saint Sebastian the Rose

by Glover, Michael W.

  “They used to hide meanings to secrets in the books they worked on, and we still do to this day. So this is no surprise, although I have never seen this in poem form. This is something we have been looking for in our research, and it would seem we all have missed the clues except for one possible person.”

  The twins knew their father was surely the one who had uncovered some of the information they were looking for, and it would seem the vampires had acquired that information. Once again the weight of what happened to their family had come to the forefront. The twins had not even had time to properly mourn for their father, and they were not ready to give up so easily on the idea that he may still be alive.

  “Why has this caught your attention more than anything else in the book?” Father Donovan quizzed Sebastian.

  “I have seen this before and on more than one occasion, but it was the most recent one that sticks out in my memory. The lines of the poem are written in a book in my library here, but it was when I was stuck in the tomb at the priory I read them again.

  “When I was in the priory crypt I read the inscriptions on the walls, the ceiling, and on the tomb itself. Nothing connected yet, just the recognition of something I had read before. Then later the history of the priory came back to me. The odd thing was that a priory of some significance was built way out here in the middle of nowhere. The only important connection was the tomb the priory was built over. The tomb contains what most people think is the tomb of a beloved church figure, and he is written about in the history of our order. He was praised as a protector and a miracle worker who made the ills of the area go away, and he was sainted by the locals,” Sebastian went on. Father Donovan picked up where he left off.

  “All called him the guardian of the people and the land. They called the priory the stone guard for the commoners. The priory went up in flames and no one knew how. My guess is that he was guarding more than simple parishioners. This must have been one of the holdings the order kept centuries ago and the only clue lay in the poem.”

  “If this is one of the graveyards and they know about it …?” Jacob asked.

  “Then it would be a cause for concern that they might have found it before we have. There were so many sites, and most were kept hidden from any new members of the order, so the information would die with them. Only a few clues were ever left behind as to the whereabouts of the graves. The graves we have known about have been moved over time.”

  Time was their enemy, and they all looked around and at their watches. The time during the night passed as slowly as honey out of a jar, but now it flowed like water in a stream. The morning was marching on and there was much to do. There was a knock on the door, and Father Lemoine entered. Father Donovan stood and made his way to the door.

  “We need two focused groups, Father. We need to prepare for an expedition this afternoon. The priory is our goal, and a cleansing of its bowels may be necessary. Second, we must prepare for all eventualities and a strong defense here tonight. If things do not go as we would like this afternoon, then we hold out hope here with all that remain.”

  The last words struck hard to the small group. Father Lemoine did not seem to flinch at the notion, but Sebastian made his way to the middle of them.

  “I should be with you,” he pleaded his case. Father Donovan smiled and placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.

  “You know we cannot wait. We must go on the offensive, and the one thing on our side is the day. They may not count on us coming after them and may assume we do not know where they are hiding. Besides, you will be here making sure that we are well prepared when we return. I need you to direct things here, and I need you to study the book some more … maybe get us into their heads and know what they plan. You said you had a book here with that poem in it?”

  Sebastian moved over to the bookshelf to find a dusty book. He looked at the book and to all around, knowing he would not be taking part in their quest.

  “It’s just a book of poetry. Why should such a beautiful thing now seem so ominous?”

  “Yes, but it may also hold the keys to our future,” Father Donovan looked to his watch again—almost 9 a.m. He could not believe how fast things were moving.

  “When shall we leave for the priory?” asked Father Lemoine.

  “I wish we could now, but we must be prepared to walk into hell itself if we want to succeed. You shall assemble what is necessary for us, and Sebastian and Father Dagrun will supervise efforts here.”

  Jacob stepped forward. “I want to go with you; I can help.”

  Jessica didn’t like the fact that her brother would be so willing to step into danger. She knew sometimes he reasoned more with his heart and not his head, but thankfully someone else was being the voice of reason. Father Donovan knew Jacob was headstrong and with the recent loss of his father was more than willing to take his anger and turn it to revenge.

  “I know you do, but we need help here as well. I am afraid you will have your chance to face them, but for now Jessica and Sebastian will need you here.

  Father Lemoine left with Father Donovan, their voices fading as the plans were being laid down. Sebastian gathered the twins, knowing their efforts now would make all the difference. After telling them more than they had ever known about the castle he set Jessica to do some reading on the book and sent Jacob to find Father Dagrun.

  The morning ran on in the monastery one hour after the other, but every person there knew they were digging in for a fight. Monks passed by each other with barely a word. There was not enough time for idle chatter about the weather, but the weather was changing day by day. They had turned the corner on winter, and spring was running straight at them. There was no stopping the change.

  The armory was a very busy place, and Father Lemoine was boss. Old storerooms that had not seen the light of day were now opened and all contents thrown out to be sorted and disseminated. More was done in those early hours of the day than in most weeks, but never before had the threat been so dire.

  Father Dagrun walked the grounds with Father Donovan from the top of the Lonely Tower to the inner parts of the woods surrounding their wondrous hideaway. How he wished they could have had longer to prepare. There were so many things he would do, so many changes he would make. He never truly thought these events would fall to this group, but he understood this was foolish thinking. How many times did events like this happen here, in this place time had almost forgotten, but the past never would?

  Father Donovan knew as he went over the list of things he needed to accomplish he would have to add a gathering for prayer and morale building. The coming test would be a hard one for some and a lasting one for others.

  They continued walking along the grass edged with the stones, and the past seemed to catch up with Father Donovan’s thoughts. He stopped and played with grass with his shoe and bent down to touch the stones marking the edge of the moat. Father Dagrun was the first to speak.

  “These grounds have seen plenty of blood. They fought bravely. They remind us the fight goes on, and we won’t let them down.”

  Father Donovan looked up to his big friend and smiled, reassuring the old monk they were doing all that they could. That assurance was quickly stolen away when he remembered what the moat was now—a graveyard unto itself.

  “I just don’t want to add too many souls to its history.” Father Donovan rose and continued walking with his friend, barely listening; the weight a leader carries with him is heavy when that weight is the lives of so many. The notion of losing just one is more than a soul can bear.

  Several wagons had been pulled out of storage and were being loaded by Father Lemoine’s crew. This was the first stage to their strategy. Sometimes a good defense is a good offense. They would go after their enemies hard and fast, hoping for a first strike, and if luck was with them, surprise.

  It is a tricky thing, surprising an enemy that has planned long before you were in the game. Vampires are not to be fooled with lightly; they are clever and unm
erciful. If wisdom comes with age, then vampires, especially old ones, would be beyond dangerous. They would have the upper hand, and that is one thing he hoped would play in the monks’ favor; maybe the vampires would underestimate the monks being secure in their advantage and make terrible mistakes.

  Back inside Father Donovan went and checked and double-checked personnel, rooms, plans and Sebastian. Jessica sat amidst a pile of books, reading and taking notes in a binder that was filling up. Father Donovan walked in with Sebastian and she let out a huff. Then she stood and began pacing around the room.

  “Nothing makes much sense in here. Everything is random. It’s like someone who is mad writing down their thoughts.”

  “Nothing jumps out at you?” Sebastian asked. He had read some of the book as well.

  “I never knew that vampires were such devoted astronomers,” Jessica said derisively.

  “If anything, astronomy is a sort of hobby for many vampires. The night sky is all they ever see, so there is a forced love affair with what they get to look at. Sometimes I would spend night after night studying the constellations. I know them all by heart, and I could give you a detailed history of each of them. The planets were probably first discovered by vampires, but they probably kept that knowledge to themselves; they are very protective of what they know,” said Sebastian, staring at Jessica’s astonished face.

  “What good is it still? I thought they would spend their time on more important things.”

  “Maybe they are as superstitious as we are or they follow some astrological guide? Is this a possibility?” Father Donovan wanted to see where the discussion might lead. Sebastian followed his old friend’s thought pattern and searched his own vast knowledge.

  “It is important for us; the following of the celestial bodies is as old as our history, even though this fact has somehow eluded the myths that have been passed down, both the true and the false ones. Evidently this is important to Constance.”

  “Well, she has a lot in here, and she seems obsessed with the moon. She goes on and on about what she calls ‘the mother,’” Jessica finished. Sebastian understood some of what Jessica was talking about and tried to explain further with Father Donovan held in rapt interest.

  “Think about it: the moon is the largest of the objects in the night sky. The moon is sometimes referred to as a mother and is seen as a guardian. The moon is also one of the more interesting aspects of the night sky. Because of the lunar cycle its appearance changes night to night. You go from the magnificent full moon which is a mirror image of the sun--something we will never see again—to having no moon at all because the earth blocks the light from the sun, or the moon does not appear in the night sky at all but chooses to appear in the daytime sky. These are the days that vampires are most jealous of; not only do they lose their beloved nighttime light, but the day walkers are gifted with the presence of both the sun and the moon. On these days vampires are not to be messed with but avoided at all costs. There are few tales of these days in our scattered history that have seen the upheaval of civilizations.”

  Jessica and even Father Donovan were in complete awe with the mini-history lesson. Jessica wondered what all she could learn from Sebastian, given time. The possibilities were staggering, and she knew she had found something special in her life, if only the future would still be there after the next day and night. She could see no future at the moment, only the next twenty-four hours, and beyond that, nothing. She could not comprehend anything after this, not any holiday gathering, not eating at a fast food restaurant, not a movie, and not even the uncertainty of college classes.

  Sebastian sat for a moment really wondering if that was all there was to it, merely a fascination with the stars like so many of his kind. He realized the book was important; his Companion had told him so. Deciphering what was important and what was not were their tasks.

  “What else have you found—anything else that strikes you weird?” Sebastian asked her.

  “Well, to be honest, this all strikes me weird. Sorry, but she is also obsessed, it seems, with writing in haiku. There are poems on pages in every part and in no discernible order, like the first one we read. Listen to this:”

  By the stones we walk

  Ones who gave up day for night

  And sleep for all time

  Father Donovan looked to Sebastian for any understanding. Sebastian showed he had a slight understanding of the meaning as his dream, which he had tried mercifully to forget, came back to him.

  “There is something there and I am not sure what. I had a dream one night where I was walking down a path and the stones of the path were inscribed with a saying in Latin, ‘The walk of the dead.’ I figured this just to be some fantasy of my mind, but clearly this refers to something important. Maybe something I read a long time ago.”

  “If I had to guess this would have to refer to the graves; there seems to be no coincidence. What other poems have you found?” Father Donovan asked, grateful for Jessica’s help. Jessica flipped to another page and started to read:

  Burned to ash by fire

  Amidst the dust life remains

  Only the strong need blood

  Jessica read and made a face, clearly showing her disapproval. The images conjured in her head did not make for a pleasant vision and one she knew would only get worse. Sebastian nodded his head with certainty.

  “This makes it clear they are after the graves of their fallen. Everything points to that fact, and they may have already found what they are after.”

  Father Donovan had heard enough. With a few more requests from Jessica and Sebastian he returned to the upper levels of the monastery. Sebastian and Jessica were left alone with many tasks to accomplish, but their hopes and fears seemed to be echoing off the walls of the small chamber. Jessica looked to Sebastian, for whom she now felt very mixed emotions. She had first simply seen this guy who caught her eye, and she had come to know him only briefly as an interesting, albeit an extremely attractive one as well. Then her world had been thrown for a loop. With all of that said, her feelings had not changed. She still felt a connection that drew her close. In Sebastian she had found someone who was similar to herself in many ways but so different in others. It is hard to tell the heart not to love even when the mind knows better. The heart seems to have a mind of its own and who is to say that her love was wrong.

  Sebastian too was in a similar crux. He had never expected to meet anyone who could rekindle the feelings that he now felt. How many years had passed without any trace of those emotions and how grateful he was for that, but how could he miss out on something that made him feel so alive? He did not just purely exist now; there seemed some purpose to the next day. He knew the obvious hindrances, but he enjoyed the company of many different individuals for various reasons so why should this be any different? The needs and wants would have to wait. The coming events would throw the course of everything into the wind, and they would have to gather up the pieces, if there was anything left.

  They stood there, mentally navigating their silent world, knowing at that moment they only really wanted the best for each other. In their complicated relationship nothing else mattered but the warmth each received from the other. Sebastian reached out to touch the necklace hanging around Jessica’s neck and there he felt the sting—once again life was reminding him that things are never simple.

  chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE TIME HAD COME. The monks gathered outside on the lawn and were ready to depart. The six staying behind were flanking Father Dagrun and the twins. The others mounted horses because the priory owned no vehicles. A few of the monks left earlier with two wagons, which moved slower than the horses alone, so they would arrive at roughly the same time.

  “You might want to have a look at this. Father Jacques and Father Andrew should be getting primed and tested about now. I just hope they keep each other at a safe distance.”

  They walked toward the corner of the castle and as they approached, a great gush of
air sounded. Shooting past them in a great stream was a tongue of fire reaching out and engulfing a small shrub. The three stopped dead in their tracks with the twins whooping with astonished faces. They peered around the edge to see Father Jacques smiling broadly and Father Andrew likewise testing his flame thrower in the yard behind them giving a very enthusiastic shot.

  “Do you think that will do the trick?” Father Dagrun asked the twins.

  “I think that will barbeque anything,” Jacob responded, gaining confidence.

  “Where did you get them?” Jessica asked.

  “They are left over from the war. We have only used them a couple of times but that was only for clearing brush. Never thought we’d use them for this.”

  “Their time has come, not ours,” Jacob said resolutely as he made his way toward the two fire-throwing librarians.

  ***

  The way across the countryside was slow going for the contingent of warrior monks. Besides the nice easy fields they would also have to traverse many streams and steep ravines. They did not want to wear out or injure the horses that would be necessary to get back to the monastery.

  From time to time as they reached the top of a hillside they would catch a glimpse of the old priory. At one point Father Donovan looked back from one of these hilltops and he could see the Lonely Tower behind them and the old priory ahead. They seemed like two opposing forces staring at each other.

  As each hillside passed, their target drew close, marked by the growing size of the ruins and the length of their shadows; the day was marching on with them. Father Donovan thought surely it was better to have gone prepared than to rush to get there earlier and not have the things necessary. He hoped he was right.

  They followed the tracks of the wagons before them. Father Donovan made a note to himself to put in an order for several four-wheel drives. The monks would have to catch up to the new world and stop living in the one they had existed in for so long. Traveling at even this brisk but mild pace was not very comfortable for the old monk. He had not ridden a horse for quite a while by choice, figuring he was toward the end of his gallivanting days. This must be a test … yes, a final test of one who had become comfortable and, he thought, forgotten by the world and other influences.