“Vivien needs be buried into consecrated ground" Francis pressed rather sternly.
Shortly after he had prayed over the remains, lines of living larvae and beetles were in exodus, trailing out, in minute trains towards him. Even the maggots were drawn to his aura. Francis brushed them down and away from his tunic.
"No, I don't think that you have that right, my honoured Francesco. Consecrated ground is for the pious only, and the saints … and possibly, nobility - but it is never for the tainted."
"If you inter her in a holy place, her soul will then have a chance to rehabilitate - or, if not, it shall be held back and confined in that place with no escape, and thus be of no harm to others. This is my reasoning. For the Vivien will become an apparition to remain as an unholy tribulation, if we are to do nothing."
"Oh, I hadn’t thought of that" said Toby washing his hands through some wet leaves.
Murmur interjected: "I don't want Hannah to see this trollop - this she-devil has caused much pain to her in a time of trial, and it is best that she not be reminded of it."
"Well then, so it can be. We will load up Granoldi's cart with dry hay and pack the body forthwith. He can pull it into the town, just as he might cart the groceries.
"One finger is still missing, should we be worried?”
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
“Stop!"
Murmur was kneeling over the bony wreck of what once was the old crone Vivien. A fetid dark green ooze was leaking from all of her orifices, and someone had opened her linens, having torn them to look for hidden silver sewn into it - leaving what was left of her chest and thighs now exposed.
When Murmur went to lift her from the ground her skirtle dropped off, exposing a full set of male gonads.
"I really couldn't have guessed that, even if I had tried" Murmur offered to Tobias who still looked very worried.
"She - he - is long long departed. See here how the fingers have dropped off?"
“Francis will know where to bury the witch", Tobias said rubbing his forehead.
“Yes” the Brother agreed, “best consult him as to the fate of this sorry corpse.”
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
Charley appeared to be considerably embarrassed when Robyn had explained to her what had happened.
"Let me get you a cup of tea" she said in a motherly fashion; and moments later was back with a tray of breakfast. The toast smelled so enticing: marmalade and country butter; hot tea and a bowl of creamy bircher. It was a breakfast that would have done Paddington proud. Robyn had settled once again into her stable self, swilling down her cup steaming cup.
"Can you describe the man who was in your bed?” asked Charley with a fragile tone.
"Well yes, he seemed very old - and awfully skinny. I could see his ribs poking out from his skin."
"His skin?”
“Yes, his chest was bare you see ... but he had some sort of pjs on his second half thank goodness. Oh, and he had hair just like yours really curly and about just as long" she stopped to think and looked puzzled. "It's getting strangely vague for some reason" Robyn added.
"I see" said Charley biting her lip.
"Robyn I really have to apologise to you - the man you describe, well, he was - I mean is … my father."
- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
“Mirabella don't antagonise the Bear!”
The small child was smearing globs of honey onto Granoldi's feet, laughing to herself as he was trying to lick the pads clean.
Hannah-Mary caught her by the arm just before she took a stick to the complaisant animal.
"Enough child!"
Mirabella turned to look at her mother, and finally caught her seriousness.
She burst into tears.
Even at the small age of two, Mirabella could feel awash with the shame of a disapproving mother - that, and her will being thwarted.
Hannah-Mary knew that her little daughter was good at heart - and never wantonly disobedient. She turned to Murmur who was cleaning a calf-skin behind her.
“Brother”, she began - in the tone that she had just used a minute before - “couldn't the Grande live elsewhere? You know how difficult it is for me having to watch over two children.”
“Where would you have him go? This is his home, Sister. He requires the fires we light, his arthritis pains him in the cold - the old one would not last long on his own in the forest. And were he in the village the people would tease hm overbearingly.
He smiled, she sighed.
“It is no use trying to convey to you - your heart is closed to my words. What am I to do? Time was when we were of one mind, as twins” she complained.
She stopped to wipe the blue berry stain from Bella's mouth. Her chubby hand was tossing the remainder onto Granoldi's face, who alike to any senior convalescent had dozed during the discussion, slumped at the base of his well worn tree.
Little Bella had crawled onto ''oldie's" lap and had now fallen asleep also - just after planting a crown of grass and leaves around his giant head. The old bear was snoring again.
“I wouldn't worry so Sister,” Murmur replied to her anxiety.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
She lay faced to the window, enjoying the sheets so cool against her timid skin; and the recess of the pillow was perfect to her neck's incline. Very slowly and drowsily she turned over, opened her hazel brown eyes, to see a strange man lying in the bed right beside her. She yelped reactively.
The figure in her bed moved and began to turn over to now face her. Robyn leapt up and out, backing into the side table, whereupon tilting it, and her mobile phone slid off onto the carpet.
Even more surprisingly still, she realised he was a very old man. He was looking back at her as though she were half mad.
"Who are you?" she demanded. Old or not, this was an unspeakable horror. She looked at his bony form which was undressed down to the boxer shorts now peeping out from under the top sheet.
In the moment she caught sight of a small tattoo on his chest to one side, half covered by the immensely long curly hair. She wondered if he was a native - or demented - or a demented native that had found his way into her room.
No explanation seemed to be coming.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
Murmur answered, without hesitation: "I think not … at least for the days near to come."
He surprisingly did not thank the Pontiff for this offer of promotion - yet the Pontiff had also neglected to thank him for the revival. There was a rather odd understanding between them.
"I should stay right here Father where I belong” he reiterated,
"Very well ... although," here he paused for emphasis, "I could need someone like you..."
Francis who was following behind coughed.
They came to a party of Bishops and priests who had scattered around, patrolling the town, regrouped upon the bridge and it was there that they delivered the Pope into their safety.
Before leaving he said:
"Francis, come to me when the time is right and we will forge a commitment. I will put a seal to your vision and my blessing to your community. I came to tell you only that - for we in Rome can see your light from afar - in the forests of Ashburton, this light streams from your heart. We are of consensus that the future of this cause will champion our Lord most well. And so it is said, and so it shall be.”
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
[ c. 13th Century ]
Francis was persuaded by this enclave of spiritual rapture - momentarily. Then, as with a rush of cold air upon a sleepy face, he snapped awake, and in this moment he saw the Pope as a very old man, with milky eyes, struggling for breath, and with veins pronounced, crepe hands, sitting in prayer, alongside him.
"Why have you come here?" he asked respectfully - for as much as the magic had fallen away, so did his trust also.
The Pontiff appeared to have fallen asleep - with his head bowed upon his chest. The circle of light and warmth had all but dissolved, and the heavy darkness was now all around them.
Francis went to get up to get a blanket, but before he could go, the elderly man slumped. Francis caught him before he fell sideways.
The Pope’s heart had stopped, and there held in his arms, Francis could see his spirit ascend above them.
"I knew it was a bad idea him sitting out in the cold like this" Francis thought to himself.
A minute later he could hear the sound of Tobias and Murmur returning up the hill. They babbled lavishly with their festive humours. However this noise stopped fast when they caught sight of their brother cradling a corpse wrapped in velvets.
“Murmur, I need you to bless our Holy Father before his soul flies into the Heavens - we must deliver him back to where he came from, alive if we can."
Tobias left to put Granoldi to bed, whilst Murmur unquestioningly knelt down and put his hand onto the deceased's heart and head. Within minutes the old Pope was up and breathing again.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
