Angels in the Architecture

by Sue Fitzmaurice

  ‘Hmm.’ Father Taylor nodded. ‘These are difficult times, madam. You must pray for your sons. All of them.’

  ‘I pray without cease, sir, for my sons and others, and for Thomas most of all.’

  ‘Thomas?’

  ‘The youngest, sir. The one injured in the village. He of all does not deserve such pain or suffering as that. I think of him as one of God’s angels, put here to show us something of great meaning. I’m grateful for him really because of that. Blessed, I think God has made me, through him.’

  The priest had far from expected more than a few words from the woman, and wondered how it was that she could articulate anything at all of God’s will or indeed any other matter. The incongruity of this woman’s lot with her good graces was one of life’s unfortunate errors of birth, and he was grateful he’d not had the misfortune himself to wake each day to the filth of a peasant life.

  ‘May I see the boy, please?’

  ‘Yes of course, sir.’ Alice turned and went back through the small cloth door, returning a moment later with an altogether normally appearing boy, albeit that he showed sleepiness and some inattention. Thomas squinted in the sun and rubbed his eyes, moving his head left and right and peering from the corner of his eyes. Although he looked to be searching for something out of the darkness, his eyes did not light upon the priest.

  ‘This is Thomas, sir,’ Alice said, her arm about Thomas’s shoulder as she held her eyes lovingly to his great ruff of blonde hair which stood out every which way.

  A great smile perched itself across Thomas’s face and Father Taylor couldn’t tell if he found this disarming or disquieting, and he studied the boy closely.

  ‘He’s a happy child then?’

  ‘Yes, sir, he’s happy, almost always, except yesterday of course. He seemed frightened when they brought him back.’

  ‘Hmm,’ the priest muttered again, still studying him. ‘Can he do anything? Anything at all?’

  ‘Not a thing, sir. He has no skill in anything.’

  ‘Then it is an extra mouth for you.’

  Alice looked up at the priest now. ‘We don’t mind him, sir.’

  ‘No, indeed.’ Father Taylor looked at the woman, wondering why he ought to feel chastened by this lowly creature. ‘Well, be about your business, madam. I won’t keep you.’ And then he turned quickly without another look at Thomas, to mount his horse and turn it away from the small holding and back again down the dry clay road towards the town.

  Thomas looked then to the departing horse and rider and the smile went from his face. Alice paid no more mind to the priest and his visit, not wondering as to its peculiarity in any way. There seemed no value in it for her. And if some misfortune her husband would not tell her had befallen the boy, then it had passed now and perhaps that would be the end of it. Perhaps she would keep him to their house a while though.

  Fulk had been lying a good while in a new and hidden watching spot beneath the tree he’d previously occupied. There was nothing about hurry that Fulk needed to know of in his life. He was mainly about eating and sleeping and staying warm to the extent that he could. There was no trouble with that today though and the warm that there was had made him sleepy, and he’d dozed and not quite slept through the high sun hours.

  He stretched now and sat up from his warm nest of leaves and other forest droppings. He needed to walk about now or he would be stiff later, even though it was warmer. Fulk got up slowly and quietly onto his big feet, crouching a moment and looking about, listening for any sounds that were not the usual ones always there. Sensing no risk or menace, he crept slowly, and a little stooped, to a large tree and stood quietly against its trunk, almost blending in entirely to the rough bark. He looked about once more and edged slowly away from this tree to another, again stopping a spell until moving on again, and in this way he manoeuvred slowly and quietly in the direction he wanted, without much insistence to get there in any more time than this method would take.

  In a while, he got to the edge of the forest where a small lake rested ponderously in the warm day, and here Fulk sat back against another tree a while, thinking he might scoop a drink from the water since he found himself dry in his mouth. He was not too familiar with water, having never understood to wash himself, and only once having ventured a little way into a pond, to then have to suffer an unbearable itching for days from some mite that got under his clothes, which he’d had no thought to remove any part of before his wading.

  Fulk liked the shining on the water. Things didn’t shine in the forest much, at least not like this, not this much. This shine was so bright as to make him blink and close his eyes, and when he looked away, he couldn’t see some things for a while; he thought this was not so useful, so he tried not to look at the water’s surface where it was alight, but it was hard not to also because it caught his eye..

  In between looking at the water and not looking at the water, a great white duck moved from behind some reeds and floated a small way towards him, coming side on to him and looking with a sharp dark red eye in his direction. Fulk hadn’t seen these white ducks before. It was much, much larger than the usual ducks and had a very long white neck. In fact he suspected it wasn’t a duck at all, but something else – just as a hare wasn’t a rabbit but it was something else instead. He wondered whether the bird was dangerous with its big black beak, and he wondered whether he could catch one and what it might taste like. He’d seen ducks take off into flight from the water’s surface, and he thought about what this giant bird would look like if it came up off the water and flapped its wings to fly. Possibly because it was very large it might be very slow to move, and this could give him some advantage to catching it. Perhaps it had claws instead of wading feet, but Fulk couldn’t see through the water to tell this. Claws could be a problem. Not that the pain from bleeding or tearing was too much difficult for Fulk, for he’d had plenty of this, but he’d once become so ill that he’d known he’d lost several days, and he knew this had come from a sharp tear in his neck from a ferret he’d not quite handled in the best way. And he knew also that some animals’ claws were bigger than others.

  The bird floated across the water in front of Fulk, all the time looking at him, and he looked at the bird. It glided across the shiny patch of water, and for a few seconds Fulk couldn’t see the bird at all, and then it swam across past the shine, and it was still looking at him. Fulk, the man, had only animal instincts and killing thoughts of the bird, but the bird itself had almost none of these.

  10

  Those who have ascended have different attributes

  from those who are still on earth, yet there is no real separation.

  When you do not know it they are able to make suggestions to you.

  ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

  The two men at the lake edge attracted no attention from all those around attending to their own business, which was in large part the loading and unloading of canal boats and barges of different kinds and the transport of shipped contents to and fro. A city such as this was notably full of those of some holy order or other, as well. These two, one older and one younger, were less conspicuous than many, dressed as they were in the coarse brown robes of simple monks.

  They walked slowly; anyone who spied them would say that the older was stooped, and the younger walked slowly for his sake. The truth was their thoughts, many and complex, slowed their pace as they sought the essence of their discussion. It would also be apparent to an observer that the younger was a novice of the older, and this was more or less the case, although not in a way most would understand. It was also true, as many would assume, that their talk was not of this world, but that too was of another nature entirely and may have been cause for alarm among some contemporary quarters of the time, had any of it been heard. As it was though, there was no one near enough to pick up the words and their meanings, and the two strolled undisturbed bur for the background of shouts and pulleys and rattling cartwheels and horses.

  It’s not an easy li
fe here.

  No indeed.

  So physical. And such poverty. Obstacles to spiritual development, surely.

  Or a benefit. A bounty even.

  Yes, perhaps. Tell me, why are they both boys?

  No reason.

  One is so disadvantaged.

  By his poverty? No, as I said, not so much.

  I was thinking more the lack of education, the lack of an aware environment.

  Yes and no. There are some interesting and reverse correlations between the two communities.

  I don’t see the point.

  Of what?

  Of making it harder.

  There’s always hardship everywhere. You need to do better with this; you won’t help them if you focus on the negative.

  I don’t connect with them well. I don’t have your special powers.

  Your problem is you think too much. You believe these children will succeed by learning to think?

  No, of course not, much more by feeling.

  No, not feeling either. Emotion is not much more useful than thinking and can get in the way even more. We’ve been through this before.

  I’m struggling with how.

  Explain to me then, when we meet with them … how does that work? Do you ‘see’ them, do you ‘feel’ them, are you ‘present’ with them, what?

  All and none of that.

  Not good enough.

  Why did you choose this task? It was never going to be easy. It’s virtually impossible.

  Nothing’s impossible! I chose it because I believe it’s possible. Because it presents an enormous opportunity. It’s important to prove what’s possible, to make a lie of supposed limitations – limits of time and space, obstacles of mind and body. We chose to help them. That’s our role. To make the connection with them and get them to understand the possibility, the potential of making this huge difference in the world.

  But no one will know. Even if you succeed. No one looks for a cause for something that didn’t happen.

  That doesn’t matter. Remember the story of Odin, who walked among mortals; the poor but virtuous family whose cow died – such a tragedy, it seemed so unfair. But in fact nature had determined the wife otherwise would die. Until Odin stepped in and the cow was taken instead – who would have known that? Did it matter that they knew not? And then the wealthy and cruel family who built their mansion above a buried treasure and so never found it. It will be known simply because it will change what’s possible, and the Energy of that in the Universe will influence more change. We are simply Scientists, my friend. That is the greater morality.

  You mean it’s more right?

  Morality is not about right and wrong – that view is for simple, limited minds that can’t see and refuse to understand.

  What is it then?

  It’s whatever moves us more towards the light and enables us to make better use of our talents, our powers, and our faculties for the betterment of others’ lives and the development of their talents and powers and faculties, and their ability to make that difference in others lives too, and so on. Ours is to have Faith, as is everyone’s. Belief in what is possible. That is what will change the world – just Belief.

  Well, that’s simple enough.

  Yes, of course it is. But it’s made complicated by the minds of men. They want to put rules in place ostensibly to manage this development, but in reality few men are comfortable that those they support may exceed them in power, and especially not in piety and closeness to God. But there are some – some who can truly see.

  So what is the morality in this situation then?

  Which one?

  Either. Both have a significant task.

  Yes, their positions are handicapped in one way of course. But then they also have such direct connection too. They’ve set a task to go over and beyond their surrounding limitations; it’s an enormously positive goal, with enormous power to advance the world.

  But they have nothing to measure that by; no ability to paint even a picture in their own minds that would show them anything.

  Your moral view is too one-dimensional. Think more broadly of the possibilities, of the abilities of their senses to interact with the Light in different ways. They chose this challenge, remember.

  I’m not sure you could say they chose it.

  By their actions, of course they did. They’ve always sought more and more, both of them. They were hungry for the challenge. And full of ego. Too much Self, both of them.

  Well, there’s no ego there now in these almost mindless boys.

  Perhaps. Perhaps not. They’re entirely in their own worlds. Isn’t that ego?

  Of a sort, I suppose.

  This could be the ultimate ego struggle, locked in Self as they are, despite their innate affinity with the Light.

  Their captivation with the Light often overpowers them.

  Yes, in one way it keeps them from their task.

  They simply play with it.

  But still they receive substantial Energy in this way and this does feed their souls.

  But with no one to lead them…

  You must lead them. And there will be others. You’ll see.

  Me? This is your task foremost!

  As you wish.

  Most of their influences are the wrong ones.

  No, no. Everything will unfold in the direction of good. You’ll see.

  I don’t have quite your Faith. Well, that’s obvious by now. I struggle even with knowing that Faith is all I need. I find myself needing to initiate or provide some skill. A physical skill virtually.

  Then you must find your Faith. You are not a physical being so it is all you have, my friend. Otherwise your own thoughts will prevail and will shift Energy away from its right course.

  I was never as strong as them anyway. I wouldn’t have chosen their path.

  You may yet. You’re a novice. You could be stronger. Watch. The boys – their manifestations – will find their path. Stay with them. Don’t focus on limitations, theirs or yours. Just keep sending out the message to them, their opportunity to make the difference.

  But to change the future…?

  To prevent a future that is not acceptable.

  And the past? This past?

  …. is where the future is rooted.

  Footsteps brushing across the dusty path came near the two monks’ sunny spot, and both turned to see a tall man in purple robes strolling slowly their way. The man’s head was bowed in thought and then rose as he caught the movement of the two figures just in front of him.

  ‘Excellency,’ said the older monk, bowing low.

  His companion followed suit.

  ‘My sons,’ responded the Bishop. ‘I see you are seeking some silent reflection at the water, as do I.’

  ‘There is a cool air comes off the water, Excellency,’ the older monk replied.

  ‘And that is certainly needed if one is to think clearly, or better, to find the voice of God. There is most certainly too much din atop the hill for a poor man of God to hear a thing.’

  ‘I’m sure, Excellency, that God is never far from you,’ spoke the older monk again.

  ‘Oh, do not be defrauded by the Purple, Brother. It is no less difficult for me as any to hear and understand God’s will.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt, my Lord. What I mean is that, while you may not hear God, He is ever near to you. And in that, sir, I do think He is nearer you than most.’

  ‘You are kind, Brother,’ replied the Bishop, bowing a little to the monk. ‘One’s own limitations do distract one.’

  ‘Of course. I will pray for you, Father. Yours is a great load to bear, and amid much expectation.’ The monk bowed low again and motioned for his young companion to back away with him and leave the Bishop in peace.

  ‘Thank you for … your presence,’ Hugh called, watching for a time as the two monks strolled comfortably away from him.

  I felt that.

  Yes, it’s the field.

  There really
is a unified field?

  Oh give it whichever name you like, but yes, of course. It’s the same thing the family experienced for that brief moment as their sons left, but they didn’t understand its value. It was not so long ago, a man made a system to mimic a magnetic field like that of the family in grief. It drew upon surrounding energy and sent a pulse, a signal of energy, a radio wave, across fifty miles. Considering the times it was a long distance, so far indeed that it might as well have transmitted its signal to Heaven’s own door. But our dearest Mr Tesla’s oscillator was destroyed in a fire, and a year later, Master Marconi took the honour with a system some said ought not to have been able to send its message across a pond. So it is anyway, that spirit always meets science, for those willing to see and to find.

  It’s the Holy Grail.

  A facetious response; but in effect, yes. What a man such as that Bishop could find in conversation with a scientist of the modern world …

  There would be no telling …

  Unfortunately.

  So the Bishop transmits a strong Energy?

  Yes, which met our own, and there was a link between us, which no doubt he felt also.

  What will he make of it? I wonder.

  He has the power for great Good. And when that Light, that Power, mixes with its own kind, it grows far greater, more than the sum of its parts. This is what we are to do. So there, you see, you have had a real lesson in what it is that we are to do, what it is that can be created.

  But I didn’t do anything.

  Exactly. You weren’t thinking. You were happy to meet the Bishop and add your Energy, unknowingly, to his.

  So I could create happiness?

  You’re getting the idea.

  11

  Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.

  John Lennon (1940–1980)

  Pete held Tim’s hand as he locked the car door and dropped his keys into his jacket pocket. Tim bopped up and down and shook his other hand so that he looked like he was grooving to some beat or other and pretending to strum along. He walked along beside Pete like this – Pete didn’t really notice because this was something Tim did a lot and anyway; he was mostly concerned to get speedily across the supermarket car park without getting backed into by a car or trolley-rushed by some unseeing shopper. He had a long written list of what was needed, and since he always managed to miss getting at least two or three things that were on the list and this always pissed Alicia off, he was intent on getting through the whole list in its entirety even if he had to circle the aisles a dozen times. He’d just let Jillie off at her school, which was a nightmare of bottleneck proportions at the school gate, with parents double-parking all along the school road, and others running the gauntlet between these and the school buses to cross the road. Pete always left Tim in the car and locked the car, but each part of this act was a detail he was afraid to neglect, and he was perpetually surprised that no parent or child had apparently yet been killed or at least maimed in this daily ambush..