaps an inn somewhere hereabouts?"

  "An inn, do you say?" answered Old-honest. "Why, I hear that there is a very fine one just up the way. 'Tis run by a notable disciple named Gaius. Let us turn in there for a time."

  CHAPTER XX

  At The Home of Gaius

  And so it was that not far up the way the little party found themselves welcomed by Gaius, the innkeeper, who said:

  Gaius welcomes the pilgrims to his home

  "These are all pilgrims, eh, Great-heart? Well then, bring them in. Maid! Butler! Show these
good people to their rooms. Draw the baths and set out the towels. Turn down the beds and warm the stew. Welcome! Welcome, one and all."

  So they all thanked him and began to enter in. Now, during the formalities of introductions Matthew had managed to weasel himself in next to Mercy. Said he quietly:

  "Uh . . . may I, uh . . . carry your baggage upstairs for you, Miss Mercy?"

  "Oh, it's not so heavy, Matthew. I can . . . "

  But at this point she stopped short and held her tongue. And for why? Because her eye had caught sight of Christiana looking at her and holding her finger to her lips. Then Christiana beckoned for Mercy to come close and whispered in her ear, "Mercy, let him carry it for you."

  "But I have no need, Ma'am," whispered she. "I have so few possessions that . . ."

  "A girl must not use pounds and ounces to measure chivalry and romance, child."

  "Oh," she whispered, quickly catching on to the ways of women. So she turned back to Matthew, and with an engaging smile, said, "Matthew, I do thank you for your kind offer. I would love to have you carry my biggest bag for me."

  "Yes, Miss Mercy!" said he a bit too eagerly, as he almost snatched the satchel from her hand. "Thank you."

  As Matthew escorted Mercy to her door, Samuel rolled his eyes and said to his brothers, "Would you look at that. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

  "Yeah," agreed Joseph. "I fear we shall lose him from our club 'ere long."

  "Indeed," agreed Samuel. "Whadaya think, James? James?"

  But James, now grown into a manly youth himself, was as one who neither heard nor saw, for his eyes were fastened upon a most lovely maiden who seemed to be Gaius' daughter.

  "A hem! I say, lad, what are you . . . ?"

  Seeing him to be transfixed upon something of extreme interest, they followed his gaze. Seeing the object of his attention, they caught their breath and joined him in silent admiration. "I saw her first," said James under his breath. "You guys stand back."

  "Hey," protested Samuel. "You can't stake claims yet. You don't even know her name."

  "Gimme 30 seconds," answered James confidently. "You can time me." Then he boldly strode over to the young lady and began to engage her in pleasant conversation. And sure enough, within less than half a minute James cast a quick glance their direction and said, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, "Phoebe, do you say? What an interesting name. Have you lived here long?"

  "Well," said Joseph. "There goes another one."

  "You don't think he's going to get serious about her, do you, Joe?"

  "Wouldn't you?"

  "Well, sure, but . . . "

  "Hey, do the math, Sam. She's an innkeeper's daughter, marriageable age, pretty to look at . . . So connect the dots. Sure, James may not be very old yet, but he's old enough."

  "Hmmm. Yes, true," admitted Samuel. "And what with him being so bold . . ."

  "I'd say bold! Why, if Matthew were as brave in matters of the heart, he and Mercy would have been married before they left the Interpreter's House."

  "He might have anyway, if he hadn't been so sick from eating the devil's apples."

  "Aye. Well, since there seems to be no more maids left in this part of the world, let's shave and get cleaned up."

  Now while the pilgrims were refreshing themselves, Great-heart addressed himself to practical matters, saying, "Good Gaius, what do your fine chefs have for supper? These pilgrims have come far today."

  "Hmmm," answered Gaius. "Well, 'tis too late to pick from the gardens and orchards. But from such things as we have in stock we may find plenty. Taste! Oh, Taste! Come here, please."

  So the chef, an honest-looking fellow named Taste-that-which-is-good, was instructed to prepare an evening meal for eight pilgrims. Now after time enough for all to bathe and freshen up, Gaius rang a bell which brought everyone to their doors.

  "Come, my good friends. You are welcome to me. And I am glad that I have a house wherein to entertain you. Why, for all I know, I may be entertaining angels unawares."

  "Not in this case, I'll warrant you," joked Samuel. To this Matthew took some little offense, saying in a loud whisper, "Hey! Why'd you say that?"

  "Hey! Just joking, Mattney. 'Sides, there aren't any angels in this crowd."

  "Mercy is," he answered defensively.

  "Only in your eyes," rejoined Samuel.

  "Why don't you just marry her so you can get your thoughts back on real life?" suggested Joseph.

  "Well, if I could . . . " Matthew began, until cut off by a stern whisper from his mother, who said, "A hem! What are you boys muttering about so rudely?"

  "Oh . . . uh . . . nothing much," answered Matthew.

  "Then please listen to our host. He was trying to tell us something."

  "A hem, yes," continued Gaius. "Supper is nearly ready, and if it please thee, I thought we might gather about the table and entertain one another with some pleasant conversation."

  "What a wonderful idea!" exclaimed Christiana.

  "Aye," agreed Great-heart. "Come, everyone."

  So they gathered about the table. James skillfully maneuvered Phoebe a safe distance away from his envious brothers and seated her. Matthew, who was somewhat more comfortable in battle than in polite society, was at a loss as to how to achieve the same end with Mercy. His dilemma was solved for him when Christiana called to him, saying, "Matthew, would you care to come sit over here next to Mercy and me?"

  "I . . . uh . . . "

  "Well? Go ahead, 'Mr. Fearing'," whispered Joseph confidentially. "Angels don't bite."

  "Well?" asked Christiana, while Mercy sat beside her, head bowed low to avoid betraying the rosy hue of her cheeks.

  "Uh . . . coming, Mother."

  So Matthew came round the table and seated himself next to Mercy. After what seemed like a short eternity, Matthew finally managed to clear his throat and say, "Uh . . . a hem . . . Good evening, Miss Mercy."

  "Good evening, Matthew," she replied, without looking up.

  "Uh . . . nice tablecloth they have here, isn't it?" said he.

  "Tablecloth? Oh . . . yes. Yes, very nice," answered she.

  Meanwhile, as the young and in love were trying to break the ice, Gaius and Great-heart, who were not yet seated, were engaged in some under-the-breath conversation. "Great-heart?" asked Gaius. "Whose wife is this older woman? And whose daughter is this fair damsel?"

  "The woman is the wife of one named Christian. He . . ."

  "Pilgrim?"

  "Aye. The same. And these bold young men are his sons, although they were but lads when we began our journey. They all take after their father and covet to walk in his steps. Yea, should we come to a place where he has left his footprint, they all try to walk therein."

  "Hmmm. I am surprised they did not join him on his journey."

  "I believe they would have done so eagerly, dear Gaius. But the wife was of a doubting heart and refused to give them leave."

  "Hmmm. Well, at least she is doing her best to redeem the time."

  "Aye. And a brave pilgrim she has turned out to be. Why, through her faith, we have been able to put down two giants that other pilgrims are content to merely escape."

  "Hmmm. Two giants, do you say? I shall speak to thee more on giants later. First, I must speak to this famous woman."

  So Gaius came to Christiana's side and addressed her thusly:

  "A hem. Good evening, Madam."

  "Good evening, sir."

  "Tell me, are you truly Christian's wife?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And are these men his sons?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I knew your husband's father, you know."

  "Indeed!"

  "Oh, yes. And also his father's father. Many great men have sprung from his family tree. His ancestors dwelt first at Antioch and have always showed themselves to be men of great virtue and courage."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Christiana. "Boys, did you hear? Does this not warm our hearts?"

  "Ay
e," agreed Joseph. "But do say more, good sir. We are eager to hear."