by Annie Wald
“Be quiet!” Reverend Strict’s voice roared down from the top level.
Celeste stuck her head out of the back window. “Where is the rule that says you shouldn’t sing? In fact, there’s a rule that says you should sing.”
There was a pause. “All right,” Reverend Strict said, “you can sing—but don’t be happy. How can you be happy if you are aware of how many rules you have broken?”
“How can you not be happy?” she asked. “The Servant came and set us free and oh—” She broke into song, trilling like a bird.
“Silence! The King is holy.”
“Sir, the King is holy, but the King is also love and joy.” Celeste turned to Peter. “I can’t stay here any longer; it will rob all my joy and destroy all my love, not only for the King, but also for you. I’m going down.”
“But you can’t leave. It’s against the rules.”
“Then I’ll have to break them. I’ll wait for you at the bottom.”
“But there’s no view of the King’s City down there.”
“Frankly, a hole that size isn’t much to boast of.” Celeste pointed to the little window. “And this looks more like a cell than a room.”
“But how are you going to get out? The guard locked us in, remember?”
“The King’s truth will set me free.” Celeste went to the door, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.
“What about the darkness? How will you find the path?”
“I have my guidebook to light my way.”
Peter listened to her make her way across the compound, and then the silence returned. He thought how empty the night was going to be without Celeste singing, and he began to hum to himself quite softly. Reverend Strict roared again, sounding almost as ferocious as the roaring lion. “Be quiet! I can’t hear myself think.”
Peter stopped humming, but he put his face to the peephole and looked out at the night. He could hear Celeste’s singing coming from below. It was a beautiful song of the King’s love—how the Servant had healed the lame and opened the eyes of the blind and fed the hungry. But when Peter thought about the rules on the walls and how much he’d like to study them, he could not bring himself to leave.
In the morning, Reverend Severe was extremely displeased to hear that Celeste had left in the night, and without permission. “Well, it’s for the best.” He put his arm around Peter. “She obviously is rebellious and disobedient, and she would have caused a lot of trouble here.”
“But she’s my partner. I need to stay with her.”
“Trust me, the best thing you can do is forget her—unless you want to call out and command her to come back. It will take her several days to walk out of range since the wall we built gives a tremendous echo in the surrounding region. For now, come with me and I’ll give you a private lesson on how to look out of your window.”
Peter was eager to see the view of the King’s City, and he soon forgot all about Celeste. He spent the whole day with Reverend Severe who taught Peter how to squint so he wouldn’t be blinded by the sight of the King’s City. Then he taught Peter how to count to fifty and then turn away, because one had to learn not to be too distracted by the view since there was much work to be done in the compound. It wouldn’t do at all, Reverend Severe said, for travelers to stay all day in their cells admiring the view.
In the afternoon, Peter joined a group of travelers who were picking up heavy stones and carrying them across the yard to build another section of the wall. The stones were so heavy, Peter thought his back might break. But every time he slowed down or stumbled, Reverend Strict was right beside him, berating him for his weakness and his carelessness.
By the time curfew came, Peter was exhausted. As he lay on the cold hard floor of his room, he remembered Celeste had said the place looked like a cell. Then in the silence, a soft song came up on the breeze. It was not loud, but neither was it far away. Celeste had been true to her word and was waiting for him. Peter stayed awake, his ear to the door. As the night grew darker and the guards fell asleep, she sang louder. Peter listened and remembered how much he wanted to walk to the King’s City—and to walk there with Celeste. He got up, opened the door, and walked out into the night to rejoin his partner.
When he saw Celeste, he gave her a big hug and kiss. Then he put his arms in hers and walked on with her. “Oh, Celeste, how thankful I am that you’re my partner and that you didn’t leave me. I don’t think I would have—could have—left if it hadn’t been for your singing. I would have been locked up there forever.”
“Oh Peter, it was the least I could do. I couldn’t leave you behind in that prison. Have you noticed how much fresher the air is here?”
Peter took a deep breath. “You’re right. It is so good to be free again and walking with you on the King’s path.”
They hiked all night to get far away from Pigeon Hole as quickly as they could. By dawn, they had reached the bottom of the valley. Ahead they could see velvet green hills that stretched all the way to the King’s City. The sign on the way to Pigeon Hole had once been true. Before the wall was put up, there had indeed been a wonderful view of what lay ahead.
“Look at this scenery,” Celeste said. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? This is why I wanted to walk with you, to see sights like this.”
“It is a nice path here,” Peter said. Walking with Celeste had changed him. He now paid more attention to the landscape, and he appreciated how Celeste always stopped to pick a few flowers and put them in her hat or his button hole. He found it pleasant to smell the flowers and to see a bit of color, especially when the path turned dull.
As for Celeste, she had gotten used to Peter’s walking rhythm and was content now to take fewer stops. When they overtook travelers with slow, ungainly strides, she was pleased Peter was such an expert walker.
But they didn’t stop to enjoy the scenery for they were still in the range of Pigeon Hole, and they could hear the guards’ voices booming through the valley, warning all travelers to return to their rooms. They kept on, and though the glorious vista toward the King’s City was no longer visible, Peter and Celeste were sure they would see it again.
ON THE SPLIT PATH
Now in my dream, Peter and Celeste came to the edge of the region ruled by the Pigeon Hole guards where a gigantic tree had fallen and split the path in two. Many years had passed since its fall, for the trunk was half buried in the dirt, and the branches had been sawed off for firewood. All the bark had been taken off, so Peter and Celeste could see it had started as two separate trees that had grown together to create a single magnificent one. As they wondered what could have caused such a mighty tree to topple, Peter noticed the statement a traveler had scrawled on the trunk: “The Tree of Oneness, felled by the upheaval in the Great Garden.”
“Too bad we didn’t see the tree when it was standing strong and whole as the King meant it to be,” Peter said. “It must have been the tallest in the forest.”
“And imagine what a broad canopy the branches made. There would have been enough shade for dozens of travelers.”
Because the tree had fallen right in the middle of the way to the King’s City, they had to choose whether to go down one side or the other. Two small signs marked the choices: “headship” or “co-heirs.” Both footpaths were well-trampled.
The sun was sinking. Soon it would be too dark to continue, so they decided to set up camp near the tree. Peter gathered firewood, Celeste gathered some nuts and berries, and they had a delicious meal by the fire. After they had eaten, Peter stretched back. “Tomorrow we’ll take the side marked ‘headship.’”
Celeste was startled because he said this like a commandment. “I thought we were going to discuss which side to take.”
“That might have worked earlier in our journey, but the walking is getting more complicated. Remember, you haven’t walked as much as I have. Besides, you’re a woman, so you aren’t as good at figuring out where to go.”
Celeste jumped up with her
hands on her hips. “But, but, but—” She was so upset, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“See, you don’t even have any good arguments. You know this is the way it is supposed to be.”
“No!” she said. “It’s true I was thinking we should try the headship path, but if you’re going to be such a tyrant, I think it would be better to take the side marked ‘co-heirs.’”
“Of course you would.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Growing up in the Slouching City, your head was filled with all sorts of ideas that aren’t anywhere in the King’s guidebook. So of course you might think that co-heirs is the way to go.”
“And why are you so sure that headship is the right way?”
“Because I’m the head, and I know what is best.” He lifted his head. “And if you had examined the two sides as I did, you would have seen that the headship side is clearly better worn and wider, so obviously it is the preferred way.”
“To me,” Celeste said, “both sides looked equally well traveled.”
“That doesn’t matter, because I’ve decided—and I’m in charge.”
“You are not; we are taking this journey together.”
“Maybe, but I lead and you follow.”
“That’s not what I read in the guidebook.”
“You only read the things you agree with.”
“As if you’re perfect?”
“I’m the man. I was created first, and you have to obey me.” Peter raised his voice. “That’s what the King wants.” Then he bellowed, “You will obey me.”
He sounded so much like the guards at Pigeon Hole, Celeste became frightened and ran into the woods.
Peter didn’t bother to go after her. Truthfully, he was glad to see her leave. She was being altogether stubborn and irrational; she needed to come to her senses. Spending a night alone in the cold, dark woods would do her good. When he woke up in the morning, refreshed and warmed by the coals of the fire, he looked around for Celeste. Then he remembered she had run off. “Well, it serves her right for being so stubborn.”
Celeste had spent the night shivering and miserable in the hollow of a tree. She woke up stiff and achy—and troubled by Peter’s attitude, especially his insistence and hardness. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to follow; often she didn’t have a strong preference one way or another. At the beginning of their journey together, he had often asked her what she had thought. Sometimes they had gone the way she wanted to without any problem. Now he seemed so intent on his plans, she didn’t think he would notice if she got into trouble. She had made a vow to honor and love and serve him, but did it mean following him when he ignored her?
“Celeste?” Peter was calling.
“I’m here,” she said, weak and tired.
“Oh, there you are,” Peter said. “I found someone who can help you.”
Celeste looked at the man standing beside Peter. He was dressed all in black and carried the largest guidebook she had ever seen. And he stared at her with an expression that reminded her of Reverend Strict and Reverend Severe.
“His name is Mr. One Verse,” Peter said. “He has all the arguments to change your mind.”
With great ceremony, Mr. One Verse cleared his throat and opened the guidebook. “Wives, submit to your husbands as to the King. For the husband is the head of the wife as the Servant is head of all whom He saved. Now as you submit to the Servant, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.”
Peter looked at Celeste in triumph. “There, you’ve heard it straight from the guidebook. I’m the head and you have to follow me, and I say we’re going down the side marked ‘headship.’”
Celeste thought if Peter was the head, he was a very stuffed head.
“Come,” he commanded, and strode briskly back to the path.
Celeste was so tired and cold that she didn’t know what else to do, so she started shuffling behind Peter.
“Now don’t you feel better?” he said back to her.
“No, I don’t,” she said. She felt miserable, but she was afraid to tell Peter that. “And what happened to Mr. One Verse?”
“He had to go proclaim that verse to other couples. He told me that is his special calling.”
“I don’t think that is right.” Celeste had not yet lost her spirit. “The guidebook is very big, and it’s wrong to focus on one part and ignore the rest. It reminds me of Pigeon Hole.”
“Yes, well, that’s what you would say. When you don’t like what it says, you simply pretend it’s not there.”
They were almost back at the great fallen tree. “When we get to the tree,” Celeste said, “can we rest for a moment?”
“No. I’m in charge and I don’t want to.”
But as they approached the tree, a flood of travelers came down the path, and Peter and Celeste had to stand to one side to let the group pass. They watched in amazement as the couples went on without stopping to discuss which way to take. Clearly most were in agreement about which way to go. Some went down one side and some went down the other, and though Peter tried to predict which couples would go where, he couldn’t. At the end of the group, an old guide trailed behind.
“Dear friends,” Sacrificial Love said to Peter and Celeste. “I’m sorry for your wait. You can go now. Take your course.”
“All right,” Peter said. “We’re going down the side marked ‘headship.’ I know it is the right way to go.”
“Are you so sure?” the guide asked.
“Yes.”
“And Celeste, what do you think?”
“Her opinion doesn’t matter. I’ve just met Mr. One Verse, who read from the guidebook. It’s clear what Celeste has to do. She is going to follow me. We were only waiting for everyone else to go by.”
“She doesn’t look very happy,” Sacrificial Love said.
“She’s being obstinate. She just needs to follow the King’s law and she’ll recover her joy.”
“Yes, joy,” Sacrificial Love said. “Dear sister, you look tired. Why don’t you sit here on the bench and drink this.” The guide handed Celeste a warm mug of sympathy, then took his sheepskin of humility and put it around her shoulders.
Grateful for his care, Celeste gladly sat down and started sipping from the mug.
“Now, my dear brother.” Sacrificial Love put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “While your partner is recovering from spending a night alone in these woods, you and I should take a little stroll.”
“Oh, I can’t leave her,” Peter said.
“You did last night.”
“She went off herself.”
“Did you go after her?”
“She was the one who left.”
“Yes, just like the one-hundredth sheep.”
“What do you mean?”
“How does the King deal with us when we stray? He searches us out, like the shepherd seeking the one lost sheep. Now I’m not saying you are the King. In fact, anyone who drags his partner down the way of headship needs to be reminded of that.”
“But lots of couples went down that side,” Peter said.
“Yes, I’ll get to that. But first I’d like to read you something.” Sacrificial Love took out his guidebook, which was covered with stains from tears and blood. Then he read the passage Mr. One Verse had read.
“Exactly!” Peter said.
“Oh, I’m not finished.” The guide continued reading. “Husbands, love your wives as the Servant loved you and gave Himself for you, to make you pure and clean as a radiant crown, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish. In this same way, a husband ought to love his wife as he loves his own body. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as the Servant does for us, for we belong to Him.” He slowly closed the book. “So which path should you take?”
Peter looked at Sacrificial Love and wondered if the guide was trying to trick him. “The path of headship,” he said.
Peter reread the section and said, “To love his wife as his own body.”
“Very good. And could you tell me what the Servant did when He walked on this earth? How did He show His love for the travelers?”
Peter thought for a moment and then spoke slowly, because it was a little painful for him to say. “The Servant washed His followers’ feet, He healed, He gave His life.”
“And what did the Servant demand before He gave His life in love?”
