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thesmellypocket

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  1. "His entire argument resteth but on the weakest of premises: on redefining husband as active partner and wife as passive, and removing the element of the sexes. But the Flexio language doth not admit of this. For the word Vir can mean husband, but it can also mean man. And the word femina can mean simply woman, but it can also be used in the sense of a wife, especially in relation to a husband "femina sua" is used in the sense "his wife" but literally meaneth "his woman." As "Vir suus" meaneth "her husband" but literally "her man." Thus it is clear that the Flexio language clearly understandeth and defineth husband as "male" and wife as "female." This beeth naught but sophistry, a twisting of the plain meaning of the Scriptures in order to justify sins condemned by centuries of Church teaching." Writes Offa with concern to the High Pontiff, hearing of events from his trip to Churland with great distress. "The Flexio literally saith et "Ego feci caritatem viri et uxoris." Literally: "man and wife." When I return to Aevos, I must needs do all in my power to silence this madman, who has drunk the spirit of the world and the vanity of the present age over and against Divine Revelation which cometh through meek submission to His ways, rather than imposing our own desires so wantonly in this manner."
  2. [RP Post to explain my absence in game for a couple of months.] Silence. Darkness. Cold. It had for Offa become more lovely than the sweetest melody, surer than the noonday sun, warmer than the Dwarven forge. He sat within the narrow confines of his cell, but it was not a monastic cell as he had perhaps dreamed of months earlier. Nor was he clothed in a monastic habit or the cassock he had hitherto worn, but it rags. For it was a prison cell. He was travelling through the midst of the darkest of nights, and found the night more lovely than the dawn, because it was the night, when the senses and affections were quieted, when the noise and tumult and glory of this world, the tide of pomp that beats upon the high shore of Aevos, could be seen in all its fraud and folly and appeared truly as it was: nothing but vanity and a lie, yes, then, then and only then, when only the light that burned in his heart guided him, could the Divine love, the Divine wisdom and the Divine knowledge, inasmuch as it were possible in this life, could make itself known. Ah - the sheer grace! He was not disillusioned by the evils that had come to him upon his return to his distant country. On the contrary, he realised the profoundest truth yet: not only did his Beloved remain with him in the darkness, but it was chiefly and most excellently in the darkness that the Beloved revealed himself. But he knew, in the deepest recess of his heart, that he must escape and return to Aevos and complete his priestly training. But not yet. Oh noche que me guiaste! ¡oh noche amable mas que el aluorada!, ¡oh noche que juntaste amado con amada, amada en el amado transformada! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_Night_of_the_Soul Inspired by this poem by St John of the Cross
  3. "These people beeth starting a war with naught little to justify them than the accusations of daemons. They would rate it better to believe daemons than fellow Canonists. That beeth but a shallow pretext for war, revolution and schism, and they will be held accountable under the Sight of God for all the blood that must needs attend such a action. Even if such things be shown true, to do all these things on the word of a daemon, seemeth but human hotness, or e'en ibleeic envy, not divine justice." Offa states.
  4. Offa reads the missive and gets a bad feeling due to the practice of polytheism. He warns his friends that partaking in the priestly rituals of this strange people is a sin against the virtue of religion. He asks his well-connected friend Abbess Rebecca to petition some Hierarch in the Church to decree to this effect. "Their aid may be sought in terms of natural medicine, but their rituals are not to be invoked on Canonists without, in my view, automatic excommunication on any willing participant," he recommends. "To participate in the worship of anyone but the One God is to betray the Lord, and to forsake the Canonist religion with one's actions. I cannot see it as licit for any Canonist to partake in rites wherein their gods are invoked." @Blue Bear
  5. "One thing I have learned about Lytlings. They are most hardy folk." Comments Offa.
  6. Offa was alone in the monastery at Petra when he heard the church bells ring out in riotous jubilation, a fanfare erupting such as he had never hitherto heard. Instantly, he knew it could mean only one thing. It would be impossible to describe what joy filled the heart of Offa. He had prayed in the fervour of his heart, day and night, for weeks in search of precisely this outcome. So many contrite tears, heartfelt prayers, tired hours had been poured out before his God. And God had done the right: the authors of evil had been punished, the right side had won, and the people of Adria had been spared destruction. Offa, in his ecstasy, gathered together the whole of creation in his heart and brought it before the Lord, offering a hymn of thanksgiving: 1 O all ye Works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 2 O ye Angels of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 3 O ye Heavens, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 4 O ye Waters that be above the Firmament, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 5 O all ye Powers of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 6 O ye Sun and Moon, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 7 O ye Stars of Heaven, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 8 O ye Showers and Dew, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 9 O ye Winds of God, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 10 O ye Fire and Heat, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 11 O ye Winter and Summer, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 12 O ye Dews and Frosts, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 13 O ye Frost and Cold, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 14 O ye Ice and Snow, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 15 O ye Nights and Days, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 16 O ye Light and Darkness, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 17 O ye Lightnings and Clouds, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 18 O let the Earth bless the Lord : yea, let it praise him, and magnify him for ever. 19 O ye Mountains and Hills, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 20 O all ye Green Things upon the Earth, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 21 O ye Wells, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 22 O ye Seas and Floods, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 23 O ye Whales, and all that move in the Waters, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 24 O all ye Fowls of the Air, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 25 O all ye Beasts and Cattle, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 26 O ye Children of Men, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 27 O let Oren bless the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 28 O ye Priests of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 29 O ye Servants of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 30 O ye Spirits and Souls of the Righteous, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 31 O ye holy and humble Men of heart, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. 32 O Horen, Malin, Urguan and Krug, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever.
  7. In light of the coming battle, Offa continues his penance on behalf of the Adrian people in the catacombs of the church at Veletz, hoping that even in the inevitable defeat which was to come, the victors would not utterly wipe out the Raevir peoples from the earth, and that the people would be spared. He had heard that the Adrians had been labelled an "accursed race" and therefore that their enemies planned to destroy them utterly. He was sympathetic to Covenant cause but still did not want to see the destruction of the Adrians.
  8. "vos non crispate manus in ira, neque in invidia, neque in aliis peccatis." Liber Virtutis, V, IX. The purpose of this thesis is not to discount all forms of righteous anger, or all forms of violence. But it is to offer some cautions about the excesses I believe many in the Church have fallen into. It would be of course wholly wrong to condemn the Flamenist school wholesale. But an exaggerated distortion of the Flamenist school which is not balanced by faith and reason, and, above all, charity, can be spiritually ruinous for many, especially those that love anger and violence. In this I do not less than the Prophet Horen himself who said: "Raise not your hands in anger, nor in envy, nor in any other sin." Or in Owyn who said, disapprovingly: "For I find you seek power in wrath." And: "You have conjured up...A vengeful host." I. The Origin of Anger. From Thence Proceedeth Danger. That Vengeance Belongeth to God. Owyn slayeth Harren. Appearances of Anger in Scripture: All Negative. I.THE FLEXIO WORDS "Ira" and "indignatio", both translated as "wrath" or "vengeance" appear many times in the Sacred writings. We find that in the vast majority of cases, they appear in a negative way: turning people away from God, causing sins that cry to Heaven for vengeance, and undermining virtue and unity. For example, the words interpreted as "wrath" (ira and indignatio) appear five times in the Scroll of Gospel, and all 5 times, they appear as an evil thing. They cause sin, schism and weakness in the body of mankind, and drive the descendants away from the path of virtue. Krug's ira is seen as a curse inflicted upon him by Iblees, a curse that is tempered, but not removed, by valour. Even in the Scroll of Auspice, where, in the victory over and destruction of evil, we would expect to see anger in a better light, even there it is portrayed as a temptation from the Enemy for mankind. I believe that this prophecy is always being fulfilled inasmuch as the way of anger and wrath represent a temptation ever-present before the eyes of the Church. Origin of Anger II.What is the origin and definition of anger? Anger may be understood as a passion of the sensitive appetite. It is essentially may be defined as the desire for revenge. When we perceive an injury to ourselves or others, we desire justice. We desire that this wrong be avenged. Now this desire is not always illegitimate, since it is lawful, in accordance with right reason, to punish injustice. It becomes sinful when it is sought to wreak vengeance upon one who has not deserved it, or to a greater extent than it has been deserved, or in conflict with the dispositions of law, or from an improper motive. Likewise, anger is sinful when there is an undue vehemence in the passion itself, whether inwardly or outwardly. Anger can be coloured by envy, which is a sorrow at another's good. We perceive that another has a good that we think belongs to us. And thus, anger is often a fruit of envy. Dangers of Anger III.The danger comes from the fact that our passions are not in accordance with reason, and often contrary to charity. Those who act in anger often claim to be acting as instruments of God's vengeance, righting the wrongs of the nation and world, working for God's justice. But the question is: when does God's justice end and MAN's anger begin? It seems to me that we should be very cautious about using anger, as any passion. The many times in Scripture when the anger of Man and the descendants caused grave evil are witness to this danger. Even Owyn fell to kinslaying due to anger. Now, the question is: Are you greater than Owyn? And if anger was strong enough to make Owyn fall into grave sin, what chance do YOU have of ruling it? If Owyn could not walk the thin line between justice and anger, can you? Owyn sought God's justice; he instead worked Owyn's anger, and thus perverted God's justice. Thus it is evident that the anger of man worketh not the justice of God. Any man who indulges in anger is playing with fire and is prone to sin. And I have noticed that Men engaged in political affairs often use God's justice as a justification. They write God's Name in their fancy titles but refuse to show His mercy to any; they exercise their own anger and desire for revenge and claim that it is God's anger, not their own. IV.This is almost more true with righteous anger, that is, when the injustice suffered is real and not merely perceived, and the desire for anger proceeds from a desire for good, than with anger that is purely iniquitous. For if a man perceive that he or another hath been injured, and is convinced that he is in the right, then for him to temper his anger is even more difficult, because he will justify his rage to himself. Thus, anger can lead to an increase in pride, in which we make ourselves judge, jury and executioner of others. We believe that we are the agents of justice and that we can revolt against superiors, crush inferiors and destroy equals. V.And as I have hitherto explained, the line is thin between acting rightly out of justice, and acting purely on the basis of passion or an inordinate desire for revenge. This desire for revenge's greatest danger is that it is without mercy. It is the nature of mercy to pardon and spare; but how can one consumed with thoughts of revenge act in accordance with mercy? Thus the revolt and pride of anger becomes a revolt against the very mercy of God. We Recognise that None Stand Upright Before God VI.One Psalm in the Liturgy of the Churlish Monks saith: "If Thou, O Lord, wilt be quick to mark what is done amiss, who would stand it?" Thus, we know that if God acted according to the fullness of the vengeance whereby He might punish, we would be altogether destroyed. However, we ask that God spare us His anger and give us instead His mercy. This recognition of our own sinfulness before God can be a potent remedy against anger. For realising one's own frailty, he will be less keen to condemn others: for if he ask that sinners be utterly destroyed, he is petitioning against none other than himself. St. Pius of Sutica cautions against this type of anger when he wrote: "I have since learnt this: that any man who refuses to pity his brother when he falls into a serious fault, shows himself to be in great danger of an imminent fall himself. For pride refuses to admit weakness, and hence, as a hot-headed general is easily lured into ambushes, so Iblees can easily overcome those who are assured of their own strength. I do not mean we should not punish transgressors because we ourselves are guilty; but even there we should say: “Thank God I have not done worse”, and punish as men who hate sin, but love sinners. Even when the order of society necessitates the death penalty, Confession should on no account be neglected to be offered to the criminal, so that he who was failed according to the justice of men, might triumph according to the mercy of God - Thy mercy, which endureth forever."-Confessions, Book 1, 4.9. VII.The basic principle is this: he who refuses to show mercy will not have mercy shown him. Conclusion: It is better to err on the side of mercy. IX.I will end this thesis with a practical note. How can we know where to draw the "thin line" between anger and justice, as I have indicated? I cannot answer this in a short thesis, but I can provide a useful tool for discernment: that it is better to err on the side of mercy and gentleness. That is, it is better to come before the Judge and have to face the flaw of being too gentle than having been too severe. Put away anger: but show yourselves courteous, honourable, modest, merciful, humble and pure. Exercise yourselves by putting on the bowels of justice, gentleness and sweetness.
  9. I want you to know that I read your posts in Bishop Sheen's voice

  10. IN-CHARACTER Name: Offa of Evesham Age: 24 Race: Human (Churlish) Service: Priest Where do you wish to serve?: Haense OUT-OF-CHARACTER Username: TotusTuusEgoSum Discord: totustuusegosum
  11. "Just because God be'th beyond human reason, it doth not follow that all religious claims are automatically erroneous; nor doth it follow that Man cannot receive Divine Revelation. For whilst all religious language ultimately falleth short of the Godhead, it really doth still pertain to Him; since God is the Author of both reason and visible and invisible creation. The Creator may be known from creation; the painter may be known by his painting. Not comprehended, but known in a certain limited way. And so it be an imperfect knowledge, through a glass, darkly..." Responds Offa. "Hence from the knowledge of sensible things the whole power of God cannot be known; nor therefore can His essence be seen. But because they are His effects and depend on their cause, we can be led from them so far as to know of God whether He exists, and on to know of Him what must necessarily belong to Him, as the first cause of all things, exceeding all things caused by Him."
  12. "What have the Sons of Men forgot?" Laments Offa. "It beeth not so much about whether the Duke b'th sincere or not, or it beth that but in part. For if this war beeth feoht to its last drop, many innocents schael perish, as wars do occasion. Can the persecutors of war in troth say that, once the Duke hath reconciled with the Church, that there b'th a cause weighty enough to outweigh the evils that war must needs occasion? Can any say thus?"
  13. Offa, still staying at the monastery in Petra, found comfort in the Venerable Cardinal Boniface's Thesis on War and Mercy. "Boniface sought peace, not necessarily for the sake of the wrongdoers themselves, but for the sake of all the ordinary innocent people caught in the matter. For while it is a legitimate good to dethrone the wicked, there are also those bound by ties of nationality, fealty and family to fight alongside or under evil men, who must needs also be swept under. Thus good men seek peace for their sake. Ultimately many thousands of innocents die in war, and its continuation only in the rarest instance can be accounted an evil worth suffering in proportion to any good attained. P.S. My writing in standard Common seems to be improving. P.P.S. I apologise for not following on into your service as I desired. I am currently at the monastery since I was recently baptised and seeking to learn more about Canonism. Please keep me in your prayers." He writes (in his best formal, non-Churlish Common) to his friend Walter Weiss. @SethWolf
  14. Offa, recent convert to Canonism and a foreigner to Aevos, was disillusioned by the War. When he arrived in Aevos he expected to find mankind united and peaceful. The bitter reality had meant bitter disappointment. He had wanted someone to blame for all the violence and bloodshed. He thought of all the fine men who had died. He was halfway through giving vent to anger at the rulers of Men, when he remembered the misdeeds of his own youth that had driven him from his native land. Could a man without mercy expect himself to receive it? He realised that Man needed the same thing that he wanted for himself: "O God, I ask not Thee to weigh merits, but to grant pardon." And so he wanted for others what he desired for himself. He then gave way to begin doing penance for the excommunicants and the ferrymen in the monastery at Petra, chanting penitential Psalms day and night. If these men would not do penance and reconcile and bring peace, he would offer penance to God on their behalf. He wrote a brief note to the High Pontiff, having no idea if it would be read: "Your Holyness, FORASMUCHE as thu haste written thus, I woulde responde. If it please thee, I do penitence dailie on behalfe of poore sinners. I ask that thu wouldst, in Godes Name, be Mercyfulle as He is Mercyfulle. They saye thatte the Church be a Mother; lette it appear so. Lette my penance entreate on their behalfe. Lette their punishmente be lessened inasmuche as I take some of it uponne myselfe. I woulde aske as a sojourner to these landes that thu wouldst listen notte unto the voice of the bellicose and bloodthirstie, and remaine propitious onto themme thatte go astraye and seeke to returne to the folde. For I am myselfe weake and worthie of condemnacion and woulde not bringe it uponne myselfe by wishing it uponne others. Thy humble servante, Offa."
  15. Offa of Evesham was a recent arrival in Aevos, and understood but little of the politics or workings of the War. But he soon heard folk speaking about the death of the great knight, and his heart was stirred by accounts that emphasised his manly virtue. And so Ser Andrik, in death, took to himself a place of veneration in the heart of a man who knew him not in life.
  16. Offa, a recent convert to Canonism, is glad to hear of the existence of the monastery: for the religion of his native country is built around the monastery, and it is easier for him to comprehend than the parish church.
  17. "Ic wilnode weorthfullice to libbanne tha hwile the ic lifede. And aefter minum life than monnum to laefanne the aefter me waeren min gemynd on godum weorcum." Hengst, Father and King of the Churls. ("In short, I wanted to LIVE WORTHILY as long as I lived, and leave behind, for the people who would come after me, the memory of me in good works.") "Men of Churland! Oaths ye have taken! Now, fulfil them all!"-King Phillipe of the Churls. I The words of the sacred oath every Churlish boy makes at the Taking of the Shield chipped away at the mind of OFFA, each clause piercing his heart like so many wounding darts. He was now in the Weiss inn in Haense; thus no longer, to his regret, was he too cold to think of them. For now he was sat by a warm fire and they pierced him more keenly than cold any cold. "Lette notte he who fleeth in the fas of the enemie presume to call hymself a manne," one dart flies and hits the mark exact. "Become thyself a warrior, or notte at all", and another, and the last, O so dreadfully aimed "Be preparyed to looke deathe in the fayce, or call not thyselfe a Churlish Manne of the Fyrd." Offa could only sit and take this internal beating, astray and scattered abroad, with not one to call "friend." He had sometimes considered suicide as the remedy for his dishonour. He would look upon death as a release. But his religion taught him that to God alone belonged the right to take life, that his life was not wholly his own, and that he would have to render an account. O, how terrible and dread an account...So Offa thought naught or seldom of God, for the thought dreaded him only, and he was wont to put it off, although, not atheistic, it was belief enough to prevent the Langseax from plunging into his own stomach. Suicide was a definitive action, and Offa was not prepared for definitive action. But he could indefinitely postpone his ancestors' call "werotfullice to libbanne", by seeking remedy in drink. He could not help thinking, he could not bear thinking...he needed to stop the thoughts that accused him, that called him not a man, a traitor, a man who knows only how to flee, for, according to the oath he had sworn, that was who he was. He had fled in the face of the enemy. But not just once. Was not his entire life but a constant act of flight? Often he had wanted to do the right; often he had found himself wanted and reproached himself into in-potency. He looked in the mirror and saw only cowardice and contempt. The bar was empty. "Cowin' bar be empty." He grumbled. He heard some words of stern command in a woman's voice from the other side of the bar, and a little girl of tan complexion came out and offered him a drink, informing him that drinks were free. "Drinks be free? Sprechst thu truly?" He said. "Somefin' strong." He asked for. He wanted to be drunk fast, to forget his woes, even if for so brief a time. "Ea can mix!" She said, mixing 'Carrion Black' with a curious, clear, alcoholic liquid. She leant forward and smelt it. "Da, very strong! I call it the Weiss Mix!" The Churl supposed it was this 'vodka' which hitherto he had only but heard: for the Churls are aliens to spirits and drink only ales, and sometimes Auverginian wines. Wanting to be the more quickly inebriated, he downed a good deal of it: and at last felt faint. Whatever sense of manly honour that had not been crushed by melancholy was ashamed, for he feared he had been vanquished by the native drink of the country. He did not feel good; he revolted backwards and vomited. "Ea have killed you!" The girl shouted. "Papa will know what to do!" As she went to fetch her father, Offa managed to sit down. His whole body seemed to be in revolt and convulusion, and as he attempted to search for some rational explanation, he found himself really believing that he would die. He could no longer be so indefinite about mortal matters by resorting to drink: death confronted him. Did he really WANT to die? He found that death, abstractly considered, seemed a good release. But, faced with it, he found himself desiring to live and not to die. He did not want to go to his Maker so ill-provisioned; he did not want to die in so unworthy a way; he did not want to die having left behind so unworthy a life; and however unworthy his life had proved, he found still he would rather live it than not. Before him flashed his parents, and how all hope of reconciliation with them would be forever lost. Those few folk in his life who had showed him kindness and had placed their trust in him. He knew that, for all his folly, if the Void took him now, a narrative, a story, a PERSON, something beautiful, something unique, would be lost forever, and he found the whole fibre of his being crying out against that dreadful prospect. For however disfigured the image of God and dirtied the blood of his fathers was in him, His image it was and the blood of Hengst and Aethelflaed it was, just as truly. And he realised that it was not God's will for that image to be lost nor would his ancestor Hengst give up easily on his own flesh and blood. All this he did not articulate in his panicked mind, but it was no less present in seed. Passing phantasms of his old life flashed in his mind as the door thrust open. "Come, ea will bring you to papa." The girl helped him to his feet, and unsteadily he went forth: outside stood an impressive, grim but friendly man who wore the plate of a great knight. "Take this, comrade!" He cried. It was a black substance. Charcoal it was.. He then drunk it entirely, and found himself, vomiting, and them vomiting, vomiting, and vomiting more. Then he stood and seemed to stop for a moment. Then vomiting, and vomiting, and vomiting more. "Push, my comrade, let it all out." He urged. And, with one final act of the will, he let out one final bout of 'yellow bile' upon the snow-covered Hanseti earth. He was not to die. Was he ever really in danger of death? Offa could not say, but he certainly believed he had been, and so credited the man with the saving of his life. "Well done, Comrade. Next round of drinks is on the house." "What did you give him?" Offa, having sat down to recover, heard this words from the man who had saved him. "WHAT! You give him to drink that of which we use to clean the FLOORS!?" The girl was apologetic, but Offa was forgiving. The girl certainly had not killed him: on the contrary, perhaps she had saved him. II "This people love to drink and eat without ceasing. Are they not little more than Great Hobbits?"-An ancient author on the Churls. Offa spent the next few hours recovering, sat down at the same fire at which he had been reproaching himself so shortly before. And whilst this melancholia had not magically disappeared, he was now focused on reflecting on what had just happened. But that did not take long. Soon, the public house, denoted by the strange and foreign-sounding word 'tavern', began to fill with folk of all kinds. Offa once more came to his senses and began to take in the scene around him. To him, it was a thing remarkable. Completely had he misjudged the nature of the 'tavern.' It was not a place for young and old men to get drunk on hard drink as he had thought it, rather around him was a sketch of the whole community: women, children, soldiers; civilians. He released what it was: it was like the Churlish country pub he himself had worked at when he was the girl's age. A strange feeling of nostalgia took him. It felt, in the strangest way possible, like a small piece of home, a piece he had taken so so long to find. He was the only man of his nation, to his estimation, in the entire city: and yet it felt like some giant had taken up a little piece of his native country, ripped it from the country and replanted it on Hanseti soil. A veritable troop of little girls petitioned the veteran who had saved him for various childish drinks, and soon the girl, who introduced herself as Reza, (Properly, Lady Reza), offered him one of their orange beverages. Offa politely partook. The girls were soon engaged in childish conversation and controversy about whether a toy was really alive or not. Riveting as that doubtless was, Offa found his gaze attracted to a soldier who came walking in. He must have been of Waldenian stock, and Offa was glad to find the language so similar to the Old Churlish with which he had been raised. This was even more fascinating to him. He immediately engaged him in conversation, interested no so much in what he said, but how he carried himself. Here was a serving soldier who carried himself with gravity and courtesy. Around him, little children played. It was like...He was a man of the Fyrd. Respectable, honourable, welcome in a respectable, honourable and welcome place. He did not think that foreign soldiers had this mettle; for indeed in his own native country the only foreign soldiers were mercenaries, men little better than criminals. He was interrupted by Reza, who asked him a question that took him off guard: "Sir, do you have a job?" She asked. "No." The lonesome drifter replied. "I think that, in return for almost killing you, maybe my papa could give you a job." Offa did not really know what to make of this - was this little girl really capable of getting him a job? But he found himself unable to refuse such a brilliantly childish request. And he had searched in his heart for a name to give the man who had saved him, for noble-hearted and gentle and brave was he, who had received Offa with such courtesy and honour, and Offa could only think of the word Aelfwine, a name which is a term of the highest honour among his people. "I will serve this Aelfwine," he decided, and soon after, the man, a certain Walter Weiss, offered to take him into his service. But that name soon drifted from Offa's mind: soon, the name and title Aelfwine took hold of his mind in relation to him. And so Offa had stumbled into this 'tavern' from the cold - but finding the Hanseti air so cold, he found that God, to make up for this, had made the hearts of the people warm. III "Nihil operi Dei praeponitur."-St. Benedict, Founder of Churlish Monasticism. Offa knelt and wept in a chapel full of skulls. He knew that before he entered upon any service, he could no longer trust himself to do so. It was the first time he had entered a church or chapel since he had fled the monastery as a boy-novice all those years ago. That place had been more like hell than heaven, and had been the key that opened the door to the ruination of all that he had once loved and known. And there was more than this to be overcome. His dread of God prevented him from taking a step into that place. He had proven so unworthy, he fell so short, and would it not be supreme arrogance and pride to expect mercy from God in his state? But he had happened upon a 'Mech-Priest', and, being a man of some learning himself, could not find a 'way out' of the Priest's syllogistic and unambiguous speech. And so he half-forced himself to follow the Mech-Priest to the Church. He knew that he needed mercy and redemption. But he was too far from his own country to access the customary rites of his own people to obtain that pardon. And so, in a victory that cost him greatly in terms of overcoming fear and doubt, he had petitioned the Mech-Priest for Baptism. And so it was. By gratuitous grace and whole plenitude of mercy, washed had he been of sin and wrongdoing. And, as the penitent widow had once clung to the feet of Benedict, he insisted, he demanded that God remain, that He abide, that He leave him not. He had a lot to catch up on in respect of God. But whereas before he clinged to the edge of the church entrance, now he knelt before the very sanctuary. "I have always fled. I have lost my honour. Lord, help me to regain my honour in Thee. All romance and bardesong is echoed but flatly and hath gone clean out of mine lif: Help me to live again, and naught as ever I lived even before." "Lord, Thu know'st what I have done and who I be. But thu shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed, thu shaelt wash me, and I shall be mad whiter than snow. For it is said that bist glorified most in stooping and showing mercy. O, what a pardon, for what a height of virtue can I not fail to hope? For I perceive not more wretched than myself, and so I think that Thu shalt raise me up in this wise, in that for none shalt Thu have stooped for none as Thu wilt have stooped for me. Thus will I glorify thee, in my weakness... Thu hast entered me into Thy covenant. Thu hast made me a partaker of the flame, of Owyn's flashing Aelfsward, and given me a crown incorruptible. Lord, how dare I approach Thee, I who have been a stranger to prayer all these years. But Thu hast promised, nay, Thu hast COMMANDED me be virtuous, and Thu commandest not that which is impossible, but, in giving the ordinance, give also the power to put the selfsame into effect. Thu hast given me a dignity beyond man's bearing. Therefore I ask Thee... MAKE ME WORTHY, O GOD. MAKE ME WORTHY." And Offa thought that perhaps he had been heard. The howsoever, whensoever and in what form soever in which the prayer would be fulfilled he knew not. But he began to hope that one day, in some unknown wise, in some better time, would be fulfilled the words: "Ic wilnode weorthfullice to libbanne tha hwile the ic lifede. And aefter minum life than monnum to laefanne the aefter me waeren min gemynd on godum weorcum." Even in respect of the man in the mirror. ((Thanks to all those who interacted with Offa the other day and thus helped to shape this story. I wrote this to reflect on how he was shaped by his arrival in Haense.))
  18. LETTERS BETWEEN FATHER AND SON: BOOK I ABOUT THESE LETTERS Malgath of Sutica (1610-1803) was an Archivist in the Library of the Silver State, specialising in the study of languages. This exposure to other cultures led him to doubt High Elven ideas, a doubt which can be read about in the first two books of his autobiography, "IMPURE: The Confessions of Pius of Sutica" (Book I) and "ILLUSION: The Confessions of Pius of Sutica." (Book II) This doubt led him to embrace the extraordinary life of an itinerant philosopher, travelling the kingdoms and principalities of the world in his burning desire for truth. In it, we see the famous style of author begin to emerge. The following correspondence between father (Gildas) and son (Malgath) takes place during the 'itinerant philosopher' stage of his life. At this stage, Malgath knows that he cannot return to live the life of a respectable High Elf, but nor is he sure yet of where to go or what to do. Gildas attempts to bring his son back into the fold, and attempts to get to the truth about rumours that his son is carousing abroad and engaging in wanton racial intermixing. Gildas does not believe the rumours; he thinks that his son is still reclaimable, that, if he returns now, he will be punished for his dissent, but not destroyed. As you may be able to tell, the two writers are fairly intellectual, and their discussions show the inseparable intermix of the personal and of the philosophic. For how many fathers express grief at son having 'a posteriori' rather than 'a priori' objections? It may be singular in the history of parenting. His mother's letters, more personal and less intellectual, have not been found. -The Publisher. LETTER I. Gildas to Malgath. HOW GILDAS SOUGHT KNOWLEDGE OF HIS SON'S PLIGHT. TO my most prized, most dear, most precious possession of my inmost bosom: My son. Yes, these are rather affectionate tones. You have never heard me write or speak thus. But those missed words unsaid or unwritten over a century of darkness, a coldness in fatherly affection which I mistook for noble stoicism, I make up for now. O trials and tribulations of our ancestors! Can any of them equal what I suffer now? All they that pass by, let them look at me and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow. I feel the former losses of life are less than a drop in the ocean, for a father to lose his son, not in honourable or noble death, but by this act of apostasy from our ancestral ways, which all our kinsfolk tell me you have committed. Worse than death! Is my son dead to me? Is he clean gone? Has he forgotten his father and mother forever? They tell me that you ARE, that you HAVE! For the first time in my entire life, tears, tears flow, yea, and in great abundance. MY SON! I formed you like so much clay...Does it now hate its potter? And yet, steadfastly I deny them, remaining loyal to you. I shall not believe until their words have been confirmed from your very tongue or pen. Which is more, what they say contradicts itself. In my emotional whirl I have blessed logic even yet to remember the Law of Non-Contradiction. For some tell me that you have fully embraced the life of an Impure: one tells me that you have married a human female, others that, nay, you have a veritable harem of them, and that in a thousand cities. Others say that you pass the nights in drunkenness. But yet others tell me that it is the opposite: you have become a kind of what the sons of Men call a 'friar', or even a 'hermit', wearing the clothes of a poor Man and running yourself silly in the countryside and desert. The last one is most innocuous and of the greatest pain - that you have gone to write a great chronicle, or an history, or some philological work, abroad? And tell me, son, did you have to go abroad to do that, if you are doing it? Did you have to leave your poor little mother without a word? Her ONLY son, to run away and do something you could just as well have done HERE? And so the former too are at least intelligible to me, I can see you ran to preserve yourself, for none of us could accept those lifestyles among us, but the last? There is no rhyme or reason to it! So, what is it, son? Why have you left? What are you doing? Are you cast off from our country and kinsfolk for good? Tell me it is not so, tell me that yet you can return. Tell me that you must submit to the gaol, or that even it is severe enough to make you banished. But do not tell me you have done something worthy of death. Do not become as one who goes down into the Pit. Shall I be forced to denounce you to protect your mother? For if your manners are grown so scandalous, what shall it be said of us, save we cast you off as the goods of a merchantman are cast off into the wild and wasteful ocean? Shall we not sink, if we do not so? Gladly would I sink, but at least tell me if I must sink, and why I must sink. Shall I ever hear these words from your lips? At least let me read them in that ugly doctor's handwriting that I know to be of the one whom I love most. Your nephew, the other Gildas, is oblivious to what takes place. I told him you are away to study. He says "When my uncle returns, he will teach me how to speak many languages, just like himself." Do you remember when you first started to take an interest in the Library? You would spend whole nights among the scrawls and scrolls and scatterings, and come back home learning a score of ancient alphabets! Before long, you even far surpassed me in rhetorical skill, and I was glad for it. And, Lithoniel waits for you like a maid at her loom. If you have not grown too accustomed to the passing winds that are the lives of Men, you know she has patience to wait, she has not a heart of passing affection like those pathetic human women you have come to know. But I hear that others seek her hand, and, unless you return soon, it could no longer be yours to claim...SHE COULD BE YOURS! You had the brightest future ahead of you, son... I have failed. I am sorry. But failing in the past shall not prevent my duty in the present. You must write back to me. You must tell me the truth. And you must return to your father's side, where you belong. Your very pitiful, very sorrowful and very oppressed 'abba', Gildas. LETTER II. Malgath to Gildas. HOW MALGATH DENIED EMBRACING IMPURE WAYS BUT AFFIRMED THAT HE COULD NOT RETURN. Father... The Hobbits say "It is vain to seek the counsel of High Elves, for they will say both 'yes' and 'no.'" I am afraid, despite the great pains it causes me and the greater pains it will cause you, I will have to play the part of a true Mali'aheral and answer both 'yes' and 'no.' So, at first it was a human wife, and then it became a score of them? Some kinsmen are they to say such things, but it does honour to you, my father, that you did not credit them and waited for my reply for so long. Of course I deny these rumours. May they be far from me. I am unmarried, and have not a wife of any race, let alone a score of them, a harem. Am I committed to what is noble and good in what our ancestors taught? Yes. But, am I willing, am I even able, to return? No. I must say no. I am sorry. I am wrestling, wrestling, wrestling with reality, with truth, with the great big Objective, with all the weak little powers of my own subjectivity. There is no other course open to me but to fight it out. To wrestle. Else, abandoning the objective, the subjective, myself, who I am, will forever be lost. I am holding myself, like water, in my hands. And if I open my fingers out, I could not hope to find myself again. You see, our ancestors told us to seek for many things, and they told us to seek, most of all, for truth. Was it not you who taught me the primacy of this among all the customs of the State? I have seen things which I cannot unsee. The evidence of my eyes, of my reason, tells me that I must go on. Tells me that something is wrong, deeply wrong, with the way we go about things, with what we believe. And so, in alienating myself in this fashion I am not betraying our ancestors in any wise soever, nor do I betray you. You see, if I return, I will no longer be who I am, no longer your son, no longer a true High Elf. All I am doing is taking the great commandment of our fathers, the greater part, and weighing it against the lesser. The greater tells me that I must seek for the truth. The lesser tells me to reject the supernatural, the transcendent, out of hand. So I take the greater and find that it outweighs the lesser. I am following what is truest, what is noblest, what is highest, and weighing it against that which is of lesser import. Shall Larihei be honoured by a pure body but an impure mind? Shall I take her lesser part to the cost of her greater? I cannot embrace the lesser without rejecting the greater: thus in embracing your lesser part I reject the greater and nobler part of you. That is why I cannot return home. Home would not be home. Father! You have not failed. It is because you raised me this way, that, at the longest of last, I begin to live. Did you want to raise one to remain a babe forever? Did you not want to raise an adult? If you love me, you must let me go to be who I am meant to be. You raised me to love the truth and never to lie. I cannot live with a lie. I cannot live with what I know. I cannot return and be the one you raised me to be, the one our ancestors would have loved. Do not worry! I am not a Canonist, nor do I plan to become one, let alone a Friar. There is insufficient evidence to convict me of the truth of their religion. But, you see? I have let it slip. You, and the whole of our family and kinsfolk and race with you, would reject Canonism ipso facto, without beginning to consider its claims, for you reject it a priori. I do not, only a posteriori. I have become open to the great Mystery, the great Objective. Our race will not countenance anything inexplicable to reason. By this wise, we deny the existence of anything beyond our reason. We thus seat ourselves as the supreme beings, denying anything that could possibly be greater than our ability to understand it. We exalt our reason beyond reality. We make our subjectivity greater than objectivity. Tell me, is this logical? Or has there been a thorough empirical study of this matter? Is there any basis whatsoever for this belief beyond sheer racial narcissism? That is why I say I am wrestling with the great 'Objective.' And, until I have wrestled, I cannot return. It may be that it is as you say, father. It may be that I return a greater proponent of our ideals that anyone who ever lived, in that I was able to reconcile the greater and the lesser, which no Mali of any kind hitherto has done, even our among our own. It may be that I emerge from this wrestling contest, this battle of ideas, this gladiatorial arena of philosophy, as a champion, a champion of everything I once stood for. It may not be, but it may be. But, so far, I have embraced the GREAT MYSTERY, I have said: perhaps there is something greater than my own ability to comprehend it. I do not say that there is something contrary to reason; but there may be something beyond reason. And I must find out what it is, or what they are, or what he or she is, or whether 'it is' at all. Until I do, I remain, and yes, I fight the battle of a philosopher. I am a philosopher. That is my vocation in life. To love wisdom and search for it more that gold, or jewels, precious metals. Can these make a man happy? No. Not in the thousand years we must live upon this earth. That is the life I live. Not hedonism, as you have heard. But philosophy. Am I living the life you fear I live? No. Am I living a life you would desire me not to live? Yes. And so we are back to the yes and no that the little folk accuse us of. You are my father and I love you. I love my little momma as well. But if I return, I won't be your child. I won't be true to what you yourself have taught me. If you want your son to be your son, if you want your son to reflect what is noble in the both of you, you must bid me remain as I am. I honour and love you more than any creatures upon this earth. And it is because I honour you that we are parted. It is painful. I miss you terribly. But I do not believe that this adversity is without purpose and profit. I do not quite understand how or why I feel this way, that there is profit in this. But it is not an irrational feeling. It is a superrational one. Your very sorry, very loving, and tender Little Prince of Taliyna’maehr, Malgath. LETTER III. Gildas to Malgath. HOW GILDAS, OPTIMISTIC of HIS SON'S RECLAMATION, ASKED MALGATH TO EXPLAIN HOW HE CAME TO DOUBT. Dear son, How strange is this feeling of joy mixed with grief! Joy to know you are unharmed; grief to know you do not plan a return. Joy to know you still can be reclaimed; grief to know that you have no desire to be. Joy to know you have not embraced any superstition; grief to know that you reject it only a posteriori and not a priori. While I hope, I live, and while I live, I hope. "It may not be, but it may be." It MAY be! It may BE! IT may be! May it be? Yes! It MAY BE! YES, it may! Look! Come to your senses! (I am one to talk.) You never told me of your...doubts. Do you think that any serious thinking person is without them? Son, you could have come to me about them. Yes, even patriotic, even traditionalist, even as Silver-as-the-Silver-State-Gildas would have been willing to help. I appeared too Silver in your eyes, and you were afraid to come, dazed by the pretence of an overwhelming glimmer of the Sun on that silver, and now you have looked for answers elsewhere. But it is too late for regrets. I may as well tell you now that doubts and difficulties are by no means alien to me. Yes, you read correctly, even me. I cannot bring back the past and get the young Malgath to come to me at the first growth of these intellectual weeds, but, now that the garden of your mind is full of them, I think it may be time for a little trimming. Come, let Malgath the Dialogist as I used to call you, come forth. You may best me at mere rhetoric. But do you think that anyone can answer your doubts better than I? You are right, son. You cannot abandon what you call 'the greater part' this, I concede. But the lesser part may yet, as you yourself admit, be rescued. Is that not what dialectics is? To take the greater and reconcile it with the lesser? Reasoning from the universal to the particular? That, as you know, are we well schooled in, and soon can deliver you from intellectual malady. If you truly love me, and truly desire to return, I beg you to explain how it is you came to this impasse, and, walking together, let us both emerge champions of Progress and Health as you said may be. Then, can you and may you not RETURN? Oh, some punishment may you face. But not death. Not death and perhaps not banishment, but the path to be accepted again...to re-gain citizenship. I await your response to my challenge, O Malgath the Dialogist. Your father, Gildas the Logician. Letter IV. Malgath to Gildas. HOW MALGATH EXPLAINED HIS INTELLECTUAL and PERSONAL JOURNEY TO THIS POINT. Most redoubted father (and most famous Logician), You have asked me to explain, in order that you may reclaim me, as you would suppose, for Larihei. I accept and embrace this challenge, as truly, I desire to be reclaimed. I would have the greater and the lesser reconciled; I would possess both Larihei the lover of truth and Larihei the lover of the Silver Laws, if I could. I will prefer the former to the latter, the greater to the lesser, but will possess both if I may. And so, if there were any means by which both could be reconciled, readily would I take that means and more readily yet would I return home, whatever punishment the State would lay out for me to undergo, for my love of truth, and of my family, are greater than my fear of undergoing pains. Thus, I shall unfold the history of how I departed from the 'Lesser Larihei' in favour of the 'Greater' one. I.The Sense of Disturbance. Of Hypocrisy. My first rejections of some of our traditions did not come from this place of love. Originally, it came from pride and self-righteousness. For, inasmuch as personal reason is exalted as the highest quality, my own exercise thereof became my constant preoccupation. Viz., what I thought my reason told me, that Purity was a complete scam (DO not be angry, I do not hold this view any longer), was always going to be higher than any submission to an external authority. There was a sense in me that something was wrong. We were supposed to be pure, but we were not. That I only noticed when I grew up. Video meliora proboque, detiora sequor, said one man. [Publisher: "The better things I see, and I praise them, but it is the baser that I follow."] And: non enim, quod volo, hoc ago, sed quod odi, illud facio...Non enim, quod volo bonum, facio, sed, quod nolo malum, hoc ago. ["For I do not do as I would, but what I hate, I do...For the good I would, I do not, but the evil I would not, that I do."] Looking at these statements, nay, in my very heart, it seemed to me a much more realistic estimation of myself and those around me than I had hitherto seen. We strived for purity, and yet fell short. There was some manner of disease in our wills, which prevented us from loving what we ought to love, and prevented us from doing what we ought to do, but instead, make us take a perverse pleasure in what we ought not to do. There was something in us, a beast in us, rebellious passions that refused to submit to reason. Barbarism was not something behind us; barbarism was something beneath us. Impurity was not something brought here as some foreign force into the public forum; Impurity was and is something within us, almost seeming native to our soil. I looked around and I saw hypocrisy. I saw men who fell short and condemned others for falling short; men who preached and did not practise; men who were severe with all other men, but not with themselves. And, when I had doubts, I was afraid. I saw severity everywhere towards them that doubt, towards them that did not fit the ideal. And so, I felt, deepen within me, something was not well. I did not know what is was, and no absolute scientific proof of this as an alchemist might have of the interaction of elements. It was not that it was without enough substantiation for science; rather it had too much substantiation for science - so common and obvious! And yet because of this, nowhere could I turn, in no way could I explain the deep feeling of disconnected in my heart. (It was around this time that I suffered that illness that almost carried me off. I have since described the illness to doctors, who reckon it one not occasioned by the imbalance of the humours or the poison of the air, and they think it was as one caused by disquiet of heart. Tension in the mind affecting the body.) II.The Hedonistic Rebellion of my Younger Days. The first expression of this rebellion was total and wholesale. Seeing hypocrisy and aroused in indignation, and frustrated by inability to express what I had seen in rational thought, I raged against everything I had known. And so I embraced hedonism. There is no truth. No right and wrong. No purity and impurity. Only pleasure and pain. Avoidance of pain, seeking of pleasure. Live for the present moment! Get the greatest possible thrill, the greatest kick, the greatest sensual pleasure, out of any given experience. This manner of living I termed Life on the Basis of the Pleasure Principle, as if I was some great original thinker. I have now discovered that, for all their inferiority, humans discovered this apparently original philosophy centuries before I did, and rejected it out of hand. Be not afraid: one half of the 'philosophy' was pleasure, the other was pain. So, I did no more than petty crime. I did nothing guilty of death or banishment. The greatest crime of such a philosophy was not, as I would later discover, that it is wrong. It is that it is, as I would then find out, boring! You see, as a very ancient one expresses in the words of a woman attempting to persuade a man to adultery: "“ Aquae furtivae dulciores sunt, et panis in abscondito suavior." [Viz., stolen waters are sweeter, and bread in secret more pleasurable.] There is a kernel of truth to what the Foolish Woman says, viz., that there is a kind of greater sweetness to illicit acts, and that, one living according to the Pleasure Principle ought therefore to pursue them. I wanted them, but lacked the courage to truly pursue them. But it is for the reason I explained hitherto. Viz., that there is a certain disorder in our faculties, whereby our passions are not subject to our reason, and thus, we take pleasure in what ought not be be pleasurable, and, often, we take no pleasure in what ought to give us pleasure. This philosophy, therefore, the philosophy of Stolen Waters and Secret Bread, is one that prioritises the thrill of the moment to the exclusion of any conception of right and wrong, of being rooted in a past, or of working toward a future. But such a philosophy would always bring boredom after a time. Why? I shall use two analogies. The first is a narrative. Take, for instance, the narratives you liked to tell me, of dragons and heroes and all sorts of matters. Now, let us say you stopped telling me a narrative, a story, but, rather, a series of disconnected sentences speaking of different events. "The Hobbit walked to the garden", "The cow jumped to the moon", "the Orc sat down", and so on. Such, by its mere variety, might for a short time bring amusement. But it would ultimately not bring true satisfaction of heart. The type of tales that we love tells us about the innermost desires of our hearts. No, a narrative needs to be a narrative. It needs to have a beginning, a sense of purpose and quest, an ending or consummation. The second analogy. Suppose music. Now, music is truly satisfying by the interconnection of notes, one leading to another and proceeding to the next, so that there is harmony, order, goodness, as well as the overlapping of various instruments. Therefore, if someone were to take a lyre and play various, disconnected, illogical notes with no sense of progression, the novelty would at first amuse us, and then annoy us. As I say, the music and stories that we love, are like a mirror telling us about what it is we desire. Our lives must be a narrative and a symphony, not a series of disconnected events. There must be order, reason, goodness. At the end of the story of Hengst and the Dragon, does he 'go town with the lads for a night on the piss', or merely have sex with the princess and then leave her? Surely not, and it would leave a nasty taste in our mouths if it did. He gets on his knee and he marries the princess, and so it is in every fairytale because any other ending would not satisfy us; it might shock us, but swiftly would it bore us. And so with the hedonist. Wanton fornication, as an example, is not just wrong. It is boring. For it is like playing with sex. Would children play at fairytales when there is a real dragon in their own front garden? Of course not. The fairytale ends in marriage, anything else seem cheap, unworthy of the narrative. And so the truly thrilling, truly romantic, truly satisfying action is not the adultery in which the man loves and leaves; in which we take a novel, perverse but ultimately unsatisfying pleasure, rather it is when we get on one knee and marry the woman. Marrying the same woman and remaining true to her to the last breath, that is the stuff of legend, that's the stuff that captures the hearts of the child in us. I was sick of playing at the game of life when I could be confronting myself with the reality. Living something cheap and unworthy when I could know something worthy and beyond the price of jewels. And so, I had to seek for something more satisfying in life, something more wholesome, something that could weave itself into a kind of song, a kind of narrative, a kind of direction, than merely, the next pleasure. "Stolen water and hidden bread" could not bring happiness, honour, chivalry; romance. I had to play a musical piece, not just notes, life had to be narrative, not just events, and the story had to consummate in marriage of prince and princess, not a mere cheap pleasure. Dear father, I must return to finish this account at another time. For, although a philosopher my vocation, I am a teacher my profession. And so I must return to my students, for the time is busy. And yet, I will finish what I have written, soon. Your loving son, Malgath. CONTINUED IN THE NEXT BOOK.
  19. "Maybe they are confusing you with me!" Venerable Humbert of the Order of Saint Jude says to Saint Humbert in the Skies. "For I was Abbot of the Order of Saint Jude, and refounded that order in Haense, and I lived around the early 1700s." "Also, it was I who moved us into the Apostolic Palace. This man really seems to have an astounding knowledge of my life whilst also confusing me with YOU!"
  20. AELFSTANN OF LEOFRICSBOROUGH EPISTLE TO THE CANONISTS To Papa Sixtus VI, High Pontiff of the Canonist Church, True Keeper of the Covenant of Holy Godefridus, Appointed by God with the Primacy Over All Them That Fear God, Greeting... I.Preface. Praise of the Canonist Religion. I.WE CHURLS always give Your Holiness greeting, on account of the great honour in which we hold Your illustrious spiritual ancestors, Everistus and Clement, called in our tongue Eadward and Miltsolidus and on account of the Church of which God has given you true and immediate jurisdiction. Such a Church is the spiritual Mother of so many; for from her abundant breasts are many made to suck the pure milk of sound doctrine, and thus, while yet babes too weak for the solid Angelic food that is the contemplation of the Godhead through sight, grow into the fullness of the divine maturity through the infused virtue of Faith, the hope of things unseen. For as your Scriptures say: approximans Eum est nullus. II.I, Aelfstan, Priest of my race and people, would trouble Your Holiness with certain questions concerning my religion and Your Holiness' own. I would state from the beginning that I bear no intention to rip the babes from their mothers' breasts. For we Churls hold that You worship God according to a prophetic covenant as we do, and therefore, we would not seek to convert anyone, unless he be a heathen, and him to the worship of the Singular and Omnipotent God, to Whom alone is glory and empire, world without end. Amen. Instead, we would seek to worship God according to the covenant we ourselves received, and not permit Your children to worship Him according to ours. For we desire Your religion to flourish as we would our own. We see no contention between the Priesthood of Hengst and the Priesthood of Owyn. Everistus and Benedict possess no emnity. Godefridus and Raedwald seek no strife; Saint Emma, honoured in our liturgy, draws not her sword against Aethelraelda, nor does the latter slay Canonists, but dragons. II.History and Explanation of the Churlish Religion. Its Relationship to Canonism. I.We trace our religion back to the time Your Holiness' own Scroll of Gospel details. It was in the time when seven thousand brothers were made for Horen, that a small group of them settled in Iegland, which is our homeland. Thus we hold the Scroll of Virtue and every Churl knows it by route. But they turned away from the tradition they had received from the mouth of our Holy Father, Saint Horenus, and, when a mighty dragon called Churlsbane (A name which means the Bane of Farmers, and our race are call'd thus) wasted so much of the land, his tyranny overcame our tribes. And so men turned away from the One True God and refused to trust in Him. They instead prostrated themselves before the dragon and exchanged the glory of the Creator for the creature, profaning themselves. II.A certain elder had intended to offer his virgin daughter in sacrifice to the beast, when a man who desired her hand, our Holy Father, Hengst, incensed at this, went forth to slay the beast, alone. But despairing upon the path, he was met by a certain Elfess, a Wood Elf of great wisdom, who had known Horen, and she told him of the Faith in the One True God. And she gave him the Aelfsword and Aelfstan, blessed with the benediction of the Creator. Now with these, he slew the Dragon Churlsbane, not without great aid from the virgin Aethelraelda. And the two, having slew the beast, married. Hengst became our first king, and received from God an holy and true and perpetual covenant, to worship Him according to a royal covenant, prescribing ritual sacrifices and moral laws which guide the Churls in righteousness, despite how much we fall short of them. III.Now the Era of the Elfstone last for some few hundred years, and we grew into a great kingdom, and furnished many Saints. But then the obsession with Elvish magic overcame us, and evil befell the country. We had loved overmuch and with overmuch curiosity the lore of the Elves. So that there began a sort of new idolatry, that of great magical objects, for which Men became willing to steal, deceive, even kill. Anarchy befell the land. Taking advantage of this, a few interested Elves ventured from the forests, and taught to us a heathen religion, and almost all the people fell away once more. But as Man is unfaithful to the Covenant, God is faithful. For He would give us a new Covenant stronger than the first. IV.Now there came about a great terror upon the land, for the Aelfpriestas, that is, the Elfish Priests who had become chief of our people, organised a sect called the Secret Friends of the Gods, who butchered and destroyed wherever they went. For their idea of worship was to destroy cultivation, so that the very name of Churl, farmer, was fit only for thralldom and death. "O Churls, we consign you to the land of Oblivion." That is what we call the Void, for in many of your own writers, it is called Terra Oblivionis, to wit, the Land of Forgetfulness. All hope was lost. Men did not believe in the Covenant or the old stories and legends. But there were a righteous sect of Elves who had received the Covenant of Hengst in the elder days, and those we call Fiergennesmenn, to wit, in Your tongue, Woodmen. And some of these were able to pass on the Covenant to a man known only to us as Benedict. V.Now this Benedict was, like Hengst, incensed to see a man sell his only daughter as a thrall in exchange for a magical object of dubious quality. And so, he killed the Aelfpriest of that district. At that time, our king, Saint Raedwald, long since a captive puppet living under house arrest, escaped from the heathen clutch, and met with Benedict. Together they sought to destroy the rebels. He called for the Fyrd, which is, to wit, the national militia of all free Men of the land. He despaired, but despair became hope, and hope was realised, because the Men did come, and, as one of our writers has said "What was thought to echo in the pages of myth, coloured the pages of history." Now at Malinsham the Secret Friends were destroyed and the land was freed from the new Churlsbane - this time the Dragon was that idolatry which enchained the hearts of Men. VI.Benedict it was who received our second Covenant, according to which each of us is bound to make of our lives a Sacrificium Laudis - to wit, A Sacrifice of Praise. So we do not cease to offer praises to God for You, but according day, twice at least and seven times at most (and once as well at night-time), we make on Your Holiness' behalf a holy and priestly sacrifice, made acceptable to God. VII.Now there were Canonists in Iegland, Auvergnes. These Auvergnes were once our foes. And so there was periodic persecution between our religion and Your own. But, when we were embroiled in dynastic civil wars, the Witan elected the Auvergne king, Philippe, as King of the Churls, who took the Churlish name, Offa II, marrying a daughter who was a direct descendant of Hengst. Thus the Royal Covenantly line was continued. VIII.At this time a dispute arose among the Canonists of that country about whether it was lawful for Offa to offer sacrifices according to our covenant. He was in a difficult situation, because he was unwilling to abandon the Priesthood of Everistus and Clement and its sacred rites so that he could be our king. Yet, if he failed to do so, we would be forced to reject him. So Saint Leofric, a holy man, interceded for us. He approached the local Bishop and asked him whether it was licit for Philippe to offer our sacrifices. To which the Bishop assented. Thus, to this day, our kings, who offer the royal sacrifices, are Canonists, receiving of Your Sacraments. Thus he was able to remain a Canonist and continue as our king. III.Submission of Dubia. Thus, it is to Your Holiness that I would ask the following questions: I: Do You consider it lawful that Churls who belong to the Covenant of Hengst should join in Canonist worship? II: Do You consider it lawful that Churls who belong to this Covenant should receive the Sacraments of Ablution and Matrimony? III: Do you consider it lawful for Canonists to offer sacrifice to God according to the mode of our religion, which contains nothing contrary to Canonist doctrine, but does not belong to the Church? IV: Do You consider it lawful for Churls to receive of Canonist blessings and other sacramentals? V: Do you consider it lawful for Canonists to venerate Churlish Saints, as we venerate Canonist ones? (For we hold the Priesthood of Everistus valid, and Your Saints as righteous worshippers of God according to that Priesthood.) VI: Do you consider it lawful for Yourself or the Bishops of Dioceses to grant us the right to use Your churches for our worship, granting a dispensation from the necessity of re-consecrating churches? (For the Royal Covenant involves the blood of goats and such. For this must in our eyes be excepted, seeing that it is the worship of God, according to a truly received Covenant, and in no wise offensive to Him.) VII: If you will not dispense us in the matter of bloody worship, will You allow Churls to use Your churches according to our other worship, which involves chanting of hymns and canticles and Psalms in Flexio? POST-SCRIPTUM: It is of note to add, Your Holiness, that some of our worship is already incorporated into Your own. For many of our Psalms, prescribed by Benedict, are found in Your prayer-books. I should also add that the veneration of martyrs proves that blood is not inherently unlawful when it comes to divine worship. For what is their blood, but as incense poured out before their Creator? Thus it is, blood can tend to God's worship, if done lawfully. I mean, avoiding the mere farmyard slaughter of animals, and human sacrifice, which we with all means and by all wises rebuke utterly.
  21. "There are two things I fear" says a Churl, "One is theology without devotion, the other is devotion without theology. Let the theologian always seek piety, and the pious man rigour in the Creeds of true faith."
  22. LEOFRIC OF MALINSHAM Sermon for First Vespers of Saint-King Raedwald TRANSLATED FROM OLD CHURLISH BY EDMOND OF LISIEUX ON DEATH. Historical Notes About the Author: Saint Leofric of Malinsham was appointed royal assistant-Priest to the first Auverginian King of the Churls, Philippe I (King Offa II according to the Churlish name he adopted), in 1205. He was an extremely prolific author and preacher, and is one of the most famous names in Churlish literature. He did much to foster mutual love between the Auvergnes and Churls, most notably by meeting with the Canonist Bishop of that region and obtaining on behalf of King Philippe a licence to offer the Priestly sacrifices prescribed by the Churlish religion. This ensured that Philippe was able to both remain a Canonist and fulfill the role of Priest-King of the Churls. About the Feast: The Feast of King Raedwald is one of the principal feasts of the Churlish calendar. It commemorates King Raedwald (d.920.) Raedwald is considered the ideal of the Churlish warrior: fatalistic, honourable, merciful, wise and pious. Raedwald was brought up at the royal palace under effectual house-arrest by the pagan Elf-Priests who at that time tyrannised the land. But, breaking with three hundred years of precedent and when it seemed the Churlish cause was lost, he broke out of house arrest and united himself to Saint Benedict. They defeated the Heathen Army at the Battle of Malinsham, and re-established the Churlish religion, monarchy and liberty. The words of this sermon, or the last two paragraphs, are frequently read when the Churl Men take their fathers' shields at the age of 13 and formally become warriors. HERE STANDETH SAINTE RAEDWALD KINGE AND HERO OF THE CHURYLES PERMIT NOT OUR COUNTRIE NOR THE RAYCE OF MENNE TO WANTE OF SUCHE SOUYLES "O, dear sons and daughters of Horen, of Hengst, of Raedwald, what a joy has to come to us on this feast! Of it I wish you every joy and every grace, that this sacred liturgy may plant a seed in your hearts, that may be reaped for an eternal harvest. For we say not: what great things the Saints have done, but what great things God hath done in His Saints! Thus it is God who reveals Himself as the principal author of holiness. So I say that, if God could work greatness in the hearts of Men in ages past, there is no reason why he cannot raise up a thousand thousand Raedwald's in our own time, and He would, if we desire and ask for it, for He is unfathomably generous to the soul that seeketh His face. What shall I say? No words would suffice to speak of the subject that is demanded of me. So I shall dwell on but one aspect of his life and character. And that is his battle-cry: "Death!" Which he gave at the Battle of Malinsham, the greatest victory ever won by the Sons of Men in their whole history. Raedwald was king only in name when he was elected by the Elfish Witan. It had been this way for over two centuries, and so no king had exercised his own power for generation upon generation. For the king to act, to move, to be what he is, was as strange to Man and Elf of that time as if the sky were not blue, or the sun did not shine in the morn. But Raedwald knew his vocation - his calling from God - which was to be truly king, priest and father to his race. And he would undertake it even if he was convinced it must fail. He placed His faith in the Rewarder of Virtue and the One who sees all. As Hengst went out against Churlsbane of old, ready to either render his soul to God in trust of His mercy, or have the victory, so was Raedwald. No earthly hope could sustain his courage, for he was ready to die and die only was what he was convinced would happen. But he would rather die honourably than live dishonourably. And so he escaped the clutches of his enemies and called forth the Fyrd. He thought it was useless; he thought mean would laugh and mock such a call. But he made it anyway, because, as king, it was what he ought to do. But the Men did come, and they did fight, and they did win, and the hope against hope was victorious so that we might dwell in freedom and peace. This cry "Death" what does it signify but this? But what he was prepared to accept and undergo? It was a refutation, in a single word, of all the evils that had beplagued our nation. For Men had forgotten their Creator, and exchanged Him for the creature, and in doing so, they lost all wisdom. For without the Creator, the creature also vanishes. The glory of God is the dignity of Man; and Men, casting Him aside in the name of the dignity, soon lose sight of it. Men feared death as the ultimate evil. They sought magical objects for the prolongation of life, and to have power to rule and dominate over others. They had forgotten the true origin and meaning of death because they had forgotten the Author of Life. And so the cry: "Death!" As in, Death, I embrace you, I am prepared to undergo you, and I am not afraid of you. For what do you do to me, but render me back to the One who gave me life? And so those who sought to prolong life merely stretched themselves out, and died a thousand deaths: but those who cried "DEATH!" inherited eternal life. What was the origin of death? It was a curse of iblees, Men say. Each of the four Descendants was given a curse by iblees which was counteracted by a blessing. Man's curse was a quick death, and a short life. But it is a curse only to those who seek to vainly prolong life and seek power outside of humility and servitude. For, I beseech you, for us who worship the Author of Life, is this quick death a curse? Tell me: how is that which speeds us from this land of exile and vale of tears to our true native country in the clouds to be admitted to the vision of our God, where we possess all beatitude, of whose wonders eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man, what unnumbered blessings are there hidden, how is this a curse? And is not death the ultimate act of trust and faith in the Lord? For, behold, no land is more uncertain than that which ancient authors called terra oblivionis - the land of forgetfulness. The path which no man hath trod to make a return unto the realm of the living. The men who fell to evil by dark magics did so because they could not accept this ultimate act of faith and hope. Observe that God is all good. Thus, He would not allow evil to exist unless He were not so good so as to be able to bring good out of it. And this is the good He brought from this alleged curse. He pointed us skywards. He gave us a destiny in the heavens. He taught us true courage: cry "DEATH", O Churlish warrior, O Churlish maiden, and fear not! O iblees, what a happy curse thou hast given us! O foolish one! Thou hast sought to curse, but thou hast blessed! Thou hast sought to devise, but thou hast been outplayed! Thou didst desire to destroy us by means of this artifice of death: but thou hast succeeded only in joining us closer to the Author of Life. Thy curse of death is become the portal of life! Thy curse the means of blessing! Then, cry out, defiantly, DEATH! And when thou hast embraced it, then, O Churlman, dost thou begin to live! Cry it out, and do good, and fear not. And let thy heart take courage, and do manfully, and trust thou in the Lord. Death is turned from evil to good when it is preferred to sin.
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