41 Epilogue: Book 2

Father Philippe heard the great doors creak open from his office and went to see who would come to visit the church on a Tuesday morning.  A small crowd stood in the Narthex, blinking in the relative darkness after the brilliant bright day outside.  They were well dressed and similarly but yet struck Father Philippe as an odd mix.  There was a massive, striped, regal looking fellow with a tiny woman who reminded him of a nun, and a child gazing in wonder at the cathedral like it was the first time she had ever been in one; who was tenderly leading a terribly scarred, blind man.

“Grace and Peace,” he greeted them, “I am Father Philippe, rector here, how may I be of service to you?  Did I hear one of you say something about tomes and books?”

“A tomb with books is what my companion said,” the great big fellow indicted the blind man with a wry smile.

“Oh, well, we have many fine examples of both here, what were you hoping to find?”

“A description of the smell,” the blind man said.

“Ah, not a fan of churches, I’d wager.”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a gambling man, Padre.”

“A sure thing isn’t gambling though, is it?”

“Oh, I like him.  He’s quick. My name is Ch’Byartha,” The man stuck out a gnarled paw that was short a few fingers.  Philippe shook it warmly with both hands. 

“I’m going to assume that’s not the name your parents gave you, Son of Failure?”

“It is the name they would have given had they been more honest with themselves.”

“I see, and who is your lovely assistant?”

“This,” the man said with some relish, like a father with great pride and affection for his only child, though clearly she was not his by birth, “is Akondro.”  She timidly gave her hand and Philippe asked, “Did he name you?” leaning his head to indicate Ch’Byartha.  She nodded.  “I thought as much.  Welcome child.  I hope you come to love the church and your time in them more than your warden here.”

“Who is the warden and who is the ward when one must needs be led by the hand like a child by a child?  Yahweh has done much to humble me these last few years; i assure you Father, my feelings for the community of God are much more malleable than in my youth.”  The large one cleared his throat.  “So.  The furry wall there is Amisbhake,” Ch’Byartha continued the introductions, “Lord High Counselor to Chofa the Mysteriously Hard to Locate These Days,” Philippe shook his paw, which enveloped his own, “Charmed,” the great man rumbled.  “And her dispassionateness is none other than Ch’loi, Ambassador of the Kingdom of the Dawn.”

“Ah, so… OH!  It is you!  You’ve come!”

“Well, you did send for us.”

“Please forgive me for not knowing you straight away, I had no idea what to expect!  Thank you ever so much for coming!  Please, follow me.”  He led them outside and to the adjacent building next door.  “I am so thankful you have come.  They just started showing up here soon after the Union nuked Aedlin.  I didn’t know what to do!  I know what society would have me do.  I know what our neighbors would tell me to do but i could not bring myself to do it, you see.  They are living, thinking beings no matter their appearance or… diet”  They went through a door and began descending some old steps cut directly into the stone.  “They obviously wanted help and chose me, they came to me directly you see.  Not to cause harm or mischief but just an insistent but wordless plea for help.”

“How do you know that?”

Father Philippe laughed, “Because I am not dead!  If they were behaving in the way we have come to expect from them, I would be a raisin and the Union would be nuking Zanzibar!  Jael came first.  Just stood in the doorway one night when the church was empty.  I had no way of communicating with her you understand but my compassion was touched by them all the same.  I found something for her to eat and she left.  The next night she came again.  The following night, she brought Hagar with her.  The next night Ruth and so on.  They are in such obvious need!  I had to help them, I am compelled by grace to help them!  So I have hid them here and fed them but this can not go on indefinitely!  I have to send them on or they will be discovered.”  He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned, “Now, they are a little…disconcerting, I feel I would be remiss if I did not try to warn you about their appearance and what it’s like being so near them….”

Ch’Byartha put a hand on his shoulder.  “Trust us, Father, we know.”

“I do not know how that could be.  I have worked with starving communities, communities ravaged by war and plague and nothing, rien, has ever prepared me for this!”

“Preaching to the choir.”

He looked at each of them, shrugged, “Alright, if you’re sure?”

“We are.”

“Alright,” he unlocked the door, “that’s not to keep them in, you understand, I doubt I could even if I wanted to.  It is to keep others from accidentally stumbling upon them.  It is for their protection.”  He pushed it open and called into the darkness, “Rahab, Ruth, Jael, Hagar… visitors to see you.  He took a lamp from the wall and lit it.  Spindly shadows like giant spiders lowered themselves from the ceiling, raised up from the corners and came forward in a shy huddle of rags and clicking eye shutters.

“You named them?”  

“I could not very well ask them their own names, so yes.”

“They’re all women’s names.”

“Something about them struck me as feminine, yes.”

“You celibate, Father?” Ch’Byartha asked.

“Oui.”

“Figured.”

Philippe was going to ask what he meant but Jael, always first, came forward but not to Philippe.  She went straight to and stood before Ch’loi, her posture erect but not defiant.  As if she were presenting herself before a superior.  She did some sort of pantomime and Ch’loi made a hand gesture in return.  “You understand her?”

“Yes.”

“You..know her?”

“One has met before, yes.  What does the Reverend call this one?”

“Jael.”

“The wife of Heber, who drove the stake through Sisera.”

“Yes, but I was not thinking of that specifically, more searching Scripture for names of women associated with the people of God but not actually of them.”

“It is appropriate.”

Father Philippe did not know what she meant by that and she did not offer to explain.  What he asked instead is what was truly on his heart, “Can you.. will you help them?”

Ch’loi looked at him, her face was unreadable, stoic as stone, dour, the rigid mask of a woman who had known much heartbreak and little to no joy in her life.  But her eyes now were fierce and bright as if something inside was waking up and though her voice was small, quiet, meek, Philippe would have said it spoke with iron, “It is One’s Purpose.”