“But first…” said Brother George.
“What first?” asked Steve.
“First we have to rescue the children and Jack from the dragon,” said Brother George.
“Can I see Pegasus?” asked Steve after a pause.
“Sure,” answered George and went to the stable.
Pegasus stood still in the stable eating straw.
“Pegasus is fast like the wind and agile like a cat. You do not have to fear anything with a horse like that,” said Brother George and stroked the horse’s neck.
“Is it true that a warhorse protects its master when he falls on the ground?” asked Steve looking at the strong leg muscles of the horse.
“Sure it does. It does not move from your side. It is prepared to die for you. That is how loyal they are. Pegasus is a gift. He was given to me by a Persian officer when I served for the Roman Army. Our legion was ordered to go to Persia. In Damascus I met a group of Christians who told me about Jesus Christ who conquered the world not with bloodshed but with love. I felt a strong desire to learn more about Jesus. The more I heard of him the more I detested my life as a soldier. I wanted to serve Jesus with all my heart and soul. Then I came in a village in Persia. The village was attacked by bandits. I helped to defend the village. I know quite a lot about defending people from what I have learnt in all the conflicts I have been involved in. We managed to defend the village successfully. The citizen gave me Pegasus as a token for my help.” Brother George clapped on Pegasus on the neck.
“I would like to become a warrior monk and defend the Christian villages,” said Steve.
“Soldiers are like angels if they fight for the right cause. But they are demons if they fight for the wrong cause,” said Brother George turning away from Pegasus.
“How can somebody know if he is fighting for the right cause?” asked Steve.
“You have to learn to distinguish between good and evil. Jesus Christ will teach you. You are only allowed to fight when you or your loved ones are threatened. Never attack somebody because his beliefs are different from yours. People might think differently but their hearts long for love and peace. Humans should not fight against each other. The fight is not against humans. It is against the great conspirator and his army of evil in the world of evil. He poisons the hearts of nations and stirs them up against each other. God wants to unite us. King Bloodstone wants to separate us to ruin our souls, which are mean to be with God.”
“What is this?” Steve picked up a drawing.
“It is a thought of mine. I was thinking of building a rail made out of steel to Mount Mary,” said Brother George pointing at the wagon.
“It would be pulled by horses,” said Steve and pointed to the four horses on the picture.
“When we defeat Bloodstone and his warriors we will be given a new source of energy,” said George.
“What energy?” asked Steve.
“The solution of problems in this world is hidden in our neighbors. God puts dreams into our minds which are the keys to new knowledge. We all get bits and pieces of this dream. Together we can bring these dreams to reality. That is why we have to stay together and communicate with each other because our neighbor might have the next piece of the dream. God lays the keys for future solutions into our hearts,” said Brother George.
“What happens if the person who holds a vital part of the solution is missing?” asked Steve.
“That is exactly what happened to us. Jack holds the mystery to a new invention and is therefore persecuted by King Bloodstone who does not want us to prosper. He does not want us to have the superior knowledge of God and is therefore trying to eliminate us. But his days are numbered. The Holy Lance is going to bring us one innovation after another. It will build a stairway to heaven feeding many families in the future,” said Brother George.
Brother Benedict’s voice came from outside:
“Is everybody ready? We are leaving to visit the queen of heaven,” he said laughing.
Brother George was holding the painting of the lost sheep as he left the shed.
“Wait. You forgot something. Give this painting as a present to the monastery of Saint Mary,’ said Brother George running behind the wagon.
Marc stuck his head and arms out of the wagon and took the painting.
“You have to promise me to hold on to this painting whatever happens,” Brother George said.
“If somebody wants to take it away from you, hold it tighter. It is your father’s soul painting and will get him out of the claws of the dragon.”
The horses pulled the wagon up the hill.
“Wait, wait,” shouted a voice.
The baker and his son ran up the hill.
“Unfortunately we cannot come but I pray that the children and Jack will be released from the dragon. Take this with you,” he said and swung the basket full of freshly baked bread onto the back of the wagon.
The Soldiers of Skulls and Bones Attack the Orphans
The wagon moved along the narrow path leading through the forests of the Mountains of the Angels. The monks ran next to the wagon. The golden color of their shields glistened on the white sides of the wagon looking like the wings of guardian angels protecting the orphans. They moved swiftly over the path. Four monks protected the back of the wagon. Brother George stood in front of his shed, waving to the pilgrims until they disappeared in the dark forest.
John, a fourteen-year old boy with crippled legs, was among the children sitting in the wagon. Many children were suffering from injuries incurred during the brutal raids of the Romans. The pilgrimage to Saint Mary gave them new hope for recovery. John had coped with his disability for many years. He lived in the orphanage and did not know his parents.
When the sun came down over Mount Mary his life would be changed. A miracle was going to happen and change his life forever.
The prayers and songs from the church echoed in the minds of the orphans. Their destiny weighed on them like a leaden coat. Mary was going to lift the coat and give them feathers instead to fly to freedom.
Many children cared for their sick parents and never left home. They felt as if they were locked up in prisons sometimes. Mary had opened the prison and set them free. The steps of the horses were flaps of wings carrying them closer to heaven, carrying them to the queen of heaven. Every breath of the horses on the way to the mountain was a breath of freedom and brought the orphans closer to Jesus Christ. For many the burden of life had become too heavy so they gave the cross to their friend, Jesus Christ, who supported them.
The path went through the green valley, the cornfield bent in the mild wind as if it was praying for the pilgrims. It was the orphans’ day. The wind streamed through the wheat. A deer grazing at the edge of a nearby forest raised its head and observed the pilgrims as they moved up the mountain. The horses stamped over the steep path and their hoofs drummed on the rocky path whilst the children dreamt of a new life; free of sufferings and persecution.
The turning wheels of the wagon were carrying the orphans into the mountain. The wheels never stood still like the flow of time. The monks scrutinized the region for ambushes and attackers.
Brother Benedict was walking quietly praying and meditating on the Bible. Every step brought his spirit closer to eternity. Every path was a new encounter with God. He was repeating the sentence:
“God have mercy on me, God have mercy on me… over and over again. This meditation combined with the movement of the body left footprints in his soul. Spiritual visions were flying from deep in his soul to heaven. He walked in the ethereal sphere of his being. A vision of the dragon appeared in his mind. Mary conquered the shadows introducing the process of the purification opening the mind to new spiritual experience. Melodies were playing in his mind. Then in a moment of ecstasy all these feelings melted together into a powerful vision. He was walking over a rainbow, touching heaven.
Marc told the children on the wagon the story of the lost sheep. Bible stories wer
e lay like pearls in the sand of the ocean.
The company of the Holy mother of God walked higher and higher into the mountains. Brother Benedict was praying for his old friends in the village of Agaunum where he grew up. He prayed for the dead and the living. He prayed for a childhood friend of his who died early. Then he remembered a man from Saint Peter who had committed suicide. He sank into the death journey of the man and lifted his soul up to heaven. Brother Benedict was caught by a deep inner feeling. Emotions swept through his mind like the waves in an ocean. The evening was strengthening and the day was declining. Verena walked next to Brother Benedict. She was watching the tears rolling over his cheeks.
“Why do you cry?” she asked.
“I was crying for a man who committed suicide. I have seen his soul in purgatory. I am not even sure if I saw his or my soul. I am not sure if I was praying for him or me. Can we feel for others or are we only prisoners of our own world? Can we feel for somebody else and love our neighbor, Verena?” asked Brother Benedict.
“What you can feel for yourself, you can also feel for somebody else. God has guided your prayers to a poor soul. As long as we are remembered by someone we can escape hell. God wants that all our souls go to heaven. If a human being dies without being remembered, Jesus Christ puts the memory of this person into the conscience of another human being to pray for the soul.” Verena listened to the wheel of the wagon which was turning relentlessly like a watermill in a river.
Marc sat in the wagon holding the painting of the lost sheep as the wagon moved up and down. When they arrived at the Blue Water Lake they took a rest. The lake was embedded in a meadow. The soil close to the lake was soaked with water. The air was filled with an earthly taste. Fruit trees grew in the fields.
Brother Benedict watched the sky and saw heavy black clouds creeping over the mountains. The wind started howling, chasing leaves over the path. The noise became stronger like a hungry animal searching for prey. A monk whispered something in Brother Benedict’s ear. The friendly features disappeared suddenly out of Brother Benedicts face and he went still as a pillar of salt. Steve had never seen his face so frightened. A monk turned around and ran into the nearby forest which fell steeply down into the valley of Saint Peter. It was quiet for a moment. The howling of the wind dissipated, as if the hungry animal had found another victim to attack.
Memories of All Saints Day jumped into Brother Benedict’s mind. He prayed for the poor souls in hell. Then the storm returned. The howling of the wind became stronger again. The wind tore a young pine tree out of the rock. Stones rolled down into the deep gorge. The horses tore their heads to and fro in horror. They bared their teeth as if something was tormenting them. The noise of the wind became excruciating and the orphans closed their ears. The horses were frightened by the immediate danger. Steve’s sheep dog was lying flat on the ground, his ears flat to his head.
Knights on black horses appeared in the dark clouds. They carried black shields and wore silver iron helmets charging toward the pilgrims. The soldiers of Skulls and Bones brought the horses to an abrupt halt right in front of the wagon.
Catherine held Steve’s hand firmly and said,
“Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
“Psalm 23,” said Steve.
“Where do you go my friends?” said a soldier of King Bloodstone in a rough voice. He alighted from his horse. The earth trembled when his massive body struck the surface of the rocky ground. His apron was soiled with the blood of the innocent children he had killed.
“Have you something to eat for us?” he asked.
His voice came from deep down his guts and sounded like the beats of drums. He lifted the basket of bread from the chariot with his sword. He threw the buns to the soldiers gathering around him as if he was feeding hungry beasts. When he finished all the bread, he grabbed a basket of fruit from the wagon. He discovered Marc holding the painting of the lost sheep in his arms.
“What have we got here?” said the knight of Skulls and Bones.
Marc looked in his scowling face. Deep scares slashed his face like the gills of a fish. He reached for the painting in Marc’s hands. He took the painting with his left hand and tried to tear it out of Marc’s arms.
“This painting belongs to my father,” said Marc and pressed the painting close to his chest.
“Shut up you little imbecile. Everything on the surface of this planet comes from the Underworld. King Bloodstone has a keen interest in Bible paintings as he wants to open his own church soon and decorate it with all your miraculous paintings,” The knight of Skulls and Bones laughed cynically and tore the painting aggressively out of the Marc’s arms.
“The boy is right. The painting belongs to his father and not King Bloodstone. So, please give it back to him,” said one of the monks who were coming closer to the knight.
“Go to the deepest hell,” hissed the and raised his sword storming towards the monk.
The monk waited for the attack and stepped to the right. The sword of the attacker smashed on the ground. When the knight of blood and bones recovered from his failed attack he became even angrier. He took the sword from the ground and directed a heavy blow against the monk who raised his shield. The sword hit the shield like the sting of a scorpion. The monk drew his shield closer to his body and waited for another blow. When the sword hit the monk’s shield he moved quickly from underneath and hit out vigorously against his attacker. He managed to disarm the knight.
The surrounding soldiers of King Bloodstone realized that the knight was losing the battle and attacked the monk. The other monks in between and a fierce battle started.
The children in the wagon moved closer together as the battle grew more and more intense. The crying and shouting of the fighting warriors filled the children with fear. The leader of the soldiers who did not get involved in the battle appeared on a hill. He blew a grey twisted horn resonating dull in the breaking of the evening. The sound of the horn signaled the retreat of the warriors as they were losing the battle against the monks. The chief signaled with his hands. The warriors of Bloodstone immediately advanced to the hill towards their leader. They looked angrily down to the pilgrims. Then they disappeared into the dark forest.
Lights in the Night
Brother Benedict ran to the wagon. The children huddled close to each other. The fear of the attack was written in their faces. The attack had destroyed a beautiful dream. Brother Benedict saw the fears in their eyes and started thinking about how he could put the pieces of the broken dream together.
“You were very brave,” he said to the children in the wagon.
“They did not get the painting with the lost sheep from me,” said Marc, holding the painting in the air.
“You are a hero Marc. You resisted the attack of the soldiers of blood and bones,” said Brother Leo.
Brother Leo looked to the mountains in the west. The sun was about to disappear behind the mountain top.
“Can you see Mount Mary over there? The top of the mountain is crowned by stars. The moon lies under her feet.” he said to the children pointing to the mighty mountain in the east.
“Watch the sky! Night is falling on the mountains soon. We need to hurry up if we want to reach the hostel of the Lady of the Mountain today,” said Benedict becoming nervous.
The pilgrims walked into the dust. The path disappeared into a forest. They were going fast but darkness caught up with them. Brother Benedict overtook the others and marched in front but he could not see any further than ten meters. Brother Leo came next to him and asked,”
“Can you see the hostel of the Lady of the Mountains in the darkness?”
“No, but we cannot be too far away,” answered Benedict trying to spot the hostel.
The shadow of a rock fell on the white cover of the wagon when they crossed a forest. Night had caught up with them. Benedict stared into the mountains. They appeared threatening,
like a huge wall poised to fall on the earth.
The hoot of an owl sounded from the near forest. A crackling noise came out of the woods. They looked into the dark forest but could not see anything. The noise became stronger. A dear jumped up and ran into the open. It was frightened off by something. The night was deepening and they could not see their hands in front of their eyes.
“We are lost in the night,” said Brother Benedict lighting a torch.
Another light appeared in the darkness.
“Lights in the night,” he said quietly.
“Philippians 2,” said Brother Thomas who stood next to him.
“No. It is for real. Watch there,” said Benedict and pointed to the light moving between the trees.
A person became visible in the bright light of a lantern. The light illuminated an old man with a long, white beard. He wore a big black robe. Next to him walked a sheep dog.
“It is the old shepherd,” said Brother Benedict smiling.
“Yes, it is me, Brother Benedict,” said the old man, who recognized Benedict’s voice immediately.
“What are you here doing so late in the evening?” asked the old shepherd.
“We are on our way to Mount Mary,” answered Brother Benedict.
“I do not see well but I hear everything. My dog does not hear anything but sees everything. Together we are the light. We have many enemies but only one friend, Jesus Christ. We hide from King Bloodstone and his warriors during the day and walk at night. We carry the Holy Spirit and prayers through the darkness to the celebration of Annunciation at the Mount Mary,” said the shepherd holding the walking stick.
“Good to see you old shepherd. We were attacked by the knights of King Bloodstone not far away from here. We lost so much time. There is no way we will get to mount Mary tonight,” said Brother Benedict.
“Stay at the hostel of the lady in the mountains. It is not far away from here,” said the old shepherd
patting his dog on the neck.
Abraham wagged his tail excitedly.
“Go and say hello to the children,’ said the old shepherd to the dog.
“He likes children very much and makes sure nobody gets hurt. He brings them back when they are lost.”