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Previously: Samuel is recuperating from being out in the freezing weather. He feels better because James caringly attended to his severe discomfort. Its placid mood is disrupted by some disturbing incident. 

The fact that James is the one giving attention to my torment, is in itself healing. Though, fireplaces are often depicted as locations which are dreamy and romantic, this fireplace was over 5 feet tall and 5 feet long. It could warm up the entire first level of a building.

As I squat here in the warmest corner of the kitchen watching flames licking around the firewood, I am sweating for two reasons. One is obvious, the other is, I have the scorching realization  I am going to be here indefinitely.

As I am wont to do, I quickly snuff that burning thought out, turning to my pastime, figuring out who is who in the 16th century. I am sure James is Evelyn, who will be reincarnated to become a nurse in the 21st Century.

Evelyn told me some interesting stuff to imagine with joy: “It's the 20th century and the Ball family welcomes their first child. They name her Evanjalene Margaret Ball. She is born into money, political influence, and good breeding.

She is born two weeks late and her mom is placed on bed rest in the hospital. When it was suggested she might stay longer, her mother said, ‘No, I feel completely comfortable at home and I want my own bed.’”

Evelyn radiated her big beautiful smile when she was finished with the lovely vignette.  It was then, I knew how my dear friend had come by her strong sense of determination. I miss her smile. Although, looking into James’ eyes, I can see a beautiful soul shining through.

******

Spirits are renewed, as I jaunt toward our resting room. My reflection is disrupted, with great cacophony erupting, near Brother Richard’s office, or as I refer to it, his haunt.

I jostle my head, this way and that. There are too many blocking my clear vision. One of the robes moves aside for me to peer through those circling the poor brother, whomever he is.   

It’s Abraham, on his knees with a feral gaze. Something is seriously amiss. I hope he hasn’t been found out for his pf behavior or his kind counseling of everyone in our set.  

The yelling escalates as more higher-up’s gather. I cannot understand anything any one of them is barking about, to comprehend what is going on. Each angry word slices across the undulating walls of the cold, unfeeling stones.  

There are several brothers or Abbots in black robes whom I have never seen before. Then, I spy something that completely befuddles me. This issue must be something out of the ordinary. 

The one creating the most vibrations holding a thin stick in his shaking hand has to steady his scarlet hat. Being enrobed in full scarlet attire, indicates to me he is a Cardinal, an emissary to the Pope. Surely, no such behavior Abraham has engaged in, could possibly bring on such a frisson of frenzy.

I hope he employs the stick only for a cane and for no other purpose. I cannot see Abraham anymore. He has been edged behind the doorway.  As the scolding voices endure, I worry Abraham won’t.  

The din is silenced, so I assume Abraham is getting his chance to explain himself, to defend himself. I am sending a shield of protection and healing on all levels, accompanied by clarity, patience and compassion to the inquisitioners. It feels like the grand inquest is being reenacted, or maybe it hasn’t happened yet in our history, here in the 15th century. 

If the Inquisition has already occurred, then the Catholic Church is already well practiced in its techniques; this is beginning to feel like it.

That certainly was a time of sheer horror. As a young adult in the 19th century, I used to repeatedly play the soundtrack for the 'Man of LaMancha', on my cassette player. My favorite was ‘Dulcinea’, it is such a sweet song.  

Only recently, have I discovered the entire musical is based on someone coping during the Inquisition. It gives me nightmares to think of it. Don Quixote wasn’t crazy after all, tilting at windmills. He lived in insane times and found a harmless way to remain sane.

I fear to imagine how Abraham will fare. Although, I as yet, don’t have any idea what his crime is, or if I ever will.

I wonder where Joseph is during all of this imminent threat of violence, and if he is any closer to knowing what is going on. Or would Sylvester have a better perspective?   

While everyone in charge is preoccupied, I will break silence and every other rule to see if I can figure anything out about this volatile situation and what could possibly be its catalyst.

I suspect we will see another Zachary situation. I don’t know, have there been more? I’ve lost track. Dear Abraham will no longer be at prayer, and his place at table will be nonexistent.

My heart is a kaleidoscope of emotions. The shapes  reflected are all sharp, stabbing, cutting to the quick, maiming to the marrow.

********

A couple of days have passed since, as predicted, the wonderful companion for the group, Abraham, has vanished. Everyone will have to solve dilemmas for themselves. There will no longer be a kind, nonjudgmental, ever-available ear for them. 

It’s ironic, how earlier, I was praising Abraham in my mind and wondering what people would ever do if he were no longer here. He was such a wonderful help for so many troubled brothers. I’m not sure how things will smooth out between them and some of the brothers from other sets.

I can sense a definite change in the morale. The unknown, like a god, has the most power to kill the spirit. I used to notice when the substance abuse patients were waiting for an opening, in their hoped-for recovery institution, the longer they waited for word, the thinner grew their confidence and hope. I fear to see that here.