an opera

Rafael FaelaWooden Sword

                   by Christopher Bodame

Copyright 1993 Copyright 2009  

For Raphael, Luzia, Sophie,Neo, Merlin.

-----------“All true understanding is born of pain and sorrow. ….Without suffering, without suffering a great deal and having thereby become free from that element in pain which drags one down, one cannot come to know and understand the spiritual world.”   Dr. Rudolf Steiner

 This story in rudiment was told to my son, Raphael, as a bedtime story.

Later it was expanded in written form.

------------prologue

  

It could have been a thousand years before

or it could have been today,

when two who wield toy sword and shield

arose from sleep to play.

 

Through the streets of the town they chased,

over green fields of grass they raced

to fight each other in friendly affray.

 

You may call them dreamers,

for in-between sleeping and waking

is a sea of dreams

where things are not what they may seem.

And both Rafael and Faela  

which were their names -

did ever imagine, they

to great adventure and great fame

were born to be knights who ride away

to fight dragons and demons

upon proud spirit rones,

and return, esteemed

as glorious heroes to their homes.

 

But what we wish in our young dreams

does not always come to be

as you’ll soon see.

 

Now the years have flown

the children have grown

and their dreams of glory

have become their story.

 

Now their story begins ...

   

PART I: RAFAEL  

 one 

 Who’s to say when a day

is more particular than any other day,

for what comes today, each day

and year has planned before.

And what in retrospect is seen

to be the turning point of time

was in its day but common rhyme.

  

On one particular day when the sun was rising soft and light over the earth, Rafael went to buy bread. Arriving at the bakers, Rafael could hear the baker - as was usual at this hour - out-back attending his ovens, greeting all whose daily rhythm it was to gather there. Here at the baker’s ovens, local and itinerant workers would come to heat a large pot of communal broth over the oven fire. They would take count of each other, share bread and warmth before being collected by large wooden carts to be taken off into the morning’s mist, to begin their days work in distant fields. Here too, travellers would stop to ask directions, if only for the excuse of warming themselves. Or, if they were particularly bereft, inquire for work or garnish a bowl of broth in return for some small item, more often for news and knowledge of the world at large. William the baker was a man as warm as his ovens. He too had travelled in his youth, and knew its trials. He had met all kinds of people; now he looked only to embrace the best in each. Rafael and Faela would often come here as children, to while-away their time, to find substance for their dreams. They would listen to the travellers’ tales and adventures, of which their own by comparison seemed uneventful. Sometimes, if chance would have it, they would find a knight resting here, who would throw them some worthless foreign coins for attending his steed, and they would run their fingers over his embroidered cloth of arms. All Rafael’s boyhood memories came back to him on the warmth of the ovens, on the aroma of fresh bread and oiled tables, and on the boisterous sounds of simple yet hearty companionship. And Rafael knew that all his boyhood dreams had come to nought. His decision was confirmed: this was the day; nothing had come to change him so he would make change himself. He would leave his old life behind; he would buy bread and join the others out-back, seek out a fellow traveller appreciable of company, and follow the road towards one of the many great towns he had heard about. There in the great towns life was always changing; impressive buildings, cathedrals and monuments were being erected to the glory of men and God. Provincial discord, religious wars and other intrigues meant opportunity for a young man willing to take up arms. And Rafael reasoned: it was better to sacrifice one’s life than bow down to death. And if by grace were both life and battle won, then good fortune the outcome - dividing the spoils thereof.

 Here in his hamlet of Odilienberg, in the Dukedom of Alsace, nothing changed. He could see his whole life as one day following another, changing only with the seasons. And there was naught to keep him here. The land had been decimated, whole families had been wiped out years ago by the wandering sickness. As it had been with his family, so it had been with his friend, Faela. At least in sickness and death there is justice, surmised Rafael, for they do not discriminate between blood and birth; both high and low born, the poor and the rich are swept away into the same grave. Rafael had no regrets. The dead had been burnt and buried long ago, and the earth was ever more fruitful. He hoped - as proclaimed - their spirits had ascended with their prayers to a new life. But Rafael was impatient, his spirit aspired to a new life whilst he was still living. With the death of their families, both Rafael and Faela had been indentured to local farmers, and both worked everyday from first until last light. They saw little of each other except at the religious festivals of the Convent of Saint Odile, and even then a distance seemed to be growing between them; for Faela was more preoccupied with the holy reliquaries displayed in the chapel, and in observing the motley mix of humankind who came to place their silent homage. Faela now even appeared slightly ridiculous to Rafael, for she still kept in her belt the same wooden sword she had had as a child. But with her growth the sword had shrunk, and for all its wear looked more like a beggar’s cross, if not a reliquary of some jest itself. Rafael was about to continue through to the ovens when a glint of light caught his eye. There on a large wooden kneading table, half hidden by a large scale weight was a gold coin. Rafael thought that such a fine gold coin should be put out of sight lest some unworthy should steal it, robbing the baker of his hard work. But then its glint began to glimmer in his thoughts: 'If I had such a coin I would not leave it laying about ... The baker must have plenty of gold coins if he leaves them laying about ... With such a coin ...?' And here his thoughts were swept up into a surging current; an endless array of opportunities opened-up before him.  Rafael moved forward, slipped the coin into the top of his right high-boot and quietly retreated without sign of presence.  After a distance Rafael removed his boot to look in awe upon what was his. Rafael now saw in its shining the full extent of his deed, and was fearful. He resolved to return it - immediately. Rafael’s heart was pounding as he ran back, and faster still when he saw William standing at his door.’ ‘Rafael, have you seen anyone just now come from my shop?’ called the Baker. Rafael was astonished to hear not one hint of accusation in the baker’s voice, nor see it in his eyes. Never would it have entered the baker’s thoughts that Rafael would steal anything. Everyone had only high regard for Rafael and Faela; they may have

once been dreamers, but they were grown now - sturdy, reliable, honest and hardworking. The kindness in the baker’s eyes relieved Rafael, and quickly his mind fathomed to find an answer. Making good use of his quickened breathing Rafael replied: 'A gypsy boy I saw come running just now from your door. His manner showed he was up to no good, so I ran after him... but he was too quick.' Several of the townspeople having witnessed this exchange now gathered round; their good greetings and high praise made Rafael feel prominent. William, the baker reflected upon all in good temperament. ‘Come Rafael, come warm yourself and take bread for your service.’ 

                                                                                             END CHAPTER I 

two  

Despite all, Rafael walked with a new disposition. He felt different, taller. He even looked taller as he glanced at his reflection in a window glass; and as he did   - as preparation meeting an opportunity would have it - a glint of light caught his eye just as the glint from the gold coin had done. There in the sword smith's shop amongst the long swords, short swords, knives, shields and all sorts of arms for adventurers, hunters and knights was a long blade, flashing forth the first rays of the morning sun. Mesmerised by its light, Rafael went inside, picked up the blade and admired its beauty. Holding it he felt its strength flow through him. 'Ave. God be with you,' shouted the sword smith without wavering from the rhythm of his work.  Such was the sword smith's greeting and farewell to all who came to interrupt him, often the only conversation gleaned from this solitary figure. Unlike the baker, the sword smith had no time for bloated conversation. Upon him rested high responsibility. The outcome of his creations could spell the difference between life and death. Indeed, with every forging blow upon the anvil he felt he was forging the fate of the new world. When he worked his spirit and body beat as one, pounding and repounding hot metal, fashioning in his imagination what his hands had to bring to the final and finest form possible. Idle chatter only interrupted the process from the ideal to the real. For him, the act of creation was everything. Seldom did he give his time, even to those who came to buy his wares. No matter how they bartered or

bargained, he would simply glance upon them, and then shake or nod his head. By this manner an agreement was almost always reached with minimal disruption. At the top of the blade near the hilt, etched into its metal, Rafael read the inscription: 

Two edged be my tongue

Two edged be thy fame.

 ‘This is truly a great sword,’ he marvelled.  To Rafael’s wonder the swordsmith, easing his body into uprightness relinquished his work. ‘Tis indeed,’ said the sword smith, ‘I worked longer on this sword than I have any other; and all for a gold coin - would you believe it? I promised Faela I would make her a sword for a gold coin. I could have sold this sword a hundred times over - the number of people who have come to admire it, just as you have done. It is surely the finest sword, worthy of the most brave and kindly knight in all the land. Nay, worthy of a King. But. Alas. I promised this sword to Faela. I could give her a lesser sword—without doubt I would like to but I cannot. I think am born to be a great swordsmith but a poor man.’ As Rafael held the sword and listened, he felt the great love for his childhood friend unfold once more in his heart. ‘I have a gold coin,’ said Rafael.‘You? A gold coin?’ inquired the sword smith.‘Yes. Yes,’ replied Rafael. ‘Faela has given me a gold coin to bring you, to fetch her sword.’ ‘Ah! Finally. So finally Faela has come true. Its been so long, I never thought it would leave. But a gold coin is a gold coin and a promise is a promise. So be it.’ The swordsmith took the blade from Rafael and admired his workmanship for the last time. He recalled the dream that had continually interrupted his sleep while making it ... ... he had seen red blood dripping from its blade onto barren earth. From the earth inflamed by the sun arose a blade of grass. The blade of grass divided into two and was covered with a myriad drops of dew. The drops of dew merged, one with the other and flowed into the earth where the two blades of grass formed a unity. As the dew entered the earth, the sun became darker and darker. A deathly dark and silence was over all. Then from the earth arose a luminous golden cup overflowing with the radiance of a new sun. And within this light there appeared a multitude of shadows. Those that were wounded were healed, and those that had died received new life, even in death...

 ‘What’s it mean?’ asked Rafael, pointing to the inscription on the blade. ‘Ah. They are but the first lines told to me by a noble Knight of the Court of Charlemagne.

 Two edged be my tongue

Two edged be thy fame.

Hath thou over darkness won

Or been by darkness slain?

                               

Are you the one of guiltless gain

Or the one who brings thee shame?

        

White or black?

Choose now thy name.

Examine thy act;

For what is now done

One cannot turn back.

 ‘What it means?’ the Swordsmith considered.‘Well, I suppose the sword is like the tongue; it has two edges. And like the tongue it can speak true or false. And behind every word or deed is the motive. Examine the motive before you act for once a deed is done, it is done forever. Nothing you can do can change it or bring it back.' The sword smith fell silent for a moment then mused: ‘Is it not strange to think, that one day I may forge a sword, which on another day may return to be the death of me - perhaps this one?’ With that he presented the sword to Rafael, and Rafael presented the sword smith with the gold coin. As Rafael left the sword smith called, ‘And tell Faela, when she slays her first dragon, I want the dragon’s head to hang over the door to my shop. Underneath it will I hang a sign” ...

 Slain by the greatest sword in all the land,

made by the greatest swordsmith in all the land.

 The sword smith laughed at his jest, then fare-welled: ‘Ave Rafael. God be with you,’ then went himself to buy bread.

 ‘Now isn’t that just life - you lose a gold coin and you gain a gold coin,’ said William the Baker when the Sword-smith offered the gold coin in return for bread. Of course the Sword-smith did not know what the baker was talking about.

 ‘Why, it was just this very morning’ explained William the Baker, before the sun shone over the forest, that a great and noble Knight on his way to Tours did honour me. He brought a loaf of bread and paid me with a copper coin. When he left I looked to see that the copper coin the noble Knight had given, was not copper at all, but gold. I dared not take it. I placed it here, under a scale weight, in full sight, expecting the noble Knight to return any moment to claim his mistake. But, alas. It was stolen.’

                                                                    END CHAPTER 2

  

three Now as Rafael went his way along the middle forest paths to where the forest opened up to a sunlit circle called the crossroads, he began to feel a darkness close in around him - both inwardly and outwardly. He stopped, sat down, lay the sword before him and pondered all that had happened. From all around he seemed to hear a myriad voices coming in all directions towards him on the four winds:

             North, South, East, West

            From the four corners of our quest

            We come to greet you

            Before darkness defeats you.

 

            Heed our warning

            Arise to our call

            Before light is lost

            Before darkness falls.

 

            From whence we depart

            Is where we return

            In the heart of each other

            Of each other we learn.

 

            Where we are most active

            Is where we most rest

            In the heart of each other

            Each other we bless.

 

            Our warning given

            We are driven to depart.

            We must away

  Ave, Ave, Ave, Ave.

 But Rafael could not heed their warning for the beauty of the sword held him spellbound. Thus held in its trance he did not awaken to the call of the four winds, nor was he aware of the many small birds that relieved him of his loaf of bread - bit by bit. Suddenly he was startled by a voice: ‘Wake up lad!.’ A stranger of some importance, as anyone could see by his clothing and manner had ridden up to him. ‘Is this the road to Tours lad?’ inquired the stranger.‘Tours?’ muttered Rafael ‘Tours lad,’ repeated the stranger. I seek Count Hugo of Tours. Do you recognise him, or heard you of him, he who is said to be the greatest knight in all the land?’ Rafael stood up. ‘Tours I know,’ said Rafael, ‘But not Count Hugo. Nor have I ever heard of him.’ ‘With such a fine sword I thought you one of his Knights.’ said the stranger. Rafael felt full of shame, not only for his deeds this day, but also now because the stranger called him ‘lad’, when he felt more worthy of a stranger’s respect. He also felt stupid for not knowing the great Hugo of Tours. Feeling stupid made him angry. He was already angry at the birds for taking his bread, and angry at himself for allowing them to take it; and now he was also angry at the stranger.  And who was this stranger, thought Rafael to be so abrupt - a servant perhaps?; certainly not a knight for he bears no sword; perhaps even less than a servant - a mere messenger of the lord he seeks. He wanted to show the stranger that he was neither stupid nor a boy. ‘I am Keeper-of -the- Sword for the great knight Rafael, whose name you will one day hear being sung throughout the land as the greatest knight that ever lived, even greater than your Count Hugo of Tours!’ And with this glorious proclamation, Rafael drew the sword from its sheath and waved it wildly through the air. The stranger observed Rafael’s boyish outburst, then fixed him with a solemn study. ‘Be careful lad how you wave your sword, lest someone mistake your intention.’ Rafael quickly pointed the sword away from the stranger and down the path. ‘That is the way to Tours sir,’ said Rafael ever so politely. 

‘Many thanks friend for your service,’ said the stranger tossing him two copper coins before riding off. Rafael was angry at the stupidity of his boyish outburst, and wildly through the sword after him. It fell into the bushes some way off. When he found it again, he saw that the sword had by chance pierced the heart of a hare that was hiding there. He removed the sword and wiped clean the blood from the blade. Although the blood came off, the stain of blood would not.  ‘How can I explain this to Faela’, thought Rafael as he went to retrieve the copper coins. Rafael saw how in the sunlight the copper coins appeared to be gold. When he picked them up he saw that they were indeed not copper coins at all, but two gold coins. ‘What good fortune! I am saved,’ thought Rafael. It all came clear to him: ‘I will tell Faela, that as I was walking through the forest, I saw a good stranger on his way to Tours, who was being set upon by the very same gypsy boy who stole the gold coin from the baker. I tackled the thief so the stranger could get the upper hand, which he did. And in return for my service he gave me a gold coin.  The other gold coin fell from the gypsy’s pouch as he ran off, taking with him my loaf of bread. With one gold coin I was able to buy the sword and bring it to him as my gift, and with the other ... I will return it to the baker. And the whole town will know that I am not only strong, but an honest and generous friend. 

                                                                                           END CHAPTER 3 

four 

As Rafael walked on he came to his surprise, upon a gypsy boy lying bleeding from the head. He thought at first it was his friend Faela, but coming closer it looked like himself. Then its face changed, again and again, seemingly hundreds of times, and each face was different. Rafael stumbled backwards; it was now the gypsy boy again. Then the world darkened and was silent. There was a mighty rush of wind as the form changed again into an ugliness that Rafael had never seen nor heard of. He thought it must be a dragon or a demon, even though he had never seen one. Then the form changed again, into a smiling old gypsy beggar.  Rafael could not comprehend if the gypsy’s smile was a kindly smile, or a smile of ill-omen; it seemed to be both, at one and the same time. Rafael was fearful, and was about to turn and run when the old gypsy beggar spoke.

 ‘Stay good Knight and hear my sorry tale. I am a poor old gypsy beggar as you can see. I am sick with fever. I sent my only son into the village to beg for food, but the people accused him of stealing a gold coin. They threw stones at him. He had to run for his life, but one stone was one stone too many. You saw how he lay, his head bleeding.’  ‘Dark stranger’ said the beggar. ‘You are a wealthy knight;  this I can see by the rich sword that hangs at your side. Spare me but a little break of bread and your kindness will bring its own reward.’ ‘I’m sorry’ said Rafael. ‘I have no bread. I did have a whole loaf but it was stolen.’ The gypsy smiled his smile ...

 Then let me steal from thee

a golden coin

and a golden coin

will thee the richer be.

And all the people

and all the animals of the land

upon which you walk

will the richer be.

            For I tell you truthfully ...

             If the darkness goes backwards

there is light beyond compare.

But if the darkness goes forwards

there is death - everywhere.

          One secret more I will thee tell.

Now hear me well:

Even Death must die.

Try as it will it cannot kill

the fire - Light of Man,

The burning brightness of the ‘I AM.’

For Light can illumine the Darkness

but Darkness cannot blacken the Light.

True or False?’

 Gypsies, Rafael had heard, often spoke in riddles. They did it on purpose so people would be fearful of them and give them money, just in case there was something in what they said, even if they didn’t understand it.

 Rafael was not going to be made a fool of again, nor made to feel stupid. ‘Looks are deceiving’ said Rafael. ‘This sword may appear to be mine, but its not; it belongs to a fine friend. I am taking it to her this very moment. If I had a gold coin to give you I gladly would. But tell me sir, as you are so clever: If I had a gold coin to give you, and I gave it, how could I possibly be the gold coin the richer?’ The beggar smiled his smile: ‘If the darkness goes backwards into light, then the baker will still have a gold coin; my son will not have been wrongly accused and his head will not be bleeding; the hare accidentally killed will still be alive; and you will still have the good fortune of the two gold coins thrown to you by a stranger.’ Continued the gypsy beggar  ... ‘With one gold coin you can buy the sword for your friend, and you will have one gold coin left. You will a golden coin the richer be.

            

‘And being a golden coin the richer,

never a stone will fall upon your friend

as it has done to my son,

and never a stone will you fall upon.

          

‘But if the darkness goes forwards into night

then so will the stone

for in all things we must atone.’

 Now Rafael began to understand: This old gypsy beggar is indeed a cunning one. It will not be I, he thought, but this wily wretch who will be a golden coin the richer if I give him one. He will take it, and his darkness will go backwards to the town; he will tell them all he knows. They may even give him another gold coin for his trouble. This old beggar is full of trickery, thought Rafael. It is true he has a certain talent for seeing things, but he uses it to gain his own ends. While he was thus thinking, the gypsy beggar shuffled up to Rafael and put his hand upon the pouch that held the two gold coins. Rattling the pouch he smiled into Rafael’s eyes. In panic and affright Rafael clutched the old beggar by the throat with one hand, and with the other drew the sword and pierced the beggar right up to its hilt. The gypsy beggar fell to the ground, yet kept on smiling even as he did.  

Rafael withdrew the sword and stumbled backwards to the earth. Rising, he saw that the old beggar had vanished.  He saw only the gypsy boy lying with his head bleeding as he had seen him before, but now there was a deep wound to his breast, in the exact place where the sword had pierced the old beggar. Rafael ran from his deed as fast as he could. Exhausted, Rafael fell down, and slept. When he awoke the sun was near to setting. Was it all a bad dream? He looked about him. There was the sword still by his side. He felt his pouch. He rushed back to the place of his deed. There was nothing to be seen. So, it was a bad dream after all. Rafael was thirsty now and hurried to the stream that ran beside the path. He cupped his hands in the water. As he lifted the water to his lips he saw the stain of blood on his right hand. He threw back the water and tried to wash away the stain. It would not come off. He took a stone from the stream and tried to rub it off - it wouldn’t. He took the sword from its sheath and saw blood on the blade; it too he tried to wash clean, but the stain remained. ‘While there is still light in this day good can still come of it’ said Rafael to himself.  ‘Before the light is gone I will hurry to the house of Faela and present her with this great gift. The joy in her eyes and the smile in her heart will wash away the darkness that has befallen mine.’ And with that he hurried towards the house of Faela.        

                                                                                            END CHAPTER 4

  

five  

Rafael ran into the opening where the forest gives way to the fields. He was feeling better now to be out of the darkness of the forest. There was still plenty of sunshine left yet.  As he ran over the top of a small hill he saw a girl collecting flowers in the front of her dress. He didn’t recognise her, though he knew everyone in these parts.  He was about to run on when the girl turned towards him and smiled: ‘Have you ever seen such beautiful flowers before? Look, they are all the colours of the rainbow’, she said, beckoning him to come closer . Rafael did not know what to do. He was in a hurry to reach the home of Faela, but this girl was so beautiful. ‘They are very beautiful but I cannot stay. I must be away,’ said Rafael. 

‘They smell even more beautiful than they look’ said the girl, raising her dress higher, inviting Rafael to breathe in their beauty. As Rafael came towards her he saw the beauty of her white skin was far more beautiful than any flower. ‘You look troubled good knight’ said the girl. ‘Rest awhile, here beside me and tell me all that troubles you.’ That she called him a knight made Rafael strong, but the gentle soothing of her words weakened his weakness, and he sat down beside her. ‘Rest your head amongst these flowers good knight and tell me all.’  Rafael rested his head. The scent of all that is desirable, and the calmliness of this most beautiful girl were like a healing balm to all his troubles, and sleep came quickly to him. When he awoke there was moonlight covering the fields. The girl was gone, the flowers were gone, except for one red flower, as beautiful as he had first seen it. He picked it up and breathed in its fragrance; it was sweet. He tasted it; it tasted bitter, like blood. He spat it out but the taste remained. He spat again, then swallowed; it was gone but the worst was done.  Never again would Rafael be a young man with an innocent heart. He was changed forever. With the onset of night the darkness of the day had gone forward, and would ever go forward.  Only a light greater than the darkness could end it.                                                                                            END CHAPTER 5  

 six  

Rafael arrived at the house of Faela where light was still burning. A dog barked. When Rafaela came out to see she saw a dark knight standing there. ‘Welcome good knight. How can I serve you?’ asked Faela. ‘Don’t you recognise me Faela?. It is I, Rafael.’ ‘Rafael? ‘ said Faela, ‘Whatever has happened to change you? I hardly recognise you.’ 

‘This day has been a terrible adventure’ said Rafael. ‘One that I would not have happened. So terrible is it, I fear few would believe it.’ ‘Come inside and tell me all, said Faela. Once inside Rafael told Faela the terrible tale of all that had befallen him this day. And this is what he told: ‘When the sun was just up this day I set out to buy bread. Approaching the bakers I saw a gypsy boy running from his shop. By his manner I knew he was up to no good and gave chase, but he was too quick. I soon learned from the baker that the boy had stolen a gold coin. Then, as I was returning home I met a stranger at the crossroads, who inquired the way to Tours. I directed him and for my trouble he threw me two copper coins.   When I went to pick them up good fortune was upon me, for the two copper coins were not copper at all, but two gold coins. ‘Such good fortune should be shared, so I returned to town to buy you your sword. On returning again through the forest I came upon the gypsy boy who had stolen the gold coin, but he was not a gypsy boy.  He was a magician who could change his form into anyone or anything he pleased. ‘He chose to appear to me most in the form of and old beggar, but I could see that his true form was a beast of trickery and cunning.  He tried to steal from me the one gold coin I had left - first with words and riddles. ‘He told me I would be a golden coin the richer if I gave it to him. When I was not taken by his trickery he tried to make me fearful.  When I was not fearful he came towards me to take it by force.  It was then that I drew your sword and wounded him. He pleaded with me to spare his life, which I did, on account that he gave me the gold coin he had stolen, and begged me return it to the baker. ‘And would you believe it?  Despite all that threatened me, I am indeed a golden coin the richer.  I have two gold coins in my pouch, and when I return one to the baker, I will still have one gold coin left.  His cunning was his own undoing. ‘But it is to you Faela that I must be thankful.  If it were not for your sword I would not be alive to tell this tale.  Now come inside so I may present you with the full beauty of this sword.’ Once inside Rafael drew the sword from its sheath.  Faela was silent for she saw the stain of blood on the blade.  Rafael held out the sword in presentation.  Faela saw the stain of blood on Rafael’s right hand.  She looked into Rafael’s eyes and was silent. Finally Faela spoke:

‘Thankyou,  Rafael for this most generous gift.  Your generosity is returned. A knight must be given a clean blade on which to write and colour their own deeds and their own destiny. This blade is already written and coloured upon, and rightfully belongs to the person who wrote and coloured thereon. Accept this sword as your own.’ Faela ’s words made Rafael tremble, but he knew not why. He tried to brush them aside with jest. ‘You talk in riddles just like the old gypsy beggar. Perhaps you are the gypsy beggar, now in the form of Faela ’ Rafael returned the sword to its sheath, and made to leave. At the doorway he turned, ‘I see I am not the only one who has been changed by this day. You too my friend have changed,' he said and set out upon his chosen path. 

                                                                               END CHAPTER 6   

                                                            END PART I    

 

PART II: FAELA  

call of the present:- sacrifice -

  

Were I of an earlier age

would my spirit be ablaze,

would my sword be already raised

and glazed with blood?

 

Yet this age wherein I am

calls for greater deeds

than sacrifice of life to death-

I am called to live and die

with every breath.

 

 seven 

 

On the very morning of the very same day as Rafael had set out to buy bread, so had Faela set out from her home in high spirits. She had finally saved the sum of a gold coin. This was the day she had long awaited, when she could at last go to town and present the swordsmith with a gold coin, and in return be presented with the sword for which she had so long dreamed, and so long laboured. As she went her way through the golden wheat and over the green fields before entering the forest path, she saw a boy she had never seen before, collecting flowers in his upturned hat. He was very handsome. ‘Have you ever seen such beautiful flowers befitting such a beautiful Knight?’ beckoned the boy. ‘I am not a Knight,’ returned Faela. 

‘How modest you are,’ said the boy, coming towards her, Here, come and smell these beautiful flowers,’ he said, raising his hat so that she might smell them the more easily. As she came towards him, Faela saw the beauty of his white skin. She smelt the flowers, and breathed in the fullness of his beauty. Said Faela: ‘I have never seen such beautiful flowers, and I have never seenanyone as beautiful as you. From where do you come and from where do the flowers come? Neither you nor the flowers were here yesterday.’ ‘That is because they are night flowers,’ answered the boy. ‘They only come out after sunset and die before sunrise. At night you can’t see them unless you have great experience. My mother gave to me this experience and showed me how to secure them so they do not die with the light of day.   And you see me for the first time because this is the first time I am here.  Usually I do not wander so far, but last night the moon led me ever farther.  Here I am, and here you now find me.’ ‘Come, sweet Knight, stay with me awhile and tell me all your dreams.  I know all about dreams.’ ‘I cannot stay, though I would like to. I must be away to town on an urgent task.’ ‘Just like a Knight,’ said the boy, ‘always running off to new adventures. Don’t be in such a rush. The day has just begun. There’s  time enough for all. Come, smell again these beautiful flowers.’ Again the beautiful boy raised his hat so that Faela might smell them the more easily. ‘You are very beautiful, and the day is young,’ said Faela, ‘but I must be away; there are many things yet to be done.’ ‘O come sweet Knight,’ said the boy, ‘more than once have you told mehow beautiful I am, yet you will not stay. Don’t you love me?’  His face shone, his white skin shone, and everything about him beckoned her..… 

All you see is all you get

All I give you’ll not regret.

                              Faela’s heartbeat began to smother her breathing; her legs began to weaken, her mind was in confusion. She was losing herself. His radiance was eclipsing her own. Then the morning sun flared-up, momentarily blinding her; and in this light blindness could she heed its message: 

Beware !

the dragon’s breath

within thy breast—

A blinding mist

that poisons to passion

the pure white kiss!

                              Slowly her eyes regained their sight. She could see ever more clearly, and her breathing was at peace. She glimpsed for the first time, that behind this radiance there was a shadow, that behind this beauty there was a darkness. ‘It is true,’ said Faela. “I have never seen anyone more beautiful than you, and I cannot imagine ever seeing anyone more beautiful than you. But how to answer I know not without the truth offending thee.  The likeness of light in the boy’s eyes began to darken, turning to contempt, then to mockery. ‘Bah! Why do I waste my time? You are not a Knight, but a stupid girl who would be a boy with a wooden toy, and that is all you ever will be! And with that he flung the flowers in her face. When Faela again opened her eyes the boy was gone. All the flowers were gone, except for one that was as fresh and white as she had first seen it. She picked it up, stuck it behind her ear and, thinking deeply about all that had happened, went her way.

                                                                                                  END CHAPTER 7 

 

eight 

 Faela had not long arrived at the middle forest crossroads, when a stranger of some wealth and importance rode up to her. ‘Can you tell me gentle Knight the way to Tours?’ inquired the stranger. ‘Yes Sir,’ said Faela, ‘But first I must tell you I am not a Knight, but a stupid girlwho would be a boy with a wooden toy.’ Said the stranger: ‘I seek Count Hugo of Tours, the great Knight of the Grail, who I have never seen before, but when I do I will recognize him. And you’re telling me I do not recognize a Knight when I see one?’

 ‘Looks can be deceiving,’ said Faela. ‘This I have just learnt.’ ‘And a philosopher as well!’ pronounced the stranger, pleased to have a lively diversion interrupt his journey.

 ‘And rightly so

How else are we to know

 from whence we come

 and whither we go?’

                              The stranger pondered with piercing interest the peculiar young girl before him, thenacknowledged: ‘Very true: Looks can be deceiving; but love cannot.’ ‘Good sir,’ said Faela, ‘I have heard many people speak about love, even this very morning. At best I am confused and at worst I know nothing. What is love? ‘Ha! So it is,’ said the stranger.Between the question and the answer, the wind blows, and no-one knows. Again the stranger pondered the young girl before him. ‘You say you are a foolish girl with a wooden toy, yet you ask thegreatest question ever a Knight could ask.’

 Very well, hear my advice.

But whatever answer I you give

will ne’er suffice,

until the answer to yourself you give...

 ‘Thus forewarned, let me guide you as best I can.’ So spoke the stranger to Faela: ‘Love is the very being of every Knight who seeks the path to the Grail; it is the verypath upon which each Knight must tread if he is to reach the Grail; and it is the Grail itself. It is the question, the quest, and the apprehension in one’s-self of the fleeting guest. ‘Love is the Truth that guides the Way through the Darkness to the Light; it is the very substance of Life, it is the very substance of Death, and yet it knows no beginning and no ending. ‘Were a man to be devoid of love within the entirety of his being he could not exist. Love is the Sun itself in every human being, the ‘I AM’ in every soul. Such it is. 

‘And if this Sun in you or I, were to be absolutely and completely annihilated, then the same, at the very same time, would apply to the whole created and uncreated cosmos and to its Creator. Such it is. ‘And such too are the simple who see only the sun above, and feel its warmthon their back. Ever do they wonder: How does it come, that the sun, far beyond our view, does weave the world in our eyes? They see but don’t see. They are hungry and devour everything they see, yet they starve;

 For what hunger is to the body’s health,

Such is Thinking to thine own self.’

 ‘These simple folk cannot comprehend how the stars and planets incline our thirstand slant our soul’s desire, yet they are the first to curse the sun when its hot, and to deride the moon when high-tide its not. ‘These folk regard as fantasy all realms beyond their sense. But how can theyknow when they are bound to their senses and the realm of their nose?’ The stranger studied Faela and could see she was and attentive listener; and seeing that his words were not wasted, continued: ‘A learned man, considered by all at Court to be a great thinker, once revealed to me he had arrived at the conclusion: “There was no such thing as ‘Truth’.” ‘I considered what he said, then pointed out that his very conclusion: There is no such thing as Truth, disproves itself in its very utterance; that the statement contradicts itself. ‘If what you have concluded is true, then you have indeed found the ‘Truth’, and have thereby disproved yourself.’ ‘Remarkable,’ said Faela. ‘What’s remarkable is that this learned man oft uses our conversation as his own, todelight the ladies and to esteem himself to the Court, rather than to further his quest. 

‘And so you will find:                             

Contradiction rules the fool;

Paradox enlivens the wise -

                              ‘Paradox? What is paradox?’ asked Faela. 

‘Ah... Paradox is like the opposite to what we might expect, a reversal of what we take to be true. Yet it is not really the opposite, but rather a pointer to the middle path between opposites. Continued the stranger, ‘Are not all things the revelation of their opposites?Does not ‘denial’ presuppose the ‘affirmation’? Is not the yearning for ‘joy,’ in itself a ‘suffering’? Does not ‘belief’ give birth and recognition to ‘disbelief’? Beyond opposites lives our understanding. We are after all, beings of two worlds. The middle path is where both meet and fructify each other. ‘A one-sided person tends to travel in circles; they may cross the path, recognise it, but be unable to travel it until they find their rightful balance. ‘To continue’ said the stranger:  “To go forwards you must go backwards.” This is a paradox. ‘Example: I am on my way to Tours. But if I have taken the wrong path it may benecessary for me to go backwards to the right path, before being able to continue my forward journey. And when we go beyond what we merely see, we find in truth, not only, that to go forward you must go backward, but equally, to go backward you must go forward.’ ‘You see my friend, although the journey takes place on this earth, the thinkingwhereby this paradoxical journey is comprehended does not. ‘In this world we see only what is illuminated by the light. In the purity of thinking, I see the light itself - I am the light itself - and this reveals to me whether or not  the outer path is also the right inner path. ‘Thinking friend, is the key by which the mysteries of the visible and invisible worlds are unlocked; it is the new revelation, the resurrection of the ancient Oracle, not from without, but now from within — the gift of every human being. And just because it is new, many of our greatest thinkers are struggling to penetrate its veil, to stand within the holiness of its inner sanctum and behold the glory of its self-radiance; yet for the most we are still as babes, struggling ’gainst the grain of gravity to stand upright. ‘What came to flower in ancient Greece before our time now sleeps as new seed in our souls. Yet there is coming a time, near a thousand years from now, when the cradle of Europe will begin to hum what is here said today. And this humming will become a song of the Sun throughout the world, and the truths of its harmonies will be self-evident. We are but the seeds of this future flower.’ And a further paradox to ponder is that this heavenly flower will rise from one who bears the stone. The stranger’s words were as white flames in Faela’s consciousness. 

‘See the path ahead?’ inquired the stranger . ‘Yes,’ answered Faela. ‘What kind of path do you see? How would you describe it?’ ‘Well,’ said Faela, ‘it is a path strewn with many leaves; a path which turns from view, then reappears, before disappearing again into the darkness of the forest.’ ‘Exactly. Indeed it is the same for me, and yet it is different. ‘Strewn with a multitude of leaves it is. And although the path disappears into darkness as you say, yet for me there is light; hope that this darkness once penetrated will open my eyes to the sight of Tours. ‘You see friend, we are both able to look upon the same world because it is illumined by the same sun. It is the same sun that shines in our eyes as upon the world, and yet we behold it and each other differently, because we each are differently disposed. ‘But when we rise above our disposition into the purity of thinking, and allow its pure light to shine upon our self and the world, we recognise the unified source of our communion. ‘If there was not this unified source we would not be able to communicate with each other as we do now.

 Thinking is the link

That bridges the brink

Between multiplicity and unity,

Between infinity and eternity.

 ‘As it was told me, I will you tell:

 If God eternal be, then I and thee

and all of we, must likewise be - eternally.

If not, we can never agree— ad-infinitely.

 Faela was motionless, her whole body concentrated into receiving what was being told. The stranger continued: ‘Now, if I ask myself: Is this the path to Tours? I must answer: I do not know. And if I ask of you: Is this the path to Tours? - and you answer that it is, and I agree to place my trust in you, then I will need follow the path. And only after having travelled the path will I be able to affirm whether you were right or wrong, and whether I was right or wrong in the placement of my trust. Such is Experience - the other great teacher.

 ‘And here my friend we return to your first question. Experience awakens thinking and thinking awakens experience, and each awakens each other to ever higher Hierarchies of Love.’ It is said that wisdom is the seed of experience. Is not wisdom but crystallized suffering? Is not Love but the flowering of this crystal seed? Faela consumed all, and was consumed by all that was being told her, and her head crackled like dry twigs thrown into a raging fire. ‘I think I understand.’ said Faela. ‘Then you have done well,’ spoke the stranger. And Faela was aware that the stranger’s voice now sounded to her different, yet it was the same voice. ‘Now dear friend, perhaps you can guide me. Which is the path to Tours?’ ‘Go straight ahead, answered Faela, neither veering to the right nor left, and the path will take you through the forest.  When you are out of the forest inquire further.’ ‘Many thanks friend,’ said the stranger. ‘Accept these three copper coins for your service.’ Faela looked at the three coins shining in the sun of the stranger’s outstretched hand. ‘Good sir,’ said Faela, ‘It is I who am in your debt; and they are not copper but gold coins you offer.’ ‘Indeed. You have excelled,’ said the stranger closing his hand. ‘We are equal then, said the stranger. But let me take the flower by which I shall remember you. With that he rode-up to Faela and took the flower from her ear. And now let me give you a flower in return. Remember it well.

The stranger spoke quietly to Faela and she repeated what he spoke over and again until both were pleased. ‘May God be with you good Knight and grant we meet again,’ said the stranger, waving in farewell as he rode-off. As the stranger rode-off, it suddenly occurred to Faela by reasons not obvious to her senses, that the stranger was the very Count Hugo of Tours, the very person he said he was seeking. ‘But why is he seeking himself?’ thought Faela. ‘And may God be with you...Count Hugo of Tours,’ said Faela after him.

                                                                                           END CHAPTER 8  

nine  

 

Faela continued through the forest. The sun was now high. Already so much had happened, but there was more to come. As Faela walked on she felt the sky darken and a wild wind rush through the trees in great turmoil.  Masses of leaves were being swept around her, past her, down along the path. As Faela turned a bend in the path a mighty form arose before her overshadowing everything. Its form was ever-changing and ever-terrifying. It must be the beast or the dragon, thought Faela. What else could it be? It was Darkness itself. It was everything Faela was afraid of. The sight was so terrifying that Faela had not the strength to directly look upon it; its very presence overpowered her and made her fall to her knees. 

Then it howled: Come O foolish girl with a wooden toy

who would be a boy, and slay the dragon.

 

If with your wooden sword you can slay me

you will indeed be great.

Even if you only prick my skin and die doing it

will you be glorious.

And all the people of all the lands

will glorify your name -

such is their weakness for small deeds.

 

Come boy! Draw your toy!

Come crown yourself with glory!

  

Faela could not move. Every muscle in her body was afraid. Death leant over her as surely as the sun would rise again without her. ‘What have I done to hurt you?’ Faela cried out. The Darkness howled:

 

So, your final hour has come

Yet you want to run

Like a girl in foolish games

Before you are slain.

So be it.

 

Now listen well

Or you’ll not live to tell.

Look back to the beginning of time

And see your life that now is mine.

 

All your darkness is my life

I am the darkness of your light.

I am your fears

Your secret shame

Your cruelty and endless pain.

I never forgive though I’m never to blame.

I am your other that bears your name.

 

All inharmony you create

All power and fame you speculate

All passion that infiltrates

Your lusting soul

To divide the world

Does make me whole.

 

I am the innocence you’ve slaughtered

The truthfulness you’ve quartered

The wondrous beauty that you’ve raped

And love’s purity you desecrate.

 

I am the dragon from your deep

I am the darkness that you reap.

 Shielding her eyes from the sight Faela called out, ‘I am just a foolish girl with a foolish toy.’

 The dragon howled:

 Despair the lie !

Your bloody death is nigh!

Great Knights, small Knights

Foolish girls with foolish toys

What care I !

 

 

Many a brave sword and fearless fool

Has come to face me

To trial and test and taste me.

But whosoever comes clothed

Comes armoured of heart

And darkness of heart is my art.

 

A sword in my eye is a stake in their heart.

I tore them apart —

and spat out their hearts in their  face.

 

Howled the Darkness… You are all one to me. Even a thousand Knights are nothing

to me,

for each must fight his own fight. As for myself it is

different.

I can become a thousand upon a thousand of what I am

and the one Knight must fight the all of me, all at once.

 With this the dragon divided itself into a legion—a thousand upon a thousand. Faela, still shielding her eyes, drew her wooden sword from her belt and turned full circle within the legion that surrounded her. The dragon howled from within and from without, and the legion became the one again; its very howling turning to dust Faela’s wooden sword. Faela fell again to her knees.  

Summoning her strength Faela rose slowly to her feet. Howled the Dragon: 

Now is the hour

Thy power to devour.

 

Let not thy glory shine

but Mine.

Let not thy will be done

but Mine.

Let not thy kingdom

but My Kingdom come.

Hallowed be My Name

And thee to endless shame.

 The dragon summoned unto itself the full extent of its power and terror., and all the things of this world dissolved into dust. Faela was transported into a world not of this world. Howled the Darkness: 

Into the eye of death must you descend

If to life you would ascend.

Now is the beginning of the end.

Let the battle begin.

Amen. 

 Faela’s clothing fell from her as dust and she was completely naked. She fell again, this time prostrate to the earth. ‘I am defeated,’ thought Faela. ‘If only Life had given me but one glory in the fellowship of friends.’ Faela gave herself up, relinquishing all, and welcomed her impending death.

END CHAPTER 9

ten

Faela‘s ear was hard pressed against the earth. In the earth she could hear the pounding of horse’s hooves, and her heart began to pound in rhythm with them. A great relief came over her. All was not lost; for sure her cry had been heard and a band of Knights were gathering to her rescue. She could already see and hear them in her mind’s eye. She was saved! But the sounding passed and was no more. Faela began to remember. She remembered the pounding of the stranger’s horse, the stranger who had called her a Knight, who had said: ‘ I seek Count Hugo of Tours, the great Knight of the Grail who I have never seen before, but when I do I’ll recognise him.’

‘But if the stranger was Count Hugo of Tours’, thought Faela, ‘and I’m sure he was, why was he seeking himself?’

‘It is a greeting among Knights’, answered Count Hugo of Tours.

Faela looked up and saw Count Hugo of Tours looking down at her. It was the same Count Hugo she had encountered not long ago at the crossroads, and yet he was mightily changed. He now wore full armour that shone so brightly it nearly blinded Faela. It seemed to Faela that his armour was made of gold, and yet it seemed to be made of light. In truth, it was armour radiantly fused from golden light.  ‘I see you have fallen. Here, let me help you up,’ said Count Hugo giving out his hand. ‘You see dear friend’ said Count Hugo, ‘All Knights seek themselves, their true-self; that is what the path to the Grail is—a slow and gradual journey towards finding out who we really are; that’s the secret of the Grail. So when Knights meet, that’s how we introduce ourselves; it’s also our way of finding out the intentions of a stranger, for as you may know there are many dark Knights who oppose our way.’ ‘But in truth,’ said Count Hugo reflecting deeply, ‘I suppose all who walk upon this earth must sooner or later, tread the path of the Grail, for to be born is but another journey of discovery about one’s self. Is this not so?’ Without waiting for an answer Count Hugo continued: ‘From God all things have come, and to God all things must return; this all Knights know. There are many people, many great and learned people to be sure who disagree, and that is something their journey must answer for them. I don’t want to waste time discussing it, as I see you are very anxious to resolve the great battle that now confronts you,’ and he nodded in the direction of the dark beast. ‘Thank God!’ heaved Faela, ‘this nightmare is not my own. Count Hugo is a witness to it too.’ And she felt safe in his warmth, and protected by the light that surrounded him. Faela’s heart was overflowing with thankfulness that she was not alone, yet still she was afraid; afraid to look at the beast, and afraid that Count Hugo might disappear as suddenly as he had come. And being so afraid she dared not let her eyes leave Count Hugo for an instant, lest in that instant Count Hugo should vanish. ‘Between the beginning and the end are many paths,’ continued Count Hugo. ‘ But for the Knight there are three paths which are but one. One is Truth, the other is Love. They are one and the same thing yet different. After all, how can you find Truth if you do not love it, and how can you find true love if you are not truthful? In Love you find Truth, and in Truth you

find Love. And without freedom you cannot find the other two. This is the trinity of the Knight.’ Said Faela: ‘Love is the Truth that guides the way through the darkness to the light‘. Is this not what you told me? ‘Exactly,’ replied Count Hugo. ‘Am I not confronted by darkness?’ asked Faela. ‘Exactly,’ replied Count Hugo. ‘I am afraid,’ said Faela. ‘Exactly,’ replied Count Hugo. ‘That’s exactly what fear is, fear of the darkness, fear of what you cannot understand. And what you cannot understand you cannot see. And when you cannot see there is darkness.’ And what is darkness?’ asked Count Hugo. ‘Darkness is where no light is shining. It is the other side of light. Yet herein lives a great mystery, for within the darkest depth is found the height of light. So shine your light. Let Love and Truth light up the path before you. These are the true armour of a Knight.’ ‘Now shine,’ said Count Hugo putting his hand on Faela’s shoulder. The strength of Count Hugo’s words filled Faela with renewed strength. Faela summoned all her courage and looked up slowly for the first time into the eyes of this dark beast of ever-changing form, and was astonished. For she saw that even in the approaching death before her there was a lesson; that even in the grotesque ugliness of this beast there was a beauty to behold. ‘Shine,’ came again the strength of Count Hugo’s word. Faela looked deep, deeper into its eyes. She had forgotten her fear. She had surrendered herself to her fate, to her inevitable death. She was now more interested to understand this form before her than she was fearful of her own end. Deeper and deeper Faela gazed into its eyes, into its very being, and as she did a sadness began to rise in her. The beast seemed more and more familiar to her sight; this beast was no stranger. Slowly the truth of its form was revealed to her. Faela recognised herself. Faela saw herself in the beast before her. Faela was the very beast, its ever-changing form of darkness was her darkness. It was the living darkness of all that had ever lived in her and through her throughout her many lives. All her darkest deeds, her darkest desires and her darkest thoughts throughout the centuries, right back to the beginning of time were alive and there in front of her in the form of this beast. ‘Shine,’ echoed Count Hugo in Faela’s heart. 

Faela began to see all the pain she had caused throughout her many lives, and began to feel the pain as if it was her own; and it was her own. And her heart was filled with an overwhelming love for all she had wronged, to whom she had caused pain and suffering, both wittingly and unwittingly. And all their pain and suffering was now hers. It seared her to depths of her being. Then for one fleeting moment the dragon and Faela were inseparable, were each other. Then the dragon rose up and made its final howl. Faela’s heart burst, and her blood flowed-out over the entire face of the earth. And with it flowed her great sadness and her love. And as it did, so the beast spoke:

 Only love can heal thy soul

Only love can seal my sight.

 

O Knight without sword

True Knight of the Word.

Thine eyes have read the book.

Thy love has unveiled the secret of my look.

You know me true for what I truly am.

I am you, we are the same.

With love you have me slain.

 

Hail to thee

And to the Eternal Light.

Thy love hath me and thee redeemed.

  

And as it spoke thus, the form became lighter and lighter, and Faela shone brighter and brighter, till finally the form turned-in upon itself and vanished. And with it went the darkness. Where once there was darkness there was now a brilliant but soft light over the entire face of the earth. Slowly the forest, the trees, the sound of the birds and all things of this earth came flooding back into Faela’s senses. There on a path, in a forest in Alsace stood Faela with her wooden sword in her belt, just as before. Everything seemed to be exactly as it was. Nothing had changed except Faela. Faela continued on into town. She went to the swordsmith's shop, not to buy her long awaited sword, but now to leave the wooden sword which the swordsmith many years before had made her.  Faela returned to her home beyond the forest. What happened later that night we already know. 

                                                                                                                        END CHAPTER 10

 

END PART II

  

Part IIIFinale

                                  

     eleven  Truth always finds a way of revealing itself. And so it was that the true story of their deeds on this day, became in time widely known, and thereby could their story be told. In the life of human beings on earth, what happens at any particular moment, on any particular day, changes the earth for all time. This one day was to make all the difference to Rafael and Faela for the rest of their lives. Both had been changed by this day, and both had changed the days that would come to meet them. As the old gypsy beggar had forewarned …

 If the darkness of this day

goes backwards into light

then never a stone

will fall upon your friend

as it has done to my son

and never a stone will you fall upon.

 

But if the darkness of this day

goes forwards into night

then so will the stone

for in all things we must atone.

 And just as the darkness had gone forward, so did the stone go forward… and would ever go forward. Only a light greater than the darkness could end it.

                                                                                                              END CHAPTER 11

Years Later 

twelve 

  Now that the story is coming to an end, you might wonder what became of them. The Swordsmith kept in spirit to his word, and hung Faela’s wooden sword over the door to his shop. Faela travelled far and wide in her learning, and in time became a teacher; her great love being the teaching of children. Faela met her death in an avalanche. She was on her way to take-up her appointment as teacher in a small village in Switzerland. She was travelling through the Jural mountains, when high above, a band of reckless horsemen galloped by; the thunder of their passing causing an avalanche of stones and snow. Little did Rafael realise that his band of pillaging brigands had caused the death of his boyhood friend below, nor could he have known that Faela had sacrificed her life for him. Faela’s body was found by the wise hermit of Arlesheim, himself a tutor at the school not far away. The school, though greatly transformed is still there today, in the village of Dornach, beside the village of Arlesheim not far from the great City of Basle. Likewise is the hermitage of the wise one still there, and can be seen to this very day. It was said, that on the day Faela passed from the earth, a green shoot sprouted from the wooden sword. The swordsmith then took it down and planted it. It grew into a tree, from which the swordsmith henceforward would make wooden swords for the children. Rafael lived for many years as a brigand and a braggart. In body, soul and spirit he was  being defeated, and was joyless in all things. Prior to his forty fifth birthday, Rafael met a death of sorts when his horse veered abruptly on seeing a blinding light on the path ahead. In being flung from the saddle, Rafael hit his head on a stone and fell into a deep sleep. In this deep sleep, Rafael was transported into realms of the invisible Sun where a chorus of light surrounded him. So in danger was Rafael of being diffused by their radiance — a peril for which he was unprepared, that the chorus summonsed:

 Is there one among us who will share his blame?

Is there one among us who will call his name?

The one who calls him forth

This one forever forth

Is responsible to his name.

 Then a voice from within the Chorus came:

 I call him forth

I call his name.

 And Faela called his name. And the light of Faela was a light greater than the darkness. After Rafael awoke, he did not remember all that he had seen and heard, but did awake to the true meaning of his name. And so it was that Faela and Rafael were again united. 

Rafael too, eventually found his way to the wise hermit of Arlesheim, who taught him the secrets of nature and man, of earth, water, air and fire; and the healing powers of root, stem, leaf and blossom. Rafael became a healer throughout the countries of Europe. And, what of the sword? ... Under Rafael’s instructions, the sword — which by wrongful gain he had lost so much—became transformed. It was melted down by the now ageing swordsmith, and its molten metal refashioned into instruments for healing. Although the swordsmith was surprised to see Rafael and the sword again, he said nothing, only recalled his dream from long ago. And from this time on it is recounted, the swordsmith never again made an iron sword. Of Count Hugo history as yet does not know a great deal. Some say that after the death of Charlemagne he disappeared from courtly life; that he retired to the foothills of the Jural mountains, and was himself the very same hermit who had found the body of Faela, and who had taught Rafael the mysteries of the Grail. Here ends the story of the wooden sword, although their story like your own, does not end but continues and will ever continue...

 Your every wordyour every smile and tear

of every moment of each day and year

your every thought, your every deed

invisible to the eyes to read

is forever writ in timeless dust.

Yet comes a time when life entrusts

this holy script for you to read.

                                                     ~