weft-threads, softly lit by candles in finely enamelled hanging bowls. In the centre was the altar, decorated with fine pieces of silver lovingly polished and lit by tall altar candles.
I moved towards the altar but stopped suddenly, gripped by horror. On tables and shelves behind sat literally dozens of strangely carved icons, many encrusted with gold and precious stones which glowed in the light of the candles. Some were small and squat, others larger than men, but all were grotesquely covered with strange inscriptions. I moved around the room, powerless to stop myself, as if on a guided tour of hell; animal motifs and heathen designs loomed from the walls and large figures with human heads and smooth, sightless eyes. I was alone in the hideous room, too frightened even to cry out, paralysed by the cold and eerie presence. Desperately I looked towards the altar again and there, crowded on to a platform along with piles of icons, rested a simple golden cross. I dropped to my knees and prayed fervently, snatches of prayers from every kind of service and lesson, anything that would restore the warm, protective mantle of God.
Then I heard movement. I opened my eyes and, through tears of fear and emotion, I saw the figure of a man. At first I thought it was Eappa, but then I realized that his face was different. Kindness, warmth, love and caring poured from him like a warm summer wind. I blinked my eyes clear and looked again; now he appeared strangely like Wulf, but disguised by a cowl. He opened a thick Mass book, fine vellum leaves crackling as he turned the page. Then he began to read from the book in a soft, gentle voice that I knew to be Eappa’s:
‘Brand, ever are the faithful tormented by the spirits of evil and the hearts and minds of the people are persuaded by the devil that these spirits should be revered as true gods. Strength in faith and psalms sung fervently drive away the spirits, yet people still fear them. Go into the world of spirits, Brand, for you do it in the name and service of the Lord. Do not be afraid of their terrible appearance, their shrieks and moans, for the will of the Lord is with you. To protect the flock of the faithful you must enter what seems to be the den of wolves. Learn their ways and see that they too go with the blessing of the Almighty.’
I awoke suddenly with a start. It was still dark and I felt that I had been asleep only a few moments. I tried to collect my thoughts for I knew now what I must do: it was the Will of the Almighty that I go with Wulf and learn the ways of his spirits. And as soon as the resolve passed into my mind, I felt an uncanny sense of security and well-being. The terrors of the night were extinguished like snuffed candles. I thought at first that I was enjoying the relief of having made the decision, but gradually it dawned upon me that I was feeling the excitement of anticipation. It was not just a matter of duty or loyalty to Eappa, nor even the undoubted joy of serving the Lord. Rather, the secrets of the spirits seemed to beckon to me and the surrounding forest tingled with excitement and challenge. Above, the pagan sky floated blue as turquoise, silver stars twinkling like jewelled icons and the moon pouring down light like a Heaven full of altar candles. The thunder god had withdrawn and the Lord was blessing my Mission.
Unleashing Life-Force
I AWOKE to the soft, pearly light of dawn. Wulf was sitting on the fallen oak, watching me.
‘I have been waiting for you to return,’ he said genially.
‘Return?’ I mumbled, my tongue thick with sleep.
‘From your dreams.’
I had slept heavily and I sat up slowly, easing my stiff neck. Wulf gestured towards his hat which was lying upturned on the ground, brimming with red berries. From my bag I took the remainder of the barley bread, now rock hard inside its linen wrap, and broke off a piece for him. We sucked at it between mouthfuls of the tart berries.
‘I am coming with you,’ I said, a
I moved towards the altar but stopped suddenly, gripped by horror. On tables and shelves behind sat literally dozens of strangely carved icons, many encrusted with gold and precious stones which glowed in the light of the candles. Some were small and squat, others larger than men, but all were grotesquely covered with strange inscriptions. I moved around the room, powerless to stop myself, as if on a guided tour of hell; animal motifs and heathen designs loomed from the walls and large figures with human heads and smooth, sightless eyes. I was alone in the hideous room, too frightened even to cry out, paralysed by the cold and eerie presence. Desperately I looked towards the altar again and there, crowded on to a platform along with piles of icons, rested a simple golden cross. I dropped to my knees and prayed fervently, snatches of prayers from every kind of service and lesson, anything that would restore the warm, protective mantle of God.
Then I heard movement. I opened my eyes and, through tears of fear and emotion, I saw the figure of a man. At first I thought it was Eappa, but then I realized that his face was different. Kindness, warmth, love and caring poured from him like a warm summer wind. I blinked my eyes clear and looked again; now he appeared strangely like Wulf, but disguised by a cowl. He opened a thick Mass book, fine vellum leaves crackling as he turned the page. Then he began to read from the book in a soft, gentle voice that I knew to be Eappa’s:
‘Brand, ever are the faithful tormented by the spirits of evil and the hearts and minds of the people are persuaded by the devil that these spirits should be revered as true gods. Strength in faith and psalms sung fervently drive away the spirits, yet people still fear them. Go into the world of spirits, Brand, for you do it in the name and service of the Lord. Do not be afraid of their terrible appearance, their shrieks and moans, for the will of the Lord is with you. To protect the flock of the faithful you must enter what seems to be the den of wolves. Learn their ways and see that they too go with the blessing of the Almighty.’
I awoke suddenly with a start. It was still dark and I felt that I had been asleep only a few moments. I tried to collect my thoughts for I knew now what I must do: it was the Will of the Almighty that I go with Wulf and learn the ways of his spirits. And as soon as the resolve passed into my mind, I felt an uncanny sense of security and well-being. The terrors of the night were extinguished like snuffed candles. I thought at first that I was enjoying the relief of having made the decision, but gradually it dawned upon me that I was feeling the excitement of anticipation. It was not just a matter of duty or loyalty to Eappa, nor even the undoubted joy of serving the Lord. Rather, the secrets of the spirits seemed to beckon to me and the surrounding forest tingled with excitement and challenge. Above, the pagan sky floated blue as turquoise, silver stars twinkling like jewelled icons and the moon pouring down light like a Heaven full of altar candles. The thunder god had withdrawn and the Lord was blessing my Mission.
Unleashing Life-Force
I AWOKE to the soft, pearly light of dawn. Wulf was sitting on the fallen oak, watching me.
‘I have been waiting for you to return,’ he said genially.
‘Return?’ I mumbled, my tongue thick with sleep.
‘From your dreams.’
I had slept heavily and I sat up slowly, easing my stiff neck. Wulf gestured towards his hat which was lying upturned on the ground, brimming with red berries. From my bag I took the remainder of the barley bread, now rock hard inside its linen wrap, and broke off a piece for him. We sucked at it between mouthfuls of the tart berries.
‘I am coming with you,’ I said, a
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