saint Sebastian the Rose

by Glover, Michael W.

  Never before had he seen the dream in this way. Before, his whole family was there as it happened—the slaughter of his parents and his brother. Now there was just his brother dying at the hands of someone he could not see.

  The dreams were not always a reflection of what had occurred, but a symbol or meaning for something not readily apparent.

  “What does it mean?” Sebastian pondered aloud.

  With that thought he went to find his journal. It was still lying out next to his bed; he usually kept it hidden, not wanting anyone to read what went on in his mind from day to day. He returned to the chair where he spent so much time writing in his journal. He wrote almost every day; it helped him work his way through troubled times.

  Sebastian finished writing and set the journal down next to the chair. He wanted to talk to Father Donovan and have him help him pass the night but realized Father Donovan would be sleeping. He looked at the time, but it only told him what he already knew, that it was late, the middle of the night. Maybe that’s why he woke. Maybe he needed to go out into the night and roam. Maybe there he would find the answers to his questions.

  Another feeling came over him: perhaps he should not go out tonight. Fear made him think more carefully. He was too tired. He would have to wait until he felt stronger; then he would search for the answers he had been looking for. He knew there was still so much out there, just waiting for him.

  Lying there, he tried to block the images from his mind, hoping against hope they would not return to him once he drifted off. He tried to not close his eyes, but it was inevitable. He was off, and there was nothing he could do to stop the journey, only hope the place would be peaceful.

  Just outside his door sat Father Matthew. He had come down here before going to bed to see if Sebastian was awake and reading. He knew that he had frequent nightmares; Father Donovan had shared that with him.

  He wanted to go in and talk to Sebastian and make sure he was all right, but he was under instructions from Father Donovan to just keep watch over him. Father Donovan could not be everywhere all the time, though some thought he could.

  Walking back to his room, Father Mather passed by Father Donovan’s study and saw there was a light on. He knocked. A voice from inside sounded.

  “If this be death knocking on my door at this hour, go away for I am not ready this night to meet my maker. If this is someone who needs my guidance in some matter, then please enter. I am open for business,” Father Donovan said.

  The door opened, and Father Matthew looked inside to see Father Donovan sitting on a couch reading something.

  “Ah, Matthew, do tell me you have brought a midnight treat with you that you wish to share,” Father Donovan looked up at him with a pleading look.

  “No, I have just come from Sebastian’s library. I went to check on him but as you asked, I did not disturb him,.”

  “And how is our little one doing, our saint Sebastian?” Father Donovan asked, with a look of curiosity. Saint Sebastian was a nickname that had been given to him a long time ago, an old but quite remarkable story few knew the entire details of.

  “He has not had the best of nights.”

  “He has been struggling with many things of late. This is our secret,” Father Donovan suggested.

  Father Matthew left having reported, his task complete. Father Donovan leaned back and reflected on the past, time spent with Sebastian and their complex relationship. Time meant something entirely different to each, and both of them understood this.

  chapter SEVEN

  THAT NIGHT all in the monastery slept, and slept deeply. Sometimes you sleep and wake up feeling different, as if a page has been turned in your life. The feeling is very real, and subconsciously you understand that a new life has begun on this new day.

  The sound coming from the other room was enough to wake a bear in hibernation. Jacob and Jessica both woke with a start. They looked at each other and knew the culprit.

  “Do you think we will get to sleep on this vacation?”

  “No. He will do anything to make sure we don’t,” Jessica said. “He will just say ‘You’re going to sleep your life away.’”

  The two of them flopped out of their beds and put their house shoes on, opening the door to the common room to find their dad pulling things out of boxes.

  “You two are going to sleep your life away.”

  They looked at each other, reading the other’s thoughts. They looked back at their dad sitting on the floor in his pile. He glanced up to see his two children staring at him with blank faces.

  “You know the time here is going to fly by. I don’t know if you understand this.”

  The two kept staring at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

  “You know, part of being on vacation is sleeping in,” Jacob said calmly.

  “I might agree with you, but you just want to take advantage of this vacation. What are you going to do today?”

  The twins looked at each other again.

  “You might as well go back to bed; there isn’t anything to see here,” he finished, seeing no reason to go on.

  “We really know how to get you going. We’re going to take the tour with Father Lemoine. Are you going to go with us?” Jessica asked.

  “I’m going to stay here and organize. Go have some fun before I get you.”

  They looked at each other and went back to their room to change. They wandered the monastery, had breakfast and found themselves standing in front of a large window. A new snow had fallen overnight and was still lightly falling.

  “I see the tour has started without me,” Father Lemoine spoke, standing at the base of the stairs, waking the two from their trance.

  “Nah, just taking in the view.”

  “Need a moment to digest breakfast,” Jessica added.

  “Well, there is no time to waste if you want to see the castle with commentary,” Father Lemoine said. They nodded with enthusiasm.

  Father Lemoine took that as an affirmative. The twins noticed he walked briskly, with confidence, and was not easy to keep up with.

  “I think we should start the tour in the middle of the castle, in the Grand Staircase Hall. Unless you would like to start somewhere else?”

  “Why start there?” Jessica asked.

  “Because that is where it all started,” Father Lemoine answered quietly but quickly came back to them.

  “I was hoping you would ask. I much prefer when people ask me questions when I tour and not just listen like I‘m a recording.” Father Lemoine seemed pleased. “How did everyone sleep their first night in the castle?”

  “Pretty good, being the first night in a new place,” Jacob said.

  “Well, the castle is a little rough around the edges, but it has its comforts.”

  “Father Lemoine, I have noticed some call it a monastery and some call it a castle. What’s up with that?” Jacob asked.

  “Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it, either from a historical perspective or from a present-day working existence. I tend to be more of a historian; when I look, I see a castle and for most of its existence that is what it has been.”

  They made their way till they came to an archway and passed into the large central chamber of the Grand Staircase Hall. The room was huge and much different than the rest of the castle; it was finished and detailed. In the center of the room was the large winding staircase. It must have been 15 feet wide and wound up to each level with multiple exits. Around the staircase there was enough floor space for quite a large gathering. Several doors dotted the walls, which were paneled all around. The staircase made one’s eyes move upward to the high ceiling and a remarkable chandelier. Though there were not many windows, the ones that were there were spectacular, vast in size, with stained glass images all around the edges, telling a history like a book. In the middle, however, the glass was clear, allowing a view of the surrounding area.

  Father Lemoine let them take in the room’s fullness without saying anything
to disturb the mood, for the room was better than any description he could give.

  “I love this room,” Jessica finally spoke, breaking the silence.

  “You would not be the first to say so,” Father Lemoine said, pleased with the response.

  “Now you see why I start the tour off here. The Grand Staircase Hall does the work for me. Besides being the heart of the castle, this was the first part to be built.”

  “When was it built?” Jacob asked.

  “That’s a good question. No one actually knows. I’ve researched till I was cross-eyed and there seems to be no record of it. The only thing I have come up with is that most was added on through the ages,” Father Lemoine answered. “The earliest reference I found is in the fourteenth century, talking about the Tower of Stairs; I assume this is what they are talking about.”

  “Tower of Stairs—is that the original name?” Jessica asked.

  “I heard one of the monks call it the Deep Heart,” Jacob added.

  “Well, I think you would need a paper and pencil if you really wanted to know all the names that have been given to the castle over the centuries. There is a book in the library which gives a brief history.”

  “Where did the stairs go to if there was no other part of the castle?” Jacob wondered.

  “To several balconies, and of course it goes to the top of the tower.”

  “Does anything ever happen in the Grand Staircase Hall?” Jessica asked.

  “Well, there have been weddings, wakes, births, deaths, parties and battles; you name it. Everything you could think of has probably happened in this room. Some say it is the most haunted place in the castle. Not that I want to scare you in any way, but if you are looking for strange noises or occurrences, then you will have to look no further than this hall. At night when the room is dark there is the most intriguing shadow display with the windows, trees and moonlight coming in.” Father Lemoine described the room with flair.

  “I think I would like to come in here and sit on one of the couches and read or take a nap. Maybe a ghost would come by and offer up a game of chess?” Jacob said with a grin.

  “I don’t think you’ll be catching me in here at night,” Jessica said.

  “She is afraid of the dark and of anything that goes bump in the night. She watched too many horror movies when she was young.”

  “I’m sure it had nothing to do with my brother playing practical jokes on me.”

  Jacob shrugged his shoulders innocently.

  ***

  The library was quiet as Ridgeway walked in and looked around. Father Andrew tapped Father Jacques on the shoulder, informing him of their visitor. Father Jacques glanced at him and then looked up to see.

  “Welcome, Mr. Ridgeway. We are so glad to have you in our library,” said Father Andrew.

  “It is always nice to meet a fellow bibliophile,” added Father Jacques.

  “I’m sure my excitement will beat you both. It is always thrilling for me to enter a new library and dive into the books … a treasure hunt where you don’t always know what the treasure is.”

  “Well, I am sure you will not be disappointed. Most of our books are unique, so each of them is a treasure unto themselves,” Father Andrew said.

  “We are extremely proud of our collection!” Father Jacques said. “What would you like to look for? Is there any particular subject?”

  “I want to study the authors themselves. I am working on a book that focuses on the creators of these works of art from the last four centuries. These men deserve a little credit.”

  “Over here is the catalog listing every single book, we think. There are a few books that talk about the authors.”

  “Well, sometimes the works themselves do all the talking. I have found a lot of authors speak of themselves in subtle ways within their writing. I will also be researching what they wrote about. You cannot speak about the men who did such work without speaking to the work itself.” Ridgeway’s eagerness showed. “There is so much here that never gets to the eyes of the outside world. I hope to give them a peek at what they are missing.”

  chapter EIGHT

  THE DAY PASSED not much different from any other, except the monastery had new residents and Sebastian slept. When he woke he felt different, but he didn’t know why. Just that the day was new, spring was coming, and he looked forward to the smells. He liked the idea of new life; there was a hope there that he thought about in ways most couldn’t comprehend.

  Sebastian walked down the halls of the monastery, making his way to the final goal. How he loved the monastery, the halls with all the nooks and corners he knew so well. But it was at this time of the day he wanted one thing, to see the day before its end. It was the closest Sebastian ever came to seeing it.

  He came to a door leading outside. He hesitated and looked beneath it for any sign he shouldn’t continue, putting his hand to the door. The warmth from the wood would tell him much. It was cool and there was no shadow. Time had come for him to go.

  The door opened and the chilly air hit Sebastian’s face. Outside there was still enough light to see the colors and detail missing at night. The sun had set; there was just what it had left behind in the lingering light.

  Sebastian made his way to the courtyard to enjoy this time alone and savor what he missed. This area was a special place of meditation and peace for all in the castle.

  ***

  The twins followed Father Lemoine through most of the monastery; they had seen much of the castle. They toured the kitchen and dining hall over lunch. Then they made their way to one of their final destinations, the armory. Father Lemoine loved to end here as much as he did beginning in the Grand Staircase Hall.

  “Behind this immense door is the armory. I must warn you, keep your hands to yourself, please. Don’t want to add any more gruesome stories,” Father Lemoine winked. The creaking door was perfect. The twins were enjoying themselves immensely.

  They entered the room just as curious as when they started that morning. Jacob and Jessica knew Father Lemoine would make a big show. Father Lemoine walked into the room without saying a word, silently moving past all the artifacts, looking around like he was expecting something. The twins followed him with inquiring expressions. Father Lemoine stopped and turned to them, knowing the questions that were on their minds. He eyed them intensely, gauging their level of patience. Finally he spoke.

  “I always feel it is necessary to enter here and maintain a moment of silence out of respect for the dead.”

  “The dead?”

  “I don’t think he misspoke; he did say the dead. Didn’t you?“ Jacob said, turning to Father Lemoine. “I mean, is this room haunted as well? You did say the Grand Staircase Hall is haunted. I guess we should assume the whole castle is haunted.”

  “I actually said the Grand Staircase Hall is the most haunted. I think if you look and listen hard enough you may find strange occurrences enough in every room,” Father Lemoine corrected.

  “That’s reassuring.” Jessica sounded unconvinced.

  “I’m afraid this room has seen its share of violent deaths. Many instruments of death with real histories to go along with them are kept here. I have seen and heard plenty within these walls.”

  “Are you saying you know specific histories of certain weapons here?” Jacob was amazed.

  Father Lemoine knew he had struck a good introduction. He raised his eyebrows, turned and walked to the far wall to a rack holding many large weapons. Father Lemoine picked what appeared to be a rather hefty axe. The handle was long and thick and made of wood that had seen many years; on the end it was crowned with a blade like none they had ever seen. From top to bottom, it must have measured at least twenty-four inches. He swung the massive weapon up to handle it with two hands, as he would surely need both to manage its size.

  He walked towards the twins in silence with the great axe. The twins backed up in unison, falling into the scene perfectly as it was prepared by the dramatic monk. Father Lemoine k
ept up his stride and began to raise the axe into an aggressive position. The twins were silent, not sure when the show would end. Father Lemoine swept the axe around with a look of rage in his eyes, and then sank it deep into a chopping block before him.

  “Now you can imagine what it was like to be on the receiving end of the Black Axe, one of our residents here with quite a history. The story of this axe goes on, unlike many of the people who crossed its path. That is for another time.”

  “Is this a real chopping block?” Jessica asked.

  “Yes.”

  The twins approached, reaching out to touch the wood handle of the incredible weapon; it seemed to have a presence of its own. They looked down the handle to the great weapon and its many notches.

  “How do you know the histories of individual weapons?” Jacob inquired.

  “Many of these weapons belonged to famous people. Some belonged to infamous people. Their exploits are written down in books recording the history of many residents of this castle. The weapons have been handed down over the years; some have long histories.”

  “Will you show us more of them?” Jessica asked.

  “I certainly shall, but it is getting close to dinner now.”

  They left the armory and finally found a doorway out. The air was fresh as they stepped outside, and it was still light out, lighter than in the castle hallways. There was a light snow covering, making everything brighter.

  “Are you keeping your direction sense in the castle, or are you as confused as me?” Jessica asked her brother.

  “I believe I know where I’m at now … I think,” Jacob said studiously. Each of them looked for familiar places as they followed their guide around the castle.

  Jessica looked around, taking in a new courtyard when she spied someone sitting on a bench. This person wasn’t dressed like the others they had met so far—no monk’s robe. Her curiosity piqued, she looked harder as she slowed. This guy was younger than all of the others. Before she knew it she was staring, unaware of anything else.

  There was something about him that kept her attention. Maybe it was the fact that he was so attractive—that she did notice. He was so peaceful sitting alone reading on the bench in the courtyard.