Snowfall

It was my seventeenth year when Father John was called to make an appearance in Rome. It was quite the occasion and everyone was excited about it. We all wanted to hear stories from him when he returned. He surprised me by insisting that I go with him, he said that it would be an excellent learning experience. I was to be his assistant and to handle all the luggage and animals needed along the way. I found this not unappealing, after all I still worked with the animals at home and this would be a trip. No snatching eggs from angry roosters, though he had grown more accustomed to my presence over the years. I had a hard time containing my energy and excitement.
It was my first time away from our little village. The travel across the English countryside would have kept me telling stories for months alone but then we boarded a ship bound for France! I was terribly curious, in the beginning the sailors were annoyed by my constant questions but then they realized that I would gladly help them with their chores. I found them new and exciting. I learned to tie knots,steer, and unfurl the sails. I gave Father John quite the scare hanging from a rope helping to repair a tear in the sail without pulling it down. The journey was far shorter than I\'d hoped for and blissfully uneventful as far as the sailors were concerned; they claimed it was good luck to be carrying God\'s men aboard. Perhaps it was, I must say in later years I have rarely had such a smooth sail as that first one.
The coast of France! I was slightly disappointed in all honesty. I expected it to be alien, this was another country. Silly, thinking back on it, I am not sure what I expected, trees with blue leaves or talking creatures, I am not really sure. France to me looked a lot like England. As we traveled further inland my excitement came back to me. The first challenge was speaking with the locals. I was a quick study of the language. A talent it would seem. French was close to the Latin I already spoke and read that, therefore I was speaking phrases in no time at all. Father John was amused and said it was Divine Inspiration that brought me along to aid him. I was glad to have found a way to earn my keep on this trip in a way that the other brothers might not have been able to. It helped me to feel like I was picked for some purpose and not given special treatment.

One night as we camped out in the French countryside we had a visitor. A tall dark haired man with skin so fair it seemed to glow in the moonlight. He asked to join our campsite.

\"Pardonner mais pourrais-je vous joindre ? \" His voice was like music. I always thought the French language sounded like a song. The quiet murmuring possible in French is intoxicating... Ah, but I digress.

I looked to Father John for conformation. The priest did not understand the words but he did seem to get the idea of what was asked. He turned to me. \"Please, tell him he is welcome.\" and turning to the stranger, he said. \"Please, sit sit! warm yourself by the fire!\"

I was about to translate but the stranger smiled and held up a hand.

\"Bon! You are English, my friends! It has been such a long time for me to practice the English. I am very happy to be able to.\" He smiled at us both. I was disappointed to not speak my French but I knew Father John would be relieved to be able to converse with ease.

\"I am called Damien Amarant DeNoire.\" He looked at me for a moment, his gaze locked on my eyes. \"Please call me Amar.\" He then smiled and looked away.

\"I am Father John and this is Albin, a young dedicant.\"

\"So you have not taken vows to the church, yet, Young friend?\" Amar\'s stare was so direct that I found myself caught in it and I stumbled for answers to even the most plain of questions. I fear I must have looked a fool that night.

\"Uh.. no.\" I blushed. \"I am not old enough to be taking the vows.\"

\"And how old are you? You do look quite young.\"

This time I had no trouble replying, indignant as all youth are when their age is pointed out to them. \"I am seventeen, Sir, soon to be eighteen!\"

Amar chuckled and even Father John smiled. \"I am meaning no offense, good friend, Of course you are a young man. Think no more of it.\"

I sulked quietly for a few moments listening to Father John and Amar speak to each other. The priest seemed more talkative than usual but I believe that was the lack of English speaking conversation available to him. They were chatting pleasantly about the land and interesting sites in the area. Amar mentioned old ruins not far away about a day\'s travel south of here and said that we should visit them if we stop nearby on our next camp. I was intrigued.

\"Who made them? Are they Roman?\" I had completely forgotten I was angry.

\"There is no one knowing. Quite ancient. The place is said to be magic.\" Amar grinned at my curiosity. \"I can speak of them if you would like. If it is ok with the good Father.\"

Father John waved a hand in a gesture of approval. He was a rare priest who believed knowledge was a blessing even of things strange and pagan. He told me many times that the beginning to fighting an evil was to know about it.

\" There are tales of the stones bringing strange sights to men who have visited. It is said that they glow in the moonlight around the hour of midnight and that some believe it is a doorway to another place. \"

Father John snorted but gestured for Amar to continue.

\"Men have come back saying they have seen lovely beings dressed in white who have told them important things about their future. Guidance it would seem.\"

\"Could these be angels, Father John?\"

\"Doubtful, most likely visions from the bottom of a bottle.\" Father John eyed Amar skeptically.

\"There are many tales, Father, many many tales of such things. They cannot all be the visions of a drunk mind, no?\" The stranger smiled in disarming good humor and it had its effect even on the priest.

\"I suppose not if it has been many many tales. Still I doubt they were angels those tend to visit rarely and in church.\" He stressed the last word and looked at me sternly.

\"I understand Father.\" I looked at Amar, not to be deterred by the priest\'s admonishment. \"Are there more to these stories?\"

\"Well... they do say that people have gone missing...\" He looked like he did not wish to mention this fact to me but it made me all the more curious. \"I am sure it is nothing. Very rare. Forget I say a thing.\"

\"What happened, does anyone know?\"

For just a moment Amar seemed to grin. I realize now that I walked straight into his story and was pulled in like a fish on a line. The more he seemed uninterested in telling it, the more I had to know. He was an amazing storyteller. Far more so than even Father John who had been admonished long ago to relate history as he had read it in the books and scrolls and not to place his personal views on the events. Amar spoke in ways that painted vivid pictures to my eyes, as if he were there. The events and people seemed to come alive when he spoke not just dead facts for me to remember.

\"No, there is no knowing.\" He sad sadly. \"One man who did not return, they found his coat and blanket lying next to a tree. It was as if he intended to come right back. They say that the fair folk can take you away and what seems as just a day\'s time in their world is like a hundred years in our own. \"

\"So, if they were to return the next day from the Fairyland then that amount of time would pass. They would know no one at all!\" It seemed so interesting, the thought of spending a day with the Fairies and coming back to find that time had gone on without you. It was no wonder that they people would have been deemed missing. I wondered if they ever said that they had returned so people knew what happened. I asked Amar that very thing.

\"Well, if no one ever mentioned such a thing. How would we know that is what happened? Surely someone must have returned to tale the tale or there would be none, no?\" It was charming good sense. To a child of seventeen it was almost fact. In those times there was still much belief in magic and strange beings. Father John\'s scholastic cynicism was a far less common viewpoint in those days. When I think back, it was a wonder that the church did not reprimand him for spouting such things as listen and learn before judging and seeing is believing. Father John would believe in a fairy when one flew up to him and poked him in the nose, otherwise he had no use for them. It made one wonder how he believed in God. I asked him, of course, it is something all people ask themselves and young people have no compunction about asking others. Father John told me that God had made himself known to him through many ways and continued to cause him to believe in him.