Awaken_A Rose Caldwell Tale

by JM Bannon

  Rose got up to leave.

  “This has been most interesting Mr. Evans, thank you so much for your time, if you can think of any more places where I might get information about the temple and its purpose, I would appreciate it,” Rose requested, taking his hand in farewell.

  “I will indeed think on the matter, although I think, without wanting to invoke Nemesis,” he chuckled, and Rose smiled “that there is unlikely to be anyone with more details than I have, but maybe, hmm yes, maybe in one or two of the libraries of the larger houses hmm? Yes, I will definitely think on it. Please do drop in when you're around, it has been a pleasure,” said Evans.

  Rose made her way from the little shop and through the streets to the old Dee Bridge deep in thought. As she walked across the ancient stone bridge, she could see upstream the passenger express train from Liverpool was crossing the newly built railroad bridge, clouds of dark smoke billowing from the locomotive stack. Beyond that were the remains of the iron Dee Bridge which had collapsed just over Four years ago with a number of deaths and injuries. She wondered what it would be like to ride on something going so fast and to travel somewhere away from Chester.

  She turned to the right at the foot of the bridge and made her way across the field to the ruins of the temple. Mr. Evans had confirmed through his account, that her dreams were based on actuality.

  Her mind was spinning, how was it that she could see the temple being built and the amphitheater that had disappeared. Was she having true visions, or was it just imagination? Or unlikely as it seemed was it memories from past lives? Could these images be messages from Saint Ostric?

  She had planned to come back to the temple after visiting Evans. She wanted to see if her scrying mirror would reveal what happened at the temple with the children. On her way back, if she had the time, she would try to call on the families to see if the children were faring any better.

  Stopping outside the temple she looked around to see if anyone was watching. It might look silly to have a nun squeezing into the undergrowth surrounding the temple. Seeing no one she removed the bag she carried from over her shoulder. It was rough woven barely more than a sack containing several candles, and the newly crafted mirror she had used at the cathedral then removed her wimple and tabard. She felt the breeze blow through her short hair and could not but enjoy the sensation.

  Holding the bag to her chest she squirmed her way between the small trees and crawled under brambles and fallen columns to reach the interior of the temple. She arrived in the open area beyond the columns short of breath and paused to recover herself before opening the bag and withdrawing its contents.

  She made her way round the open space carefully, placing and lighting a dozen candles, though to call them candles was perhaps being generous. Save for two, one the remains of the candle from her previous visit and the other that she had borrowed from Mr. Cooper, the rest were stubs left from her room and work in the Reliquary. She hoped they would provide enough light for her purpose as candles were strictly controlled in the convent. She was lucky that she could smuggle out these small remnants, usually they were melted down and reworked into new candles.

  When all the candles were lit casting a flickering yellow-orange hue around the temple, she withdrew the mirror.

  She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and it seemed to calm her, her pulse slowed and her breathing quieted, she noted she had a smudge of dirt on the side of her nose.

  Moving over to the hole she had found last time, she had placed the larger candles around it. She mouthed the words of the incantation found in Kelly’s journal.

  Turning the mirror this way and that to catch the light from the candles and the hole without seeing herself reflected in the mirror led to strange movements that would have looked like a badly performed dance to any observer. As the thought crossed her mind she turned to check that no one was there. It was as she turned back her body still slightly twisted away from the hole that she saw it and froze.

  Slowly moving from left to right, watching the mirror intently, she saw the figure in the mirror grow sharper, a small grey figure, diminutive but stocky, its movements not of a child, more animal-like.

  Now that Rose new the mirror was working for her she tried another experiment. She placed the mirror on the ground supported by her bag and moved the candles into a semicircle in front of her, opposite the mirror. She sat on the ground and waited patiently to see if she could again observe the creature.

  The light reflected and distorted the imperfections in surface of the polished copper disk and formed images deep below the surface. Rose relaxed and concentrated on the mirror as the flickering flames danced across its surface. She felt herself drawn forward into the mirror, her sense of the world outside the temple fading as the images hovering below the surface of the mirror coalesced.

  The three creatures were a mottled grey, like stones; they were small, but muscular, stocky with thick necks and as they moved she saw they had a short tail. The trio were scraping and digging at the ground around a stone. It looked like the one she had seen in her dream but was unsure not having a clear recollection of what it looked like.

  This stone was about two feet long, a similar size to the creatures. With sharp claws hooked underneath it the three muscled the oddly marked stone out of the ground, then between them carried it towards the front of the temple past where Rose sat. The image of the tiny monsters carrying the stone rock faded as her mind’s eye followed them toward the exit.

  As the images faded, Rose felt tears spring in her eyes; she cried, not sure exactly why, other than her general feeling of overwhelming relief. She was now more than certain that she was sane, but with the confirmation of her sanity came an acceptance that there were foul creatures at work here in the temple and at the cathedral.

  These creatures were clearly collecting the strange stones, and at the locations where they had uncovered them, illness or accidents had resulted. The cathedral, where the scaffolding had collapsed was the first place she had glimpsed these… she struggled for the right word, then it came to her, imps! Yes imps, maybe not as described in the texts she had read but the word seemed to fit. With the scrying she had just completed, she could now connect them to the infected children. She said a short prayer asking Saint Ostric and the angel Ariel to guide her, to aid her to do the next thing right. The only problem was, it didn’t seem a task which was in agreement with her vows as a nun.

  Chapter Ten: Sunday the 26rd of September 1852

  4:30 PM, The Reliquary, Carmelite Convent, Chester England

  Rose was rearranging books on the dusty shelves. She was endeavoring to create more space to bring books up from the cellar and to also catalogue and curate what the library held.

  There was no organization that she could determine, and when asked, Sister Madeline’s response was

  “I opened a crate I checked the book was on the list, I put it on a shelf until the shelves were full when the shelves were full, I put the crates downstairs!”

  Rose was developing a new system for arranging the tomes. She had yet to find the original inventory of books and they had been shelved as they came out of the crates in any order.

  She was attempting to arrange the books firstly by language. She planned to then put them in alphabetical order within that grouping.

  Along the way, she would find a gem of a book and stop to read a few pages.

  She was looking at a beautifully crafted manuscript in French. She could puzzle out the odd word here and there but was unsure of the context as French was still on her list of languages to acquire. The colorful pictures and grandly written first letters of a page were pleasing to look at.

  She heard the door open and turned expecting the old librarian to shuffle in. To her surprise it was the Mother Superior herself who entered.

  “Ah there you are Rose, how are you my child?”

  Rose hurried over and curtsied before kissing the Mother Superior’s ring. “I am quite well Mother”


  “I am pleased to hear that, I understand that you have been attending the children that have been taken ill recently?”

  “Yes Mother, but whatever ails them does not appear to be contagious.”

  “That is good to know, but I seem to have missed you at prayer a number of times of late?”

  “Forgive me Mother, I have been delinquent in that matter, but have said extra prayers at bedtime!”

  “Well please try to make your visits to the children at times that do not interfere with your duties to God. I would not like to have to command you to the precincts of the convent for a period.”

  “Yes Mother, I will try to do better.” Rose bowed her head.

  The Mother Superior sighed she was unsure that Rose had the true calling but knew she was trying hard. She also knew that Rose had missed prayers because she was in the Reliquary more often than not.

  “Tell me child, what are you doing in here all day?”

  “I am just trying to get some organization to the books and determine if we can arrange for the additional books to have proper storage.”

  “I am unaware of any unshelved books! Are you saying Sister Madeline is shirking her Librarian duties?” demanded the Mother Superior.

  “Oh, No Mother! It’s just that the reliquary lacks the shelf space to hold all of the volumes and they are better crated than loose. However, there are scores of books still in crates in the cellar. I believe with proper rearranging and perhaps new shelving built, it should be possible to get all the books available,” said Rose.

  “Would not this be a better conversation to have with Sister Madeline?” suggested Sister Maria.

  It wouldn’t be much of a conversation and Sister Madeline would never ask the Mother Superior for funds to have a carpenter build shelves, so this was Rose’s chance to broach the topic.

  “I will discuss it with Sister Madeline, we have touched on it briefly, but…..” she trailed off.

  “Yes child?” Sister Maria waited patiently.

  “Forgive me Mother if I speak out of turn, but were you aware that Sister Madeline was unhappy in her work?”

  “We must all strive at the tasks given us, our happiness is secondary,” replied Sister Maria.

  “I understand Mother, but she claims she was a fine cook before she came with you to England.”

  The Mother Superior paused before responding. “Sister Madeline was from a different chapter house to myself. When I asked for someone to be responsible for the kitchen her name was not put forward. I see now that maybe I have been in error here. Thank you, my child, for bringing this to my attention.”

  "My child, Sister Madeline has spoken with me of your activities in here. No, not the tidying but that you have spent quite a bit of your time seeming to read these books," the Mother Superior gestured to the shelves around them.

  Rose bit her lip then replied.

  “I wanted to know more about the relic, it started with reading the book about St Ostric and has grown from there,” admitted Rose.

  The Mother Superior made her way over to the glass case with the relic inside and the book resting in front of the case. Her arthritis was clearly causing her pain, so her steps were slow and hobbled. She gently flipped open the book to the point where the ribbon marker was placed.

  “You can read this?” The older nun exclaimed with surprise. How did you learn the Latin that this is written in? “I don’t recollect Latin being in your strong suit when you came here!”

  Rose paused before answering; this could be a touchy subject. She thought about lying but then sought a path illuminated by the truth.

  “I can, Mother,” she said quietly. “Once I was assigned to help Sister Madeline in the Reliquary, it just seemed right that I learn to read the books here, so I taught myself.” said Rose, not a lie but she didn’t need to divulge who her tutor was unless directly asked.

  “Impressive if a little implausible, I assume you had help? Yes? No don’t tell me who it was, it had to be someone outside the convent and I prefer not to know!” She shook her head,

  “Sister Rose I am unsure what will become of you, either the first female pope or…..

  Anyway, it is clear you have a talent for languages a skill that will come in handy in a library of religious books. How is your French?”

  “That will be next. I can understand some of the words, but not the context. Half of these books are closed to me without it,” Rose said downheartedly, then continued, “Mother I have to ask a question about the relic of Saint Ostric.”

  The old woman returned to her chair and dropped her weight into it before speaking, “Then ask.”

  “Have there been any miracles or visions associated with it?”

  “If you have read the works recounting Saint Ostric’s purging of this area and helping the King return to his faith, then you know as much as I do.” The Mother Superior knew more of the tale from a set of journals passed from one Mother Superior to the next. They had come with her form France, but Rose did not need to know this, they were kept in her office not the reliquary. They contained knowledge that she and the other nuns did not need.

  “I meant associated with those of us here in the convent, or the convent in France?”

  “No, the object has been quite unremarkable,” the Mother Superior responded.

  “How did it come about that our order was able to return to England?” asked Rose.

  “I do not know the details of how, only that I was asked by Mother Superior Beatrice the head of our order and Cardinal Hubert to undertake this mission with the others chosen for the task and return the relic to its rightful place. To me it was a symbol of bringing the true faith back to this country,” said the Mother Superior

  “Isn’t it curious though? The importance placed on the return of the relic, and more so, that it be accompanied by a Catholic order with the offer to reestablish itself here? For many years now centuries in fact, the English establishment has made it as uncomfortable as possible for those of us who continue to practice as Roman Catholics.” said Rose.

  “Rose, you look for mysteries where there are none! There are simple answers to these questions. God wished the return of the true faith and we are chosen to carry that message. Someone in England is our ally and wished the return of the sacred object as a symbol of God’s divine power to bring good to all. Our order will now have the pleasure of building our numbers here, of expanding the faith, of that you are an example, oui? Providence has enabled your journey to sisterhood by requiring the relic to return with our order and as a consequence of that return you now live as part of the blessed order of the Carmelites with their teachings and the example of Saint Ostric to guide you,” the Mother Superior explained in a kindly manner.

  Rose was quiet for a moment then asked, “Has no one has ever come forward as our benefactor or requested that the relic be placed within the Cathedral of Saint John?”

  “Child, I pray each night that we are an example to the Monarchy by which they may return to the one true faith, but on this we must tread lightly. On the day my prayers are answered, and old holy sites returned to the church, that will be a miracle. For now, I see our mission here as to be living examples to the community of our charity and contemplation. I am satisfied our order was invited back to help you and the other faithful to practice your faith in the light of day,” the Mother Superior uttered these words as if pronouncing a benediction.

  Cautiously Rose asked the next of her questions, knowing it might provoke an unwanted response.

  “Do you know any more about the time of St Ostric and tales of local witches and the pagans?”

  “You ask me? You were the one born and raised in this area, I should think that you would be fully aware of any ungodliness residing here,” the Mother Superior responded with alacrity. “One hears rumors and whispers in any community of evil beings who do harm to others, but witches? No thankfully we have condemned the practices of the Inquisition to the past.”

>   “What I really meant Mother was, Saint Ostric, he was a defender of the faith; the story is he saved King Aethelred from the spell of a local witch. What if the evil he fought had not been destroyed? What if it was now stirring and was trying and succeeding in hurting or even killing people?”

  Rose watched as the emotions played across the Mother Superior’s face. First amusement, then concern, then the look she used when she wanted to cow the nuns and novices.

  “Rose, it heals my heart to know that you have been inspired by Saint Ostric and are committed to such an effort to better this place with your work in the library and your interactions in the town.”

  “You, Judith and Katherine, will play an important role in bridging the gap between the community and the convent, focus on that, not of saints battling witches. I know the village does not openly welcome us, we are Catholic, and more importantly we are French. “

  “The wars are not that long ago! The people see us as outsiders and your older sisters feel out of place; cut off from all that was known and comfortable. That is why they appear closed off to you. Listen to an old nun! It is a challenge to your faith when you have been set in your ways to have to deal with such a drastic change. To be sent to a new country, away from your friends and family, to be amongst strangers who have been enemies.”

  She sighed and looked down then up at Rose.

  “That is why the frogs croak,” lamented the old French nun.

  Rose’s eye grew wide and her hand went to her mouth.

  The Mother Superior chuckled, “What? You think I do not know what you and your sisters in crime call the older nuns, or that I am blind to their behavior?”

  She laughed, “I am Sister Maria de Carcassone, Mother Superior of the Carmelite Convent of Saint Teresa! It is my duty and pleasure to be Mother to you all and minister to the needs of each of you. That is my burden.” Sister Maria’s voice, strong while she declaimed, sank to a whisper.