This was the beginning of the end. People began to respect the old stories. They stopped whenever Fra Johannes passed by, but he knew very well what they were talking about. It was said that one of Julian's long-dead ancestors on his mother's side had an encounter with... remember these were very superstitious people... an encounter with a dragon. 'What are you going to do, Father?'
To begin with, Fra Johannes just shook his head and smiled. 'What am I going to do? Well, first of all, I'm going to see if Michael's widow needs any words of comfort. After that, I might ask Julian if he'll help me mend a wall. Such a strong, willing young man.' He was a reasonable man, an educated man, and not easily put under pressure. He believed that God had given humanity the ability to make rational judgements when called upon to do so. He tolerated local superstitions because these were the people he lived amongst and he loved them. And since he preached tolerance and forgiveness, he felt obliged to tolerate and forgive the wilder imaginings, myths and supernatural tales of his flock.
One night, after much drinking of beer and wine, a muttering, carousing bunch of men staggered out of the inn, glanced up at the Castle. By the light of the full moon, they saw the dark figure of Julian. He was stretched out against the pale stone of one of the towers. Twenty feet off the ground. Something they had considered to be a trick, a piece of gravity-defying acrobatics, suddenly seemed wrong, abnormal, inhuman.
No comments:
Post a Comment