Saturday, February 1, 2014

Well, I wrote it, but I'm not sure what it's good for...[Memoir] The Unknown Life of Teo{water damage}

A few weeks ago, I wrote about world building, what it is, and how it works. But I didn't really explain what I was doing in particular. Which, given that this is a blog about writing and actually putting what I write out there, seems counter productive. So a little background: most of what I've been writing has been set in a Regency(ish) Not-Europe (think Jane Austin with magic and women with sharp pointy things). Of course, instead of doing the easy thing--which would have been to thoughtfully add a few details here and there to clue the reader in--I wrote a collection of essays and vignettes that turned into something like a fictional memoir. That would be fine, except now that I look at it, it's really intended to be part of a larger tale. A text to be read by the characters rather than by actual readers (or at least not by readers who aren't reading the main story).

So, now the question is: what do I do with it? Certainly, it establishes the setting as an alternate history with some basis in actual history (barring, of course, the magic and the prevalence sword wielding women). But, the problem is, I have no story for it to fit into. So I post it here, because I don't know what else to do with it. Maybe someone else will know.

Forward
If you are reading this, it means that I have failed and the creature who calls herself the Unravelled still exists. I do not say live, because she is not alive, though nor is she dead. She has found some way to untangle herself from the threads of fate, yet still work her evil upon the world. By now, I am, of course long dead--or perhaps never existed. The ways of Fate are, even after all this time, still a mystery to me, but let this be my legacy. The final blow that ends the reign of terror that Te(the ink is too faded to read) has unleashed. I am Bernardo de Sandoval y Rojas and this is my end.


Chapter 1
Beginnings are Important

T
his is not my story. This is the story of a monster touched by the power of the Adversary, the power of sorcery. But to understand her story, you must know something about my life. And if you are to know that, I must be the one to tell you, for certainly my name will have, by this point, be lost to the annals of history.

{The book goes on to discuss certain details of his life, his family, and major life events. Oddly, not all of the events coincide with the information recorded in known history. After his ordination, Bernardo reports that he became the Priest for the Abby of Saint Winnefred in Torres, but became a pilgriming monk after the Abby burned down in 1437. (He blamed himself for its loss, having wished for a more prestigious appointment by which he might win greater reknown like his more successful relatives.) There is no mention that he was ever elected Bishop in 1436.}

And with the loss of Saint Winnefred and her Abby, I began my pilgrimage of repentance, little knowing the spawn of Legion which Theus had placed in my path.


Chapter 2
Legends Hide Truths

E
very story has, at its heart, a grain of truth. Sometimes that truth is hidden in a riddle, disguised as an enigma, masquerading as a metaphor. And sometimes the truth is too fantastical to be believed.

I first heard of the creature known as Teo**** from an old nun, recounting a dark, uncanny version of the life of Saint John Chrysostom, better known to the masses as “John GoldenMouth.”

The strange story goes that there was once in Remus a Hierophant who heard the wailing lamentations of an undead soul. “I am a miserable soul,” the spirit cried mournfully, taking the shape of a woman in mourning black, her face veiled and hidden, “suffering in the flames of the Adversary.”

"There is in Remus a certain woman who has conceived by him a child that is to be a blessed man and he will become a priest. Now if that priest will say seventeen masses on my behalf, I shall be released from the clutches of the Adversary.”

The Hierophant returned to the City and inquired after the pious couple. When she was found, he begged from her the opportunity to adopt her child. He had the infant carried to his court, where he named it John and took it into his protection, caring for it as if it were his son.

John, at the age of seven, was sent to school, but was conspicuously poor in his studies. The other boys began to make mock of him and he was ashamed. So when he went to church every morning he prayed to Theus that he should be successful in his work. One day, when he came in for his prayers, there was a noble woman, dressed in mourning black, weeping in the pews.

“How can I help you?” John asked, though he was eager to be about his business.

“You cannot help me now,” was the reply, “but accept my blessings, and someday you will be able to undo the chains that bind me.”

“What must I do?” he asked.

“Kiss my mouth and you shall be filled with knowledge and become master of all arts. You shall become more learned than any man on earth.”

Though he was sore afraid, the temptation of it was too much for him to bear. So he closed his eyes and drew back the lady’s veil, and pressed his trembling mouth to the lips of the lady, all unseeing of her countenance, and by that kiss drew into himself wisdom and miraculous knowledge of the arts.

John returned to the school, and he settled down to listen and learn. But it transpired that he knew more than all the others together and no longer required to be taught. There was a golden circlet around his mouth, and it shone like a star. His companions were astonished. “How does it happen that you now know everything?” they demanded. “Only yesterday, not even a flogging could teach you!” He described to them a miracle by which a statue had come to life and given him his golden sign (for who would believe the truth?), and they called him GoldenMouth. “You deserve this title,” they said, “for the words from your mouth are as gold.” And there after it was John GoldenMouth who did all the teaching at the school.

The Hierophant entertained a great love for John GoldenMouth and, since he was impatient to release the suffering soul from the Adversary, had the boy ordained as soon as possible. John celebrated his first mass at the age of sixteen. But while he was at the altar a disquieting thought occurred to him: “I am as yet too young, and only here due to the blessings of that poor lady. To become a priest and commune with Theus before being really prepared must be contrary to the Prophet’s will. I am going to rue this day forever.” He continued saying the mass, but a resolution was taking shape in his mind. “Temporal possessions are bad for the soul; I will therefore pledge myself to be poor, for the sake of Theus. When the banquet in honor of my first mass is over, I shall withdraw to the wilderness and remain there as a hermit as long as I live,” he thought.

The Hierophant, full of joy, held a banquet for John GoldenMouth and everybody rejoiced at the early ordination, but the young priest remained firm in his resolve. When the company had dispersed, he stole away, clad in poor clothes and carrying scarcely a loaf of bread.

When the Hierophant learned of this event he was greatly troubled, and searched everywhere for his vanished prodigy. But John had built himself a hut of bark and leaves in a hidden fastness of the wilderness, beside a spring and at the edge of a cliff. The hermitage was not discovered. Subsisting on roots and herbs, he remained there and served Theus day and night. He prayed, he fasted, and he kept himself continually awake, steadfast in his devotion.

Now, not far from the forest in which John had built his hermitage there lived the Imperator in his castle, and one day the daughter of this Imperator went with the maidens of her suite to gather flowers. A sudden gale arose, swept the country, and was so terribly strong that all of the frightened maidens scattered looking for shelter. When they gathered again, they discovered that the princess was no longer among them, nor could they imagine in what direction in what direction she might have run. When they returned to the Imperator, they told a fantastic story about how the wind had lifted them high into the air and stolen the royal princess. The Imperator, of course, was distracted when he was told, and searched diligently and extensively. But the beautiful royal maid could not be found.

Actually, she was an adventurous sort, and had taken the opportunity to explore the forest where John’s hermitage was to be found. But soon she was lost and bewildered, but quite unhurt. Seeing the little hut—and John within it, who was kneeling at his prayers—she felt reassured and called out. Hearing the clear voice, the saintly youth turned his head, and when he perceived her, was alarmed. The apparition—for so he thought the vision of loveliness that appeared before him must be—implored him not to leave her to die of hunger or fall prey to the animals of the forest, and at last he was persuaded to admit her to the cell; for he considered that he would be guilty before Theus if he permitted her to die.

John took his staff, however, and drawing a line across the floor of the cell, divided it in two. One side he assigned to the girl. And he commanded her not to cross the line but to lead, in her part of the cell, such a life as should befit a proper recluse. They continued for a while, side by side in this way, praying, fasting, and serving Theus, but the Adversary envied them their life in sanctity. He succeeded one night in provoking John to cross the line and take the girl in his arms, whereupon they fell into sin. And after that they were smitten with remorse.

John was afraid that if the girl should remain with him he would fall again, so he conducted her to the edge of the cliff and pushed her over. But the moment he had done this, he understood that he had sinned even worse than before. “Oh wretched, accursed creature that I am!” he cried. “Now I have murdered this innocent girl. She would never have thought of sin had I not seduced her. And I have deprived her now of her life. Theus certainly will avenge this terrible sin on me forever.”

John quit his hermitage in despair and left the wilderness. “Theus, my God,” he lamented, “Thou has forsaken me.” After a little time he felt a little hope. “I shall confess,” he decided; and so he proceeded to the Hierophant, confessed his sin, and professed repentance, but his godfather, who did not recognize him, turned him away in a storm of indignation. “Depart from my sight, you have dealt bestially with this innocent girl,” said the Hierophant, “and the sin is on your head.”

“I shall not doubt God,” John thought; and he returned, deeply afflicted, to his hut, where he knelt and made this solemn prayer and vow: “May Theus, whose mercy is greater than y sin, accept graciously the penance I am about to impose upon myself. I vow to walk on all fours, like a beast, until I shall have earned Theus’s grace. Theus, in His mercy, will let me know when I have atoned.”

But no sooner had he gone down on his hands and knees, then his benefactor, the lady in black appeared.

“John GoldenMouth, you are a wretched man,” she declared, “a liar and a murderer besides. But the Theus inscribed your fate in his Book at the beginning of time, and no fool such as yourself is to thwart it. Turn, and behold what Theus’s mercy has wrought.”

And by a great miracle, there was the princess in the hut, as beautiful there as she had ever been, clothed in her royal garments as if their time together had not occurred. And so John returned to the world to great acclaim for the return of the princess who had been lost these many months. The Hierophant in due time made John a bishop, and he filled the office with humility, serving Theus with the utmost devotion. His sermons were like the chaplets of gold, and he was called again “John GoldenMouth.”

At the time, I had no notion of where these tales would lead me, but I knew, as to all true students of the Prophet, that there is a grain of truth to all tales. So I began my search in earnest for more stories of this woman who could so drastically change a man’s fate, little knowing that the spawn of Legion was there, hiding in among the stories that I uncovered…

{The chapter goes on to relate several other stories, each involving a lady veiled and clad in mourning black}

There are several other chapters to be posted, but they all need a bit of editing, so I'll be posting them as I fix them.

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