“I know that as well as anyone, Nephew,” said Brynmor. “But this be more important than thou knowest. I intend to begin a reformation of the church in Edom that will reverberate down to the end of time. The people, they must learn the Norm for themselves.”
Ailad had never heard his uncle speak this way. He thought, This is not the Uncle Brynmor I know. Where is he going with this?
“But how wilt thou this do, Uncle?”
“By printing the Norm, my boy, and spreading it to every corner of this land!”
Ailad drew in his breath. The Messenger, he spoke to me of this…
Brynmor looked off into the distance. Then he solemnly declared, “I shall cause the boy that driveth the plow to know more of the Scriptures than Pregethwr Ifan, or any other man who stands in the way of God’s inspiration!”
Chapter 8
Ailad began his surreptitious work. Every week, when he selected the reading for seventh-day, he also removed another page—preferably, one about six months away—and smuggled it out of the church under his robe. Then he assisted Brynmor with the typesetting and printing.
On their first day of printing, Ailad carefully inked the plate and Brynmor pulled the first proof sheet. Then they both admired the very first page:
Brynmor smiled, but then he scowled. “If only we could have printed it in the Edomic language,” he muttered to himself. “This Common-speak is such a crooked, broken, scattered, imperfect language… but ‘twill just have to do.”
Edomic language? Ailad thought. What’s that?
Each week Ailad watched in awe as Brynmor effortlessly translated the text from Yngling to Common-speak while setting each stick of type. Brynmor’s fingers flew at an incredible speed as he drew letters from the type case, inserted them into the stick, and locked them down in the plate bed. When the type was set for all four pages on a sheet, they inserted the plate in the press and set to work “pulling” printed sheets from the press—five thousand of them for each section of pages. Ailad then took each sheet and hung it on a line until the ink dried. Then the whole printing process was repeated for the other side of each sheet. When all the sheets were printed, Ailad folded each sheet into an eight-page section, inserted it in a binding press and sewed the book together. It was exhausting, backbreaking work, but Brynmor never seemed to tire, and Ailad was not about to let his uncle down on this important project.
Every day Lleucu brought lunch to the printing shop, which Ailad was very thankful for. Ailad found himself warming up to this kind, generous girl, and he admitted to himself that she wasn’t bad looking, either.
One day Brynmor was proofreading a new sheet with Ailad, when he paused. He looked at Ailad and said, “Now, Ailad, I want thee to consider carefully this verse from the Book of Shemyah:
“Without father, without mother, without genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, remaining a priest continually.”
Ailad puzzled over the strange verse, while Brynmor’s eyes seemed to drill right through him. Ailad thought, What’s he getting at? Why is this verse so important, and what does it have to do with me?
Brynmor waited patiently while Ailad ruminated over the verse.
Suddenly it dawned on him. That’s me! I am without father and mother! I was never born, not here at least! Could this verse be about me?
Ailad’s eyes widened in recognition, and Brynmor smiled knowingly. Then Brynmor went back to his proofreading, and nothing more was said.
What else does Brynmor know about me? Ailad wondered.
Chapter 9
As the printing proceeded, Brynmor instructed Ailad in the deeper meaning of the sacred text of the Norm. Ailad listened in fascination as his uncle told him about the First Parents, their expulsion from Ganedom, and the five Eons that had already taken place on Edom.
Ailad continued as Pregethwr Iefan’s acolyte, but his heart was no longer in it. He soon realized that he was far more knowledgeable about the Norm than Iefan, after having watched Uncle Brynmor painstakingly typeset every letter of the book. And the sealed portion of the Norm was a revelation to him, as well—although he never mentioned it to Pregethwr Iefan again.
One day the door jingled, and Pregethwr Iefan entered the printing shop. Ailad was mixing a new batch of ink, and his hands were sooty and black. He looked up in alarm just as Iefan walked in, but his uncle silently motioned for him to continue working.
“Ah, Pregethwr, what brings thee here?” Brynmor said amiably.
“A wedding handbill,” the Pregethwr replied coldly. “I shall need twenty copies for posting, by fifth-day.” He showed Brynmor his handwritten text.
“Certainly,” Brynmor replied, taking the paper. “That will be twenty pence.”
Iefan glanced around the shop. “Busy, are we, Brynmor?”
Brynmor smiled. “Yes, Pregethwr. The usual printing and binding, tha’ knowest.”
Iefan sniffed. “Hmph… very well! By fifth-day, aye?”
“As you wish, Pregethwr.”
Iefan paused at the door and turned. “Oh, and see that tha’ cease from stuffing my acolyte’s head with strange doctrines, Brynmor! I warn thee, he belongs to the Eglwys, now!”
The door slammed behind Iefan, and Ailad let out a deep breath. “Close that was, Uncle,” he said, trembling.
“Nay, not so much…” Brynmor replied, smiling. “No man can stop this work now, least of all Pregethwr Iefan.”
A few days later, Ailad and Lleucu went down to the river to share their lunch. As they sat on the riverbank, Ailad read to Lleucu from one of the sections of the Norm that they had recently printed.
“This is from the Book of Ahten,” he explained. “‘Tis the first book in the Norm, from the sealed portion—the part we never heard about in church. I like this verse:”
“Ahten, he fell so man might be, so men they might have joy.”
She wrinkled her nose. “But what does it mean?” she said.
Ailad thought for a moment. “Tha’ knowest how the Pregethwr, he always teaches us that Ahten and Havah made a huge mistake by leaving Ganedom? As if God didn’t want them to leave?”
“Aye…” she hesitantly said.
“But that’s not what the Norm teaches at all! God put them there in Ganedom, and let them decide for themselves. That way, when they were kicked out, they couldn’t blame it on God, y’see?”
“But why did they hafta’ leave Ganedom at all, now then?”
“Because as long as they were in Ganedom, they couldn’t have children, Lleucu! We would never have been born. Ahten and Havah chose to leave so we could come here, just like this verse says.”
She smiled. “Ah… that tastes good to me. They were willing to leave their paradise, just so that me and thee could be here. We should thank them for that, now then.”
She turned and gazed into his eyes. “Aliad… tha’ hast changed of late.”
“Changed?” he said. “How?”
She looked down timidly. “Oh… much more serious thou be, an’ determined to see this task through. I like that in a man.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, and he kissed her back.
Chapter 10
At the end of a year the printing and binding was complete, and Pregethwr Iefan still did not suspect anything. Brynmor and Ailad gazed proudly at the five thousand copies of the Norm in their black leather bindings, and Brynmor said, “Now… all that be left to do is distribute these books. I warn thee, Ailad, when word of this gets out, all Sheol will break upon our heads. But by then, ‘twill be too late for the Pregethwr to complain, aye?”
The next morning Ailad looked out the front window of the printing shop and noticed five pony carts lined up in the street. Just then Brynmor came bounding down the stairs and out the front door, rubbing his hands together. He embraced the five drivers, turned to Ailad and said, “These five men have graciously volunteered to deliver our books all about this land. Ailad, I should like to introduce thee to Idwal, Dilwyn,
Ofydd, Colwyn, and Rhys—my Haganah friends from long ago.”
Ailad noticed that the five drivers were curiously dressed in long, leather belted tunics, and conical leather hats with wide brims. To Ailad, they appeared to be several hundred turns out of style. They each took their allotment of books and silently departed.
Brynmor kept several hundred of the books to distribute from his own printing shop. He gave the very first copy to his apprentice. As Ailad reverently thumbed the new pages and hefted the book, Brynmor said, “We have done well. ‘Tis an inspired translation, my boy. All five thousand turns-worth of Edomic scripture are one in thy hands, now. Knowest thou the pain and sufferings of the five seers and the other prophets who gave thee this book? Most of them sacrificed their lives for it! Hoping I do, that thou wilt remember that as thou readest it.”
“I will, Uncle,” Ailad humbly replied.
Chapter 11
As soon as the publication of the Norm was announced, “all Sheol” did break loose on Brynmor and Ailad, just as the Messenger had warned him. Pregethwr Iefan showed up at the printing shop one day, accompanied by several soldiers.
Ailad heard a rapping sound, and went outside with Brynmor to investigate. They found Pregethwr Iefan standing by the entrance, nailing an interdict to the side of the building with his shoe.
“By order of His Highness, Bœnder Hrethstan of Frieland, this printing establishment is closed,” Iefan declared. “I command you to surrender all of your illegal copies of the Norm for burning!”
Ailad noticed the Pregethwr’s insulting use of the impersonal “you.” Frightened, he thought, Now what shall we do?
Brynmor just folded his arms, smiled and looked deeply into Iefan’s eyes. He said softly, “No, I don’t think that will be necessary, now then.”
Iefan stared back at him. “What did you say?” he mumbled.
“There’s no need to shut down this establishment,” Brynmor replied. “These aren’t the books you’re looking for.” He ripped down the interdict, wadded it up and threw it away. Then he looked at Iefan again and said, rather sharply, “Move along!”
Ailad looked at Iefan, and noticed a blank, uncomprehending look in his eyes. Iefan suddenly glanced around and mumbled, “What am I doing here? Why are these soldiers here? I can’t remember…”
Surprised, Ailad noticed that the soldiers were also dazed and looking around in confusion. Iefan turned and began shuffling back down the street towards his church, and the soldiers meekly followed him.
Astonished, Ailad turned to his uncle and said, “Uncle Brynmor… what just happened here?”
Brynmor chose his words carefully. “It was not God’s will that Iefan should interfere just yet, Ailad.”
“So, that’s it? The danger is over?” said Ailad.
“No, the effect is temporary, my boy. He will be back. But no unhallowed hand can interfere with this work. Thou hast my word on that.”
Chapter 12
That was hardly the last word on the subject. A few days later Pregethwr Iefan returned to the shop with a much larger armed guard. With him was Bœnder Hrethstan, the ruler of Frieland, who had traveled all the way from the capital at Strathy to attend to this affair.
By this time, the new copies of the Norm had been distributed all over the continent—except Ailad’s personal copy, of course.
The Pregethwr and the Bœnder did not bother knocking, but barged directly into the printing shop and confronted Brynmor.
“Ah, Bœnder Hrethstan, I be honored by thy presence! What brings thee here this day?” Brynmor said cheerily. He pointedly ignored Pregethwr Iefan.
Just then, Ailad and his Aunt Tegwyn descended the stairs. Ailad looked at the intruders and said, fearfully, “Uncle, what is this about?”
Brynmor motioned Ailad to silence.
The Bœnder’s Captain of the Guard handed a writ to Brynmor and said, “By order of the Royal Ministry and the Council of the Cairwyn-Eglwys, you are hereby charged with sedition, blasphemy, and public disorder. You are ordered to yield up all copies of your blasphemous publication for burning! This shop and all its contents are now the property of the Bœnder!”
Ailad made a lunge for the stairway, but the guards caught him and forced him outside along with Aunt Tegwyn.
Pregethwr Iefan gleefully chimed in. “And you, Brynmor, are under arrest! Seize him!”
The Captain of the Guard signaled to his men, who bound Brynmor’s hands behind him. Then they began demolishing the printing press. They seized all the printing plates and threw them into the street, scattering type in every direction. They attacked the press with sledges and axes until it was reduced to kindling, which they also threw into the street. They added several hundred reams of expensive linen paper to the pile, along with several gallons of ink. Then one of the soldiers applied a torch to the pile. Instantly the pile burst into flames, consuming the wood, paper, and ink.
Ailad watched helplessly as black smoke and bits of paper ash ascended into the sky, while rivulets of molten lead ran down the street.
By now, a large crowd had gathered to observe the bonfire. Ailad recognized many of them as Brynmor’s close friends, to whom he had given copies of the Norm.
Ailad watched in despair as the press was consumed by flames, while Brynmor and Tegwyn stood by, seemingly unperturbed.
When the flames had died down, Pregethwr Iefan approached Brynmor and slapped him hard in the face. “You too shall burn for what you’ve done, you blasphemer!”
As Aunt Tegwyn watched this assault on her husband, her demeanor suddenly changed. “Rydych melltigedig domen!” she cried. Then she struck the Pregethwr hard on the shoulders and swept his feet out from under him. Ailad watched in amazement as his tiny aunt, who could not weigh more than eight stone, he figured, knelt and thrust her fist against the now-prostrate Pregethwr’s throat.
“Tegwyn! Atal!” Brynmor cried, as the Bœnder’s guards pulled her away from the Pregethwr.
“I must defend the defender of God,” she softly replied, looking down at the Pregethwr in contempt. “As I have ever done.”
Pregethwr Iefan stood up, dusted himself off, placed his hands on his hips and spit in Brynmor’s face. “Well, you apostate, what are you going to do now?” he sneered.
Now Ailad sprang to Brynmor’s defense, but two of the Bœnder’s guards pinned his arms behind his back.
Brynmor glanced at Ailad and softly said, “Easy, boy… I can handle myself, now then…” He grinned at the Pregethwr. “It’s too late, Iefan,” he replied, pointedly omitting the Pregethwr’s title. “By now, there are five thousand copies of the Norm scattered all across this land. You cannot stop the truth from spreading!”
“We’ll see about that,” Iefan replied. “Take him away!”
At this, the loud grumbling from the crowd grew to a roar. Ailad watched as the townsfolk began to brandish pitchforks, scythes and other farm implements they had brought to the bonfire.
The Bœnder and the Pregethwr realized it was time to leave. “Company, form up!” the Captain of the Guard cried. The soldiers formed a hollow box around the Bœnder, the Pregethwr and Brynmor, and they began marching down the street towards the Fortress of Stroma, forcing their way through the angry townspeople.
Ailad watched in despair. “What will they do with him, Aunt Tegwyn?” he said.
She put her arm around him and shrugged. “I know not… but fear not, Ailad—Brynmor and I have been through worse than this. Much worse, now then…”
As the soldiers passed by, Pregethwr Iefan glanced over at Ailad and cried, “And bring that little thief along, too!”
The soldiers seized Ailad, drew him into the formation, and bound his wrists behind him. As he took his place next to his uncle, Ailad thought, I actually feel safer now, next to Uncle Brynmor. He will see us through…
Chapter 13
The next day, Brynmor and Ailad were called before the Council of the Cairwyn-Eglwys to answer charges of Blaspheming t
he Holy Word of God. The seven counselors sat on a raised platform just in front of the high pulpit, dressed in their black robes. Bœnder Hrethstan sat on his own throne, to the side of the counselors. The whole town turned out to watch the trial.
Ailad had been charged with the lesser crime of Unlawful Misuse of Sacred Texts. He stood next to Brynmor at the foot of the pulpit, with his hands bound.
Pregethwr Iefan pointed down from his pulpit and thundered at them: “Brynmor and Ailad, you stand before God and this Council, accused of desecrating God’s holy writ, the sacred Norm! How say you?”
Brynmor glanced sideways at Ailad, looked up and firmly declared, “Not Guilty!”
“Would you add lying to the list of charges against you, man? We have the evidence here!” Pregethwr Iefan held up a copy of the Norm from Brynmor’s printing shop.
“I have here a copy of the sacred Norm, which you maliciously translated into the Common tongue! The very words of the Norm itself forbid such desecration! The Prophet Caerwyn, blessed be he, warned us never to add to or subtract from the words of the Norm!” Pregethwr Iefan looked at the book and shuddered. “I feel the very heat of Sheol emanating from this wicked book, as if it would burst into flame of its own accord!”
Brynmor smiled. “I think not…”
“Will you still deny your guilt, man?” Iefan roared.
“I admit that I published this book,” Brynmor replied. “But as to the charge of desecration, I am innocent. How can it be desecration to teach the holy word of God to the people, in their own tongue?”
“Do you hear him?” Iefan thundered. “He admits his guilt! He has taken the pure, undefiled text as revealed to the Prophet Caerwyn in the ancient Yngling tongue, and debased it! How can we stand by and permit such a desecration?”
The congregation remained silent, but there was loud grumbling from the counselors, who nodded in agreement.
Brynmor suddenly rose to his full height and thundered back at the Pregethwr. His voice seemed to shake the very pillars of the church. “How dare you sit in Caerwyn’s chair and call yourself a Pregethwr! You squat before the gate to Eternity, neither entering in yourself, nor permitting your congregants here to enter! You have ordained that no man but the Pregethwr shall look on the Scriptures, unless he be muzzled as an acolyte in heathen learning eight or nine years, and armed with false principles, until he be clean shut out of the understanding of the Scripture!”
By Ailad's Bootstraps Page 3
