The Tor : The Summit by Liz O'Neill |
Who they were in the 16th-century Madeline is the narrator. Cordelia was the dishwasher and invited her to accompany her to England. Somara was the bookkeeper for the Monastery. Cyndy was the shepherd for four sheep. Jill tended to the hens and chickens & the flower gardens. Caren was a potter for the monastery in a separate building. Mary Jo was in charge of the appearance of the chapel. Karin was a counselor to the distressed brothers, but was exposed and expelled for deceiving authorities. New characters introduced as women who had descended the stairless path and who they were in the 16th-century: Mary was Abbot Richard Whiting, the head of the monastery, who was partially hung, tortured, finally killed and buried at the top of the Tor. Gloria was Brother Roger James who was beaten up when he went to a meeting with the henchmen of King Henry VIII and later was hung to his death on the Tor. Anne was Brother John Thorne, an assistant to the Abbot who was hung to his death on one side of Abbot Richard, with Brother Roger on the other. Previously: Gloria, who had been to the top and had successfully found her way back down with her friends, gave some valuable input. “Just a heads-up, as I said earlier, it is a long way up. It is much more leveled off and safer than using the front stairway, but at least twice as long of a walk.” The women who had just descended the stairless path and who had been stunned, yet healed to hear their violently tragic end in the 16th-century monastery, were parting ways with our ladies. “Anne remembered an important fact about if those two lines cross healing and balance can take place. “We were instructed to stand in the middle of the steeple.” Gloria enthusiastically reported that you could actually see where people have stood in that one spot. “There were shoe print indentations in the cement floor. It was amazing.” Cordelia reconvened her questioning. “So did each of you stand within the walls of the steeple? That’s amazing, so the two opposing ley lines cross right at the top? Whoa. I want to get there.” ****** I was wanting to sum up matters, so we could get moving on. “Is there anything else we should know?” The three looked at each other, shrugged and shook their heads in a ‘no’ gesture. I was sensing a piece of sadness as we prepared to bid ‘adieu’ to probably never see each other again, in this lifetime, anyway. However, possibly and most probably, in another. Evelyn, our concerned nurse with knowledge beyond ours, came forward. “Hold up a minute. We’ve been standing here for a while, so our hearts have had time to quiet. “It is a perfect opportunity to check your heart rate. Some of you may already be aware of yours. Do people know how to check your resting heart rate? We are going to be exerting some serious stress on our hearts as we climb that hill. “If you feel your heart pounding out of your chest, just stop and give it a rest. Make sure you let your walking stick do most of the work. I’ll remind everyone to check their heart rate part way up.” Everyone began discussing what their resting rate usually was or the new reading. A few of us like Cyndy, Somara and me had 60 beats per minute, because we are consistently physically active. Somara walks up and down hills and rides a bicycle. Cyndy walks for an hour three times at her work and jogs on her days off. I used to jog however, now I am more apt to slog, slow jog. We readied our walking sticks as I chin-pointed that we were nearing the entrance to the walking path. The initial incline was at about a 45 degree angle, so we couldn’t even see the top. We blindly chugged toward the top. The payoff was that it soon leveled out. This was the point Evelyn noted everyone checking their pulse rate. The knowledgeable nurse said, “If you have doubled your resting rate, you’ve performed some excellent aerobic work. The next looks like a long haul as it levels out, but it will give our hearts some relief as it will require no climbing exertion.” The tower, hidden by the hills, slowly revealed its entire form after we climbed yet another 45 degree angled hill. Though it meant less walking than the previous one, we were short of breath. Standing at the top, we felt like Rocky Balboa, sadly, no brass was playing for us. Still out of breath, Cyndy cheered, “We’re finally up here. Now we can check out the labyrinth.” Cordelia was catching her breath. “Speaking of the labyrinth, I’m so glad we decided not to schlep our harps all the way up here, it was difficult enough to drag myself up here.” Observant Caren scoped out two vacant benches. We’d better make a bee-line for those benches. She pointed with her two index fingers in the direction of the empty seats. We quickly headed toward them. Evelyn opened her mouth widely, quietly yelling in slow motion, “Noooooo.” We were too late. The empty spots were now occupied. We need to look for another one. As I looked around, I realized we ascended opposite the stairs. It would have been more reassuring if we’d known this ahead of time, but we wouldn’t know this unless we were up here. It looked like we were going to be walking some length of the labyrinth, regardless. Feeling more rested, Mary Jo said, “It’s coming back to me now, this labyrinth was used for ceremonies.” Cordelia bitterly asked a good question. “Before or after the lynching of our leaders, and newly met friends, Mary, Anne, and Gloria?” Mary Jo shrugged sadly as she answered Cordelia’s question. “Probably during and even long before. Caren, the artist and potter said in a dreamy tone, “Picture it, lights from lanterns and candles, songs and dancing.” Somara, waving her arms, sang the next auditory imagery. “Then, we hear flutes and harps, and dancing virgins twirling in lovely artistic patterns.” After we rested, we were actually pumped to walk some of the labyrinth and maybe even dance some of it.
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Liz O'Neill
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