The Green Cool Scent of Gorse

      The cruel wind, my tormentor these many years, gives way to a wholly unnatural stillness. Gone is the stench of the sea that has imprisoned me for so long upon this rocky island. For a heartbeat all I smell is the cold, wet mud upon my hands and arms, and lurking beneath it, the odor of mussels and clams, my daily bread.
      The green, cool scent of gorse surrounds me suddenly and I begin to tremble. I have not smelled this wild shrub, so common in my native Wessex, for so very long; none grow upon these salty stones. A shimmering fills my mind, twelve bright globes of light. Lo, my judgment is at hand.
      "I am here," I cry, surprised at the raggedness of my voice. Dropping the few shellfish I had found, I rise and stand as best I may. "I am the one you seek, come hear my confession and take wergild or render mercy as you see fit."
      The scent of gorse closes round me, thickening like the coils of some great serpent until I can feel the soft inner warmth of these strange seekers. Only in my mind can I see them; yet even that is more than Our Lord has seen fit to grant these many years. Blindness is both my salvation and damnation. So it was in the beginning; so it shall ever be?
      "You must call me Thomas," I say unto them. "That is not the name my sire gave me. No, my brother, John urged me to take it up when I joined his order. But you have come further than any mortal pilgrim, for reasons beyond my ken. I must tell you now the one you seek lies dead and buried, both by my own hand."
      The scent of gorse grips me like an ethereal fist; blood red stars burn and die within my mind. The Twelve's sadness rides an odor like wet stone. Their rage is marked by the scent of blood.
      "Hear me out," I beg them, then remembering I am still a man and once a warrior. "Or strike me down with your vengeance."
      The blow doesn't come and I cannot stand so strongly as I used to. I sit once more upon the cold stone, wrapping my rags around me to save what warmth I have left. There is nothing else to do but tell them.
      "My family stood tall as any when the heathen Danes sought to wrest our lands away. My father was an alderman in those days. At his urging I joined the throng under good King Ethelred. I kept my doubts and fears hidden even then. Such was the fury of the Viking host, who could blame me for believing our cause already lost? The heathens held London and had fortified Reading while seizing much of our lands as well.
      "Yet I stood young and strong, in the company of brave Christians during the Battle of Ashdown. January's bleakness lay upon the land and the Berkshire Downs seemed all the more drab and withered when the Danes in their scarlet and gold thronged before us. It seemed to me we wouldn't last the day, yet I couldn't turn from this.
      "King Ethelred still dallied with prayers in his tent when his brother, Alfred, led us into the fray. I followed him with a shout and my blade fell without mercy upon the savages. The battle turned upon the crest of a hill, barren save for a single thorn tree. Alfred raged like a madman and to my grave will I carry the sight of him, sweat flying from his hair like mirrored beads as he cleaved the helm of a Danish chieftain.
      "Truly, it was the last thing I ever saw. I have no memory of the one whose club brought me down, nor why he couldn't finish the deed. It was John who found me, John, my brother and betrayer. Being the devoutest of our family, our father gave him leave to join the Benedictine Order at an early age. His brethren had come forth after the fighting, to give what comfort they could to the dead and dying.
      'Show me the mercy of the knife,' I begged him. 'I will not end my days as a beggar of alms of no use to anyone.'
      'Have faith,' John said, holding me in his arms. 'Our Lord will deliver you from darkness, but you must try and come to him.'
      'I have made my prayers and stood with the righteous in His Name. He has let the heathens steal my sight away.'
      'You must take another step upon the path to Heaven. My order has knowledge of many relics of antiquity. It might happen that if you join us, God will see you with greater charity. Become my brother in His name and I will do whatever I can to see you healed.'
      "How I wanted to believe him. So much that I hid from my own doubts and became a Benedictine. John was as good as his word and before too long had passed, we journeyed to Countisbury upon the western shore of our land. John sought passage for us both across the sea. He told me of a Celtic Order from Ulster who held relics of their St. Patrick that could return my sight if I would pray and hold them to my eyes.
      "But the terror of the Vikings held that town in its cold grip. Not a single ship would grant us passage. I despaired but John's faith sustained him. One night he came to the inn with another man, whose strange accent I judged Welsh or perhaps Caledonian.
      'Matthew is neither,' John assured me, 'but a Celtic Abbot in good standing with the church of his land. In his monastery lay the relics I spoke of. Upon his ship will he take us with him.'
      "John's voice seemed sadder than such tidings called for, I remember. But at the time I thought nothing of it."
      The coldness of the stones beneath me has clawed into my joints until I can no longer sit still. The scent of gorse fills the air so strongly I can hardly breathe now. "You must want to see where your comrade is buried." Stiffly I rise and they do not help or hinder. Yet their odor stays with me as I scuttle over the rocks. They must know what I did for the creature, both the best and worst of it. Not a day has passed in all this time that I have not regretted my deeds. I grieved as they now grieve and neither of us will ever cease. They must know that too, if they are to render equitable judgment upon me.
      In the sunshine of my youth I could have run clear round this island by five and twenty times. Steeped now in the black clouds of age it is all I can do to make my way toward the island's center. Pausing, I lean against a boulder and continue my story.
      "West we sailed and still I remember the meager warmth of the sun upon my useless eyes and freshly tonsured head. Then without a word, the Abbot Matthew turned his small vessel north.
      'Have faith,' my brother maintained. 'The relics are priceless and carefully hidden. Even now the Danish plunder the Irish coast.'
      "I held my misgivings for five days and nights. So long had we sailed I was sure we'd passed beyond the Irish sea, perhaps beyond the Hebudae Islands and Iona. I sought words with Abbot Matthew one morning, yet before I could speak of my misgivings a sail was sighted somewhere behind us.
      'Vikings,' the Abbot cried, and shoved an oar into my hands. 'Blind or not, you can still row.'
      "We all did. Still they gained on us and the Abbot himself sat beside me and pulled upon my oar. Long that morning became and the seas grew rough, spreading their icy cloak over our vessel.
      'Have faith, good Thomas,' the Abbot said. 'To port lies a storm and, God willing, we will leave the heathens in it while He protects us.'
      'Perhaps their own gods will protect them,' I answered.
      'Our god is merciful where theirs are not,' the Abbot said. 'You will see, Thomas.'
      "The abbot's faith was soon rewarded. That storm nearly sank us. Indeed, two of our brothers perished, washed overboard into its foamy claws. A day and a night the storm raged, yet in the end, it set us upon this very shore. I could not see the desolation of the place. Both the Abbot and my brother rejoiced and it seemed only right and proper that I join them in their prayers.
      'This very isle was to be our journey's end,' Abbot Matthew told us. 'Here St. Patrick's relics have been carefully hidden, entrusted to me in the small reliquary I have built.'
      'Then soon I shall see again.' Such was my fervor I could hardly doubt my brother's promise. I cried and clutched the Abbot's robe, hoping I was about to be delivered into the blessed light once more.
      'First you must prove your worthiness,' Abbot Matthew said, drawing me to my feet. 'Our Lord sets a task before you, one only someone without sight can fulfill.'
      'Why wasn't I told of this sooner?'
      'We feared it would distress you, brother,' John replied, taking hold of my hands.
      'You knew of this?' I asked him.
      'Aye, long before Countisbury. There is much my order and the Abbot's might disagree about, but we are still brothers of Christ and listen to each other. I had heard of the Abbot's plight not a day before I found you on the battlefield. I confess now I came to Countisbury seeking him and him alone.'
      'But I am one of you. I should have been told.'
      'Thomas, my whole life I have known you,' my brother sighed. 'Your faith has ever been balanced between expediency and skepticism. Even our father knew of your doubts. To your credit you kept them low and no word of heresy ever escaped your lips. But we all knew, brother.'
      'This is a conundrum of dangerous proportion. Something that could not be entrusted to a layman. Even the devout have been driven mad from it. So great was my desperation I even sent an emissary to your Pope Hadrian the Second,' said Abbot Matthew.
      'We fear that emissary dead by the Vikings,' my brother said. 'It is left for you and only you to discover the riddle's secret. When that is done your sight will be restored.'
      'What form does this riddle take?'
      'The form of a creature,' the Abbot answered. 'A creature that has come out of the sky.'
      I sink down upon the very headstone I had sought, my lungs aching for air, the scent of gorse almost stifling in its relentless pungency. They ask questions only my nose understands. I feel their demands twisting up inside me like some accursed demon and I wonder, as I have ever done, if the choice I made was the right one. My hand reaches down to trace the sacred Chi-rho I had carved into the stone myself.
      "The abbot led me to his tiny monastery, formed only of stone and built so low he said it could not be seen from the sea. Thus I learned of a great fireball that fell from the sky. The abbot and his few remaining monks told me how it struck the north end of the island with such force, they thought Armageddon had arrived. Though sorely frightened they searched and saw what appeared to be a shining sphere of some strange metal as it crumbled and fell into the waves.
      "Two of his monks then found a strange creature, still and lifeless, at least so they thought, upon the boulders. They brought it into the monastery, down to a chamber meant for the relics.
      'It began to stir then,' the Abbot told me. 'And it gave my poor monks such strange visions they swooned. Mad they awoke and I know not what happened exactly. Their screams we heard for a time upon the island's far side. Then nothing more.'
      'Why didn't you seal the chamber and so end the beast's life?' I asked.
      'One of the two thus maddened, swore it was Satan himself.' Pain roughened the Abbot's voice. 'Yet the other believed it was an angel and divine in origin. This is what I need you to discover. If we have indeed imprisoned Satan then all the world should be better for it. Yet in this time of heathen terror, how can it be Satan? Surely a welcome change would come over the Christian lands.'
      'But the imprisonment of one of God's Chosen Attendants would so anger our Lord he might deliver us to the heathens,' John added.
      'We must find the truth and quickly,' the Abbot said. 'For if the Vikings come upon us....'
      'They could deliver Satan to our lands and raise its banner,' I remember nodding. 'And if an angel, they could destroy it and strike a blow against our very Lord.'
      'We will accept your judgment if you will take up the task,' the Abbot said.
      'This is beyond anything I might manage,' I answered, and a tremble spread through me until I could hardly stand.
      'Have faith in yourself, Thomas,' my brother clasped a hand to my shoulder. 'This is your destiny.'
      "His touch angered me. My own brother saw fit to dangle my sight before me like a carrot afore a mule. Still it seems a betrayal, much as it did then. I was frightened and weary but what real choice did I have? I thought it must be some poor castaway, some disfigured man or woman, perhaps even one of the fairy folk in magical guise. I had no way to know the truth except to follow the Abbot's command.
      "The chamber could be reached only through a stone door half the height of a man. That door too was barred from without by an iron shaft. It took both John and the Abbot to open and close it behind me. I entered, bearing a jug of water and half a loaf of bread for the creature. The smell of the place seemed most foul, beyond rotting meat and I afeared the creature had been left too long on its own. Yet Abbot Matthew had assured me his fellow monks who had remained on the island had left both food and water just inside the door. None would venture into the darkness though.
      'In the name of the Holy Trinity do I bring you sustenance,' I called out. Water from the jug spilled across my hands so great was their trembling.
      "A sound then, a rustling like dry leaves and suddenly the bread was gone from my fingers, then the water. I moved carefully away from the noise and my leg struck something cold and hard. Almost I cried out, but it was just a chamber pot. From that came the noisome stench and I knew by its use that at least the creature had some habits of cleanliness. I bore the chamber pot to the door and passed it to my brother.
      'Creature?' I said. 'I bear you no ill will but offer tidings from all Christendom. If it is in your nature to understand the words of Man then give me some sign.'
      "Lo! The scent of the gorse shrub reached me then, serene and beautiful in its freshness. Images sprang to my mind; but they were of home and the green, pleasant land I had left. Such glory and color came with these visions I wept aloud for my country. In my mind's eye I saw again what I had longed to see and knew from this vision the creature understood.
      "Then came a new scent, the sharp tang of the sea. My mind saw the swelling gray green waves, foamy with excitement. This creature rejoiced at my presence. A new odor filled the tiny chamber, something of the Gorse and sea, yet with flavors so subtle my nose could not name. But the meaning grew clear in my mind. This creature wanted its freedom.
      'I will see what I can do,' I promised. For nothing about it reeked of evil and the visions it gave seemed noble and had touched my heart. Yet when I reached the chamber door, I found it closed. I had been confined as well.
      "I pounded with my fists then, and when I heard the scraping of stone, relief flooded through me such that I cannot describe. But it was only a narrow slot my hands discovered and then the voice of my brother.
      'Have you answered the riddle so quickly?' he asked.
      'No,' I admitted. 'But it wishes for freedom. Surely a creature that wants the light cannot be all evil. Can we not bring it forth for a short while?'
      'The Abbot will not allow it.' I heard a disdain in my brother's voice that was not customary. 'Surprised I am, Thomas. You know the stakes upon which we gamble here.'
      'Then I will talk to the Abbot, myself. Let me out, brother, and we shall all confer.'
      'I cannot,' John replied. 'By his strictest orders, you may not be released until the answer is found.'
      'I was not told of this. Come, open the door. There can be no reason to keep me prisoner.'
      'It might have possessed you if it is a demon spirit. We cannot take the chance.' Again my brother had betrayed me.
      "And try as I might, I could not dissuade him. Thus it was, oh creatures, that the darkness of my eyes spread out and took my soul as well. From then on we were both fed through the slot in the door. The food we shared, though never could I bring myself to touch my fellow prisoner.
      "After a time it became clear this creature could not talk as men do. Perhaps because of my blindness I found its odors stronger and finally came to realize it used smells as words. How it made them I did not care to know, but for my own part I spoke to it and told of my life and the world I had known. Your brother creature responded, and if we did not always understand each other, at least I think we both took comfort in company.
      "Daily our routine became, and being as I was still a monk, I took pains to make my prayers. At such moments I noticed the creature made hardly any scent at all; the odor of cold stone around us seemed different though. So long this went on I grew used to it. Daily John would bring us bread and ask what I had learned."

by Anita S. Moore © 1998. All rights reserved.

"Beyond so many strange odors there was little I could tell. So I remained imprisoned with my prisoner.
      "Beneath this stone lie the remains of the one you seek," I push myself up from the headstone and face this strange twelve who have come for their companion. The stone trembles abruptly then rises into the air. From beneath comes the smell of freshly turned earth, yet their silent circle remains unbroken. "Now you shall know the end of it.
      "The Abbot himself came, pounding on the door and it was not the accustomed time.
      'Have you an answer for me, Brother Thomas? Quickly, man, I must know the truth now.'
      'It seems a good creature,' I replied, 'taking pleasure in my company. This I know from the smells it makes.'
      'That be not enough,' the Abbot snapped. 'Satan could easily deceive you so.'
      'It maintains a respectful silence when I make my prayers,' I tried. 'Surely Satan would not be so polite.'
      'Does it pray with you?'
      'I cannot tell. There is a strange odor of stone.'
      'Then we have no choice any longer,' the Abbot replied. 'The Vikings have just beached their ship and even now, make their way here.'
      'Then let us out, I beg you, that we may escape.'
      'I cannot,' Abbot Matthew said. 'Your brother and the others have gone out to delay them as best they can. Give me your hand.'
      "I did as he bid and felt the cold smoothness of a dagger, its edge sharp, the handle composed of iron rings wrapped tightly about the shaft. I shuddered and the Abbot's next words confirmed my gravest fears.
      'You must end its life, Thomas. We cannot take the chance of aiding the pagans.'
      'But I sense no evil,' I protested. 'I am almost certain of it.'
      'Enough to risk all Christendom?'
      'How can you expect me to answer that?'
      'You are permitted to administer the Last Rites. For if it is an angel, then you deliver it to its sworn enemies who will torture and torment in their Gods' names. Have faith in me, Thomas, and do my bidding this one last time. My life too is forfeit.' Those were his final words. Yet even now I remember his screams and those of my brethren as they fell to the heathens' swords.
      "So great was my fear I cringed back against the far wall of the chamber, until something cold with extremities thicker than hairs but thinner than worms, brushed against me and my horror fairly doubled so loathsome did this touch seem. My doubts rose up and swallowed me; how could something good in nature feel so repulsive?
      "Still, I waited, not daring to strike. Then came the harsh cadence I knew was the Danish tongue, strident in savagery, raucous in its greed. They stood just without my chamber!
      "I could not move, not until I heard the scrape of stone on stone and knew my prison door opened. Perhaps fear alone moved my hand, the simple need to do something no matter how useless. Mayhap it was the Abbot's words and his willingness to die for them made me lift the dagger. Even now I do not know and my greatest fear is that I never shall. Faith or Fear, maybe you can tell me.
      "I plunged the knife into your brother being, felt it stiffen and stars of agony burst within my mind.
      'I beg forgiveness,' I whispered, 'not only from God but from you.' And I reached out, clutching this creature to me and sobbed. One last scent it made; something of ancient wood with, I think, a trace of blood, though I was not sure at the time. One last image filled my mind with greater clarity than any I have ever witnessed.
      "I saw once more! The dark raven upon the Viking's shield, the red wetness on his sword blade, even the blue of his eyes as he entered the chamber. My heart struck a thousand fearsome blows within my chest as those eyes fell upon me--then passed on.
      "I heard! The disappointment in his Danish voice and knew from that alone, he had seen nothing in the chamber. His footsteps echoed slightly as he departed and left the door wide.
      "And I felt. The last sighing breath depart my comrade whose strangely fashioned body I held in my arms. This stranger in a strange land whom I had slain. Then the world turned black around me. Even the blind may weep."
      A solid thump shakes the ground as the tombstone is replaced once more. I cannot stand alone and fall to my knees beside it. Runes I carved, myself, crease into my shin. The smell of gorse lies thick and cloying as the silence.
      "Now you know the truth of it," I cry out, waiting for their vengeance. "But tell me before I am slain. Was the scent of stone I found during my prayers with your brother the odor of these stones here or was it the smell of the tomb of Christ before He was risen? When it died in my arms was the stench of blood and wood from the Viking or was it the perfume of the Calvary Cross? If mercy be part of your creed then end my doubts before you end my life. I must know."
      The wind returns and its fury at being denied so long knifes through my rags like the bane I expected. No trace remains of the others, either by scent or feeling within my poor head. My hand reaches out to touch a headstone that feels much warmer than such could be during this dreary winter.
      Only then do I find, heaped beside it, a pile of mussels and clams, enough to fill my belly and then some. My other hand, still clenched from fear, reaches out for them but my fingers feel a soft yet bristly wonder. A single sprig of gorse, still with velvet bloom, lies upon the sacred rune of Chi-rho.
      Yet this parting brings mercy for my body alone. Should this be the all of it? No answers have they given for my soul--and I am left alone in darkness forever.