The Master's Reliquary
Book One: The Man of Signs
Sample
PROLOGUE
Galilee, A.D. 24
Mingled scents of fresh-cut wood filled the carpenter’s shop. The familiar fragrances of sycamore, olive, and oak always hung in its air, and, through the open storefront, wafted onto the well-trodden street with each gusting breeze to declare the sort of labor done there.
Recently a new fragrance prevailed in the shop - the pungent aroma of cedar. In this small village there was rarely a call for anything made of such an expensive material, one that no longer grew locally but must be imported from Phoenicia. The villagers' needs - handles, wheels, yokes and beams, tables and boxes - were very satisfactorily made from cheaper and stronger woods.
No customer had, in fact, commissioned the finished chest of Phoenician cedar gleaming on the workbench and now receiving a final polish from the carpenter. He had conceived it himself unprompted. It was the first time that he had constructed an item with no immediate use or pressing need. He knew it would also be the last. Perhaps that was why he had built it, as a culmination of his many seasons in this place, and as a celebration of the new work he would begin.
He would soon leave this sheltered spot. From the hills above the village, he had viewed the surrounding world - the mountains Carmel, Harmon, and Tabor, the plains of Esdraelon, and even a distant gleam of the Great Sea. This home, though humble and plain, had been a blessed haven of rich soil and green countryside, lush with the materials of carpentry.
A final symbolic caress with the polishing cloth, and the carpenter stepped back to view his work. The reliquary’s measure was something more than two cubits long and a little more than one cubit square at its end. It was all of cedar and finished in oils and wax, shining lustrous and golden in the late slanting light. Its otherwise uniform coloring was interrupted on the reliquary's upper right-hand corner by a pale streak in the wood that now glowed like an imprisoned ray of the sun.
The carpenter was pleased with his labor. He had given this object not only all of the practical skills learned in nearly twenty years of apprenticeship and mastery, but also all of the spirit that drove his craftsmanship and life.
He stepped back to the reliquary and laid his hand upon the wood.
"Father, accept this gift of what I have been, and what I am. With this, and with all things, Your will be done."
Once more he turned and looked about him, out to the empty way, back at the rows of chisels and saws hung from pegs on the walls, finally down at a wheel and handles awaiting the return of their owners. The day's last light lay on the reliquary before him. He knew it would outlast all the other work of his hands. When he departed he would leave the chest undisturbed where it stood. It was a gift to his Father and he would know what to do with it.
CHAPTER 5
… "Bring yourselves - all of your Brotherhood," he said coldly. "We go to Maelcon and his Lords. And carry with you the chest which holds your god."
Brude went to prepare the reliquary, though why Maelcon would want it brought also he did not know. He wished the more friendly Athfotla had come, who might answer their questions. Quickly they all readied themselves and, with Muiredach in the lead, followed Caitt.
Once more they entered the inner courtyard with its large pool of black water now rimmed with the first frost of early fall. There, Brude was surprised to see a group of men standing like warhorses in a cloud of frosted breath. Coming nearer, he realized that this was Maelcon himself and the others from the hall. Brude began to feel uneasy about the meaning of this meeting.
However, Maelcon stepped to Muiredach and seemed courteous, if also grimly formal. "Muiredach, we accept the homage you have paid us. But we do not welcome your Brotherhood and your god. You may not stay among our people here, filling them with weakness. Return now to Dalriada, and do not come to my lands again."
When told Maelcon's meaning, Muiredach said nothing, only bowing his head slightly. Though this decision was no more than what they had expected, the ending of his purpose appeared to deflate the old Brother.
Maelcon now turned unexpectedly to Brude. "You have made claim to my people that your god holds sway in my land. Do you still say this?"
Brude felt that somehow he was being maneuvered by Maelcon into some error, but he could only answer the truth. "Yes, the Lord is not of Roma or Dalriada, but of all. Though you send us away, He will remain."
Maelcon seemed maliciously satisfied. "I will show all here that he speaks falsely, and that this god has no power." Pointing to the reliquary, he said to Caitt, "Bind that chest with chain and sink it to the bottom of Fortriu Pool!"
Shocked, Brude appealed to Muiredach. "Brother, they are taking the reliquary!"
"Maelcon, I protest! That holds our sacred Scripture."
Hearing this from Brude, the Pict king said only, "Do not worry, your god will be honored to lie in this Pool."
Servants had dragged heavy links of chain to the edge of the water. But when the men went to lay hands on the reliquary, Brude could not contain himself and leaped to block their way.
"Stand aside," commanded Maelcon.
"Maelcon, do not do this," Brude pleaded.
Angrily, Maelcon loosed his sword and stepped menacingly toward Brude. "Will you move?"
"I cannot."
Maelcon raised the sword, and for a moment it seemed that he would strike Brude down. Finally he lowered his arm. "No," Maelcon said in a tone as cold as the morning. "You will have more than you deserve. And Orkney will be satisfied." Turning again to Caitt, he said, "Bind him also to the chest, and let them go into the Pool together!"
|
