“Sí.”
Celestino thought for a moment. “Does my Maker believe in this God?”
“She would not be here, if she did not. I warrant that after seeing you, had she any doubts, they quickly took wing,” Father Tomas laughed. He sipped his wine before he added, “Ironic that, because of you, we have proof of our faith. Because of us, you have only questions.”
“What else need I know of God?”
“He is a trinity of holiness. He is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He is of flesh and sangre, as well as, a spirit.”
“He is a man not seen?” Celestino shook his head. “God is a puzzlement.”
“As you are three things at once, so is God. Even though you are a man sitting before me, you are also a beast of flesh and a beast of stone.”
“So, I am like this God of three forms.”
“Sí, I suppose you are,” Father Tomas thoughtfully replied. And then began to chuckle.
Celestino’s questions sounded childlike. At less than one day old, he was more a catechism student, than warrior. “Come, Celestino. Let us walk below and talk.”
*
Father Tomas led Celestino through a long, windowless tunnel lit by torches in dusty sconces and candles dripping from black iron cages onto the cold stone floor. They traveled the secret passageway underneath the main sanctuary because Celestino was uninitiated in the world of humans and unconsecrated as a warrior of God. Until then, he would remain hidden. Together, they walked in silence; Celestino following the priest, observing Father Tomas’s uneven gait. After a time, they reached a spiraling stone staircase and climbed until they reached an ancient door at the end of the corridor. Father Tomas placed his hand on the weathered planks and dusty hammered iron, and looked at Celestino. He thought he would find forgiveness for his past failings, but now he was not so certain. So it begins...again.
“This is where you meet God,” Father Tomas said, as he opened the door. Bright golden light filtered past them, casting their shadow on the wall behind them. Celestino shielded his uninitiated eyes from the shock of light. He blinked until the burning brightness yielded and he took in the expanse of blue and green spreading forever before him.
Celestino scanned the sky. Clouds morphed into shapes as the wind blew, birds flew and twittered, and the bells of the church echoed across the rooftops of the town. He could not tell where the sky ended.
“What is that?” Celestino pointed above their heads.
“The sky. Beyond the blue is Heaven, God’s abode.”
“The blue heaven.” Celestino nodded, as he pondered the sight. “Does it continue beyond that far line?”
“You mean the horizon?” Father Tomas asked.
“Horizon?”
“The place where the blue heaven meets the edge of the human world,” Father Tomas explained.
“Sí. The horizon. Does God’s abode reach beyond the horizon?”
“It reaches beyond the horizon. Even beyond the stars.”
“What are...stars?”
Father Tomas chuckled again. He had forgotten the innocence of newborn gargoyles. They were grown men, yet they were completely innocent of worldly knowledge. It is what made them vulnerable until their mission was consecrated into their hearts and minds.
“We only see the stars at night with the moon.”
Celestino nodded.
“The God who made you possible is the same God who created all you see before you.” The priest swept his arms wide open.
“Entonces, God must be powerful,” Celestino decided.
“Truly, He is.”
“Why does God have need of me?”
“The world holds many things that defy explanation with words. God requires your aide protecting the innocent from the world below.”
“There exist two worlds?”
“Below is Hell, a realm of perpetual fire and ash. A place swarming with demons and the Fallen. And God requires warriors of your kind to combat them.”
“Demons,” Celestino nodded.
“And the Fallen,” Father Tomas added.
“Who are these demons? And the Fallen? Are they like me?”
“No, they are not like you,” the priest said, struggling to find the precise explanation. “Demons are powerful beings that serve evil. They exist as enemies of God. Their purpose is to drag as many human souls as possible into Hell’s fire. Souls taken by demons—into that place—can never return to God.”
“Hell’s fire. What is that?”
“It is the putrid stench of evil that burns with eternal flame. Hell is a pain that quakes the bones, an everlasting torture. Truly, the most awful place.”
“Will I see this place? Hell’s fire?” Celestino asked.
Father Tomas hesitated. “No. I will make sure you never see Hell’s fire.”
“I think I do not wish to go there. What of these others? The Fallen? Who are these enemies of God?”
“They are entirely different, but serve the same purpose. These creatures began as divine beings. God called them His angels. Their sole purpose was to serve His will. Some became arrogant, exerting their will on God’s Law. These He banished from Heaven, forever. Their punishment is to exist on Earth knowing they may never return,” Father Tomas explained. The history of the disgraced angels was more complicated than that, but Father Tomas knew there would be time to explain the rest as Celestino’s training progressed. He chose not to tell Celestino that he would also face other gargoyles, ones that had been turned to the darkness. All things in time, he told himself.
“May I ask another question?” Celestino inquired.
“You may.”
“Does God care more for humans than all the others?”
“That question is not so easily answered. He made them different.”
“Their soul?”
“Sí, partly,” Father Tomas paused, “He also gave them a free will.”
“What is free will?”
“The ability to choose to follow, or to reject, God.”
“Why does He not make them choose Him?”
“He wants humans to choose for themselves. If they choose Him, Heaven is their gift. If they reject Him, Hellfire is their punishment.”
“I do not think anyone would reject Him and go to Hell fire.”
“You would think it an easy choice. Humans, and the world, are complicated. It is not always easy to believe in something that you cannot see. That is why He also grants forgiveness. It is a gift uniquely granted to humans.”
Celestino looked around him again. He heard birds, felt the wind on his face, and smelled something warm and comforting. An unfamiliar growl rumbled and his belly tightened.
Father Tomas said, “That is the sound of hunger.”
“Hunger. It is uncomfortable. Will it cease?”
“Only when you take food. Unfortunately, it will return.” He considered the gargoyle’s size before continuing, “In your case, several times a day.”
“I do not look forward to this hunger.”
“No one does. Come, you will eat and prepare for your consecration study.”
“Very well. Father Tomas.” Celestino’s matter-of-fact tone with the word “Father” caused the priest to flinch on the inside. There had been another, years ago in his youth, who called him Father...Stop! Enough of that! The priest willed himself to forget the unforgivable.
Chapter 3
Talk of Stones and Souls
“Buenos dias, Celestino,” Iseo said with a small smile.
“Buenos dias, my Maker,” Celestino replied. He tried imitating her facial expression, but it felt strange on his mouth, so he let it fall away before Iseo looked up.
“Come, sit. I have your first meal.” Iseo motioned him closer to the table.
Celestino approached the table and his eyes narrowed. Then, instead of sitting, he remained standing.
“Observe me.” She sat. “See? Pull out the chair and sit down,” Iseo instructe
d. Celestino did not move. “It is not so difficult. You just bend and sit. I’ll walk you through what to do next.”
The gargoyle pulled out the wooden chair by the low backrest, just as she did, but his landing was far less graceful. He looked surprised that he had incorrectly gauged the depth of the seat.
“It is fine, Celestino. You will get used to sitting. You will get used to a great many things,” Iseo tried to sound reassuring, “I suppose.” She really had no idea what this new being become accustomed to, or if that was even possible. She knew nothing about the creature of flesh and sangre before her. The features she had carved in stone, those she knew like the back of her own hand. I know him, yet I do not.
“To begin, we do this,” Iseo made the sign of the cross over her chest and pressed her palms together. “Before each meal, we pray to God for His blessings.”
Celestino imitated her gestures.
“Repeat what I say,” Iseo began. “Holy Father, we receive your blessing and give thanks.” She paused, waiting for Celestino to repeat her words.
“Holy Father, we receive your blessing and give thanks,” Celestino repeated.
“We beg for deliverance from our sins.”
“We beg—”
“Amen.” Iseo hurried the prayer’s ending, since it occurred to her mid-prayer that she had no idea if gargoyles sinned. When she looked up, Celestino was looking directly at her.
“Amen,” he repeated. It unnerved her to be observed more closely than the offered prayer.
“Entonces, we eat. This is our trencher.” She pushed a hollowed out loaf of bread between them, filled with a vegetable and fish stew. “And these are God’s forks.” Smiling, she held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “There are a great many table manners you will need to remember, if Father Tomas intends on taking you to any public feasts. The Fathers are less...formal. First table rule, a señor always allows his señora to draw the first bite.”
Celestino watched her dip her fingers into the trencher and pull out a piece of something. She put it in her mouth and wiped her fingers on a bit of cloth. She pushed the trencher toward him. “Your turn.”
He put his fingers into the trencher. He pulled out a chunk of white meat from the stew and put in into his mouth. It surprised him that this food felt warm. His tongue and mouth watered with the new sensation, and his stomach growled satisfaction. He wiped his fingers, as Iseo had done.
“Go ahead, Celestino. You have never eaten before. I am sure you are very hungry, by the sound of it.”
“Sí. Father Tomas said I would be hungry several times a day.”
“True. We eat when we rise with the sun and break our nightly fast. We eat again when the sun moves above our heads, and finally when the sun fades to night. Unless, of course, it is a Wednesday, when we fast all day. And on some Fridays,” she thought before she added, “some Saturdays as well.” Celestino had nearly finished the contents of the trencher. “I think fasting will be difficult for you at first,” Iseo concluded out loud.
“Why will fasting be difficult?” he asked.
“Fasting means to go without food all day long and eat only an evening meal. Or none at all until the following day.”
“I agree with my Maker. I will not like fasting.”
“This is a mazer,” Iseo filled the shallow wooden bowl with red liquid. “Always wipe your mouth before you drink. It is considered vulgar to have food in your mouth, or grease on your lip, when you drink from a shared vessel such as this.” Iseo took a delicate sip, wiped the hammered silver edge with her napkin, and passed the mazer to Celestino. He mimicked her dainty handling of the bowl and Iseo bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. Celestino gulped a mouthful and grimaced at the bitterness of the liquid. “Perhaps wine is an acquired taste for gargoyles.”
“I do not care for this. It is not like the other...drink,” he stated, confirming her observation.
“Wine is common. You must learn to drink it without making that face. Others would find it strange a man did not take pleasure in his wine. Even a man of the cloth,” she added.
“I will do as my Maker commands,” Celestino nodded.
“I am not commanding you to drink it. I only try to help you understand how to move within the human world. Too much wine is the cause of much tribulation.”
“I will not drink too much,” he said, “or make my face.”
“You have no idea what I mean by making a face, do you?”
“No.”
She squint her eyes and puckered her mouth to show him what she meant. “This is making a face.”
“I will try not to make my face.”
Celestino’s stoic expression made him a difficult man to read, as it was almost expressionless, except for his eyes. It felt like he used them as a weapon against her. She felt his gaze like a beam of light blinding her. With each simple word, he became the rising sun and she the flower bending its neck to feel the warmth. She was aware that he observed everything, and that nothing passed between them or in the room that he did not notice. His physical presence exuded strength and power; his words revealed an unworldly innocence that demanded protection. They finished their meal in silence.
Chapter 4
Forty Days of Flesh
Father Tomas did not hear footsteps approaching his door, so when the knock sounded it startled him. “You may enter, Celestino.”
The gargoyle-man entered and stood in the middle of the room. Father Tomas stood up from his table and gestured for him to sit in a chair opposite him. Celestino approached the offered seat, pulled out the chair, and then backed into it slowly. It was an unusual posture for a man. Father Tomas suspected the female influence.
“Buenos dias, Father,” Celestino said.
“Buenos dias, Celestino. I understand your first meal went well. Iseo informed me you did not like the wine?”
“I do not prefer it to the clear drink.”
“Water,” the priest said.
“Water?’
“The clear drink. We call it water.”
“Sí. I prefer the water.”
“Well, my young friend, you are not wholly human, so I suppose it makes sense.”
“My Maker says I shall acquire a taste for it. To move undetected among humans.”
“She is correct. Did she tell you anything else concerning yourself?”
“No.”
Father Tomas waited for a question or some comment, but none came. He makes no uninitiated conversation. Curioso.
“We begin with your nature then,” Father Tomas said. “You already know that you were freed from the livingstone by Iseo, your Maker. She is a gifted sculptress. God’s inspiration guided her hands to make you so.” He paused for a reaction. Receiving only an intense stare, he continued, “Upon your Birth, you revealed yourself first as the beast Iseo released from the stone, and then as a man of flesh and sangre.”
Celestino felt warmth spreading inside his chest each time the priest made reference to his Maker. It is uncomfortable, like hunger, he thought.
“As an instrument of God’s grace, you have been endowed with special abilities to serve His purpose. And a price to pay for such power. Are you aware of this power now? Can you feel it growing?”
“I feel warmth in my chest. Here,” he pointed to the center of his chest.
Celestino’s response puzzled Father Tomas. He had not expected such an answer. He knew each gargoyle was as unique as each human being, so he guessed that he could not really expect any particular response at all. However, his reasoning could not quiet the small voice whispering a warning about the reply.
“Interesante, perhaps that is where your power will emanate from. Are you aware of the price you must pay for your existence?”
“A price? I am not.”
“You are granted forty days of flesh, whether as man or beast, after which you must guard God’s house with seven days of stone. It is the cycle of your existence. We call it your price.”
“What is God’s house?”
“This church. The grounds where I and the other priests live and worship. You will take position on the rooftop for seven days as stone. You are a reminder to Evil that God’s house is not for them, that here is sacred ground where Evil cannot tread.”
“Why does God desire I return to stone? Why can I not serve his purpose as a beast with wings or in this man-flesh?”
“As you are, you are virtually immortal. He commands that you return to stone to guard His house and to remind you that you are of this Earth. And that He is God. All beings endowed with special powers must pay a price for their existence. Even the angels. You will serve Him in all your forms.”
“These angels are not the Fallen? They also have a price?”
“The Fallen paid a heavy price for their immortal natures. They exerted their free will to challenge God. The angelic price is possessing divine knowledge and understanding surpassing all other creatures of God’s creation, but remaining subservient to God. For some, it proved too tempting. So they were cast down to Earth. In essence, their Hell.”
“There are angels who remain in Heaven?”
“Sí. Many remain.”
“I will know these angels?”
“Some orders will reveal themselves to you.”
“I do not take your meaning. Orders?”
“There are ranks, or orders, among the angelic hosts. Angels rank lowest and closest to humanity. The Archangels, the warriors of God, are more powerful. These two ranks will be your companions, when necessary.”
“How will I know them?”
“They possess divine light and move as air might move. The Archangels even take the form of man, when required.”
“God made these angels,” Celestino said. “My Maker made me. I am different from men and angels.”
“You are unique, Celestino. You have never felt the breath of God, so you are bound to Earth for all your days. You will not know Heaven, for you possess no soul.”
“What is soul?”
“A cloud of God’s breath. A spark of divine nature within this shell of flesh.”
“Do you possess soul, Father?”
“All humans do. It is our gift from God. If we chose according to His will, we are rewarded with Heaven.”
“Heaven is not mine.”
“Neither is death, at least not for many years to come...God willing,” he added. He did not tell Celestino it was possible he could choose Hell. He pushed that knowledge down into darkness. “Tell me, Celestino, what have you learned from today’s lesson about your nature?”
Livingstone Saga, Book One: Birth Page 2
