“Ruby is Freckles’ girl. What’s the old woman think ‘er
do’n wit lad?”
Enid will not let the boy go.
He speaks little. She has to drag every syllable from
But when lying stretched out upon the sheets, she
expecting, and then he climbs, why it is more than she can
The girl Ruby, he mentions her at times.
She has thought of finding Ruby some position far off,
Enid is not foolish enough to think the boy treasures a
dot for a foolish old woman. Yet his breathing changes. He
Just his hands moving up and down her skin!
The idea comes that if Ruby works at the Manor, if she
stays at the manor, she would not be here. The boy might
She must swap Ruby for Elsie.
She will talk to Violet Chanestine? If Edith adds an
annual amount to the pay Elsie will receive, she is sure
Elsie will oblige. London pay and extra.
She telephones Violet. Violet asks of Hæmma, the very
good-looking underbutler. “Archibald is an old man. I
couldn’t let Hæmma go,” Edith teases. “Now if you take
Elsie, she wishes to move to London. I said I would try to
The deal is done. “But you’re taking all my good
Elsie is delighted. Hæmma also. Violet Chanestine will
be paying Hæmma twice his Mandalmane salary.
Ruby receiving half again her present pay is chuffed at
going to the Manor. Ruby will not return with Beatrice to
Mandalmane each evening as Elsie does. She will take the
servants room that Miss Stanton used before moving to the
front of the house.
When Ruby and Seth talk, Ruby asks his feelings. Ruby likes to have the man
in charge make the decision, with encouragement of course.
Seth has no problem. He’ll get horse from stables. Seth has
been helping out in stables with the Brougham not going
anywhere. Joshua Shenton estate head groom likes him.
They’ll be no problem with a horse. He’ll enjoy the ride
out. He’ll come to Ruby as he does now to the room provided for nights by Ruby’s friend on the estate cottage. He’ll leave early before anyone at the Manor wakes.
With the increased pay offered Ruby, and training
for the underbutler position with Hæmma before Hæmma
leaves for London, soon they’ll have enough to get married.
How can she manage that!
She can manage that fine! Ruby in the bed, gives him
a big, all-encompassing cuddle. There’s one thing about
you Seth, lad, and more than one, she feels underneath the
sheets, you do know how to make up your mind.
Seth keeps nothing from her. Ruby laughs when he tells
her about him and the old woman. “As if I don’t know me
Seth Joseph Nyler,” she firmly holds his growing member.
“An ifs there’s one woman I ain’t afeard on, well its ‘er.
Mind, I don’t have no goings with you and those kitchen
trollops,” she adds kissing him. “But ‘er! You’ve got more
than enough for that old woman and me, Seth Nyler, and
for six more. Though I’d catch you w’id kitchen trollop in closet or
out, well then me and you is through.”
“You’d leave me, Rube?” he asks in astonished wonder.
“Without even a think’n on it,” she kisses him again on
the lips. “Might shed a tear later, mind. Old woman and
me, that’ll haft’be y’un pleasure. On’y tha.”
Ruby knows Freckles.
She knows she can tell him what
to do and he’ll do it.
He does love her. She’s s’ur’n on it as
s’ur as saint’s day, Sunday. Freckles’n love with Ruby and
Ruby‘n love with Freckles. Would be a fine thing if she were
jealous of mother Coulter. Not that she don’t think Seth
likes being with ‘er, or that there ain’t something with old
woman and Seth. Lad’s drawn to ‘er. But life’s not always
what it seems on outside. From past she thinks. Wise old
woman! Leaves couple of sovereigns on tray for him. Not a
lot, enough to make him feel he’s having benefit.
A few days after Ruby is established at the Manor, Mrs.
Coulter casually mentions to Seth perhaps an afternoon
visit. So Seth now arrives daily at eleven morning hour
plus fifteen, after mid-morning tea has been brought to the
private apartment, and four fifteen in the afternoon.
Hæmma trains Seth around his morning schedule, but
afternoons both Mrs. Coulter and the boy take a nap. Edith
has begun to think that perhaps Mandalmane needs an
under-underbutler. There are always those times when
Seth might be called upon when indisposed. An under-underbutler will be able to take care of such moments. She will mention it to Seth, ask if he will mind training a young fellow as under-underbutler.
When there is cleaning upon the stairs of Mrs Coulter’s
wing, Freckles, though he does his best to be unobserved,
sometimes is noticed.
The servants have discussed what a shame it all is. But
with Mr. Coulter off to see Miss Annabell after morning
estate business ... And the young footman liked for his
amiability in the stables, the kitchen, and on the farmland,
and soon to be replacing Hæmma, the talk is quieted.
“Comforting is as comforting gets,” says Ruby. So let it
be. Mandalmane has more than old woman and Freckles
to gossip about.
. . .
Arthur gazes up at the heavy clouds. It is the 25th day
of May 1900. Rain is pouring down so much the gutters are
overflowing. “How much we have come to rely upon each
other since the days of hunting,” Arthur waves his hand at
the outside. “We have always considered ourselves a pack,
“The human-wolf quantity!” adds Constance. “Playing
follow the leader.”
“Yes! I suppose you can say that. The Enslavement
Dream proceeding towards its deepest misery, the ability
to correct anything diminishes.”
“We can do nothing but watch it unfold!”
“We lose the ability! Money goes to paying those who
protect the enslavers. Money since it was invented in Sumer
in our known history becoming the most obvious problem.”
“Because it gives a few power!”
“It gives them all power. The many who produce, who
are in their work enslaved as much as any slave, their power
is nothing. Should they form a group they are nothing.
“The power of the state is today the power of the vast
corporations controlled by board members who sit upon
multiple boards funding the politicians who act in tandem
with the aims of the controllers.
“The states policing agents do the rest. Real freedom
never has been part of the Enslavement Dream. Real liberty
to control our life, live as we would wish, has always been
only for a few. Those with power, those with money to
create those who have power.
“States and union of states and corporations merged
unseen at the top structure. Nothing is ever mentioned.
Why should it. They control the press. For the ordinary
person, this today is nothing more than new serfdom.”
. . .
Annabell has until now kept her strongest judgement
at bay. Had she told Aunt Constance! Had she not taken
Uncle Ronald’s rifle! The thought pounds through. Uncle
Ronald’s death is due to her. She is responsible.
Over and over she attempts to plan. She must make the
But dear Heart, when she has her child! Bear!
Aunt Constance and Uncle Ronald would be sailing if it
were not for her. Aunt Constance would be uncle Ronald’s
It has to be done. It has to be executed. She must make
the planning to take her life!
As Annabell shifts uncomfortably in her seat pulled
close to her apartment parlour window, she stares forth through the rain soaked
window. How is she going to follow Uncle Ronald? How do
In the kitchen months past she’d noticed a blue bottle
with ‘poison’ raised upon its outside.
“That bottle, it’s for
the field mice, my love.” Mrs. Minton had come across. “We don’t like to do it, but once they get inside the walls,
building a nest, having young, soon the pantry is overrun.
Biting into the sacks, the mess they create it’s not healthy.
“Arsenic! Is that arsenic inside the bottle?”
“Indeed it is, my love. Mr. McBride spreads a few seeds
upon the ground by the wall. A drop of that arsenic he
places on the seeds.”
Annabell had reached to pick up the bottle.
touch it, love. I’m sure nothing is on the outside. Nothing
that could cause harm. Best to be safe! I’ll speak to Mr.
McBride. Back down the cellar is where it should be.”
All she knows of the cellar rooms is that they are where
Uncle Ronald has his wine stock.
Uncle Ronald! Uncle Ronald! How proud he was of his
wine collection. Beginning to moan, she bends in pain. She
no longer wishes to live. She must take her life!
Heart comes, takes her hand. “Come and lie down with
Lying next to Heart she wonders if Laudanum can be
deadly. She recalls some mention in a magazine. Would it
be strange to ask for a bottle from the apothecary? She
could say it would rest her.
From the Yew tree an extraction can be
taken from its bark, she has read. In quantity this can
cause death. What is Hemlock! Hemlock! Nightshade!
Where can she find Deadly Nightshade!
A story about a boy comes to mind. An innocent had
wandered off, drowned out by Leatherleaf waters. “One
misplaced step in the deceptive entanglements will bring
one under,” Uncle Ronald had told her. “Leatherleaf is
extremely dangerous.’ “
“Under the water?” she had asked.
“You think it is land,” he had replied. “Even a good
swimmer cannot escape the roots that grow.”
As she lies upon the bed, an excitement comes upon
her. Uncle Ronald gave up his life on the moors. She will
die there herself out on the moors.
She will ride out to the moors and she will not come
back. She will walk into the entanglements. She will let
the roots take her.
Doom! Doom it will be. Doom as the waters take her.
Annabell rolls back and forth, back and forth. Her face
tearing at the pillow, how can she escape to the moors!
. . .
Constance and Arthur have not noticed Meg and George
enter the solarium. “Hello!” George hails, walking across
to the high tropical vegetation. The two seated look up,
“The drawing room has lost its charm. Do you mind if
we join you?”
“If you can find somewhere in this woodland,” answers
“I think we can,” George, with a hint of his old smile,
pulls two comfortable seats to the inside of the circling
plants. “Meg!” he says, helping her to the chair.
“I’m relating Henrietta’s tale of Wild Priests, George!
But I’ll stop!”
“Now that rings a bell, old man. Henrietta at the beach.”
“Perhaps you have something you wish to engage us?”
“No! No! Truth is we came, well, to be entertained.
Henrietta had only just begun her story when there was a
cloudburst! Never did get more! Back in Atlantis time I
believe. Before everything sank. Am I correct?”
“An orb found in an old temple,” responds Arthur.
“Orbs were used in Atlantis for the keeping of past memory. They were storers of knowledge. This orb they found had recount of a much
“Long before. It spoke of, well, in your language, how
the entire game is divided into ethereal realities! Gold,
silver, bronze, iron, as we say.”
George turns to Meg. “As the Easterners say, though
they have come to use it to explain Earth’s history.”
“Yes! Henrietta would speak of frequencies. How life
states are held in different frequencies. A sequence of gold,
silver, bronze, iron, and back to gold within frequencies
rather than a linear line. The pattern however is always to
descend into the denser condition until reverting back into
the high state. Somewhat like the Chinese flow of the one
back inside the other, except different.
Constance smiles at Meg, “We will catch up!”
Arthur looks at Meg, Constance. “The most startling
for Henrietta’s ancestors is knowledge the orb gives about
the time in which they exist.”
“Yes! Entrance ways are shown, large interior caverns
with lake water and areas where food can be grown. One
of these entrance ways into the inner Earth is recognised as
an entrance to a cave.
“Henrietta’s linage had been battling the politicians of
the time. Much was being done in the name of science that
completely went against the order of nature.”
Arthur glances at Meg. “You have a question, Miss
“This is a time period before our history, Mr. Hews?”
“Our history begins with stone writings in Mesopotamia.
Before that everything is conjecture. That which I speak of is oral history carried down through time by my wife’s family. There is no proof of any of this, so I place what I tell in the realm of fable.”
“You are not speaking of Plato?” says George.
“It seems Atlantis has many times. I should say many civilizations have been given the name Atlantis by us. The season of knowledge of the orb of the fable, is the melting of the great ice slabs. A second civilization with this name, Atlantis as
described by Plato, is of a civilization that has its highest
political systems based upon an island ‘beyond the Pillars
of Hercules.’ Other Atlantian times go back hundreds of
thousands of years. Perhaps Plato’s Atlantis is the only
Atlantis in present Earth frequency.”
“So this fable is not in present Earth frequency?”
“No! It is of a silver period. How does Henrietta have
such history, you ask? The answer is that the frequency
of Atlantis of the time of the orb was not that different to
Earth’s present frequency, or I should say the frequency in
which we presently exist upon Earth. Henrietta’s ancestors
learnt to adapt to today’s Earth frequency. They did as
the families we speak about did, bring knowledge from this
previous frequency into our time and frequency. We are
considering many thousands of years. The ice slabs are
believed to have melted twelve thousand years past, so it
was around that time in Earth’s history.”
“It is still changing today!”
“Yes! As we proceed into the future, our children will
adapt as Earth’s frequency continues to meld into a new
state. The choice for us, Henrietta said is whether we will
descend in a more complicated Enslavement Dream, into a
more intense iron reality or move back into a gold.
“A better way of stating is a more enlightened existence.
These frequencies are not set linearly. They are set by the
consciousness of those within the frequency.”
“How do you mean that, Arthur?”
“The word ‘consciousness?’ The way we think about
things! Henrietta always pointed to Jesus’ words. She said
we had the opportunity then to move out of the iron state
we had descended. Instead we have had two thousand more
years of reality within the iron. She said if we had followed
Jesus’ words, even the few that have come down to us within the Christian Bible, we, and all of our ancestors, would not have
had to endure that which we have.
“We would be with
brothers and sisters in other frequencies and planets and
star systems who have advanced. It is an understanding of
one’s own needs, how we behave towards each other, how
we wish to live, that is what I mean by consciousness.
“The fable speaks of a warning from the orb and a place
to retreat. Henrietta’s ancestors carrying the orb with them
fled to the cave opening, a pathway into a large inner lake.
Here by the lake they found a strange moss growing along
the crown of the inner cave, producing a brightness in which
they see quite clearly. No longer do they need oil flares. Great plants and even trees grow around the large internal
“With this there is rejoicing. From twelve to eighteen hours they discover the overhead moss gives brightness. Then for a period the cavern dims.
“This becomes day and night to them. Fed by volcanic heat from below steam rises during this night period, the
steam nurturing the high moss that produces this light. Excess water that the moss collects returns as rain to fall
upon the great plants and trees that have grown up around
“Many of these plants and trees bear edible fruit. A
bread fruit is found. Destruction that comes upon the cities
along the shorelines takes place during this retreat. The orb
they carry with them states that a great war will have taken
place between the rulers of Atlantis and those who enter the
frequency with airships. The reason for the submergence of
the cities will be not by cause of nature itself but release of
energy from weapons that generate a quickening of melting.
This melting and change upon the surface of Earth takes
place within an extremely short period of time, within our
present understanding only hours. The orb speaks of a
sickness of mind in the leaders.”
“And those who enter the frequency with airships?”
“George, I asked the same question,” replies Arthur.
“There is no answer in the fable.”
“The great texts preserved in India have some validity
then you would consider, Arthur.”
“Yes, I think that explains what happened, George,
given changes of interpretation in wording, religious human
thought spoiling the original knowledge!”
“It seems The Game
always provides insight of the past.”
“Yes! It is one of its rules, I believe.”
“Let us hear the saga of the wild priests, Arthur.”
. . .
Lawrence has become quite proficient in directing his
thoughts. Some past event he will think and he will be
at a card room, a favoured eating place, a person’s mind
stirring if he slips through them. In this development, this
throwing of his thoughts where his body follows, a whole
new existence has opened.
The boy stays by the water. Afraid to venture further,
home is the plants, the marshy grass, the leatherleaf.
Lawrence’s funeral draws him. Some force holds him
hovering over the coffin. At the funeral, in the church
standing beside the casket, when Angulse Sherod speaks
Lawrence listens with intentness. No one in the church sees
him laugh, not even Bella. He wanted so much for her to
speak to him.
The funeral is not the first time he has been compelled.
He more than once found himself by his body in the place
they had taken it. There is another time when George
Bexfield is conversing with Bella. “My son...I so greatly
loved Caroline... I did not know...” Bella nods, tears in
Lawrence listens: “Lawrence, my child...” It is
most peculiar to him.
Then a trip he takes to Hartlepool. “The father came
to the funeral.” His uncle is speaking to the coven priest.
“We did not acknowledge him.
The father left immediately
afterwards with the girl. Took her to the station. She returned to London we understand, then to her father’s
The coven priest turns towards the recess where he sees
the faint outline of Lawrence standing.
His uncle continues: “Adolphous was at the funeral. So
was Stanson. Clair of course. I was surprised that you did
not come, Unhir.”
The coven priest’s face takes on a peculiar smile. “The
police came up with nothing when they were here! Nothing
that they did not already know? I questioned the servants
afterwards. The prostitute brought them here.”
“They came to see me in Exeter. I did not deny my
“They can do nothing! London has it covered.”
“I mentioned my wife, how it would be disturbing to her
if she knew. Adolphous was in touch with those in Exeter
who would be able to take care of it. It was mentioned at
a higher level that costs might be explored. There was no
reason not to drop the investigation. George Bexfield spoke
of the boy’s mother and the fire.”
“The moor deaths? It is a time past.”
“After the funeral, Clair was highly engaging back at
the house. She related how she insisted on placing the first
faggot. It seems the boy and his woman intended to get
money from the Biddiford magistrate, faulting as his errant
father the magistrate, not the brother who went to India.
That was due to Catherine. She sent him a letter about
our old servant’s disclosure of his father’s name. The boy asked about his father once. I gave him a good whipping,
made it clear he was never to speak of it.”
Lawrence listens as the priest relates how the house on
the moors was burnt.
“Master Heinrid as yourself would not be involved.”
“No! The ceremony had to be done by those who would
not be recognised. The police in Biddiford were aware of
the mother and child staying with us. I longed to go, but
as I told Heinrid, if only a private inquiry to one of the
servants they might ask where I was that night. It was
unlikely, but why take the chance. Sometimes these things
get out of hand. Even using the Druid’s way.”
“Clair, coming up with the placement of the stone that
marked the entrance to the Druid’s way, that we considered portentous.”
“Yes! We were raised in spirit. I knew in my heart then
the ceremony done where the circle of stone had been, He
would be present for you. Clair after the funeral, she was
saying an inferno the house became, how much power the
stone still held.”
The coven priest laughs. “They could not get down, we
had secured the stair door with a post.”
“Both too small and latticed. Trapped to the stairs the
three were. Adolphous skilled in locks said we would have
to break the door if the lock stuck, or the key remained in
the lock, so we were prepared with iron cudgels. As it was,
the large iron key had been hung by the window. We just
broke the window. Clair took the key with her.”
“Clair at the funeral says now is the time to do the
ceremony of completion. She will use the key for that. She
asked if I would like to be present. I said I would. The
house as it burnt, it was an unnatural fire?”
“Flames such that the stone itself seemed to melt. Once
we placed the faggots we had already lighted, no time had
those inside. No time more than to scream!”
. . .
Arthur waves his hand about. “Where to begin with
the Wild Priests! Well, there are no cities in this place. It
is Earth, yet it is not Earth, not in our frequency. A silver
period degrading into bronze, its time is in the hoary past.
“Clusters of villages exist. Each village has about it vast
areas of wildland, or wilderness as we call it today, desert
or dense forest surrounding the villages.
“Pathways exist connecting villages. Everyone walks.
Each community self-sustaining tradesmen travel pushing
carts. There is no money, village craft are bartered. All
villagers learn a talent of some kind: making items to use
or for art, performing on stage.
“The look of the people is different. But hands they
have, and feet. They produce offspring as we. Weather
events are moderate. Mists in the morning, sunrises and
“A type of wool or cotton is woven, taken from plants.
Around the particular village that I will speak there is a
great forest. The villagers enter for a depth, collecting
plants, herbs, fruit. Varied animals live in the wildlands.
A few species come into the villages. Considered as pets,
they have independence, leave when they wish. No animals
are kept for eating.
“A villagers tool is the gemstone. Stones emitting colour
can be picked up in all sizes within the forest, in the deserts
and by the sea-shore. Special traders will go great distances
to find special gems.
“Energy with these stones cut cloth. Powerful crystals
can be focused so that light that flows will cut
through a large tree. A sound will come, then light, cutting
where the mind directs.
“House building, furniture making,
artistic pieces to trade, all from forest wood. Where there
are no surrounding forest, sand can be unified by energy
from these gems, stone encampments built of a rounded
“In the villages built of wood, a high wall surrounds.
No one knows why? There is no knowledge of robbery. No
attacks of any kind. Villages hold markets much as we do.
“A bartering of goods can be the highlight of a week or
fortnight. Festivals are common. Evenings plays performed
in the village square bring out great gatherings. Those who
present creative works are highly valued. Acting is viewed
as learning. New stories are always welcome.
“The villagers as we, seek from an unknown. No set
teaching of a deity, but some essence of where the villagers
might originate from is passed from adult to child. Who has
produced the sky, the energy that the villagers use through
the gems, all is much discussed within the boundaries of
“Then there are the priests! For as long as the villagers
have memory, priests have separated themselves from the
ordinary people’s practices. Priests live outside a village.
At the edge of the wildlands a monastery will be where
monks and nuns grow and collect their own food, gather
plant wool and cotton, design and make their garments,
furniture and bedding.
“Priests intermingle with the villagers at times. Birth
and marriage celebrations are something the villagers look
to as special occasions. Bells and whistles and sea-conches
provide a great cacophony fully enjoyed. At the end of the
ceremony the priests will be given accolade, nothing else is
expected. A priest will utter prayers at a person’s death,
to guide the departed spirit upon its way.
“Priests at times do seek more. Some venture deep into
the forest never seen again. Those who do return speak of
strange adventure. Because of these tales, priests who go
adventuring are thought of as ‘wild.’
“‘Movement’ is the name the wild priests have given to
this experience. ‘Movement’ is something that takes place
when they see our colour ‘grey.’ Grey is a magic colour for
it cannot be seen in ordinary reality. The wild priests who
experience ‘movement’ revere it in the telling. This simple
and most extensive colour in our world, is indeed missing
“Monasteries hold counsel of all who live within the
monastery. There is no leader. Only priests who are wild
have knowledge of a reality beyond the understanding of
the villagers. Monks and nuns know not who God is, or
even that God exists. Awareness at the monastery is that
the first learning of past ages has disappeared.
“A one who comes with curiosity from the village to seek
the monastic life will be given something called ‘theology,’
stories of past times, great teachers. A type of energy flow
does come to the mind when this knowledge is spoken.
“This energy flow enhanced with ritual, the new acolytes
are satisfied. Elder people of the monastery question this
energy. What does it do? Where does it take them? Such energy, mostly pleasant while it lasts, once gone, is gone.
There is such a thing called ‘movement,’ that the wild
priests speak about. Even ‘movement,’ the wild priests do
not say, comes from God.
“Falling into some misery, or boredom, a monk or nun
will slip away, try to find this ‘movement’ of which they
have heard, have become so enthralled.
“So it comes to a certain moment where a group of monks,
seeking reason for their monastic life, decide to make provision and
new clothing, trek to where two streams intersect. This
is a distance in the forest where no ordinary monk or nun
“Beginning their exotic journey, marking trees so they
will know how to return, the monks journey inwards. All
at first is similar. Then, as one remarks, tree bark has
a deeper colouring. This encourages for it is a quest, an
adventure they are seeking.
“Further along a monk points to a plant growing by the
stream. None can rec all ever having seen this plant before.
Shadings of all green suddenly seem different.
“A shimmering takes place. Here that which they see are
beings somewhat like men, but with strange angular, strong
faces. As they sit to discuss they concur: these beings bend
their bodies when they walk.
“The next day another shimmering, this time ‘bending-bodies’ are placing skins over large branches. What is it
they are seeing in this strangeness? A day later, walking
out of a cluster of trees, bending-bodies are right before
them. The priests stare. This is no shimmering vision.
The bending-bodies are moving about carrying sticks, with
redness, blood dripping from the sticks.
“Grouping together, not sure whether to hail or run, the
bending-bodies make no movement towards them. Some
do seem to stare across to where they stand. The priests
decide they cannot flee so they walk slowly, calmly towards
the camp. Nothing! Then one of the bending-bodies walks
towards them. He appears to be walking to them, but then
it seems he is to walk right into them. Quickly they scatter.
“Afraid, hiding behind trees, the monks watch as the
bending-bodies continue to gather wood for a fire they have
started. One of the bending-bodies they have not noticed,
steps out from behind a tree, comes right up to one of the
monks, exactly where he stands. The bending-body then
picks up a fallen branch that the priest is standing upon.
“Astounded by wonder, the priests have no idea what has
just happened. How can the branch that the bending-body
picked up from under the trembling monk be still under the
monk who is still standing upon it? Yet as they watch, the
bending body carries this branch with its dead leaves, to
firewood being stacked beside the fire.
“The priests decide to leave. This is far too odd, an
apparition, a vision they no longer wish to engage.
“But the stream has been their guide, their security until
now. Trees marked give assurance but trees can be missed.
Also, if they venture deeper into the trees away from the
stream they will likely run out of water. If they lose their
way, and there is no pool or stream, what will happen to
“An idea is whispered among them that they must try to
get around the encampment then return back to the stream.
But did the bending-body really come to the monk, pick
up the branch that he stood upon? Did everyone see the
bending-body put his hand through, through... Then the
priest to whom this has happened screams. They all run.”
Arthur laughs: “This is the tale. I am just repeating
the tale. Do you wish me to continue?”
“This happens where one frequency blends into another,
is that not so?”
“It is, George.”
“It is generally a rule within The Game
that that which exists as a higher frequency can see to some extent
into the lower. But those who exist within the lower vibration mostly
cannot detect the higher frequency. A few have a sense of
something, but that is all.”
“What about the branch,” asks Constance. “How can
you pick up a branch and it is still there?”
“Because the branch exists within both frequencies,”
replies George, turning to Meg.”
“Is this like being a ghost?” Meg asks.
“Exactly,” responds Arthur.
Meg shakes her head. “Which are the ghosts? Those
called the bending-bodies, or the monks?”
Arthur smiles. “Good question, Meg! Ghosts are just
people in a different reality.”
George reaches to place his hand upon Meg’s. “They are
both ghosts. They are both real in their own frequency.”
Arthur continues: “The monks in a great state of perplexity and fear watch
the bending-bodies from behind the trees. Night descends.
They see the bending-bodies prepare food upon their fire.
In this also something takes place they have never observed
before. A stag is pulled apart, pieces placed upon a stone
that is upon another stone that sits in the middle of the
fire. At a certain moment a piece of stag is taken off the
fire, blown upon, then eaten by one of the bending bodies.
“The monks have never eaten an animal. An animal’s
body found lying upon a pathway or within a bush when
discovered the carcase will be taken, fir used to ornament
their clothing. A prayer is made to the animal who has
gone beyond, thanking the spirit of the animal for the gift
brought to them.
“But here they watch as the bending-bodies chew the
burnt pieces of animal with great relish.
“Drained with their fear, exhausted, for they haven’t
eaten themselves for hours, the monks have no idea what
to do. ‘Animals are not meant to be eaten,’ they whisper
amongst themselves. ‘We should return to the monastery.
This is an abomination. We should fast and purify our
“One older disagrees. ‘We have seen within the two
shimmering visions these bending-bodies,’ he says. ‘These
visions came from God. We have come here to seek God!’
“Gathering fruit that is plentiful in the bushes, they eat,
lie down. In the morning the bending-bodies have already
made their departure.
“The priests follow along the stream. Marking the trees
carefully, at some point they reach a strange place indeed.
Rearing high above them is a wall. This is ‘movement’
there is no doubt about it. Not always grey, greenery, a
plant grows upon some of the wall. And within ‘movement’
a large opening where bending-bodies both disappear inside
and come forth out of the opening. Female bending-bodies,
children bending-bodies, all smiling, speaking in their way
with the male hunters.
“To the priests this vision does have a shimmering, even
the male hunters now have a shimmering appearance. They
whisper at the marvel, but because of the shimmering the
priests hesitate to step further. They will wait inside the
surrounding trees, watch.”
. . .
At her sink in the scullery, vigorously rubbing a dish
with a dish mop, dipping a dish in the rinse sink, placing
it on the side, a young woman has been singing: