The Gift

by Bryan M. Litfin

  “You mean only one of these bottles is any good?” Lieutenant Celso frowned. “I have two sick patients here, and you both need the medicine!”

  Teo’s reply was emphatic. “You swore it, Celso. None of the good stuff goes to me. All to her. I’ll take my chances.”

  The lieutenant’s shoulders slumped. He set the two vials on an old barrel that served as a bedside table. “Then Deu be with you,” he said. “Your god is the only one who can help you now.” He exited the room. Teo sank into his bed, his eyes closed.

  Ana extended a shaky hand and grasped one of the bottles—the one with the notched cork. Give me strength, she prayed.

  Sunshine sparkled on the breeze-ruffled lake at the high pass. It was a beautiful blue-sky day, but Teo didn’t care. He was as depressed as he had ever been in his life.

  Please, Deu! Have mercy on Ana!

  She hadn’t moved for days. The pallor of her sickness lay on her gaunt face like a death mask. Her normally curvy body was stick-thin and wasted. Her wrists were like twigs, her legs long and bony. No one knew what to do.

  Teo put his face in his hands as he sat on a bench outside the inn. Deu! Help her!

  The bread-mold elixir had worked wonders on Teo. Though the doctor at the Ulmbartian outpost had thought the batch was past its useful date, apparently the potion still had enough healing power to do its job. Within twenty-four hours, the redness in Teo’s wound had subsided, and his fever had broken. The next day he was able to walk around a little bit, and his appetite returned with a vengeance. Now, on the third day, he was feeling like a new man.

  But Ana had fared just the opposite. She continued to spiral down as the infection laid claim to her body. She couldn’t eat anything; the thin broth offered to her just dribbled down her chin. She slept constantly. Day by day she grew weaker. It was only a matter of time until . . .

  No!

  Teo shook his head to clear away the horrific thoughts that plagued him. He stared at the sky and found himself frustrated with the Creator God’s absolute silence. Holding up his palms, he supplicated the blue expanse. Hear me, Deu! She has the good medicine! Why won’t you make it work?

  Teo reached into the rucksack on the bench next to him and drew out his only source of comfort. He had spent the morning translating a new passage from the Sacred Writing. Deu had led him to the twenty-second Hymn. Its words were appropriate for a man in distress:

  My Deu! My Deu!

  Why have you abandoned me?

  Why do you make yourself distant without helping me,

  without hearing my groans?

  My Deu!

  I cry to you by day, and yet you do not respond.

  I cry by night, and yet I have no rest at all.

  Nevertheless, you are the Holy One.

  You sit enthroned in the midst of Israël’s praises.

  Our fathers trusted in you;

  they confided in you, and you delivered them.

  To you they cried out, and were saved.

  They put their trust in you;

  and they were in no way wrong to do so.

  The holy words comforted Teo, and he meditated on them, reminding himself of Deu’s character. His journey with this God was still new, yet Teo had learned from the Sacred Writing and from direct personal experience that Deu could be trusted. Of course, it wasn’t always easy. But I am in no way wrong to do so, Teo affirmed to himself.

  Lieutenant Celso emerged from the stone building and sat down on the bench next to Teo. “Nice to see the sun again, eh, soldier?”

  Teo nodded.

  The lieutenant handed Teo his medicine bottle and spoon. “Here’s your noontime dose,” he said. Lieutenant Celso had taken it upon himself to guard the precious elixir and personally administer every spoonful. Teo knew the stalwart commander and his men were mystified at Ana’s failure to recover. A sense of gloom pervaded the camp.

  The other two Ulmbartian soldiers and Bard rounded the corner, carrying a field-dressed goat lashed to a pole. As they approached, Bard stumbled, and the carcass fell in the gravel.

  “Watch out, Bardella!” one of the men yelled.

  “You little weakling,” the other man sneered. “You’re like a woman.”

  “It’s heavy,” Bard protested. “I slipped.”

  As the men began to mock Bard, Lieutenant Celso rose and went back inside, shaking his head with a disgusted air.

  “What good are you, Bardella?” shouted one of the soldiers as the other man cuffed him on the shoulder.

  “Enough!”

  Teo’s tone was authoritative. The two men stopped their harassment and turned to stare at him.

  “Bard is part of this mission just like the rest of us. Leave him alone.”

  “You’re a man’s man, Teofil. Why are you taking his side?” The taller of the two soldiers jerked his thumb toward Bard.

  “Yeah,” the other man agreed. “He’s not like us.”

  Teo stood up and looked the two men in the eyes. “He is like us. He was made by Deu, the same as you and me. Bard has been at Anastasia’s side the whole time she’s been sick. In my book that makes him a friend.”

  The two soldiers frowned at the mention of Anastasia. Teo knew their tempers were short because of their concern for her. They were taking out their frustration on Bard like distressed children abusing the household dog.

  The taller soldier swatted his hand. “Whatever,” he huffed, turning to leave.

  “Just make sure you wipe off any pebbles before you cook the meat,” said the second man as he walked away. “I don’t want to break a tooth.”

  Teo watched them go, then turned to Bard, who had a funny expression on his face.

  “Thanks, Teofil,” he said awkwardly. He gestured to the bench. “You should rest.”

  Bard and Teo sat on the bench in the sunshine and conversed for a while about trails and woodcraft and navigating through wild lands. It was the first time Teo had ever talked to Bard one on one. Though the Ulmbartian tracker was animated and emotive, Teo found Bard’s mannerisms didn’t bother him. Teo even caught himself laughing as he talked—something he hadn’t done much of lately.

  “Is this your medicine?” Bard picked up the bottle and held it to the sun.

  “Yeah, that’s the stuff. Mine wasn’t supposed to work, but somehow it did. Lieutenant Celso has been a drill sergeant in administering it.”

  “What do all these marks mean?” Bard pointed to the label on the vial.

  Teo glanced at Bard. “You can’t read?”

  “Few in Ulmbartia can,” Bard answered defensively.

  “Right. Well, those are words written in your language. Most of it is medical lore. These letters here tell what’s in the bottle. See this?” Teo traced his finger along the words and sounded them out. “Bread . . . mold . . . elixir.”

  Bard did a double take. “What? Those marks right there? That says ‘bread-mold elixir’?”

  “Yeah. Why is that so surprising?”

  Bard stared at Teo with his eyes wide and his mouth agape.

  “What is it?” Teo held up his hands in bewilderment.

  “Teofil!” Bard gripped Teo’s sleeve. “I have a bottle with those exact marks among my cooking spices!”

  “You what?”

  “It’s true! I have a bottle with those marks on it! I thought it was just some nasty seasoning that had turned sour. I was going to return the bottle to headquarters to be reused.”

  Teo jumped to his feet. “Show me!”

  “Ooh! It’s so cold!”

  “It’s refreshing, though, isn’t it?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. You tell me.” Ana kicked her toes, splashing lake water onto Teo.

  He gasped. “You’re right! It is cold!” He flicked water back at her with his foot, eliciting a squeal.

  Ana laughed at the lighthearted moment. It was her first time out of the inn since Bard’s elixir had been discovered almost a week ago, and she was in a good mood. Now she felt strong
enough to lean on Teo’s arm and take a short walk along the lakeshore. They had stopped to rest at the water’s edge.

  “What’s on the bottom of your foot?” Ana asked.

  Teo examined his sole. “It’s a birthmark.”

  “Three little dots in a triangle? It looks too perfect to be a birthmark. More like a tattoo.”

  “No. I’ve had it ever since I was a baby.”

  “I wish I had known you when you were younger.”

  “Hey! You make it seem like I’m an old man now.”

  “Well, you are almost thirty,” she said impishly, “whereas I’m just a mere twenty-five.”

  Teo smiled. “I can see the old Ana has returned—that feisty girl I brought over the mountains.”

  “You made me come,” Ana reminded him, flopping back in the grass.

  Teo lay beside her. For a while they watched the puffy clouds float through the sky. “Deu made us come,” Teo said at last.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I’m glad he healed you, Ana.” Teo’s voice cracked a little. Ana glanced at him but said nothing. “It’s strange,” he continued. “I put all my hopes in a little green bottle, but Deu caused it not to work. Then, just when I had almost given up, he supplied another bottle. It was completely unexpected—and yet we had it with us all the time!”

  “Deu is like that,” Ana said. “Full of twists and turns. He’s an adventurous God.”

  “That’s for sure.” Teo rubbed his chin stubble and stared into the distance. “I wonder why he made the good medicine fail. That’s really strange. I suppose we’ll never know the answer.”

  Ana smiled and closed her eyes, letting the sun’s warmth caress her cheeks. Someday I’ll tell him about that, she thought to herself, but not right now. Teo wouldn’t understand why I switched the corks.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Teo burst into the common room at the inn. “Hey, Ana, I’ve been out exploring, and I’ve found some stuff I want you to see.” He nodded over his shoulder to the door. “Come take a look.”

  Ana arched her eyebrows and set down the needle and thread with which she was mending a shirt. “Always exploring new horizons, aren’t you, Captain?”

  “Don’t forget, I’m not a captain here. Just a lowly mercenary.”

  Teo’s words weren’t bitter, yet he couldn’t escape the reminder that his exile from Chiveis had meant the complete loss of his social standing. Back home he was a high-ranking member of a renowned military regiment and also a respected professor. Now he was just an unknown foreigner with a blade for hire.

  Even so, he didn’t mind Ana calling him Captain. It was how she often referred to him, and he rather liked it. At first it had been a formal designation when she didn’t know him well. Now she continued to use it in a playful way, almost like a term of endearment. “Come on,” he said. “Follow your captain outside and see what I’ve found. It has to do with Deu.”

  Ana rose from her seat, immediately interested. “Is it related to the big cross?” Everyone had noticed the stone monument on a knoll behind the inn. Teo and Ana knew the cross was Deu’s symbol, though they didn’t know why.

  “Yes, and there’s something else too.” Teo led Ana outside. Though she walked stiffly, she had become much more mobile during the past week.

  “Look here,” he said, pointing to the ground.

  “Look at what?”

  “Right there. It’s a corner. Cut stone.”

  “Oh, I see. It must have been a foundation for a building.”

  “Too small for that.”

  “What then?”

  “It was a pedestal. A monument built by the Ancients used to stand here.”

  “Do you think it was another cross, like the one over there?” She pointed to the knoll a short distance away.

  “I thought so at first. But when I looked more closely, I found something sticking out of the earth.” Teo beckoned for Ana to follow him to an object partially excavated from the soil.

  “A statue!” she exclaimed.

  It was a figure of a man cast in bronze or a similar metal. The mud-encrusted face bore a stern expression as the man gazed into the distance. He raised a finger toward the heavens with one hand, while his other hand held a staff.

  “I wonder who it’s supposed to be,” Ana said quietly.

  Teo squatted next to the half-buried statue. “Check this out.” He wiped away some dirt, revealing a sash hanging from the man’s hand. There was a symbol on it: a cross. “Do you think this could be a depiction of Deu?”

  Ana folded her arms at her breast and tapped her chin as she considered it. “I don’t think so. I remember a line from one of the Hymns. It was either the ninety-sixth or ninety-seventh. It said something like, ‘They are confused, all those who serve images, who give glory to idols.’ I don’t think idols belong to the faith of Deu.”

  “Maybe it’s just art then,” Teo agreed. “Remember the temple where we found the Sacred Writing? It had lots of statues and paintings.”

  Teo could see Ana going there in her mind. She had been captivated by that beautiful place. The temple was a soaring structure they had discovered in a faraway, lost city. Its massive pillars and buttresses had supported the highest roof Teo had ever seen. I can’t believe I lowered myself off that roof with Ana on my back!

  Ana’s face wore a dreamy expression. “I can still picture those colorful windows. That’s where I first experienced the beauty of Deu.”

  “Yeah . . . uh-huh . . . those were nice windows.” Teo lowered his eyes and scraped a little mud off his fingers.

  Ana awoke from her reverie. “They were stunning—and then you smashed one! I’ll never forgive you for that!” Her tone was playfully accusing.

  “I had a feeling you might bring that up. But if you recall, it was either smash the window or get shot full of arrows by the outsiders.”

  Ana approached him. Teo noticed how pretty she looked, especially now that she was wearing her gown again. Unexpectedly, she reached out and hugged him around the neck.

  “I’m just kidding, you know,” she said in his ear. “You came to me in the Beyond when I was all alone, and now you’ve come to me with healing medicine so I could get well. I’m so grateful for you, Teofil—especially in this lonely wilderness.”

  For a moment they stood together in an embrace, with Ana’s arms around Teo’s neck and his arms around her slender waist. Then, as the hug started to slip into something more than a friendly gesture, they quickly separated. Teo cleared his throat, and Ana’s cheeks flushed pink.

  “So . . . do you want to see what else I found?” Teo asked. Ana nodded vigorously.

  He led her to the plain stone cross. It rose from a sturdy plinth, with rounded points at the tips of the crossbar and the upright beam. Teo pointed to an inscription on the cross. “I found these letters. Look.”

  Ana squinted as she tried to make out the inscription. Time had taken its toll, but after a moment she was able to read, Deo optimo maximo. The words were foreign to Chiveisian speech.

  “Deo sounds like Deu,” she remarked. “Can you translate it?”

  “Not exactly. This isn’t the Fluid Tongue of the Ancients, but the language is similar. I think it says something like, ‘Deu, the best, the greatest.’”

  “That makes sense. He’s the one true God, and the cross is his symbol. We already knew that.”

  “Yes,” Teo said, feeling the excitement of discovery rising within him, “but guess what? I found more writing. Look here. Somebody carved graffiti into the cross. It might be important.”

  Ana bent to look, but the words eluded her. “It’s too faint to read,” she said.

  “I know. I spent the longest time staring at it, until finally I thought of this.” Teo removed an ancient sheet of ledger paper and a piece of charcoal from inside his jerkin. “We can make a rubbing.”

  “Good idea! Let’s see if it works.”

  Teo laid the fragile paper against the cross and
lightly rubbed the charcoal across its surface. As the page darkened, the shapes of letters began to stand out. Teo’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused. After blackening the entire page, he set down the piece of charcoal.

  “What does it say?” Ana asked breathlessly.

  Teo held the page to the light. “It seems to be the same language as the inscription. There are multiple linguistic cognates with the Fluid Tongue.”

  “Easy with the big words, Professor.”

  Teo grinned. “What I mean is, this language is close to the Fluid Tongue. Maybe one was a derivative of the other. I’ll try to read it, though my pronunciation might be wrong.” He sounded it out. “O Iesu Christe, miserere mei.”

  “Any idea what that means?”

  “Well, it’s obviously a petition of some kind. It’s addressed to Iesu Christe, whoever he is. Mei is probably the pronoun ‘me.’ The pronoun in the Fluid Tongue is similar.” Teo paused. “But what’s the verb? What exactly does the petitioner want Iesu Christe to do for him?” He bit his lip and racked his brain. “In the Fluid Tongue, there’s a noun, misère, ‘poverty.’ But it doesn’t make sense to pray, ‘Please make me poor.’”

  “Unless it’s so he can depend on Deu’s help,” Ana suggested.

  “Perhaps. But I’m thinking it might be related to another noun, miséricorde, ‘mercy.’”

  “I bet that’s it! He’s saying, ‘Iesu Christe, be merciful to me.’ A man living through the devastation the Ancients experienced would certainly need to pray something like that.”

  Teo folded the paper and tucked it into his jerkin. Excitement shone in Ana’s eyes as she rested her hand on his arm. “This is important, Teo! We learned a new name today: Iesu Christe. The ancient believers addressed prayers to him. Maybe it’s just another name for Deu, or maybe it’s someone else, I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing—this is a mystery I want to solve.”

  Teo glanced at her. “For yourself?”

  Ana’s expression changed, and she looked wistfully into the distance. She was silent for a long time. Finally she answered, “Yes, for myself . . .”