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In this vision Eve was watching another very intently who was sitting near the bear - her bear. She could not see his face, for a large hood was covering it from the side - droplets from the rain beaded and fell from its pinnacle. He was deep in conversation with Francis - someone who she recognised also, with great fondness.
He had chosen a place to sit nearby to where Granoldi was - yes, it was the bear - back in another time - a bear - another bear - yet it looked just like this white bear … in any event it began to rain, and when he sat down drips fell off from the rim of his large hood onto the compact ground beneath.
Francis brought him a tin cup that had a hot drink inside. The perpetual fire of the community was always lit and above it hung a large cauldron on the boil they called the ‘Bishop’s Caul’ - and from this massive iron pot the water stayed always hot, for beverages for the community and visitors alike.
“Malt and Plum? With a little spice.”
The stranger took it with a smile and a nod, and as he took it to his lips she managed to see his face in the light … it was an ageless face, and she recognised it at once.
She had been watching the two in the company of her twin brother, Murmur.
“No, he is not a Monk, but an Anglish Priest … and is renowned for his wisdom as well as his purse. The two spend hours and sometimes days comparing and sharing notes and ideas, but I think he is, somewhat the senior of the two.” Murmur said with gravitas referring to Francis and the Hode.
Both men were deep in communion with one another and this vexed Hannah Mary for she wished to be part of this conversation - privy to this depth of concentration, and not to be just a bystander.
She wanted an endeavour - a consultation, a meaningful dialogue. She yearned for an accomplice in thought.
Her mind could almost touch theirs telepathically. However it was not nearly as close as her twin brother, where nature itself had put them in unison since birth.
Even though she could not ‘hear’ the thoughts of Francis and the visiting Master, she could divine their solemnity and peace throughout.
He had chosen a place to sit nearby to where Granoldi was - yes, it was the bear - back in another time - a bear - another bear - yet it looked just like this white bear … in any event it began to rain, and when he sat down drips fell off from the rim of his large hood onto the compact ground beneath.
Francis brought him a tin cup that had a hot drink inside. The perpetual fire of the community was always lit and above it hung a large cauldron on the boil they called the ‘Bishop’s Caul’ - and from this massive iron pot the water stayed always hot, for beverages for the community and visitors alike.
“Malt and Plum? With a little spice.”
The stranger took it with a smile and a nod, and as he took it to his lips she managed to see his face in the light … it was an ageless face, and she recognised it at once.
She had been watching the two in the company of her twin brother, Murmur.
“No, he is not a Monk, but an Anglish Priest … and is renowned for his wisdom as well as his purse. The two spend hours and sometimes days comparing and sharing notes and ideas, but I think he is, somewhat the senior of the two.” Murmur said with gravitas referring to Francis and the Hode.
Both men were deep in communion with one another and this vexed Hannah Mary for she wished to be part of this conversation - privy to this depth of concentration, and not to be just a bystander.
She wanted an endeavour - a consultation, a meaningful dialogue. She yearned for an accomplice in thought.
Her mind could almost touch theirs telepathically. However it was not nearly as close as her twin brother, where nature itself had put them in unison since birth.
Even though she could not ‘hear’ the thoughts of Francis and the visiting Master, she could divine their solemnity and peace throughout.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series
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