Word Carrier: Publication

by Walt Staples -

In the silence of the chapel, the muted roar of the blowers was noticeable as they ran on “high” to handle the smoke and soot from the unusually large number of candles burning to either side of the altar. The Rite of Publication was one of the few times Brother Marius, the abbey’s life support engineer, allowed such abuse of his air-handlers.

Bede and the other Manuscripts stood shoulder to shoulder as they faced the main celebrant, Bishop Guash. The usually dyspeptic prelate actually seemed to be in fine fettle and to be greatly enjoying himself, as the occasional smile escaped his Excellency’s bulldog-jowled continence. As an acolyte on his right handed him a lit candle, he sobered. “My sons, you have been called to one of the highest callings in Mother Church—that of Bible. Know you that you carry God’s Word to and among his children—all of his children. You may not force yourself on others, but you must be ever ready to open yourself to any who wish to hear God’s Word. It is not an easy calling that you follow. The evil one has used fire in the past to try the destruction of God’s Word. This flame is to remind you of what you may be called upon to face…and what you may save souls from by your efforts.”

Each Manuscript held out his left hand. From left to right, the bishop passed the flame under the outstretched palm. Bede sucked in a breath as the flame reached Antonio, the Ignatius Manuscript on his left. His stomach muscles tightened as readied himself. He would not show a sign! Not before his parents, up from Eclectia. Not before Brother Charles Maria, his second teacher. Nor before Brother Eustis, his first teacher, who, Bede was convinced, watched from a higher plane. There was an instant of burning pain, and the flame passed on to Tommy, the James Manuscript, to his right.

Bishop Guash handed the candle to the acolyte on his left. His face broke into a huge smile. “My sons, today you are no longer Manuscripts, but are Published Bibles. From this point on, you will be known to all by your personal name, and that of your version.” He made the sign of the Cross in blessing over each of them in turn. “Go you hence and serve all.”

#

In the infirmary, Brother Kadfell, the abbey’s medico, asked, “With or without, Douay Bede?”

The Bible smiled at him. “Without, Brother.”

The other nodded. “As you wish.” He set the hypo to dispense the first-aid spray without its anesthetic component and sprayed Bede’s blistered palm. The choice of each newly Published Bible was a secret Brother Kadfell would keep. It was a choice that by tradition was not discussed with anyone.

Outside the infirmary, Brother Charles waited for Bede with a frown. Bede took in his erstwhile teacher’s expression and his heart sank. His assignment had been decided. He had hoped to be assigned to a mission among spacers with the priest he would be paired with. From Brother Charles’ face, he knew it was bad. Probably a mining settlement on either Sheba or Quatermain. He consoled himself with the thought that if it did turn out to be Sheba, at least he could visit the abbey on occasion. He took a deep breath. “I take it that my assignment has been decided?”

Brother Charles nodded grimly. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Bede braced himself. “Where?”

Brother Charles answered in a voice of doom, “Thou art assigned to the Spacers’ Mission.”

Bede blinked. Had he heard right?

Brother Charles leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “You know, you might want to close your mouth before Hubert or one of the other cats decides to go rat hunting in there.”

It took Bede a couple of tries to get enough air to ask, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

His teacher grinned at him. “Because I was afraid you’d try to swarm up me and slobber all over me.” Putting the lie to his fears, Brother Charles threw his arms around the Bible in a bear-hug. “Congratulations, boy. You worked hard for it and you’ve earned it.” He held Bede at arms’ length. “You’ll do us proud.” He raised an admonishing finger. “But only in a proper non-Seven Deadly Sins meaning of the word. Understand?”

Bede beamed back at the big man. “Yes, Brother. I’ll remember. When and where do I go?”

Brother Charles dropped his hands and folded them within his sleeves. “The where is the Spacers’ Mission Mother House on Avenir, sort of neutral ground, as it were. The when is a couple of days from now; after all, it would be a bit rude to skip dinner with his Excellency and the rest of the abbey tonight.” He cocked his head and squinted one eye. “Besides, you left off the most important part of the question as far as your future success goes.”

The Bible raised his eyebrows. “What’s that, Brother?”

“The who. You’ve been matched with Father Oaku Mary, T.O.R.”

“What’s he like?”

His teacher shook his head. “Don’t know, really. His records look okay and he’s fresh-caught like you. His Ordination was day before yesterday. I guess you’re going to find out first-hand in a few days.” He changed the subject. “Let’s go find your folks. I suspect your mother probably wants to maul you some. I hear their parish priest sprung for their fare?”

“Yes, bugherds don’t make a lot, so Father Mack came up with it. Said only that it had to do with a penance.” They turned the corner.

Replacement

by Walt Staples -

Douay Charles Maria hesitated at the cell’s door. He made to knock but allowed his fist to hang in mid-air. His indecision was broken by a voice from within, “If you are coming in, come in then. I don’t bite—at least not as I’ve just been fed.”

The Bible took a breath and pushed the door open. Brother Eustis sat in a rocking chair facing the door. His blind eyes gleamed whitely in the near darkness. “Yes?”

The younger man said, “It is Charles, Brother.”

The ancient man’s face broke into a wide grin. “Charley! It’s good to hear your voice again. Oh.” He reached to the side and turned up the lights. “Forgive me, my boy. I’ve lived so long in the dark I forget others don’t have my blessing.”

“Blessing, Brother?”

The old friar chuckled. “Lose one of the seven senses, and the others become more acute, supposedly to compensate for the lost one. Personally, I don’t buy it. Brother Ignatius Mary lost all sense of smell and taste back when he worked in the smelting works, before taking the cowl. He still managed to trip over things.” He smiled in apparent fond memory. “Only man I know who could trip over a beach.” After a moment, he went on, “No, I think it’s just the lack of distraction.”

Douay Charles smiled at the picture just described. “Perhaps.”

Like many of the blind, Brother Eustis kept his face toward his guest as much as possible when talking. “I heard you landed yesterday about Terce. Why so long coming to see me?”

“Well, I…I, er…” The Bible let it peter out.

Brother Eustis smiled at him. “You were embarrassed by the fact that you’ve been recalled to be my replacement. Not so?”

The other looked at the floor. “Yes, Brother, I’m afraid it is.”

The elderly friar laughed. “Charley, Charley. It’s not like you’re speeding me to my grave. The good Lord and Father Time are doing that between them just fine.” He pointed in the direction of an armchair. “Take a load off. No, quite the contrary, I am extremely happy you’re here.”

The chair made a squeaking “whoof “ sound as the Bible settled into it. “You are?”

“Oh, yes, quite happy. Look, you and I both know I’m not going to see the Feast of St. Paul Tong Buong. That’s why I asked specifically for you.”

Douay Charles looked at him with surprise. “You did?”

Brother Eustis snorted. “You don’t think the Abbot came up with your name on his own, do you? Abbot Mary Chuck de Yeager, O.F.M. is a saintly man, a thoughtful man, and probably one of the greatest leaders this abbey will see, but he knows nothing of teaching new Bibles. I think the fact that his novice master chose to give him the name of the patron of spacers is probably an acknowledgement that the future Abbot Chuck was no man of letters. On the other hand, he’s smart enough to listen to those who do know.”

The Bible grinned at his old teacher. Blindness may have come upon him with the decades, but he still saw quite clearly.

“Beating one’s gums tends to be thirsty work. So’s having to listen to said beaten gums. Would you join me in a cup of tea?” He raised an admonishing finger. “And none of that ‘Are you sure there will be room for both of us?’ mind you. I remember your rather questionable sense of humor.”

Douay Charles laughed. “Yes, thank you, Brother. I would like a cup.”

Brother Eustis touched a button on the arm of his chair. A young voice issued from a speaker, “Yes, Brother Eustis?”

“Tommy, could you see if Brother Trout still has some of the Jerusalem Mint tea? And if he does, would you ask if he would mind making a couple of cups for us?”

“Right away, Brother.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” The old man smiled. “He’s one of our James; has about a standard year to go. Brother Levi tells me he’s probably going to be one of the best.”

The Bible grinned. “Do the other manuscripts still call them ‘Kings?’”

The Brother chuckled. “And since when do things change in the Church? After all, we Douays are still referred to as ‘Rhemis.’ Though for the life of me, I have no idea where the word comes from or what its original meaning was. But enough old times.” He changed the subject, “You have work to do, Charley. We have one Douay, Bede, who is close to publication. I expect by Advent, he’ll be ready .”

Douay Charles nodded. “I remember my publication. One minute, I’m a manuscript. Then Archbishop Patel passes the candle flame under my hand and I’m a Bible. Who’s celebrating Bede’s?”

“Bishop Guash.”

“Um, better than nothing I suppose. What about the younger manuscripts?”

*

There were a number of sniffles and red eyes among the manuscripts, especially the Douays, as the abbey’s congregation left the chapel. Brother Charles—formerly Douay Charles—-and Manuscript Bede lagged behind. Bede glanced back at the entrance of the crypt. He sniffed and ran a finger under his eye. The erstwhile Bible placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I miss him too, son.”

“Douay—“ He stopped. “Sorry, Brother Charles. I’m not used to you not being a Bible anymore, I guess.”

“Bede, I’ll always be a Bible, just as you will always be a manuscript. It’s a part of us that never goes away. The good man we just laid in the crypt was a Manuscript, a Bible and a Brother. Lord willing, and I think he probably is, Eustis will also be a saint.” He put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Our calling, yours, mine, and our teacher’s was to be the Living voice telling man that no matter how bad things are, there is still hope. Once upon a time, Bibles were on paper only and people burned them. That’s why the candle flame during publication; to remind us what may be involved in carrying the Word.” He released his hold and the two of them genuflected and left the chapel.

Byblos

by Walt Staples -

The man in the brown habit wore the battered face of a former boxer. As he shuffled, long experience caused him not to notice the tremor running through the walls and floor of the abandoned mine shaft. Sheba was just being Sheba.

The Abbot halted his silent progress down the hall of the scriptorium. He eased open the Judas slot on the door marked “Ignatius” so as not to disturb those on the door’s other side. From within came a newly cracked voice, “…In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the…” The tall, stooped man slid the slot closed.

He continued to the next cell. Its name was “Jerusalem.” This time, he heard, “…and the word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Though Him all things…” He smiled and went on to “Douay.”

He listened and began to frown as he heard, “…The same was in God—” A much older voice cut the younger off, “No.” It continued more gently, “No, Bede, it goes this way; now listen carefully. ‘The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him was made nothing that was made.’ There you see?”

The Abbot’s forehead cleared as the first voice said, “Sorry, Brother Eustis,” and began again, “The same was in the beginning…”

He thought about Brother Eustis as he walked toward “James.” The old friar had earned a proper retirement years ago, but continued to teach the young Douay Bibles. The Abbot shook his head and smiled, old men and old hunting dogs.

As if conjured by the thought, Fezik, the oldest ratting dog, trotted by. He wagged at the human and went about his business. He and the chief cat seemed to have a competition as to who could bring Brother Trout, the abbey cook, the most rats.

At “James,” the ancient heard, “…All things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in…”

He went on greatly cheered. The new crop of Bibles were coming along well. Even young Bede showed promise. By Advent, all six of the present class would be ready to go out to their respective churches. The Abbey of Francis might produce priests, but they were crippled without his Bibles. He caught himself. No! In that direction lay Pride. He whispered an Act of Contrition.

He turned his thoughts back to their original path. Yes, he thought, six new Bibles by Advent. His face broke into a toothless grin of pure happiness. His expression sobered somewhat as he was reminded of the problem of Brother Eustis. Which of the older Douays should he pick to replace the old friar when the sad time came? He padded on through the halls of the Abbey of Jerome.