Livingstone Saga, Book One: Birth

by Janell Rhiannon

  The night passed quickly. Despite all her sleeping, Iseo was exhausted by the journey itself. When dawn broke through the window to light her room, she found a note slipped under her door. It was written with a bold hand…

  We have gone about our work.

  Do not worry.

  †Celestino

  *

  Father Tomas and Celestino entered the small, dark room where the child, Julia, lay drenched in her own sweat. The obnoxious bitterness of sulfur infused with rancid human urine assaulted their nostrils and lungs. Father Tomas put his hand over his nose and mouth.

  “How long has the child been in this condition?” he asked. The state of human suffering under demonic possession never ceased to surprise him.

  “She refuses to let us near her. I cannot change her linens,” Julia’s mother answered. “Forgive me, Father, but I could not prepare her more than she already is.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Father Tomas assured the mother. “Demons have no care for the human being they possess.”

  While they spoke, Celestino approached Julia. He grazed her forehead with the sign of the cross. Her eyes flew open.

  “How dare you touch me, priest!” she screamed. “I have not given you permission to touch this flesh!” Father Tomas and the girl’s parents stopped talking. Julia’s father opened his mouth to speak, but the priest waved him to hold his tongue.

  “And you were given permission to inhabit this innocent child?” Celestino asked calmly.

  “I need no permission,” the demon, speaking through the girl’s mouth, spat at Celestino.

  “And I do not require your permission to make the sign of Christ upon her head. She is not completely in your world, unclean scourge.”

  Celestino’s calm manner unnerved the demon. It screamed at his logical response, “You will not take her from me!”

  “You will not take her from her parents, or this world on my watch. What is your name?”

  “I will not give it.”

  “And I say you will.”

  “So you proceed by the book?” The demon laughed hysterically. Julia’s body thrashed and flailed, before it sat up with a stiff, unnatural movement. “Do you think me stupid?” the demon taunted.

  Celestino stepped closer to the bed and leaned over the body of the little girl. He could feel the fever radiating from her. “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you give up your name.”

  “No, no. No! I do not think I will!” the demon’s stubbornness perplexed Celestino.

  “By the book. As you wish it, scum of Satan,” Celestino responded, as he pressed his hand against the girl’s chest, forcing the demon into submission. Julia’s body fought against his strength to no avail. Celestino turned to Father Tomas and nodded. “I believe the next step is yours, Brother.”

  Father Tomas reached his hand inside the neckline of his robe, pulling out the silver cross that hung from a chain around his neck. He crossed himself and kissed the cross, before plucking the vial of holy water, along with his purple sash, from inside his belt pouch.

  “Keep that away from me!” screamed the demon.

  “Give me your name,” Father Tomas said, steadying his voice. The fight against the unclean could last for hours. The demon shook Julia’s head so fiercely that her mother, who had been silently observing, cried out in fear for her daughter. Julia’s mother buried her face in her husband’s shoulder to stifle the cry. “Take her from the room,” Father Tomas demanded. Celestino released the girl’s body from his pressing hold to usher the parents out.

  “No matter what you may hear, stay back.” The gleam in his eyes frightened both of them. “Do you have faith in God?” Celestino asked.

  “Sí. Sí. Great faith.” They nodded their heads in affirmation.

  “Entonces, pray for Julia’s strength to throw the demon from her soul. This is the hour your faith is tested,” he said, and shut the door.

  Father Tomas took a mouthful of holy water and spat it like a mist over the length of the child’s body, beginning the sacred rite. Julia’s skin reddened and blistered. She screamed with pain. The demon laughed as he clutched the child’s soul. Father Tomas and Celestino together spoke the initial prayer and psalm in unison.

  When the words were spoken, Father Tomas placed the silver cross on Julia’s forehead and commanded, “Give us your name.”

  The demon hissed and flailed at his assailant. “I will never give her up! She is easy to control. She does not want me to go.”

  “You are uninvited. I command you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit to give me your name.”

  The demon began shouting in Julia’s voice, “Madre! Save me!” Immediately, her mother shrieked from beyond the door. “Madre! Madre!”

  Celestino stepped between the priest and the girl’s body, putting his hands on the demon host’s neck. Julia belched up a putrid dark vomit. “Your name!”

  The demon bared his jagged black teeth through Julia’s mouth. Her skin became translucent enough to see her pulsing veins like the roots of a plant washed free of earth.

  “Ballius,” the demon coughed out. It thrashed, twisted, and arched against its restraints. “Ballius!” it croaked.

  Celestino commanded, “In the name of God, in the name of Jesus Christ, and in the name of the Holy Spirit. Leave this child, Ballius!”

  “She does not wish it,” the demon squeaked his defiance.

  Celestino bent his head close enough to whisper into the demon’s face, “I wish it. And God commands it through me.” The livingstone of his true flesh pulsed with fire. Tiny threads of gold flashed through his skin and his eyes sparkled with an inner light, confusing the demon. “You will leave this child and never return. For if you do, I will obliterate you from all existence.” Julia’s body went limp. A screech flew from the room, through the wall and into the distance. Father Tomas exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Julia opened her eyes. “Where is mi mama?” Celestino made the sign of the cross on her forehead. She smiled, pointed to her chest, and whispered, “I am alone inside.” At that moment, a little brown sparrow flew through the window and landed on the table near the door. “Look, Fathers! A tiny bird!”

  “That makes twice now,” Father Tomas smiled his relief.

  “I do not follow your words,” Celestino said.

  “First a butterfly, now a sparrow. God must be pleased with you to give you such obvious signs for your work on His behalf.”

  *

  When Celestino and Father Tomas returned to the inn, the latter looked obviously worn thin. Celestino emerged from the ordeal strengthened by the experience. To his very core, every fiber of his body resonated with his spiritual mission. His strength and stamina were beyond human capacity. The exorcism infused confidence and purpose into his troubled heart.

  Iseo marveled how human Celestino appeared as he and Father Tomas sat at the table where she waited for them. It was just past the midday meal, but Pedro brought them a hard bread trencher filled with cooked fish. He also brought a mazer full of white wine.

  Celestino sat down across from Iseo. She smiled and nodded toward the wine. “Your favorite.”

  “You jest as usual, my Iseo,” he said, smiling in return. Iseo thought she would unravel like a loose thread from a needle point.

  Celestino picked up a piece of the oddly shaped fish and examined it. “I have not eaten this strange legged fish before.”

  “It is not a fish. It is an octopus. A delicacy here along the coast.”

  Celestino’s hunger needed no further encouragement and he bit a huge chunk of the octopus dressed in olive oil, chewing it ravenously.

  “You may wish to drink the wine to help it go down,” Iseo suggested. He followed her advice and swallowed.

  “It does not wish to be eaten, even for being a dead thing.” He took another bite and swig of wine. He and Father Tomas made good work on the meal, leaving nothing except a few crusts of hard bread.
<
br />   “Pedro shall think we are gluttons,” Father Tomas murmured, a bit embarrassed by his appetite. “I must admit I was famished.”

  “My stomach is content now. I am not embarrassed.” Celestino put his hand firmly on his belly.

  Iseo said, “I knew from the beginning, eating would be a pleasure you would enjoy.”

  Celestino caught her eyes in his and said, “Sí, it is certainly a pleasure of this earth. Some others, I think, I will never know.”

  Iseo blushed deeply, quickly breaking free from his gaze. His brazen remark surely did not pass by Father Tomas. Celestino proceeded as if his commentary were nothing more than a passing comment about the food and wine. “I should like to walk the Monte Facho trail to the Roman lighthouse. We could be back before dark. I wish to see this end of the earth for myself.”

  Father Tomas said, “I am far too exhausted and I have a few inquiries to make regarding any lore about the stones from this region. By all means, you should go. Take Iseo with you. You are still too new among us to go alone.”

  “But, I—” Iseo began to protest.

  “It is settled. Iseo will accompany me.” Celestino sat back with a smile that passed for smugness, if Iseo was not mistaken.

  *

  As the afternoon sun climbed the sky, Iseo and Celestino climbed the path to the world’s end. The sea breeze swept up to the sky swirling white clouds to thin wisps overhead. Tangy salt air filled their lungs. Celestino walked behind Iseo for her safety. They walked in silence for a long period of time. It was Celestino who broke the tension by reaching out to touch the curls of her hair as they escaped in wild directions from their fastenings.

  “You wear your hair differently than at Compostela,” he remarked casually.

  “Unruly is more accurate. I do not wear it this way on purpose. The sea air is damp. It makes my hair do as it wishes.”

  “You are not pleased by this?” his half smile teased.

  “No, I am not. But, there is nothing to do about it.”

  “It is very beautiful like this,” Celestino said so softly the wind almost stole the words from Iseo’s ears.

  She turned around. “You should not say such things to me.”

  “Why not?”

  Iseo stood before him, not knowing what else to say except the truth. “Because I want to hear you say them, and it is wrong to want that.”

  “It does not feel wrong to utter them in your presence, here, at the end of the earth. Continue, walking, my Iseo. Our destination has not been reached.”

  She blinked disbelief from her eyes and turned around walking at a much quicker pace, as if she could out walk him. How dare he make such an inflammatory statement and then act as if it meant nothing! How could he learn arrogance so quickly? I wish...I wish...he were a man so I could scorn his compliments and...Iseo caught the lies she tried to tell herself. She knew Celestino possessed no guile, no flatterer’s tongue. He merely spoke what his heart felt, and that kind of honesty she should respect. That his words told her of his longing should engender sympathy...because she, too, longed for what could never be. And there was no joy in the knowledge that they would always be torn asunder by their place in the order of the world. Her footsteps slowed as her mind and heart softened.

  A few pilgrims walked passed them, up the trail flanked by sand dunes and sea grasses. One woman in a dark woolen dress stopped at a granite carving of Saint James hanging from a cross. Celestino stopped to examine the stone. He waited politely until the pilgrim finished her prayers, before he knelt down and traced the outline of the saint with his finger. The saint’s stone cold beneath his livingstone flesh.

  “It is called a cruceiro,” Iseo told him before he could ask.

  “Do you yet think of me as this? A stone?”

  “Sometimes, sí, but mostly I forget that you are not completely human,” she answered honestly.

  Celestino picked up a colored rock that lay near the feet of the dangling saint. “I wish to remember this day with you.” He put the momento in his pocket. They continued up the uneven, rocky path. Iseo imagined all the pilgrims who had come to this very place from Compostela. This was the first time she had walked the final steps of the pilgrim’s journey to the precipice of Monte Facho. As they neared the end of the trail, the ocean vista opened up in all directions. The sky and the ocean had no ending. The late afternoon sun sat poised above the horizon.

  “This is Finis Terrae,” Celestino said.

  “Sí. There is no further point of earth beyond where we stand.”

  “Do you think the Romans right? That somewhere out there exits the Gate of Hell?”

  “I do not know,” Iseo answered, “I do not think we are supposed to know those kinds of things. It is probably a pagan influence we should ignore.”

  “I do not sense evil in this place,” Celestino added.

  “This is a holy place that much I do know. If the entrance to Hell is out there, it is far from us. Here, at the edge of the sea, is a place for the sacred.”

  Celestino came up close behind her, close enough she could feel the tension between their bodies. Beneath them pilgrims built bonfires on the beach. They stripped their clothes and threw them in the flames before running, arms stretched, into the cold, welcoming waves. He leaned his head close to her ear and whispered, “Pilgrims have no modesty.” He then whispered down the side of her neck, “I am your pilgrim.” As she shivered, he stepped back and stood watching the sun as it prepared to tuck itself behind the line of ocean and sky. “We should be returning to the inn.”

  Iseo barely heard what he had said, as her knees still shook and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. For a man not versed in love or romance, Celestino struck every string of her heart. As they walked back, with the sun behind them, the grayness of evening shrouded them in their own world. Celestino reached for her hand. She let him take it, and for a precious brief moment, they walked as lovers under the twinkling stars at the end of the world.

  Chapter 20

  Return to Compostela

  The journey back to Compostela stretched longer than the journey to Finis Terrae. Celestino made a concerted effort to avoid Iseo. He spoke little, and sat opposite her the entire way. When the familiar outline of the cathedral came into view, she felt a wave of relief. She wanted to run to her chamber and find the breath she could not find confined in the carriage. The silence, the perceived indifference, clarified in her mind the chasm between herself and Celestino. He was not human. He was not meant to love her, nor was she meant to love him. It was an impossible situation. When the carriage pulled to a stop, Celestino helped her with her trunk.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I can manage to my quarters.”

  “As you wish, my Iseo.” She picked up her trunk and walked away.

  “I believe we have arrived too late for supper. They are already lighting the lamps for Vespers.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Celestino commented. “My stomach will not wait until morning.”

  “I am sure father Antony will have something to tide you over until then.”

  “Celestino?” Father Tomas asked.

  “Sí, Father?”

  “Is there something wrong with Iseo?”

  “That is a delicate question, Father. She is fine, and not fine.”

  “I see,” Father Tomas sighed heavily.

  “No, I do not think you do.”

  “Sí, I think I know all too well. Do you believe me blind Celestino?”

  Celestino looked at Father Tomas and saw compassion in his eyes, not the condemnation he expected. They did not converse further about Iseo.

  “After the morning prayers, come to my study. You, Father Avriel, and I must put an end to the soul thieving in Santiago.”

  Celestino nodded agreement. They carried their belongings into the Brothers’ Frater Hall, each retreating to his private chamber. Father Tomas to decide the fate of Iseo and the stolen souls, and Celestino to sit in the dark, miserable without Ise
o, forbidding himself from stealing away to her chamber to sleep.

  The bells of Compostela rang the Compline hour. Celestino rose from his chair in the dark, no longer hungry. His body felt a weary heaviness, and his chest ached with a dull hollowness. He decided to answer the call of the bells by going to the cathedral to spend the dark hours of his self imposed exile from Iseo.

  *

  By the time morning lit the world anew, Celestino’s mood remained unchanged. Sitting against a stone column near the cathedral’s crossing only reminded him of Iseo. When he arrived at Father Tomas’s chamber, his mood was as dark as a raven’s wing.

  “Buenos dias, Celestino!” Father Tomas greeted him at the door.

  Celestino mutely walked into the chamber and took a seat without prompting.

  “Are you well?”

  “I am.”

  “I am not your inquisitor, but I believe you are not yourself this morning.”

  “I passed the night in the sanctuary.”

  “The entire night?” Father Tomas asked incredulously.

  Celestino nodded. He offered no explanation, left no opening for further questioning, and the dower look on his usually stoic face convinced Father Tomas to let well enough alone. He took the only plausible step, he changed the subject.

  “Well, as soon as Father Avriel arrives we can perhaps put some pieces together and solve the mystery of the lost souls.” No sooner had he spoken Father Avriel’s name, than the man suddenly appeared. Father Tomas fumbled his cup of hot spiced wine. “I did not hear you enter.”

  “I apologize. I was informed we were to meet at this hour. Was I mistaken?”

  “No, it is fine. You are exactly where you should be.”

  Father Avriel proceeded directly to the point. “What did you discover in Finis Terrae?”

  “I believe the stones the midwives are using come from that region. Pagan traditions run deep in that part of España. The ancient sun worshippers’ magic stones are common place,” Father Tomas answered.

  “But what of the jasper and sard? These are the stones Iseo said were being used specifically, here, in Santiago.” It was at that moment Father Avriel realized Iseo’s absence. “Did you not include the woman this morning?”

  “What?” Father Tomas was taken aback by the question. He had forgotten all about Iseo, and with good reason. He was not looking forward to their next meeting, especially after reading the letter that was waiting for him when they returned from Finis Terrae. “No. There is no need to burden her with this conversation. Her part in this in finished.”