The Islands of the Blessed

“What you really see is a glimpse of Heaven, for in Heaven such moments last forever,” explained the monk. “The sound of Fair Lamenting reminds us of the joy that lies beyond the sorrow of this world. Did you know that this is the very bell St. Columba brought from Ireland?” Brother Aiden reverently lifted the instrument from its hook and set it on the table. “It’s what drew the Picts from their hills.”

“I heard that they swarmed out to kill St. Columba, and he scared the daylights out of them by threatening to send them all mad,” said Jack, who had been told this by hobgoblins.

Brother Aiden frowned. “I’m sure that’s wrong. It doesn’t sound saintly at all.”

“Perhaps it’s only a rumor,” said Jack, who didn’t want to upset the gentle monk. He explained about the monster in the hazel wood, but Brother Aiden didn’t seem concerned.

“There are many poor beasts astray after that storm. I’ve been frightened myself by a cow bellowing for her calf. It’s all too easy to deceive oneself, especially when it’s dark and you’re alone. Once when I was walking at night, I saw a pair of big, glowing, blue eyes by the side of the road.”

“Crumbs! What did you do?” said Jack.

“There was precious little I could do. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and I could hardly see where to put my feet. I sent a silent prayer to St. Columba and edged forward, clutching the cross at my neck. Then—not five paces away—another pair of glowing eyes appeared on the other side of the road.” Brother Aiden took a mouthful of bread and chewed slowly. He was almost as good a storyteller as the Bard and knew when to pause, to hook his audience.

Jack waited impatiently for the monk to swallow.

“I took a few more steps,” Brother Aiden continued, “and what did I see but a third set of eyes squarely in the middle of the road. Would you like some cider? Your mother sent over a bag this morning.”

“No! I mean no, thank you. Please tell me what happened,” said Jack. The monk smiled happily.

“Well! I stood perfectly still, unable to go forward. If I turned away, the creatures might leap upon my back. I sent a prayer to St. Christopher, who protects travelers. Next, I commended my soul to Jesus, in case St. Christopher didn’t come through. Someone must have been listening, though, for all at once the moon came out from behind the clouds. The road was bathed in beautiful light. And behold! The eyes disappeared. In their place were sheep—perfectly ordinary sheep. I had wandered into the middle of a flock. So you see, the mind plays tricks on us when we’re frightened. I’m sure your creature is just as ordinary.”

Jack stifled the urge to argue. He was unusually sensitive to the forces that lay beneath everyday life. Sometimes doing magic actually made him sick, and the Bard said that was because his defenses were too weak. It took years of training to endure some kinds of knowledge, and Jack had been exposed to it before he was ready. The malevolent hatred surrounding the strange beast had been very real. He didn’t have to see it to know it was an enemy.

The boy tipped the bell on its side, being careful to muffle the clapper. It was a quadrangle with rounded corners, and it threw back the firelight with a reddish glow. In spite of its simple design, it had a richness that spoke of palaces and kings. “This is nice,” he said.

“Bronze covered in gold,” Brother Aiden said proudly. “Gives it that deep, musical tone.”

“The clapper looks like iron,” said Jack, moving it into the light.

“Very observant. Bronze would be too hard and would damage the bell.”

“Why is it shaped like a fish?” the boy asked. For indeed, the long pendant was a magnificent work of art, with fins and scales and a pair of round, fishy eyes staring down at the mouth of the bell. It was slightly battered from use.

“Father Severus said it symbolized the church. Would you like more stew?”

“No, thank you,” Jack said politely, though he could have cleaned out the pot. He knew the stew was meant for the monk’s breakfast. They tidied up, Jack polishing the bowls with sand and Brother Aiden storing leftover food in the chest.

The moon, half full, washed the earth with enough pale light for Jack to make his way to the Bard’s house. He gathered his belongings and replaced his knife in the scabbard that hung from his belt. “Why don’t you come with me?” he suggested. “I know the Bard likes your company.”

“I’ll come in the morning,” Brother Aiden said. “I’ve much to think about tonight. I must consider that scream you heard.”

Jack looked up, startled. So the monk did suspect something he wasn’t telling. “Are you safe here?” he said, suddenly aware of shadows all around and the distance to the nearest house.

“No one is entirely safe in this world,” Brother Aiden said. “If God chooses to call me in the night, I hope I may answer bravely. I will stay. However, there’s no point leading whatever-it-is into temptation. I’ll take the bell inside with me, though the Lord knows where I’ll find space for my head.”